Odisha Odyssey Part 1-Bhuwaneshwar

Odisha has intrigued me for a long time now. Having never been to east or west India, my only window to these places were the people who hailed from these places that I met way away from either my home or their. Oriya folks made up for significant populace in Sabarmati hostel back during my JNU days. One of them had this knee high Jagannath in a corner of her room. In a place where it was cool to defy traditions (especially the Hindu ones, rest were acceptable in the name of  being sensitive), I was surprised to see this open display of faith. I was one of the few faithfuls too, though my faith laid in the Vaikunthnath temple, with its familiar dark granite south Indian style statue of Vishu. The old Tamil priest and the familiarity of the temple soothed my soul that ached to get back home to my family. Ah! there were those days and now I am way farther than ever before still aching to get back home to my people.

The other Odiyas I knew had strange sounding names and pet names. They loved Dahi Baigan because when ever we had a Odiya Mess Secretary, Dahi Baigan would invariably get back on the menu, also the quality of food would improve. I shared their love for Dahi Baigan and that was the one recipe I took from our cooks when I left JNU. Also the Aravali mess in JNU was one place where we got great food on the campus, which was again run by Odiya people. Since then Odisha has been on my radar for good food. I always wanted to visit and try the real deal. I finally got an opportunity to visit Odisha and I cannot stop thinking of it ever since. I booked a family 5 days 4 night vacation via www.makemytrip.com. The vacation turned out to be memorable except for the accommodation in Puri. I will go back to MMT for future holidays but will be more careful selecting accommodations.

Day 1:
Our odyssey started from Namma Bengaluru on the direct Indigo flight to Bhuwaneshwar. The flight was comfortable about two hours long (or short). They did sell snacks and breakfast along with Coffee/tea on board but it is expensive. We landed on time in Bhuwaneshwar and were greeted to a charming, small airport reminiscent of old HAL airport and this sand sculpture of Budha by the renowned Sudarshan Patnaik. I regret being lazy and not taking my SLR along, the photos are not great.

Soon after our local tour operator picked us up from the airport and took us to Hotel Pushpak, our home for the next two nights. The mural of Mukteshwar temple in their lobby along with a sizable Jagannath welcomed us to a quick check in. Dumping bags in the family suit, we headed out seeking something to eat. We found a restaurant called Yum Yum attached to the hotel with patio dining and ordered 'Thali' meals (vegetarian, egg and fish thali as per individual preferences). Each Thali came with a quantity of rice that can be called enormous by a city Kannadiga standard, a small bowl of dal, vegetable, egg/fish/panner dish, salad, papad and Gulab Jamoon. My carnivorous sibling ordered a dish called Chakuli Mutton, it looked a sort of mutton curry with thick Dosa like pancakes. The food was not impressive and I learned the hard way that one Odiya Thali would not be kind on my stomach.

Shortly afterwards we were on our way to the State Museum, which is well laid out by Indian standards. I  do wish there were more description on the artifacts or better yet guided tours, the lack of which left me fumbling with jigsaw pieces from the puzzle called 'The Great Indian History'. Having never studies the history of Eastern India in detail, I was surprised to notice works from 'Chalukya' and 'Ganga' , albeit with the prefix 'Eastern'. It got me wondering if there was something distinctly Kannada that I could spot. It was not to be. I could not help but wonder at the enterprising rulers who ended up so far away from their homes in quest of glory and that things were easier then in some ways. Back then they did not have to carry passports and pass long immigration, custom lines to be able to go to another country.

I left the museum acutely feeling the paucity of time with several sections given just a cursory glance. We passed the Bharateshwar, Shatrugneshwar temples and ended up at the Parashurameshwar temple. It was charming little temple with the usual Kalinga architectural motifs -Saptamatrikas, Yakshas, a circular ribbed structure just beneath the Kalasa called 'Amla'. At the back of the temple, in the Prakara path was a big Linga with several small Lingas carved into it, making it look like a Linga wrapped in bicycle chain. I had never seen something like this before.


