India Like This Only

In Mumbai, everyone waits for June. It’s the start of the monsoon, giving Mumbaikars a much needed break from the sweltering summer. But for me, growing up in the coastal suburb of Bandra, June was a different experience. That’s when I would intentionally stay away from the sea facing areas, because of the stench. June is the start of Bombay Duck season, and the process of salting and drying this fish would fill the air with an aroma that could cause a fainting spell right on the spot in the middle of the street. You wouldn’t be the only one mistaken if the name Bombay Duck made you think of poultry. This name is given to a peculiar species of fish found primarily in the coastal waters of Mumbai and Gujarat. It’s quite an ugly fish with an uncharacteristically large and gaping mouth. The high water content makes the flesh rather gelatinous, almost slimy, causing it to spoil rather easily. The primary method of preserving this fish is salting and drying. Rudimentary bamboo structures

It will get you by surprise. There you are, walking along a random Mumbai sidewalk like any other. Humming the bollywood ditty that's stuck in your head while tap dancing around the plops of doggy poop, when it hits you out of nowhere, stopping you in your tracks. That unmistakable heady scent of spicy animal fat dripping on live charcoal. There's a kebab wala nearby, and he sure seems to know what he's doing. Street kebab vendors are an integral part of Mumbai’s landscape. You can usually find them in the muslim pockets in the city, often outside the local mosque. The setup is usually very simple. A rectangular grill very similar to a Japanese Hibachi, a couple dozen fat iron skewers and a bag of charcoal is all you need to get started. The expertise however, is another thing altogether. Mastery of the charcoal pit takes a lifetime, as it’s all done by feel and instinct, and practice, practice, practice. It is believed that kebabs came to India via the Mughal dynasty circa

The concept of coffee is so cool these days in Mumbai. Just consider the number of Coffee houses popping up everywhere, all packed with millennials staring into laptop screens, overpaying for coffee to milk the free wifi and air conditioning. How the times have changed! Back when I was growing up in Mumbai, we had none of this. Back then, if you wanted a decent cup of coffee, that wasn't made from some instant powder, you had to go to an Udipi restaurant. Yes... the very same place where you get Idli, Vada sambar and Masala Dosa. Most of the world thinks of chai when they think Indian hot stimulating beverage. But while that may be true in the northern parts of India, the southern states beg to differ. They much prefer a refreshing cup of Filter Kaapi; which is their mangled method of pronouncing the word 'Coffee'. In the southern Indian states of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala, coffee is more than just a beverage. It's pretty much a religion. There aren't any pap

My school lunch was usually brown bagged. However, on occasion, when Mom would have a particularly busy schedule, I'd get a few rupees to go buy lunch wherever I chose. Those days were trouble for me.  I’d be called at more often than usual for being distracted. That's because lunch was going to be at Balaji's on Hill Road, the Udipi restaurant adjacent to my school. Udipi restaurants are an institution all over India, but particularly cherished in Mumbai. These vegetarian restaurants are simple, economical and food is of exceptional quality. Udipi is a city in Karnataka which lends its name to the style of food. While you can be assured of a wholesome and satisfying vegetarian meal there, the chief reason to visit is for the three key staples; Idli, Vada and Dosa. These dishes are fairly cumbersome to make, requiring skill, patience and special equipment. Udipi restaurants have these dishes mostly down to a science I can never forget my first Masala Dosa. "What sorcer

This year, Eid in Mumbai was a scorcher. A heat advisory was issued, reminding the people of Mumbai to stay hydrated and avoid strenuous activity. You'd think that would be enough to dissuade this chef from his culinary intention of Dum Biryani. Think again. In the urban dictionary, against the term “Sucker for punishment”, there must be a picture of Chef Dama, labeled as exhibit A. Why would anyone want to subject themselves through this torture? To walk to the market when it's over 40 C/100 F outside to procure fresh goat meat, yogurt, long grain basmati rice and spices. A person in his right frame of mind would be snuggled in front of the air conditioner, doing Netflix and chill. Instead there I am sweat drenched in the kitchen, stoves on full blast as I fry a kilogram of sliced onions to make Birishta; the key ingredient in Biryani. Next, into the scorching hot fat go the potatoes. Sure the potato frying process could be skipped. But to miss out on that magic golden orange