Archive for November, 2007On my first day in India I picked up the book Rude Food by Indian writer Vir Sanghvi. Rude Food is a collection of food writing columns that Sanghvi published anonymously in the Hindustan Times while he was the paper’s editor. Opinionated, refreshing, sometimes arrogant and almost always entertaining, Rude Food is a great introduction to Indian food, its history and the main Indian restaurant scenes. While the subject matter varies widely (think everything from how to make perfect mashed potatoes to the history of South Indian staples like dosas and idli) a consistent theme of the book is the high quality of restaurants in top Indian hotel chains. Sanghvi reserves special praise for the Taj Mahal Palace and Tower in Mumbai, devoting an entire column to the history of its groundbreaking restaurants. One reference really piqued my curiosity: Sanghvi claimed the Taj’s Indian restaurant, Masala Kraft, was the best Indian restaurant in the world. This was one boast I was happy to test! Despite wearing our best clothes, I still felt underdressed when we entered the glamorous marble lobby of the grand Taj. By contrast, Masala Kraft was almost disappointingly understated in tone, situated down a hallway in an unprepossessing, internal room overlooking a shopping strand. While the decor was muted, the food was anything but. Masala Kraft is easily the best Indian restaurant I’ve eaten at, and certainly the most innovative. The menu contained none of the usual Indian standards, like Palak Paneer or Vegetable Korma. In their place was a carefully thought out list of exquisite, modern Indian dishes, the like of which I’ve never seen on any other menu.
Our meal began with a complimentary starter of pappadams, tomato sauce and fresh carrot and cucumber. This was followed by a second complimentary dish of a fried egg-shaped ball filled with potato, organic lentils and sweet yoghurt served with a tamarind sauce.
For entree, I ordered the Lal Mirch Ka Paneer, paneer cheese marinated in chillies and aniseed and char grilled. It was superb, the best paneer I’ve ever eaten. The paneer had an amazing texture, soft to the bite but still meaty and layered. The marinade was perfectly done - well-spiced, but without letting the chillies overpower the other tastes.
Andy choose the Bhalla Chat, lentil dumplings soaked in a sweet yoghurt and topped with date and ginger relish. This was an unsual dish to my tastebuds reared on Western food. The lentil cakes were soft and didn’t have a strong flavour, while the very sweet yoghurt sauce was seasoned with salt and pepper and had an almost eggy mayonaise flavour. We’d given careful thought to our choice of mains. There were so many intriguing dishes, like snakegourd and drumstick curry, turnip cooked with peppery lentil dumplings, and paneer tossed in sorrel leaves. However, anticipating that we would be feeling full, we choose a simple vegetable dish and a dal. Of course, these were not “boring” choices. The vegetable dish was Bhavnagari Mirchi, green peppers stuffed with a pickled potato mash, while our Dal Maa Sabut was a delicious combination of black dal in a tomato and cumin sauce.
They came out together and were served onto large individual dishes by the exceptionally friendly waiting staff. The green peppers with pickled potato mash was a welcome respite from the heavier curries we were used to for dinner. The pepper flesh was delicate and soft, while the pickled mash added bite. The dal was proof of how satisfying simple foods can be. As Andy said, the sauce was a wonder, somehow managing to be rich without being heavy. By the end of the meal we were so impressed that we asked the waiter to give our compliments to the chef. We were very pleased when he sent the chef out to meet us, so we could give them to her in person!
We hadn’t ordered dessert as we were very full by this stage, but the chef insisted on sending out a complimentary tasting plate with some traditional Indian ice cream called kulfi, and a light milky pudding. Andy and I were lucky to eat at Masala Kraft during the Hindu Navratri festival, as Masala Kraft had put on a special, vegetarian friendly menu. All the entrees were vegetarian, as were 20 of the mains. Before we left I checked the standard menu, and was reassured to see that many of our favourite dishes, like the paneer starter, were also part of the regular service, and that there was always a good selection of vegetarian dishes on offer, including seven vegetarian mains. Masala Kraft is not cheap by Indian standards. Our meal, without wine, came to over 2000 rupees (or $70 Australian). However, the quality of the food is superb, and I doubt you could find the equivalent food in a Western country for this price. More than that, the food was clever, modern and innovative, suprisingly rare features of Indian restaurant menus where you often find the same traditional dishes repeated ad nauseum.  One of the best parts about travelling in India is that you can experience regional food which is unavailable overseas. Such an opportunity came on our way to Mumbai when we stopped briefly in Ahmedabad, the capital of Gujarat state. Gujurat is a smaller state in the West of India. It’s known for its textiles, commitment to vegetariansim, and peace-loving son, Mahatma Gandhi. While only there for 24 hours, we wanted to make the most of our time by trying the unique Gujarati cuisine at the renowned Agashiye restaurant. Agashiye is a vegetarian restaurant that serves authentic Gujurati food. Everything is carefully prepared, down to the metal plates that the food is served on which contain special health-giving properties to purify the blood and restore memory. The experience is unsual and elaborate. First, you choose between two sizes of meal, the contents of which change daily. We elected for the smaller meal - or more accurately the least large one. After paying we were led to the top floor of the hotel, and guided into a brightly lit ante room which had touches of Japanese austerity in its decoration and low seating. We were given a welcome (non-alcoholic) drink, and two starter dishes to share. The first was small, coin-shaped fried potato cakes. The second was unlike anything I’ve tasted in India: cube-shaped pieces of soft, sweet, steamed bread (farsan) served with a mint yoghurt dressing.