Walking along a pathway to a low rise compound wall on which sat several women gathered in busy gossip, we found a quick path next door to the Mukteshwar temple. It is not a very large temple but it is one of the most charming temples I have ever come across. If Tamil temples look imposing with their sheer size, temples of Karnataka stand out for their detailed ornamentation, it is sheer grace that sets Mukteshwar temple apart from the rest. It has about it an easy elegance of an Odissi dancer.  The ornate Torana at the entrance of the temple offers a warm welcome. The walls of the temple is covered with elaborate carving  including that of playful monkeys which immediately reminded me of Sunny boy. The interior of the temple was rather small. Even as we stopped to admire the elegance, the priest invited us inside the sanctum. When we stopped at the entrance, we urged us to go inside. Unlike the south Indian temples and like Kashi Vishwanath temple, we can actually go inside the sanctum and pour water over the small Linga. A few 100 rupee bills made the priest happy enough to bless us the whole world and we came out of the temple feeling liberated. He urged us to visit the Kedar Gowri temple across the main road. We could not help noticing that in this temple prayers were offered to damaged statues of gods and goddess in the other smaller shrines in front of the main temple. Back home murti/statues are abandoned at the slightest damage (called bhinna). Progressive thought, I concluded.

Heeding to the priest, we walked over to the Kedar Gowri temple next door. It is a fairly modern temple and the deity Gowri ma is beautiful, with a yellow -turmeric laden face and big eyes. There were smaller shrines that of serpent god and a few others I don't remember. What I do, was that the temple was dirty and that they could have done a better job at maintenance.


We stopped at Raja Rani temple. It is a beautifully laid out temple with a garden under works. There was funky smell as we entered the premises at dusk, which my father suspected to be the mosquito repellent that  local administration typically sprays indiscriminately. There were no deities inside and the failing light of dusk ensured us no views of the carvings on the Vimana.  Was it the mosquito repellent or something else, we were actually able to sit at the steps of the temple for a while without having to slap ourselves defensively against mosquito attack.  A couple of old men sat a few feet away from us on the platform chanting the name of Rama. It made for an enchanting evening. If only we were a week late that we could have witnessed the music festival.

Our next stop was Lingaraja temple. The most prominent temple in Bhuwaneshwar.Unfortunately cell phones and cameras were not allowed inside and I will have to rely on my failing memory to revisit the images of the temples. The temple premises was super crowded with tourists from Maharashtra. Even though it was dusk, it felt dirty. The temple is actually a complex with a huge temple in the middle and several smaller shrines around the main temple.The priests doled out pushy invitations offering their wares and services. We were able to over look most of them except a few. A  few 10 rupees and a few 100 rupee bills bailed us out. There was a long line and a great deal of pushing for the darshan inside the main temple. On our way in I noticed inscriptions in Devanagari, Oriya and what I thought looked like Kannada, which got me excited. But Amma examined it and concluded it as Telugu. I felt my heart sink a little bit. The darshan was quick, one glimpse and the crowd behind us pushed us out to the security personnel, who did not seem to think twice to physically remove those that lingered still. As we walked around the Prakara the circumambulatory path around the main temple,we noticed smaller shrines dedicated to a bunch of gods including the patron god of engineers, Kashi Vishwanath, Surya, Krishna and interestingly Yama- the god of death. Indeed no celebration of life can be complete without death. Another remarkable feature that I noticed in the thickness of the dark night sky was the Vimana. It surely was different from the Dravidian or the Nagara style. There was a huge sculpture of  lions jutting out several feet above ground somewhere in the Vimana part of the temple spire. Such heavy sculptures jutting out without much support seemed technically brilliant. After spending several minutes parked on one of the platforms watching people walk by, we decided to head out.

Mr Bubby took us to ISKCON temple next. The evening prayers were being celebrated. A monk with long curly hair danced to the beats of the celebratory drums. A woman with ample bottom started to dance at the edge of the monks with her kid with great gusto. A few minutes later the watchman walked up to her and asked her to stop dancing. That was strange. It was not clear why she was stopped, that she was dancing next to the monks or that she was a woman. After a while we decided to heed our rumbling tummies and headed out.

Our driver Mr.Bubbly  (again an unusual choice of name for an adult man) dropped us to Pushpak. Instead of heading to Yum Yum fast food on premises, we decided to try the south Indian restaurant next door. A bowl of soup was all I could care for and others in the party ordered as dictated by their appetite. Nothing remarkable, but decent south Indian vegetarian for those with a hard core south Indian palate. As we demolished our food, I could not help hearing another Kannada party seated on one of the tables near us remarking how happy they were to find Idlies this far away from home. We called it a day.

