Dhaba Fare
A road trip to Delhi recently revealed an entirely new Grand Trunk Road: one that appeared to have gotten itself quite a face-lift. Its flanks now wear some very fancy brands; the ubiquitous golden arches of McDonalds stare you down from quite some distance. While I’m all for four lanes, clean restrooms, sanitised food areas and the like, I do feel a regrettable twinge whizzing past the spots where earlier stood ancient culture. The homely dhaba. Its trademark charpoys and wooden planks passing for tables.
Once boasting the highest number of dhabas, the GT Road is fast yielding place to new. In 
existence since its inception as the Sher Shah Suri Marg, these wayside serais offered weary travellers a simple yet wholesome meal even in days of yore. Don’t believe me? Read Megasthenes, Hieun Tsang, Al Baruni and ilk. In fact, some recipes have remained unchanged since; the Shahi Khichri being one. Dating back to the time of Emperor Shah Jahan it boasts over a hundred ingredients.
Long the domain of truckers, who nurtured this culture, dhabas have now begun to attract regular customers from townships in the vicinity. In its present avatar, the dhaba caters to all tastes but is still most popular for its mah ki dal, a staple of Haryana and the Punjabi saag with lassi. These are usually accompanied by hot tandoori rotis that magically reappear on your table the instant you finish the one in your plate. Tadka daal, kadhi and paranthas, rounded off by kheer or phirni, are the other all-time favourites.
Murthal, near Sonepat has the largest cluster of dhabas, each one claiming a speciality as 
its own. Traditionally serving vegetarian fare, a few of these stalls have begun to offer non-vegetarian dishes. Even though that meant going against the recommendations of a holy man, who, story goes, predicted great prosperity as long as animal protein was kept off the menu. Old-timers believe the demolitions carried out a couple of years ago were a direct fall-out of this addition. But then, how do you explain the truly “divine” flavours of the curries in question?!
Anyways, they continue to attract droves of customers around the clock with bright lights and blaring music; their choc-a-bloc parking lots ample proof of their popularity. Sadly, more and more of these customers are veering towards chowmein, pizzas and colas, placing traditional fare on the back-burner. Literally.
The one heartening thought being that as long as 
there are truckers, there will be dhabas. So, the next time you wish to relish dhaba fare, look out for the one with the highest number of trucks in its lot. You can rest assured that the food will be delicious, the service quick and the cost negligible.
Right about this time of the year, my taste-buds start getting purposeful and I know it’s time to head to the National Capital for appeasement. Innumerable edible reasons await us but the one that has off-late popped into my head is dished out by an unpretentious little eatery called 
turned-chef owner and another pair of helping hands that fashion the superb home-cooked flavours. Their relaxed pace and the come-as-you-are ambience suggests you could be at a friend’s place. The limited-item menu (read printed A4 sheets), dependent on availability of fresh ingredients, could change daily so you may not want to play favourites. Subsequent visits taught me well. The one time, they were out of coffee, another, the prawns and once most disappointingly their tuna curry.
make reservations. Else you will be dejected at being turned away for lack of food, even if you do find a table, as they tend to run out of their most popular items by about 3pm. Take it from someone who has experienced it firsthand. Last winter my sister Nikuji, Mini and I killed time, for a table to come available, by posing for pictures even while our hunger grew unbearable! Be warned…
clear to all customers with a chocolate-y 1000 stenciled onto the frothy surfaces of their orders. Café Coffee Day (CCD to Gen-Next) pioneered the café concept in India in 1996 by opening its first café at Brigade Road in Bangalore. Today, it is reportedly the largest organized retail café chain in India with cafes in every nook and corner of the country, including a footprint in Vienna and Karachi as well.
So, this one time I’m in Munich catching up on some browsing in and around the Bavarian capital. I sense a certain je ne sais quoi in the air, as well as, a steady swell in visiting population. The 
1300 breweries. All of which adhere to an ancient purity requirement that allowed the use of only three ingredients—water, hops and malt—till the discovery of yeast. Interestingly, 
temperatures, shady chestnut trees were planted and riverbanks covered in gravel. Beer began to be sold here soon after; simple wooden tables and benches were provided to accommodate locals et voilá, the beer garden was born. Today, beer is sold by the litre in biergartens and visitors can bring their own food. Or, choose from the options that typify beer garden food culture—grilled chicken, knuckle of pork, pretzel, radish and obatzda, a cheese delicacy prepared by mixing aged Camembert with sweet paprika powder and onions.
If you’ve been Down Under, visited Sydney’s Darling Harbour, admired its trademark Harbour Bridge, marvelled at Opera House, gazed at naval ships from the waterfront at Woolloomooloo, but overlooked 
symbol by many. That’s a huge acknowledgment for something as insignificant as a pie-cart, because, that is really what this café is. A pie-cart with an awning, with walls covered in pictures and murals of famous faces: Frank Sinatra, Marlene Dietrich, Joe Cocker and Billy Connelly are some of the indelible ones. But what would bring them to this kiosk, other than King’s Cross’ bohemia in the vicinity, that is?
