Friends and feasts - Korean BBQ at Da Seoul in Delhi

The perfect gathering at the laden table!

Brajesh, long suffering husband of blogger Kim aka Karishma of Jhovaan who has learned he can't eat till he shoots! Thanks for shotting us B!

 Lovely Kimch!

What we ate!

Lets call them Pork wraps for now!

The most delicious thing about food is that it offers an instant connect, no matter who we are or what our cultural roots are, food is universal. Offering the shared flavours of friendship and community it encourages intimacy, creates memories and helps nurture relationships. In fact rare are the people who do not warm up to the thought of food and talking about food is my favourite theme to start a conversation with, or break the ice when I meet new people.

And the gathering around our table last night was proof of that. We met at Da Seoul, a little Korean restaurant in Ansal Plaza that is overshadowed by Oriental Bloom on one side and a kitschy karaoke place whose name I have forgotten on the other. The choice of venue was Theyie’s who some of you will know from her posts on APB (she has shifted to Delhi for those who have been wondering why her ‘Dear Rushina’ posts have stopped. Hopefully she will settle down and be back to writing them soon).

So Theyie loves this place for two reasons the MEAT (of course) and the fermented food, both of which appeal to her Naga palate. But we also had Ross aka Roshan and his wife Raj who are from Darjeeling, Karishma who is Manglorean, her Husband Brajesh who is from UP and me from Gujarat (yes my ancestors had a very restless night in their graves!).

And we had a great time, seated on the floor, around a low table in a little Tatami room, trying to make ourselves heard over the raucous laughter of a group of loud Korean gents enjoying themselves in the room behind us. We began salivating almost the moment a selection of Kimchis was spread out before us. Service was very prompt and fuss free. And then as we began tasting out way around the table, the large brazier was set before us and a platter of beautiful fatty pork was brought in. Conversation continued as Theyie and Raj set about cooking the pork. Ok I was too busy eating and talking to bother with the names of stuff (for once I had not been handed the menu and asked to order!) but I will do a proper post on Korean food to tell you all that.

The pork sizzled on the pan and once it was beautifully golden and crispy Theyie showed us how to dab it with some chilli paste (which I thought was Gojujang, but Theyie called something else) and wrap it in some lettuce before putting it in our mouth. It was a delicious bite, the pork was fatty, succulent and hot, the lettuce cool and crunchy and the chilli paste was spicy and subtly sweet. When we finished cooking all the Pork, the plate was changed and in came a Beef version, with lovely slices of fat marbled beef accompanied by thick slices of onion and mushroom. As Theyie and Raj did their thing with cooking it, the rest of us finished with the pork.

And then while the Beef was cooking Theyie passed around rice in little steel covered bowls. And I discovered the magic that had been silently waiting in my little plate. We’d been picking bits and pieces of things from all the different bowls in front of us and putting them in out bowls before eating them. Adding the Chilli paste to the side as something like the Pork required it. And while I had been eating, a chemistry of its own kind was happening in my bowl, as all the juices that had been running off from the various Kimchis and the chilli paste combined. A Chemistry that just blew me away when I mixed in a spoonful of rice and some of the liquid component of the Squid soup that came in just then.

It was A Perfect Bite of that evening, everything coming together in one mouthful just like the stellar combination of dining companions that were already forging new friendships and planning other meetings!

Momomania

Dear Rushina,

All in all, my trip to Delhi served its purpose. I returned to Mumbai with the most ghastly flu, but mentally and emotionally restored and ready to start over. During my two weeks there, I sought refuge and reassurance in friends and food, most often these two together. Minus my disastrous solo Momo binge in Karol Bagh which left me with a terrible stomach, the rest of my foodie forays were carried out with friends and family in tow.