Day 2:

My jet lag had not worn out and I slept poorly those days. A light sleeper that I am I woke up to what I thought was the sound of a conch, therefore the time for the dawn pooja. We had an appointment with Mr.Bubbly at 9 AM and waking up early to get ready seemed a good idea. Lo behold my surprise that the clock struck 1 AM. It turned out to be a honking train and not a conch being blown in some temple. Having been to several temples my mind was playing tricks on me. I must have been able to catch some sleep afterwards and finally before the breakfast buffet started, we were all set. We headed down to the Golden Bird restaurant where we were in for a complimentary breakfast. It was a cozy place with a good spread. There were Idlis, very good sambar, terrible chutnies, aloo parathas, eggs, toasts as well as fruits and juice. Idlis, eggs, chickpeas, fruits and juice it was for me. Mr.Bubbly kept his time and off we set out to Lalitgiri.

The winter morning it was, the air was chilly and the city woke up late. We were very soon out of the city and on the highway to Cuttack. Most of the highways were in very good condition and I quietly thanked AB Vajpayee for the highways. Before long we were passing through sleepy Cuttack and one after the other we crossed over dry river beds. Mr.Bubbly kept naming them and that they were the tributaries of Mahanadi. All that and more could not have prepared us for how big Mahanadi was. When we encountered her, she was pretty much dry but the span was nothing like I had seen before. We passed over piers after piers and there were more. I could not stop wondering how might the river must have been and how fecund the land around before the dam was constructed upstream? She is indeed 'Great' river now that she has ceased to be the 'sorrow of Orissa'.

Very soon we got off the highway into a small winding road lined with green fields and ponds at small villages at regular intervals. People went about their business in a pace that seemed languid to my city bred eyes. Who knows, this might be their life, unhurried and hard. Soon we were following of couple of tour buses carrying school children. Lalitgiri was a major Buddist complex with Stupas, Chaityas and ruins of Monastries. The extensive ruins has remains of walls built with clay bricks several feet thick. They were well planned for their time with ruins of drains and reminded me of Indus Saraswati Civilization. Perhaps there has been a cultural continuity from then to now that historians are unable to see? who knows a better historian might be able to see that in our lifetimes.
As we entered the complex after paying the required fees, we realized we were clueless navigating the site efficiently. The walkway was paved and the climb uphill. While we tried to figure out the path to pursue when we came across a split, a gaggle of school kids passed us. Leading and yelling instructions at them was a man in faux leather jacket and shades, perhaps their teacher who was familiar with the place. Following them might help us navigate the place is what I though till I spotted a Lama.

In the ruins of one of the monasteries on the left hand side of the pathway was a maroon-yellow Buddhist monk from who was touring the ruins with his guide.  I tried to strike a conversation hoping for some more information on the site, but the duo were in a hurry. The monk paid a quick obeisance at the feet of a partial Budha and left. We loitered around and tried to understand the ruins as much as we could. We acutely felt the need for either a guide or a guided tour. Though ASI charged us for entrance and has generally done a good job of keeping the place neat, there is no brochures or information on how best to go around the place. The gaggle of school kids long ahead of us, we tried to make sense of the ruins and walk around the large number of votive stupas and the ruins of a Chaitya. The Chaitya must have been elliptical brick construction with a smooth rounded platform. What remains are various geometrical shapes around the Chaitya ruins. We could not make sense of it. The monastery ruins were pretty intuitive. They typically opened into a courtyard with rooms and either sides and a small /large Budha Shrine across the entrance in the middle in some of the monasteries. We noticed niches in the wall perhaps to be used as cupboards, drains in a few rooms and large holes which we later were told held beams that supported the roof. Walking forward we landed at the flight of stone stairs. The gaggle of school kids were now split into groups, some were getting down the stairs already. We decided to walk up. At the top of the stairs was an enormous Stupa and beautiful views. A bunch of boys had already climbed on the Stupa which was disrespectful of both the Buddha and our antiquity. A mild reprimand alerted the teacher in faux leather and they were made to dismount in an instant. After searching in vain for a few tranquil moments we decided it was best to avoid the gaggle. After a brief stop at Monastry 3 and 1 we were on our way out. A huge museum complex is under construction to house the finds of excavation, which we were later told might open in spring 2018.



Our next stop was Udayagiri. From Lalitgiri to Udayagiri Mr.Bubby decided to drive us on a local road to save some time. It was a winding bund of river on one side and ponds on the other side. Ah! the number of ponds we saw, no wonder Odiyas love their fresh water fish. The cattle were mostly small desi cow and goats, which are pretty much replaced by Jersey and Holstein cows in southern Karnataka. If village houses were any indication of prosperity, Karnataka was way prosperous than Odisha. There were still many many thatched roofs which these days is a rarity in southern Karnataka. For a second I wondered what if snakes got into the thatches.Scary! The narrow winding bund continued, one particular stretch the bund was only wide enough for our car and Mr Bubbly graciously decided to make some space for an auto coming from the other side. For a second my heart stopped. Soon we were off the bund and on a regular road and I could not thank my stars enough.