After our starter we were taken to the restaurant proper. Set on a rooftop surrounded by a high wire fence, and overlooking the city skyline, I had a fleeting impression of being in New York. We had no idea what to expect from the rest of the evening, but fortunately a bevy waiters soon visited our table bearing all kinds of interesting food.
The meal proper was an intricate, and filling, affair loosely made up of three courses. The first two were mains, built around roti, and a mashed lentil dish called “khichdi”. The third was a dessert course. The main meal is served as a thali, a round tray containing numerous small sized dishes. The roti course comes with four varietes of vegetable dishes. Two use seasonal vegetables, one is gram based and the last is potato based. There was also a yoghurt palate cleanser, a dahl, and a large, sweet bowl of dessert (Gujuratis don’t hold with the silly notion that you only get dessert once you’ve finished your main meal) . The dishes were thoughtfully prepared and not unpleasant, but the flavours tasted strange to my palate and I didn’t adjust to them during the meal. Unlike usual Indian curries and dahls, the Gujarati dishes are served very sweet. The only exception was the potato dish, which had a bitter, almost nettle like, taste. After a feeble attempt at finishing our roti course, the waiters reappeared with the “khichdi”, which has a thick consistency like porridge. It is eaten with “kadhi”, a sweetish dairy-based sauce. In a pleasant change from usual Indian thalis, the main meal also came with a large, fresh chickpea and tomato salad for us to share. Oh how I miss my fresh food! We were also given a colourful selection of chutneys and pickles.
About half way through the meal we were presented with the “etiquette card”, an English language guide to the food on offer and an explanation of how to eat it politely. This was very helpful, although a little late, as I had already broken one of the three cardinal rules. The dessert course was a delicate dish of creamy, home made ice cream, a highlight of the meal. It was accompanied by paan (betel nut leaves) which is traditionally chewed in India. Despite having diligently read our etiquette card, Andy and I struggled to figure out what exactly we were meant to do with the paan (the fresh green leaves were stuffed with a powdery like substance). We ended by putting the leaves and all in our mouths… then spitting it out two seconds later when the mixture hit our tastebuds. Maybe that was right and it is an acquired taste… or maybe not. While I didn’t enjoy the taste of Gujurati food as much as other dishes in India, I appreciated that the meal was so exquisitely prepared and found the experience of eating at Agashiye unique and thought-provoking. Andy and I were determined not to leave India without taking at least one cooking class. Afterall, there’s no point falling in love with food that you can’t recreate at home. Our first opportunity came in the lakeside city of Udaipur in Rajasthan. While there are a lot of cooking classes to choose from, we opted to go with the Spice Box, a local spice store whose owner, Shanthi, runs vegetarian cooking lessons on the side.
The class covers a number of popular Indian dishes, including palak paneer, malai kofta, vegetable biryani, chapati and vegetable cutlets, as well as spiced masala chai, and Kashmiri saffron tea. With so many dishes being taught in around three hours, the experienced Shanthi moves the class along at a fast pace. This is not a problem, however, as you receive a copy of the recipes and take turns to make the different dishes so the techniques are easy to remember.
I found the class really useful. While I’ve always loved Indian food, I’m not good at deciphering the different spices that are present in a finished meal. Learning the dishes from scratch gave me a whole new insight into why dishes taste the way they do.
Khadai paneer home-style - all capsicum and paneer, just the way I like it Throughout the class we picked up lots of interesting information about Indian cooking. For example, masala chai is always made with Assam tea, and home cooked Indian food is very different from the food you find in restaurants, using far more vegetables and far less sauce.
Whipping up a palak paneer I was also surprised at how fast the curries were to make. I’ve always been taught that curries need to be simmered for hours, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense when you consider that a home cook has many other demands on their time.
My favourite dish of the class was the malai kofta. The sauce was delicious, using lots of interesting spices like green cardamon (reserved for sweet and milky sauces), aniseed, cinnamon, white poppy seeds and watermelon seeds. And I was fascinated to learn that you make the unspiced, deep-fried potato dumplings separately from the sauce, and only combine them at the end.