And no respectable foodie foray in Delhi would be complete without Momos. Tibetan in origin, these steamed dumplings of thin flour sheets stuffed with meat and condiments are wrapped in different styles and serve with a water thin clear soup and spicy chutney. Momos are omnipresent in the Capital. As a group of voracious 18 year olds in Delhi, almost a decade ago, we would descend on the small street side stall of ‘Momo aunty’ at Lajpat Nagar Market and gorge on delicious mutton (and then chicken when those were exhausted) Momos. It wasn’t the prettiest sight unless you were part of the pack. It was a surreal time when my frighteningly fast metabolism allowed me to eat three plates of pork Momos at the Nagaland Stall in Dilli Haat, then move on to the Sikkim stall for another two plates of deep fried mutton Momos. The Momos at M Block market weren’t bad either, stuffed with chicken and served with a biting chili sauce. And nothing revived you from a marathon bargaining session at Janpath than the numerous Momo stalls in the market.

At 22, I was back in Delhi, this time in Delhi University’s North Campus. I discovered the revered Momo’s point in Kamla Nagar Market where I stuffed myself, albeit in more modest portions. But I will forever be indebted to my friend Nina who introduced me to Majnu Ka Tila and the most divine beef Momos at Tee Dee restaurant.

You can understand that it was not without a generous helping of sentimentality and nostalgia that I began to retrace my old Momo Haunts. I planned my pilgrimage so that it would culminate in Majnu Ka Tila, with Tee Dee’s beef Momos as my Holy Grail. I walked through the labyrinth that is Lajpat Nagar Central Market and returned broken hearted as ‘Momo Aunty’ was nowhere to be found. My cousin consoled me later. Apparently there’s a fabulous little place called Chingwa, run by a Tibetan that may satisfy my Momo cravings the next time I’m in Lajpat Nagar. The Momos at both the Nagaland and Sikkim stall were faithful like my favorite verses in the Bible.

Momo’s Point at Kamla Nagar was, if it’s possible, shadier and shabbier than before. The Momos not up to par, I stepped out and walked over to Noodles, the slightly fancier and better lit restaurant next door and cleansed my palate with an understated thukpa, noodles served in a clear soup of vegetables and meat.

I scheduled an entire day to visit Majnu Ka Tila. If you get time to visit on your trip to Delhi, you’ll understand why. Nothing on the vast arid highway prepares you for the time warp that is the Tibetan settlement next to Majnu Ka Tila gurudwara.



You step in to find signs in Tibetan script, maroon(ed) robed Tibetan monks and Tibetan men of all ages sunbathing, playing carom or cards or just loitering on narrow streets. Those parts of the streets not occupied by them have stalls which sell everything from precious stones, silver, Tibetan literature, to goods from China.
To get to Tee Dee, one has to walk to the courtyard outside the Tibetan school and climb the stairs to the restaurant. The interiors were just like how I left it in my memories. Always crowded, guests are given a blank notepad to write down their orders (very dangerous, when you see the things the offer on the menu, from innocuous thukpa to tongue chilly fry).
Orders all written, we waited with bottles of fruit beer to keep us company. The food arrived and we dug in.



It wasn’t the same at all. Even the beef Momos tasted more like their sanitized Mall food court cousins. Nirvana was nowhere to be found that Saturday afternoon. But as I write this, the Pavlovian foodie in me still salivates in honour of the Momos in my memory. Taste buds, like elephants never forget.

Old Delhi Food tour - North India Food Discovery (1)

Having decided to map India’s culinary experiences and organise them into tours for food lovers via Masala trails, my new food tourism venture I had the perfect excuse to stop and smell the... well Kebabs in Old Delhi en route to Rajasthan in November.

Old Delhi is far removed from the newer parts of India’s Capital. Seemingly stuck in a time warp, it is a teeming warren of narrow lanes populated by shadowy ghosts of history shimmering amongst ordinary citizens of today. And to add to the unreality factor, everything is overhung by an ancient dust spangled tangle of live cables! But it is easy to see the evidence that centuries ago, this is where royalty shopped for exotica from all over the world in the ancient shops and establishments it is home to.