The ruins at Udayagiri were more extensive than at Lalithgiri. Thankfully we found the ASI watchman who gave us a good tour of the area for 200 rupees. There were works underway. They were laying stone and cement path to walk around the place. Currently there were just uneven gravel paths which were uncomfortable to walk around. Our guide a gaunt man who claimed to be a local, told us the sad story of the excavation where structures collapsed as they tried to excavate the mounds and how the ASI excavated a beautiful budha only to find it beheaded by treasure hunters the next morning. Since then our guide explained they keep all their finds locked up in a small shed. He was considerate enough to open the locks at these sheds and let us have a quick look. He also clicked our pictures between pointing himself and yelling 'department' at passing foreign tourists. After a 5-6 mile walk around the ruins and paying obeisance at a Bhavani mandir near the main ruins in hot mid day sun, we had had enough. Our guide was still excited enough to point us the well from where the Buddhist monks drew water and carried it uphill to their kitchens and monasteries.  The well still had water and was beautifully laid out.

We took leave shortly and passed many auspicious prints of the names of newly weds on the walls of many houses en-route. We entered Ratnagiri to a whiff of spicy curry, mutton curry said my sister. After the whiff came the sight of a group of people chatting around a communal cauldron even as the fire under the cauldron spewed copious amount of smoke.  We were hungry and could think of nothing but hot lunch. Mr Bubbly dropped us at the Toshali resort in Ratnagiri. The kitchen staff had just wound up entertaining a major conference and the kitchen was understaffed. They did offer thali and dal/rice. The young man waiting on us warned us that the kitchen needed extra time since they were understaffed. We ordered a fish Thali , half chicken curry for my carnivorous sister. Papa ordered a vegetarain Thali and me and Amma decided to share an order of rice, dal, yogurt and salad. The amount of rice in our previous Thali orders had forewarned us to the hazardous mountain of rice that came along. As it would turn out, this was our shortest wait for food ever in this trip. The fish thali looked beautiful. It came with a mountain of rice, a papad, a tiny salad, dal, a  sad mixed veg curry and the star -a fish curry. I tasted the curry and it was really good, thick, tangy with the right balance of spice. There was also a dish of crunchy deep fried sliced of potatoes and bitter gourd. It was heavenly. I was hooked and the few pieces that I stole from Papa and my sister's thali did not sooth my agitated taste buds that wanted more. Thankfully our young waiter gave us a bowl of the dish without a fuss and did not even charge for it. That guy deserved the generous tip. After the belly bursting meal, we were ready to walk another 6 miles.



Ratnagiri was more touristy than either Lalithgiri or Udayagiri. the later two seemed to attract only the serious kind while Ratnagiri  looked like it was an established tourist attraction. There were several shacks vending 'chow-mein' and assorted unidentified 'Chinise' food. Nowhere else have I seen this brutal murder a of English language. The food they sold looked off colored, wonder how they got that stuff that red and green. After paying the entrance fees we slipped though the unusual gates. The ruins did not look much from where we were and I stood there wondering if it worth the steep climb after our surprisingly satisfying meal. But decided to lumber ahead regardless. Our first stop was at a disappoint bunch of votive stupas. Then we walked ahead hoping to see something that was worthwhile. That we sure did when we came across this.

This was the ruins of a grand monastery. It had a flight of stairs and perhaps was a two storied building. The walls were 8 bricks thick and it was laid out in the fashioned in a way that was typical to the monasteries we had come across since early that morning. A grand entrance way opening into a court yard with rooms on either sides and a shrine across. Additionally there is a set of  what looks like an ornate facade. How well laid out were these monasteries and how well have they stood the test of time. Here was also an arch made entirely of clay bricks. So arches in India could be pre-Islamic.

