India Like This Only

The first time I tasted ajwain was in Macchi Amritsari. I must have been about 17 at the time and a young student at the Institute of Hotel Management in Dadar Mumbai. I’d pick up work as a banquet server, working for hotels and catering companies that cater giant fancy events for fancy rich people. Harpal Singh was this giant of a Sardarji, who ran some of the best Punjabi food in Mumbai. My job for the evening was to be the invisible guy in a black bow tie who floats around with a tray of appetizers. “Amritsari Macchi, ma’am, sir” was what would tell the sahib folk, all engrossed in conversation. Of course, once in the back, I’d sneak a taste of the goods. The unique floral essence with a mildly bitter finish made my developing mind go “Ooh…. what’s that ?” That’s when I remember coming to isolate this peculiar flavor and understand it for what it is. It was ajwain that made that particular Amritsari Macchi spectacular. Otherwise it’s just another deep fried fish with spices. The ...

Back in the day when I was the Indian cook at Google, mornings used to be pretty hectic for us from the minute the crew walked in. We’d spend the first part of the morning going around from pillar to post, gathering our ingredients for the day. It’s usually quite a scramble, and there wasn't a minute to spare. That's why one morning, I found it rather strange to see three of my fellow cooks and the Executive Chef gathered in front of the Indian spice shelves at 6:00 am deep in conversation. They were holding on to a bright yellow jar with a puzzled look on their faces. “Did you order this?” The Exec Chef asked me, and held up the jar labeled Compounded Asafetida. “You actually cook with this s***t?” he asked me in disbelief. "Oui Chef" I replied. "There's a reason why the French name for this spice is Merde du diable”. (the devil’s poop). Being  classically trained in French culinary arts, chef got it right away. For those who are unfamiliar with Asafetida, ...

Growing up in a household with a catholic mother and a muslim father gave me an edge over the other kids in school. I got to celebrate twice the number of festivals. In our house, Christmas and Easter were celebrated as fervently as Ramzan Eid and Bakri Eid. As the world celebrated Bakri Eid, also known as Eid-al-Adha earlier this week, it made me remember the time when I was a young child growing up in Mumbai, and how this festival helped me understand some of life’s most important lessons. Bakri Eid is a festival where Muslims all over the world perform the Qurbaani; the ritualistic sacrifice of an animal if they are able to. On this day, the experience of Abraham is remembered where he was called upon by God to sacrifice his son Isaac. Every year on Bakri Eid, I was told I was too young to go with him to see the Qurbaani happen. Dad would leave early in the morning with my uncles and return a few hours later with a wicker basket full of mutton parts, all cut up into pieces and layer...

I get so many crap forwards on my Highschool Whatsapp chat group, it's hard to keep abreast. We, the eight friends who make up this group all grew up together and went to the same school in a little coastal suburb called Bandra in Mumbai India. Even though it’s been over thirty years since we graduated, and even though we all live on different continents now, when we are on that chat group, we become those same teenagers again. And the kind of forwards that usually get tossed around tend to be the kind that reflect that particular era of our lives. You know … the kind that inspires uncontrollable snickers and snorts from Beavis and Butthead. Which is why I was pleasantly surprised by this post that surfaced the other day. It was a PDF forward with the title: 207 page treasury of 375 Mangalorean recipes, possibly all the way back from our Great Grandparents' Culinary Skills. I just could not resist. I had to dive in and dig further. And what a treat it was! This was an exhausti...

The Plantations of the American South are an important aspect of her history. At the height of slavery, there were something like 46,000 plantations stretching across the southern states, according to the National Humanities center. The mild temperate climate, plentiful rainfall and fertile soil contributed to the reasons why these operations flourished. That and abundant enforced slave labor at that time. When traveling through South Carolina, a visit to a Plantation is featured on every tourist’s to do list, which is what I chose to do during my recent visit to the Palmetto state. The plantation I chose to visit was the Charleston Tea Garden; the only existing tea plantation in the United States. For some strange reason, I felt a deep connection to my heritage and my roots while I was there. The start of America’s story with Tea began around the 1770s, as an effort to meet the ever increasing British demand for tea at that time.   Tea plantations had been cultivated in large sca...

I was recently in the Palmetto State; South Carolina, attending a wedding. While I was there, it was hard to miss the signs Boiled Peanuts for Sale. They were everywhere! You couldn’t go past a Grocery store, gas station or Boardwalk without seeing a sign for it. The Boiled Peanut appears to be a South Carolina obsession, so much so that it is named the official snack of the state. There’s even an annual festival for it every September in a town called Bluffton dedicated to this hardworking legume. Seeing this brought a smile to my face, the kind of smile that’s usually associated with nostalgia and fond memories. Boiled Peanuts were one of my favorite snacks when I was a child growing up in Mumbai.   Boiled peanuts take me back to our Sunday family outings. All the Uncles and Aunties, siblings and cousins, all would meet up either at Land’s End or Carter Road for an evening out. These are the two sea facing boardwalks in our suburb town of Bandra West. Back then, before the endles...

Nothing says summer grilling better than Burgers. How can you not love sinking your teeth into a flame broiled beef patty enveloped in two slices of bun with all the fixings. However I find the American approach to burgers to be a bit too bland for my spice loving palette. Growing up in India, our version of the Burger was the Cutlet. Cutlets came to India via the Europeans, and like so many dishes, we proceeded to make it our own. This is probably the chief cause for all the confusion when you research Cutlets on the web. The rest of the world understands a Cutlet to be a very finely pounded slice of meat, either beef, veal, pork or chicken that’s dredged in egg and breadcrumbs and pan fried. We Indians understand the cutlet to be a seasoned ground beef patty that’s dredged in egg and breadcrumbs and pan fried. Something seems to have gotten lost in translation, but the end result is something quite marvelous. The Hamburger purists don’t have very nice things to say about my approach ...