pe the food descriptions, but alas, this is what we are here in India for! Eating out in Mumbai is nothing like our experiences in any other Indian city. As far as food is concerened this city has lots to offer, and we could hardly catch up with all of the different types of restaurants without giving ourselves severe indigestion. There is Maharati, Gujarati, Farsi, Rajasthani and Konkani. You name it! they even have CHINESE here, which seems to be a big hit among the locals. But let's go back to basics... The city's favourite street food is Behl Puri, a "snack item" (chaat) sold on every street corner, and eaten in huge quantities by the hoards of passers by. It is composed of puffed rice, chopped onions and chillies, sometimes potatoes and bits of unripe mango (yummmmi!), all tossed together with tamarind and coriander chutnies. Yes, yes, we know we shouldn't be eaying street food, but everyone else was doing it and it seemed like a good idea at the time.When we want to sit down and relax from all of the cutural activities (shopping, mostly) and sightseeing (Fabindia, Kadi cloth shops) that we are doing, we go into one of the nice AC restaurants for an "unlimited thali". Kim has spent the last six months researching blogs and guide books, cross-referencing them, asking everyone she could, and came up with the alternative, ultimate, super-duper hip guide to eating in Mumbai (available to friends, relatives and blog subscribers soon for a nominal fee). We will not trouble you with all the descriptions of all the meals (although Kim is preparing a food diary, for those interested), but thought we should tell you about the wonders of this wonderful system of the "unlimited thali". It goes like this: You go into a restau
rant, you sit down, and before you even have time to relax or wash your hands, a line of uniformed waiters comes by in a great procession, laying down dish after dish: first of all the four chutnies and a pickle, then some Farsans (appetizers), both sweet and savory, like samosas or pekoras. Next come the veggie dishes (there are usually four of these), and at least three types of flat breads: chappatis, teplas, bhakris, pappads etc. You are supposed to wash it all down with at least two drinks: a chass (lassi) and a strage green drink that tastes like the juice of arabic salad with a few indian spices thrown in. It is all amazingly delicious, all things you (or at least we) have always wanted to try and was never able to, or all those things you have been making at home, but never knew what they were supposed to taste like! The terrible part is that it is UNLIMITED... the line of waiters keeps on coming, just like the sourcerer's apprentices, and keep on filling your thali as you finish things, or even before you do. It's all so good you cannot refuse. And if you do, they look mildly insulted, as if you aren't trying hard enough. Just when you think you had enough and pick up the courage to refuse all that tasty food and finally sit back and relax, you are in for a suprise: You should be having a bit of rice and dal or kicheri just to balance your meal. In most cases this was the last nail in our coffins, and we had to stagger home, moaning, mostly happily, but swearing that we will never do it again, only to fall into the same trap the next day. The photo above was taken after we made such an impression with our eating capacities (or the fact that Kim ate a whole chili pepper and was completely nonplussed as the waiters looked on in horror) that we were invited into the kitchen to meet the cooks.
rant, you sit down, and before you even have time to relax or wash your hands, a line of uniformed waiters comes by in a great procession, laying down dish after dish: first of all the four chutnies and a pickle, then some Farsans (appetizers), both sweet and savory, like samosas or pekoras. Next come the veggie dishes (there are usually four of these), and at least three types of flat breads: chappatis, teplas, bhakris, pappads etc. You are supposed to wash it all down with at least two drinks: a chass (lassi) and a strage green drink that tastes like the juice of arabic salad with a few indian spices thrown in. It is all amazingly delicious, all things you (or at least we) have always wanted to try and was never able to, or all those things you have been making at home, but never knew what they were supposed to taste like! The terrible part is that it is UNLIMITED... the line of waiters keeps on coming, just like the sourcerer's apprentices, and keep on filling your thali as you finish things, or even before you do. It's all so good you cannot refuse. And if you do, they look mildly insulted, as if you aren't trying hard enough. Just when you think you had enough and pick up the courage to refuse all that tasty food and finally sit back and relax, you are in for a suprise: You should be having a bit of rice and dal or kicheri just to balance your meal. In most cases this was the last nail in our coffins, and we had to stagger home, moaning, mostly happily, but swearing that we will never do it again, only to fall into the same trap the next day. The photo above was taken after we made such an impression with our eating capacities (or the fact that Kim ate a whole chili pepper and was completely nonplussed as the waiters looked on in horror) that we were invited into the kitchen to meet the cooks.
Just in case you wanted dessert after all this, Mumbai has lots to offer on that front as well, but I think the ultimate dessert of our week in the city was the Falooda we had (admittedly at 9 am, before any thalis happened) in the Crawford market. If you are Israeli, you might know "falooda shirazi" from sketchy little kiosks in south Tel Aviv - an opaque and slimy concoction that stinks of rose water. Well, Bombay's version is a world apart: There is a whole menu of them (including the infamous "shrazi", which we didn't try), and the one we did get had mango syrup, condensed milk, ice cream, tapioca, rice noodles, and other things we couldn't identify... but it certainly was good (see photo). Off to Bijapur in a few hours, will keep you posted on our further adventures!
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3 comments:
You two are certainly braver than me...then again, I never get invited into kitchens to meet cooks! Hope you keep having great eating adventures!
I am trying to figure out what was in the amazing lime soda that carts made on the street in Bombay. Squeezed lime, soda water, salt, sugar and spices?
Any idea what I am talking about.
It was so delicious.
The secret ingredient (that is apart for the use of carbonated water of of suspicious provenance) is "black salt" or Kala Namak. It's got a very distinctive, sulfuric smell. We got ours in India, but you can try getting it in Indian stores. If you can't get just the salt, you can try using "chaat masala" that often has black salt as one of its main ingredients.
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