Dodging grazing desi cows, we walked a short path uphill amidst blazing speakers belting out local pop music. Here was the ruins of a massive stupa. We do not know if it was as big as the one in Lalitgiri but not as well preserved. The main stupa was surrounded by smaller votive stupas. There was also a Hindu shrine down the hill on ahead of the stupa but it was dated to more recent times. There were more cows grazing in the path between the stupa and the temple.
On our way back we saw a lazy bunch of people laughing and teasing us in Odiya. Thankfully we did not understand them. Restrooms are a particular problem everywhere. Either there are none or they are in such bad shape that renders it unusable.
Shortly afterwards we were on our way back to Bhuwaneshwar. Traffic was heavier than that earlier in the morning. Mahanahi had me awestruck again. Cuttuck was a traffic mess.I had half the heart to stop and shop for some silver filigri jewelry but Mr.Bubbly was reluctant. I gave into his reluctance hoping that would save me some money and time. He took us to Radhika Sarees in Bhuwaneshwar for some Sambalpuri Sarees.The owner was an affable man with subtle salesmanship that caught me unaware. He claimed to have worked with KSIC as a design consultant and that the rudraksha motif so common in KSIC is actually of Sambalpuri origin. Hm... who knew what comes from where. I fianlly got a beautiful off white silk saree with an orange border as a present for my mom-in-law.

I was determined to have typically Oriya fare for dinner that evening. Mr.Bubby was already instructed accordingly and he dropped us at Dalma, a popular joint for traditional Oriya fare. Again we settled for Thalis, Amma and me sharing a single thali. The tediousness of walking severals mile or the sun or the excitement of shopping, I don't know which made me slack and I do not have a picture of the beautiful thali. Again the thali came with a mountain of rice. Dal here was dalma, a lentil preparation with assorted vegetable. It had a feeling of comfort to it, in that it was neither too spicy nor too greasy.  There was a brown chutney that had the taste of powdered vada which went amazingly well with Dalma and rice. There was aloo subzi, Khatta - the tangy curry. Carnivorous sister ordered Chicken Biriyani. It was very different from the ones we have had before. The chicken seemed to have been deep fried instead of steam cooked /sauteed. It was nothing remarkable. They did not have any dessert other than Gulab Jamoon and my wait for Chenna Poda and Channa Jilli continued.  A warm shower later that night we slept like babies.

Paris Pranaya

Paris, it does elicit a variety of reactions. To a lot many it is a romantic destination, to some it means fashion, for a foodie like me it is a place I have been curious about for a long time, to be precise it's food. Recently I had the chance to spend a few hours in Paris and I think I made the most of it.

My trip started on an Air France Boeing 777-200 from Detroit to Paris. It was my first time flying Air France. Travelers talk about seats, leg room, in flight entertainment, sometimes the flight attendants too. But my compass always stops at food. The first thing that stuck me about Air France was the menu a smiling flight attendant wearing holiday themed earrings handed over to me. The menu was sleek, simple and the choices grabbed my eyes balls - Champagne any one? Dang, I did not keep a picture of the menu. I decided on the only vegetarian option on the menu. It was a pasta in red sauce and cheese. The meal came with a piece of excellent chocolate, Emmental cheese and cake. Champagne was good. The pasta itself was good but was pretty much swimming in cheese. I could not get over the shock of how good the chocolate and cheese were. French are some serious foodies if that is the kind of flight food they get to eat. Paris seemed just like my kinda of place, I had no doubts after the drinks and meal.

Later on during the flight they offered sandwiches and also had a small spread of treats and Ice Cream in the self service area. I landed in Charles de Gaulle mid morning. It was then that I realised the 'es' in Charles and 'le' in Gaulle were silent. Stepping out towards the train that was to take me into the city, I stumbled into a convenience store called 'Relay'. What did I find along with baskets of Croissants? Samosas of all kinds, Naan, Bhajjis and Kababs. It looks like we can never be far from Desi food. I ended up with a Croissants which was just about ok, (Little Chef Pastry Shop in Princeton,NJ has better ones, especially the Chocolate) and a cup of hot chocolate (too sweet for my taste)


Taking the RER-b train, I alighted at the station called Gare Du Nord (pronounced as Gar du Nor) to  walk around the Montmartre (pronounced as Mo Mart). I had a very tough time with French. To Kannadiga who are used to reading what is being written English is funny enough with 'Psychology' ,castle. But French is leagues beyond English. A stranger cannot connect what is being read from what is being written. It sort of dawned on me when my cousin who is fluent in French pointed the thumb rule in French 'ignore the last syllable' .
I went around Montmartre, the church and savored the views of Paris and Eiffel tower from the top of the hill. It was past lunch hour and I was rather hungry. I went around looking to make sense of the menus posted at the door of cafes, but most of them were in French and I dared not go in. Finally, I saw this one 'Chez Ginette' with a bilingual menu. Fair enough, but some how this cafe also reminded me of the movie Casablanca. I could almost imagine Bogart's Rick at a counter inside the cafe.

 It was just that, my imagination. But the cafe was well stocked with wines and gins. There I was trying to figure out something to eat. Finally I ordered this dish with a slice of country bread topped with Tomatoes, Cheese, Pesto sauce and Herb de Provence. It came with a side salad and  a whole basket of fries.