The answer is a pie floater. This is a traditional Australian meat pie covered with ketchup and found floating (upside down) in a mushy peas soup. Sounds disgustingly unappetising, doesn’t it? Especially for a dish that has recently been recognized as a South Australian Heritage Icon. But wait till you take your first bite of this crusty pastry filled with chunky steak and gravy, no higher than an inch and a half. Stairway to (gourmet) Heaven, if you ask me. And if you want to get there quicker, add some barbeque sauce and maybe a dash of vinegar. I recollect a fellow gobbler commenting that visiting Harry’s was akin to takeaway eating religion.
truly. Sitting on a bench at the Finger Wharf, slurping away at more than one of these became a favoured way of life. The seagulls were the only noticeable problem, especially as they noisily made their intentions clear to all: a share of the pie. Another speciality of this café is a pastie: mushy peas and potatoes wrapped in a crust, considered by some locals as the national dish. They both taste brilliant, even at an unearthly 5am, after an exhausting spell of clubbing.
Since 1945, Harry’s Café de Wheels has been serving meat pies to soldiers and those willing to trek down to Woolloomooloo Bay docks for the sake of adventurous taste-buds. Keeping this tradition alive, the café continues to feed hungry souls hankering for filling and inexpensive food. The one change being of a permanent nature; it is no longer on wheels. It is now a fixed structure at the Woolloomooloo Bay Area with branches in other locations.
Up in the mountains, surrounded by a dense deodar forest, serenely sits a colonial mansion, having housed many a British dignitary in the past. Today, used solely as a summer retreat for one individual and some of her staff, a visit to this property is a treat few can envisage. And, even though it was pure happenstance that found me dining there not too long ago, this gloating-in-print is no accident… Considering the office of the individual concerned and the size of her regular residence, this double-storey wooden structure, with manicured lawns and a tennis court is really just a cosy cottage in the woods. Brightly lit, most of the rooms emanated the musty smells reminiscent of holiday homes aired only during short summer visits.
what was cooking. I was delighted at the discovery as it was going to be my very first time with food from Myanmar. The recipes, I was informed, had been shared by the wife of a former occupant of this lovely home. Our meal began by munching on some tea. And before you start, that is not a typo, as the people of Myanmar actually do eat pickled tea leaves. Known as laphet, it is Burma’s most common snack. It’s eaten both at informal get-togethers and formal events such as weddings and funerals. Laphet is essentially a green tea; young leaves plucked and fired before being buried underground anywhere from four to seven months. The fermented tea leaves are mixed with ginger, garlic, chillies, peanuts, toasted sesame seeds and salt, and all eaten together as a salad called laphet thoke. The after-taste is a wonderful mix of textures and smells: nutty, spicy, garlicky, yet with a lingering trace of tea.
This was followed by a well-brewed broth made of coconut and chicken stock, Khwuak Swe. There was another, more concentrated and spicier curry, apparently prepared from the rest of the chicken, which was boneless. These two curries were served separately with boiled noodles and topped with a multitude of ingredients that had been chopped and kept in little bowls. It seems these additional ingredients play an integral part in the taste as well as the presentation of the dish, and are a must. Green chillies, crushed red pepper, coriander, mint, spring onions, fried noodles, lemon juice and boiled eggs are some of these essential ingredients. The Burmese usually serve their khauk-swe with Ngapi which is made from putrefied fish and shrimps but it did not, for obvious reasons, find favour with any of us…
There were roughly 6000 rooms in Manali, at last count; a number that continues to increase even as I write, at a pace, alarmingly, akin to that of the growth of population in the country. Yet, other than a few (make that a very few) properties worth the view, you will find yourself checking into concrete blocks cantilevered dangerously over the Beas. Some of these structures exist simply due to will power, nothing else. No wonder, then, that more and more travellers are opting for home stay experiences, that are not just comfortable and clean, they come with a personal touch usually associated with private homes. I came across just such an oasis, if I may, in the quieter part of Old Manali, as I stopped to admire a huge stone structure, apparently a memorial to a war hero, painted gaily with images of the Buddha.
forest, through which I could hear a stream gurgling down. Closer to the gate, where I stood, was a smaller structure bustling with activity. Ignoring a No Trespassing sign in the conscience, I walked in to find workers putting together a wooden signboard. It said 
and garlic. Paella, a rice preparation with vegetables and saffron, cooked uncovered in a special pan. An egg dish called Huevos a la Riojana: baked in white sauce, topped with grilled cheese, along with a glass of white Rioja, I can tell you now, will bring you back to that hearth many-a-time. To walk off the effects of a Crema Catalana, I allowed myself a tour of the pretty cottages I had earlier admired. Complete with cheerful furnishings, fireplaces and picture windows large enough to allow the outside inside, the cottages make for a wonderful retreat for those looking for some quietude in cooler climes. Broken only by the sounds of nature, an intrusion truly welcome and yours for the taking, at the Home with a Beautiful View.
found out on a visit to Manali this summer. After almost two weeks of stuffing our faces with daal-chawal, aloo parathas, momos and thupka, and terrible tea, we were yearning for a change. The Casa provided us just the right amount with its wood-fired pizzas, crunchy salads and dark, dark coffee; succeeding in rejuvenating very, very glum taste-buds.