Taming the chapati One of the most fun dishes to make was chapati. After making and rolling the dough, we transferred it on to a hot pan to cook where it quickly puffed up into a delicious bread.
The best part of the course was eating the delicious finished products at the end of the lesson, although as the only two in the class we couldn’t finish the food no matter how hard we tried. This class was ideal for beginners who want to get better acquainted with classic North Indian dishes. As Shanthi says, the only thing you need to bring to the lesson is a bottle of water and a big appetite. Rajasthan, a state in North-West India, is a popular tourist destination thanks to a Mughal-era legacy of fairytale palaces and spectacular forts.  These days popular North Indian dishes overrun local menus, but the occasional restaurant still reserves a section for Rajasthani dishes. Make sure you try them. The food is unique and in run-of-the-mill restaurants is often more tasty than the better known dishes on the menu. Rajasthani food is an interesting case study in a regional cuisine that has been shaped by local environmental conditions. The western half of the state lies in the Thar desert, and even the eastern side is relatively arid compared to the fertile south of India. Because of the dry climate and lack of water, Rajasthani food makes little use of vegetables and rice - the staples of much Indian food - which are not easy to grow in the region. In their place, Rajasthani food relies heavily on grains and pulses.
In Jaisalmer we tried a delicious Rajasthani thali (tasting plate of small dishes). The main curry was dumplings made with gram (chickpea flour). It came with dahl, and a second curry of a local bean (ker) in a masala sauce. Although we were given a small amount of rice, the main accompaniement was baira roti - a malted bread cooked over a fire.
We had a second opportunity to try Rajasthani food in a small Bishnoi village called Salawas outside of Jodhpur. The Bishnoi people are vegetarian, and believe in living in harmony with the natural enivornment. They are relatively poor, and live very simply in small houses.
Our lunch consisted of ground millet roti, a local bean called “ker”, a rich, milk based dahl and a strong lemon pickle. The meal was spicy, but refreshingly free of oil and rich spices compared to standard North Indian curries.
In Udaipur we had a final opportunity to try Rajasthani dahl and gram flour dumplings. To be honest, I couldn’t pick the difference with the dahl, but the dumplings were lovely - very soft and not heavy as I thought a flour dumpling would be. Rajasthani food is relatively spartan compared to the North Indian curries that are so popular around the world. While I can’t see it catching on internationally, the food is definitely worth trying on a visit to Rajasthan, and is a timely reminder that living off locally appropriate food can be a delicious and environmentally sound experience. In Australia, vegetarian restaurants are so rare they’re novel. In India, vegetarian restaurants are so normal they’re commonplace - but that doesn’t stop you from having some very novel vegetarian experiences. We began our Rajasthan trip in the capital, Jaipur, a thriving place dubbed the ‘pink city’ for the rose and salmon hued buildings in its old quarter. While I loved Jaipur’s monuments, some of our most memorable experiences involved eating.
On our first night we ate in a restaurant called Om, which I’m sure must have the distinction of being the only revolving vegetarian restaurant in the world. The menu was extensive and interesting.We ordered palak paneer, dum aloo (potato dumplings in a spicy tomato sauce) and seasonal vegetables cooked in dry curry spices, served on a sizzling hot plate. For accompaniments, we tried the kuchumber salad, mixed vegetable raita, rotis and pappadums.
The food was adequate, but did not quite live up to the sophisticated surroundings (or the glowing recommendation in our guide book). The dum aloo sauce was very creamy and rich, and the dishes were so hot that the spiciness eventually overpowered the flavour. Still, the view over the city was wonderful, the surroundings were plush, and the service was very friendly. And did I mention the restaurant revolved? The next day we went to another renowned Jaipur vegetarian restaurant called LMB. Unlike Om, LMB sits right in the middle of the busy old city amidst small market shops selling colourful cloth, tourist souvenirs and traditional Rajasthani shoes. LMB is part of a hotel. You enter through a bakery and fast food area dominated by a large glass counter filled with brightly coloured Indian sweets. The restaurant is off to the left hand side. Unusually, it’s in the centre of the building so there are no windows (hence the fire-like glow to my photos). There is a slightly formal atmosphere to the room, thanks to the swirling 1950’s style plaster decoration that adorns the roof, and the highly professional waiting staff in white jackets.