The amount of fries actually shocked me, even for someone used to big fires in American fast food joints. The salad was very good with a light balsamic dressing. I enjoyed the meal despite the guilty thoughts for having abandoned most of the fries. It was by then post lunch hour and I saw a few couples animatedly converse in French. They kept going on a week day post lunch hour. What a contrast it was. Mostly tourists can be spotted in New York restaurants post lunch hour. French it looked took leisure seriously. Also they were all dressed well, so was a solitary coffee drinker a few tables away on my left. There I was unwashed in a down coat and a Viking hat chowing down my bread in a French cafe with people relaxing over cups of coffee.

Lunch done I decided to walk around a little more. There is something uncomfortable about Paris, cat calls or  was it just something harmless in French. I would never know. After Van Gogh, a General in Napoleon's Army and the French Christmas equivalent of Chitrasante, I was ready for some Macaroons. There is this charming little shop right opposite the stairs as we descend the hill and they had a very colorful collection of Macaroons. I bought a dozed and a half and that served as my dinner later in the night.

At around 5 PM I reached Marcadet Poissonniers Subway station from where my walking tour started. My guide was a sweet young French woman who  had earlier waned me to keep my belonging real careful. Paris indeed was much like big Indian cities where belongings need to be guarded carefully.  On my way to the station, I chanced upon a ABBA Mania flyer. It was comforting to know that I am not the last ABBA fan alive.

Next stop was riding the subway to meet the Iron Lady, en route saw a station named after FDR. FDR like MGandhi offered me a fleeting comfort of something familiar in a distant city. The Iron Lady aka Eiffel Tower stood sparkling in the light rain and cold winds. As a fall out of the recent terrorist attacks, approaching her has become a tad bit more difficult and there were fences all around. It is a beautiful sight to see her sparkle for five full minute, every hour.
We then walked along the river to the spot where Lady Diana's car crashed. What followed was a haze, Louvre, Art bridge,Ile de la Cite,Notre-Dame, Latin Quarters, Museum of Modern Art all in a breeze. As the evening got chillier, my nose picked up warm whiffs of crepes pretty much every street corner. But the Country bread and cheese adamantly refused to leave my stomach and Crepes will have to wait. It was amusing to see that Crepes is pedestrian in Paris but super fancy here.

The evening progressively got chiller and my guide stopped to wear the extra pair of socks she had been carrying in her small backpack. By then I was tired and cold. Just then I noticed something simmering on a make shift stove outside a cafe. I was hoping for a warm bowl of soup but it got better, it was warm spiced wine. I downed a glass full in the matter of seconds. The warm liquid thawed my about to freeze blood and soothed my achy bones. It was a touch too sweet but 25 kilometers of walking had made me thanks god for the elixir.

Soon we were at the end of our tour and we found our self in a small cafe which served organic wines. After a quick red wine which I did not understand I was back on RER B to the airport. I bid goodbye to my friendly tour guide and curled up on my seat to happy thoughts of a warm shower in the airport hotel.
Shortly after reaching the airport I realized that Paris is no New York /New Delhi. Charles De Gulle pretty much closed down for the night. No shower, no airport hotel, no coffee shops are open after 12 AM. Damn I was counting on a late dinner at an airport restaurant and there I was with a bunch of sleepy wayfarers trying to keep warm and somehow make it through the night.

It turned out to be the most uncomfortable 10 hours of my life. Till Star bucks opened in the morning at 6.30 AM, there was nothing much for me to do except pace up and down the lobby to stay warm.

The bright morning brought some relief. The food court started buzzing with activity. Chefs in the Japanese restaurant started working on big pots of soups. Coffee shops started putting out baskets of fresh croissants and pastries. After a dinner of Macaroons I was ready to wolf down mountains of rice but that was not to be.  One hot chocolate and a Croissant made no difference and I headed out in quest of something hardy. I ended up with a bowl of hot Parisian Mushroom soup, bread and a slice of Quiche. The soup was earthy and was unlike any mushroom soup I had had till then. This soup had
pulverized mushroom and did not seem like there were many ingredients. Mushroom was the solo hero of the soup.  Chopped Parsley was an optional garnish. The Quiche on the other hand was rich and cheesy. As I bit through it, drops of molten fat dripped. One word about bread. The bread I had was like a raisin bread but it had the texture of a baguette.It was delicious. French know their bread and I will never look at the super market bread the way I did before. I also got a lentil and pea salad with pearl onions and sun dried tomatoes. It had too much going and I did not like it. It would have been better to keep it simple with perhaps just lentils and sun dried tomatoes and may be beets/ carrots/cucumbers. Full disclosure, I am not a big fan of peas.



