Author: Tulika

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The food convert

Kebabs to Vada Paos
Biryanis to Bhakris
Dal Paranthas to Puran Polis
Tunde to Bedekar
Lucknow to Pune. It was quite a gastronomic shocker. And a confession ..I found the grandest Maharashtrian food too plebeian, compared to even everyday Lucknowi cuisine. 

First there’s the pao factor
Everything has to be eaten with the quintessntial pao (bread) – vada pao, pao bhaji, misal pao, keema pao and if you’ve got nothing better there’s maska pao.

Then there are the names
The nomenclature did me in. I mean why would you call a simple chhole tikki – ragda pattice (Yes Pattice NOT Patties)? And there was the weird sounding kacchi dabeli, which had nothing to do with Kutch. What a complicated name for a pao (again!) with some filling! and Jhunka Bhakar.. oh it was absolute gibberish.

And then …
…very slowly, like most things simple and unpretentious, Puneri food wove it’s magic. Before I knew it I was standing at a raodside stall watching the vendor deftly throw in ruby red pomegranate seeds and crunchy peanuts into my kacchi dabeli. When it rained I craved the vada pao. The December nip in the air drove me to the city seeking out famous misal joints. I’d sit there sweat pouring from my face despite the cold, nose running as I dipped into the devilishly hot misal served straight from a boiling cauldron… and then I would be done for the day.

The most famous Bedekar Misal is served with bread. and you can add that gravy to make it spicier. Whew!

Finally there’s the thali.
What stole my heart completely, was the Maharashtrian thali. To begin with I love the concept of food without frills. At the thali joints food is served in a very Puneri, very no nonsense manner, none of the Awadhi formality here. By the time a Lakhnawi would get over with his ‘tashreef rakhiyes‘ and ‘naush farmaiyes‘, the thali joints would have welcomed, served and sent off a a bunch of customers and very happy customers at that. 

A typical thali joint would look like this. The plates are already laid out so food comes on as soon as you’re seated. You don’t place a order since the fare is standardised. This picture is taken at Durvankur.

Of course there’s the issue of finding a place to sit. It’s like you’re the enemy till you’re seated and then you transform into a cherished guest. Your plate fills up miraculously and you’re plied with food in a typically Indian ‘ you-must-eat-till-you-can’t-move’ manner. The ambience is nothing to write home about but the food is right up there at the top.

Sample this…

The accompaniments.. Meethi chutney, teekhi chutney, nariyal chutney, shengdana chutney…. take your pick
The basic stuff

What you cannot see is the many kinds of chapatis.. Bhakri, missi roti, puri, along with the wheat rotis, and there’s rice.. masala rice, khichdi, plain rice topped off with dollops of ghee.. no skimping here. You cannot even sample them all let alone have your fill of each. 

So if you ever come to Pune my advice would be skip the biggies, go for the traditional fare to feel like a true blue Punekar.

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013. Today’s prompt is ‘food’. For some scrumptious entries click here..

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Memories

I started creating you right when I was a baby
and you’ve stayed with me always unless when I’m asleep, maybe.
You come in all flavours.. Sweet, sour, bitter
Some of you are fleeting, while some of you are bigger.

Dear memories you do love to play hide and seek.

Sometimes I need to dig you out and sometimes you refuse to leave.
That time when the teacher questioned me, and again in the exam hall
When I looked for you desperately where were you all?
Then I had my heart broken and I wanted you all gone
but you didn’t move an inch, you stubbornly stayed on!
Ah memories!

Then I saw my grandma when Alzheimer’s struck.


I watched her forget …
the children she’d nurtured, the home she’d made.
Like a baby, yet not one, she forgot to eat and to dress.
One minute she’d hug you, next she’d look through
and then she’d ask.. Little girl, who are you?

I watched my Dad’s heartbreak and my mum’s helplessness
as they fed her and bathed her and took her for a walk.
Sometimes they’d simply sit and listen to her talk.

I watched as she fought to get a grasp of you
but you remained elusive.
You’d come in flashes and then disappear

Just in reach yet just not there.
Now I know you are priceless
Good, bad, ugly, beautiful, sad, happy
every bit of you is to be cherished 
for every bit of you 
has a bit of me.
Note: I started this off as a fun thing because I had no clue what to write for today’s prompt, Memory. And then as I went on I remembered my grandmother who suffered from Alzheimer’s. She was the sweetest, most uncomplicated, most affectionate lady ever. And I realised how precious memories were, all of them, and how lost we’d be without them.. even the bad ones.
Thank you Write Tribe.. And yes I’m in.
Linking….

For some great takes on ‘Memory’, go here. And if you’ don’t know what I’m talking about and are looking for more details on this amazing Festival of Words go here.
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Life after twins

A lazy morning…
Alarm.
Morning walk.
Cup of tea, peaceful music, newspaper.
A glance at the clock.
Two tiffins, two breakfasts.
A quiet conversation, a hug.
Laptop bags, phones, office.
A crazy morning…
Alarm.
Scramble out of bed. Hurry!
Four tiffins, four breakfasts, twenty fights, forty cribs,
bargains, threats, smiles, tears, hugs, pleas.
Two washrooms…. Aaaaaargh!!! Hurry Hurry!!
Ponytails, mismatched socks, spilt milk, forgotten homework, lost
pencils, half eaten breakfast.
School bags, Skating bags, Laptop bags, project models, water
bottles, ribbons, ties, jackets, phones..
Hurry hurry hurry!
School bus. Office.
Whew!
So you think I’d do things differently?

Nah.. Never.


For the prompt ‘I’d do things differently’ given by Aditi of Life Is A Journey….Make It BeaYOUtiful
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Of love and donkeys..

Last Sunday afternoon as we switched on the television the fag end of the film ‘Ajab Prem ki Gazab Kahani’ was in progress. Ranbir is saving Katrina from the bad men. Katrina runs towards him and exclaims, ‘Prem!’ ‘Jenny’, say Ranbir Kapoor… ‘Prem’, ‘Jenny,’ …. On they go.
While N got caught in the ‘tense’ moment H let out a squeal of laughter.. “Jenny, he called her a Jenny.. a she donkey. He’s calling her a she donkey.”

Bet the film makers didn’t think of that! (I’m sure Jenny has another meaning).

Then comes a dialogue “Tum is ghar ki Bahu banne wali ho!” (!) and N asks,
“What’s a Bahu?”
“Daughter-in-law”, say I.
“What’s a daughter-in-law?”
Seriously sometimes the kids amaze me with what they know and sometimes with what they do not. While I was coming up with a reply she says, trying to make it easier for me,
“Who’s our daughter-in-law?”
“Nobody,” say I. “We don’t have one”.
“Does masi have one?”
“Nope”,
“Bua?”
“No”
“Never mind then”, says she losing interest.

And then finally at the happily ever after as Ranbir gives Katrina a kiss on the cheek.. “yuk,” says Hrit covering his face with his hands..”He kissed a she donkey!”

Sorry Katrina the kids are just not Hindi film buffs.

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