The food at LMB was delicious; some of the best we had in the North. Still recovering from dinner, we ordered a small lunch for three of paneer tikka (cubes of paneer marinated overnight, then roasted in the tandoor oven and served with a mint chutney), a dahl fry, and a starter of aloo chatpatta (spicy, crispy potatoes squares served with garlic chutney and masala). The paneer was firm and well-cooked and not too oily thanks to being cooked in the tandoor. The tikka marinade soaked the paneer with flavour, enhanced by a squeeze of fresh lime. The aloo chatpatta was also delicious, and extremely good value given it was the same size as our “mains”. While we didn’t try anything from the Rajasthani section of the menu, I suspect it would be authentic and tasty. Our final vegetarian experience took place just outside of Jaipur at the “Chokni Dahni” village. Chokni Dahni is a model traditional Rajasthani village established on the grounds of a hotel complex. For a set fee, you gain entry, a full vegetarian dinner, and access to all kinds of traditional rajasthani cultural activities that would be frustrated by OHS issues in Australia, like camel rides, dances performed on nails, and child acrobats balancing high up on huge poles. I went semi-reluctantly, and only after finding out that it was aimed at Indian tourists. Needless to say, I had a great time. As soon as we arrived we were ushered into the eating hall by staff, who were very keen to make sure we didn’t go hungry. There was nil danger of that. We were seated on the floor with a small cube serving as a table placed in front of each of us. There was no menu or introduction of the food. Instead we were each given a round tray, with four bamboo dishes on one side, and two clay cups. Within 30 seconds of being seated waiting staff bearing big vats of food started to emerge, and began filling our tray and bowls thali style with mysterious items of food. The food was delicious, and very different in flavour from other Northern Indian food. We were served a vegetable curry, flour dumplings in sauce, dahl, rice, pappadums, rotis, pickles, curd, a lentil mash with ghee, and super sweet desserts. Trying to finish the meal was a Sisyphean task - as soon as you emptied a bowl a waiter came along and refilled it.
Sure, it looks manageable now… but this is just the beginning. Â When we were finished the staff invited us to the back kitchen where we saw rotis being cooked over hot coals, and pappadums being quickly fried in hot oil. The following morning we had to leave the Pink City for Pushkar. I’m sure I left Jaipur five kilograms heavier than when I arrived - but it was worth it to experience some truly unique vegetarian restaurants! From the beginning of our trip, Andy and I were looking forward to travelling in India, not least because India is home to many of the world’s vegetarians and some fabulous vegetarian food. We started in the North, flying from Kathmandu to New Delhi for a trip taking in Agra and five cities in Rajasthan. North Indian food is characterised by curries, baked tandoor oven delights, and bread. Vegetarians will not struggle to find food - pure veg restaurants abound, and most other places stress in their advertising that they serve both ‘veg and non-veg food’. Whether you eat in a veg or non-veg restaurant, the menu will include a long list of vegetarian curies. I was surprised to find that many of the curry dishes were familiar to me from Indian restaurant menus in Australia. Curries broadly fall into two categories: wet and dry. Treatises could probably be written about the differences between them (mmm, what a job), but my layperson’s take is that wet curries are served with a sauce (sometimes called a ‘gravy’) while dry dishes are cooked in a spice mix (masala).
A dry curry… Some of the most common vegetarian curries are plain dahl and dahl fry (dahl with fried onion and garlic), aloo mutter (peas and potato curry), stuffed tomato (usually just one - not so good if you were planning to share), egg curry, mushroom tikka masala and navratan kurma. Paneer dishes are also popular. My favourite Indian dish, palak paneer (paneer in spinach sauce) was a mainstay of most menus, and paneer butter masala was also popular.
…and a wet curry. I also liked the dumpling curries, particularly malai kofta and Kashmiri dum aloo.
Malai kofta North Indian cooking is famous for tandoor dishes, which are cooked in a large clay oven filled with hot coals and then covered with a lid.
The wonderful tandoor oven While meat tandoor dishes are most famous in the West, there are some great vegetarian options including tandoor mushrooms, paneer tikka, tandoor potato stuffed with raisins, or tandoor cauliflower. These are usually marinated, sometimes stuffed, and then cooked on a long skewer in the tandoor.
Succulent tandoor mushrooms… how could you not love them? One of the distinguishing features of North Indian food compared to South Indian food is the lesser emphasis on rice and the greater use of breads. There is naan (cooked in tandoor ovens), roti (smaller pieces of baked bread), chapati and pappadums. Paratha is a popular breakfast dish of fried bread served plain or stuffed with fillings, like potato or paneer, and eaten with fresh curd and pickles.
Freshly cooked pappadums Condiments are key to Indian food. Pickles, chutneys, onions and curd or raita are all common accompaniments and will sometimes be brought out along with your meal.
It was hard not to be impressed by the spread of vegetarian food on offer in Northern India, although the quality and freshness of food varied wildly. I loved trying some of my favourite dishes from home (which tasted quite a lot like they do in Australia, to my surprise), as well as new favourites like tandoor mushrooms and dum aloo. Already, our time in India was off to a good start. Update: A reader has just pointed out that I have a bad habit of posting about food without including recommendations for where to try it. North Indian food is (obviously) ubiquitous in India, but the best restaurants I found were: Zaffran Address: In the Hotel Palace Heights, D- 26/28, Connaught Place, New Delhi-110001 LMB |
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