I headed back to my flight with thoughts of great food I ate during the trip and all the more that I could not. One day Paris, I will be back to meet you and savor the delicacies in your street corners.

Brown Burfi

Happy Navratri and Saraswati Pooja. It is my favorite time of the year. While it is a time for many to fast, it is time to feast here. Now is the time I end up making loads of goodies and apologetically devour them all. After all Bombes in Bombe habba need to eat enough to last their upcoming year long hibernation in the dark store room. Here is our Bombe habba 2017 edition. Ideas are hard to come by for a traditionalist like me doing it every year. But then something needs to be different each year otherwise it would become a chore. This year, the runners are new, hopefully one year is good enough time to figure out the scheme for 2018.


  


Now for the unapologetic feasting part. It is already the Saptami or the Saraswati Pooja today. Lot of entertaining and Bombe /Golu hopping is already behind. Three more days left to feast and then comes the deluge of guilt. Before that happens, I will loll around dressing up in silk saris, jewelry and eating great food. I am so contended in my hedonistic cocoon right now that I do not even miss onions, garlic and eggs.
Sweet of the day today is brown Burfi. So here it comes.


We will need

Evaporated milk 1 measure
Ricotta Cheese 1/2 measure
Light brown sugar 1/2 measure
Butter 1/4 measure
Cardamon powder a generous pinch

Method:
  • Place a piece of parchment paper on a tray or a baking dish. Set it aside.  Keep a bowl of ice water handy.
  • Combine all the ingredients in a wide mouthed non stick pan. Set it on medium flame. Keep stirring continuously. 
  •  Once the mixture starts to bubble all around and starts to resemble lava, reduce heat. Scoop up a teaspoon of the mixture and carefully pour it into the bowl of ice cold water. Try forming a ball using the mixture in the water. If it forms a soft ball the mixture is ready for the next step else keep stirring it on low heat checking for the soft ball stage every couple of minutes or so.
  • If it is ready ,remove from heat and let it cool for about 15-20 minutes. or until the mixture starts to thicken.  
  • Give it a good stir till  the mixture looses its sheen. Pour it onto the parchment lined tray. Spread the mixture around uniformly and set it aside to cool and set completely. 
  • After the mixture has set, cut it into desired shape and store it in an airtight box.

Chocolate Strawberry rolls



What would be the best possible match in the culinary marriage of chocolate? If I were to match the horoscope, I would conclude that it is orange that is the best match closely followed by strawberry. Somehow, a hint of orange in an otherwise ordinary brownie takes my taste buds several steps closer to nirvana. However in puff pastries and rolls it is strawberry that is a match made in heaven. It is not just Valentine ’s Day that Chocolate and strawberries make a great couple, they sure are any morning when I am craving for these rolls.

Speaking of match made in heaven reminds of weddings.  I love weddings, though I don’t get to go to weddings since I live so far away from family these past several years.  Back then it used to be joyous occasion with extended families, food , celebrations and new clothes, something we looked forward to.  Earliest of memories of a wedding stretch back to eighties, from the cinema wedding to a muslim one to family, several of them. The cinema wedding was indeed dramatic. A wedding sequence for the classic Kannada movie Bandana was being filmed in my neighborhood. The movie makers requested women in our neighborhood to go over to the shoot dressed for the occasion. Hoping to catch a glimpse or their favorite stars (Suhasini Maniratnam and Jai Jagadeesh) my neighbor took me along. Once the shoot was over we were to return back home but I would not budge without the traditional meals served over banana leaf. I threw a big tantrum over food. Poor my neighbor could not convince me that it was just a shoot and there would be no food. Instead she just scooped me up and hurried me back home to my mother. Then there was my teacher’s wedding -a muslim one that I distinctly remember. It was the first time I saw her in make-up and bridal finery, but that did not strike me. What struck me was that my teacher who would otherwise be chatty, pacing up and down the classroom sat amidst bunch of women with her head covered, eyes closed in stoic silence.