Picture this. Somewhere in the mountains, a log cabin, made cosy not just by a roaring fire, but equally, by Joe Cocker’s warm baritones and mugs of wine while you and…wait a minute. Mugs of wine? I must be reminiscing about a tradition normally associated with the Christmas season in faraway Germany. A tradition that, today, no longer restricts itself to just the holidays but possibly sustains itself through the length of the bleak winters right across the European continent.
life during the festive season revolves around the breathtakingly decorated town centre markets that have stalls exclusively selling this spicy, hot wine. My first ever cuppa was merely a desperate attempt to keep my hands warm while browsing around just such a fair in Nuremberg. Now, some years and gazillions of mugs later, I can honestly admit to looking forward to the short, biting winters knowing full well I have a ready remedy that will keep me warm – from the tip of my nose to the very end of my toes!
Another traditional recipe substitutes red wine with apple wine and is called ‘Heisse Ebbelwei’. This is rustled up in the same fashion, using the same ingredients. The apple wine available just across the border in Himachal Pradesh makes a fairly palatable Ebbelwei, though I prefer not to add sugar, retaining the tangy flavour. Similar experiments with their plum wine left a lot to be desired. Also keep in mind not to use copper or aluminium vessels; only stainless steel or porcelain will prevent chemical reactions that result in a metallic taste.
especially during Thanksgiving and Christmas. Naturally, there are regional variations. The Italians drink vino brule. The French have their vin chaud which is far fruitier; the preferred grape being Beaujolais or Bordeaux. And the addition of green cardamom brings about a unique flavour. Scandinavia calls it Glogg and has its own recipes for this winter beverage. The basic recipe requires wine, port, brandy, almonds, raisins and citrus peels. In addition to that, it requires you to have nerves of steel to resist the expected kick, when it hits the spots. And, a designated driver.
The residents of Cape Town don’t eat, they graze. And they graze exotic. In fact, it is recommended that travellers to South Africa plan their wildlife safaris towards the end of their stay. Else, it is a tad difficult digesting an animal you recently admired frolicking in the wild. Especially the elegant and playful springbok: a small antelope given to jumping into the air for no apparent reason (although possibly the reason why they are referred to as lion diet).
going in usually range from the adventurous to the experimental to the available. Even though it is time (and insides) consuming, the result is almost always delectable. Menus of fine dining establishments also list other game, such as kudu, impala, crocodile (tandoori, if you please), ostrich and the warthog. Penguins and seagulls have fallen off the list nowadays, but they were very popular with the early settlers around the Cape. Even the biltong, another favourite, akin to beef jerky, is prepared from the meat of any animal that was once large and breathing.
But if you’re looking for a tasty and cheap meal on the go, it has to be the bunny chow. This is a hollowed out loaf of bread filled with a spicy curry of minced beef. With its origins in the Kwa-Zulu Natal, (even though Minal Hajratwala attributes this creation to an uncle who migrated from Gujarat roughly a century ago, in her debut novel, 
the cuisine by the Boers. This is accompanied by pap, a stiff savoury porridge made of maize, and a relish of tomato and onions with wild spinach as a side. Malay cuisine, perhaps the best known of South African cuisines, is represented by the bredie, a mutton stew, and a curried meat kebab on skewers called the sosatie. The presence of snoek or fish on the braai grill is purely a delightful treat for the taste buds. Samosas, although not a braai item, are extremely popular as a snack.
strokes. But for those with even the remotest connection to farm life, these months mean overdosing on saag and makki di roti. Excess being a cultural thing in this part of the world! Although city living has taken away much of the pomp that goes into the preparation of this wholesome combination, the pleasure, of going through a piping hot bowl of the stuff, drowned in desi ghee or topped high with churned butter(whatever be your poison), with a slightly overdone makki di roti, remains unchanged. Most households have their own side-dishes to go with it – could be smoked onions, grated radish salad, ginger juliennes, even scrambled eggs.
peanuts. This may sound unpalatable to a lot of people out there; not if you have grown up in Patiala. And never, if you have walked the length of the Adalat Bazar, past the landmark Water Tank, turned right into the Juttianwali Galli and arrived at the clearing near the entrance of the Qila Mubarak. Right here, adjacent to the Police Chowki, is located the very cause of our contrarian beliefs – Arjan Singh, who is known to do magical things to molasses and sesame seeds, and produce myriad reasons to shun traditional eating habits.