Post a slight detour to purchase a takeaway pack of freshly baked Sheermal we were on our quest for Noori Masaleywaley, an eighty year old shop, run by Mohammed Azam and Akif Azam. Not much of a quest however, we quickly learned that locating anything in Old Delhi is a no brainer, just ask! And Noori, source of spices for any chef worth his Mughlai food in Delhi, is iconic. There are lots of spice mixes available but can also customise blends to specification. I chose korma masala, kofta masala, nahari masala and a rather intriguing stew masala from a handy menu. But for now lets cut to the meat of the matter.

Because that is what Karims is - meat heaven! Vegetarians are... welcomed if they must be....
Found at the aromatic end of a tiny little alley of a street appropriately named Gali Kababian (Street of Kababs!) Karims is an Old Delhi institution rooted in history and easily missed if you don’t know where to look. A haphazard collection of ground floor rooms of adjoining building that have obviously been stitched together by commerce over the years Karims was bustling. A compact menu of about 30 odd dishes also conveniently serving in half portions, allows wide sampling.

We began with kebabs (of course), picking Chicken Tikka (as a bench mark, it being the kebab I am most familiar with), Mutton Seekh and the Mutton Burra. And my trip to Karims was validated. They were unlike anything I had ever eaten before! (I don’t say this easily, neither do I claim to have tasted too many kebabs). The Chicken tikka were gently spiced slightly tangy succulent chunks distinctly different from the siren red versions I had eaten before and far, far superior. The seekh kebabs were unpretntios to look at, flecked with green chillies and gently spiced but so very moist and showing no evidence of denseness from excessive binding agents. But it was the Burra that I confess I lost a little of my foodie heart to. An indescribable chunk of meat and bone, that was cooked so perfectly that the meat almost seemed eager to part ways with the bone!

It seemed appropriate to pause at this point to just savour the fact that this is probably the sort of food that Mughal Royaly ate in a bygone era.

Our main course arrived. We ordered Mutton Korma, Mutton Stew and some more Sheermal to sop up the deliciousness with. Evidence that food is cooked the traditional way here (no holds barred) shows in the thick layer of melted fat that was poured off before our curries were served.

Like the stew masalla earlier the stew on the menu caught my attention because stew is not indigenous to Indian cuisine, (it was a legacy of the British Raj). And while we have that delicious coconut based version spiced with pepper in Kerela cuisineit was interesting to find a version of stew in this bastion of Mughlai cuisine in Delhi.

And it was the discovery of the day in terms of taste as well. A pale greenish white, flecked with bits of chilli and delicately spiced with coriander seed it was deliciously tangy. My palate picked up the spices but I was flummoxed by the source of the tanginess. I had to ask how it was made. But Karims do not share recipes. My server mumbled something about telling us later. He kept his promise coming back to furtively whisper that the base of the stew was fresh yoghurt, cooked slowly untill it let all its fat forth. But of the spices he had no knowledge because they were combined and prepared by one of the family and delivered to the kitchen daily.

Paying the princely sum of Rs. 650 (only) we moved on to dessert at Gyani's rabri falooda shop on Church Mission Road. More than 5 decades old, famous for its rabri falooda, milk shakes, ice creams and such seasonal desserts as Urad dal halwa, the Rabri Falooda was all it promised to be but it was the lassiwalla nearby that caught my attention. I got myself a serving in a clay kullad and continued on past shops selling jaggery, tooth cleaners and spice shops to Khari Baoli.

Khari Baoli houses Asia’s largest wholesale spice market. Announcing its proximity by attacking your eyes and throat long before you enter, because there are chillies everywhere! Spilling from sacks and being ground underfoot, exacting their revenge by releasing their vapours into the air in their dying throes. Serious business is transacted here and tourists are aggravating to the volatile atmosphere. Like seaweed caught on a tide we were jostled about by carts weighed down with spices and men carrying sacks of chillies but I love chillies, and I can be persistent. Significant persuasion later one trader deigned to talk to me and reluctantly gave me a few samples before shooing me off! But I had what I wanted and hugging my booty close I gleefully made my way home.