The best were the weddings in my own families, when my uncles or cousins got married. Each one of those marriages is unforgettable. Preparations would start months earlier once the match was finalized. There would be several trips to shop for clothing, jewelry etc. Strangely it is just not the bride and the groom that got to wear new clothes. The whole family shopped for new clothes, we end up buying clothes (mostly Saris) for members of distant branches of the family even those that we met only during weddings and have trouble remembering names and how they are related to us. These shopping trips spearheaded by the senior most women folk is a family is like Ekta Kapoor soaps- never ending. Every other day someone pops up on their radar that they had omitted from the Sari list.  This loot goes on till the last day. Men folk typically accompany the shopping party the first few times and then they throw in the towel. The very political process of distributing the loot continues parallel with shopping. There always are folks who think the other cousin scored a better or more expensive Sari. It is impossible to make everyone happy even those who were allowed to shop their own stuff will end up no-so-happy after they see the other cousin’s choice. And then there is the dangerous game of recycling Saris. The sari scored in one the weddings in the family of the third cousin twice removed will duly be stored in the closet to be presented to someone else. Some how these senior women in the family like matriarchs in an elephant herd remember everything. I wonder how, I cannot as much remember the matching blouses to my sari. Sometimes even elephantine memory does not help and these recycled stuff short circuit. As with every short circuit these situations are also associated with explosive fireworks of different intensities and some waterworks which if harvested will keep Tamil Nadu happy during the Kuruvai season. Then there will be efforts to please the aggrieved party in form of bribes, praises, more water works from the accused party and they all kiss and make up. This is just the story of Clothes (Saris). There is still jewelry, decorations, food and most important navigating the quagmire of inquisitive relatives who think they have the right to talk to you about everything in your life from bedroom to bathroom to your office desk, nothing is out of bound here.
All these for another day, for now let me focus on chocolate strawberry rolls. These chocolate strawberry rolls turned out to be soft, sweet and chocolaty. It said Sunday like nothing else. So here it is.
We will need,

For the rolls:
Maida 1 Cup
Whole Wheat flour (Chapati flour) 1 Cup
Yeast 1.5 tsp
Salt 1/2 tsp
Sugar 3 tbsp (add more if sweeter rolls are preferred, these are barely sweet, just the way my family likes)
Butter 3 tbsp plus 1 tsp or so to grease
Milk  lukewarm Shy of 1 Cup

Filling:
Strawberry jam 
Chocolate Chips /chunks of choice (I love mini bitter sweet chunks) as desired

Method:

    • Dissolve the yeast in milk + 1 tsp sugar and set it aside. If the mixture turns frothy in the next 15 minutes or so. If it is not frothy they discard and repeat using fresh package of yeast.
    • Mix in all the dry ingredients. Melt the butter and stir it into the milk mixture. 
    • Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour in the milk mixture. Mix it well and knead it into a soft ball. Add more milk if the mixture is too stiff.  
    • Grease a bowl with a little butter and place the dough. Cover it with a kitchen towel and place it in a warm spot till it doubles. It took me about 40 minutes. 
    • Punch the dough down and roll it out into a rectangle about 1/4" thick. Spread the strawberry jam all over the dough excluding the the area along 1/2" from the edges. 
    • Scatter the chocolate chips/chunks. Starting from the wider side, gather the edges and start rolling it tightly into a log.Keep the chocolate chips in place while rolling so that they don't bunch.
    • Cut the log into six pieces and transfer it into a greased baking dish one inch apart from each other. Cover with a kitchen towel and keep it in a warm place to double. 
    • Pre heat oven to 375F.  Once the dough had doubled in size, brush some butter over the dough and pop it in the oven. They are done when they are fragrant and golden on top.Serve immediately.






    Ricotta and Panner Peda


    After several years I have started watching a Hindi soap rifling off the internet. I would have loved to watch it legit but for three reason. I am a streamer and I don’t even own a TV, though technically Honey has one in the basement it is far too complicated. That damn thing comes with four remote controls. Turning it on is a nightmare, let alone surf for the right input and subsequently the channel. I did rather solve some trigonometry sums than try to venture into the realm of TV. Miss you KEONICS on/off TV. Two, Hotstar does not stream in USA. I wrote them several times but they would not listen. They don’t even have it on amazon prime channels or Netflix. I almost fell of the chair thinking of Desi soaps on Netflix/Amazon prime. They can fit in tens and thousands of content in the space needed to fit in just Kyun Ki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. Imagine Game of Thrones versus Kum Kum Bhagya, economics of cloud bytes!!

    Post justification for rifling, let us get to the soap. Boy! It is hard to wait. I mean being a streamer and oldest of millennials I loose out on waiting game even before it starts. Hello! how can you go on for days without watching how it ends. Not that I did not watch soaps before. I do remember watching several of them on Doordarshan including Shanti and Swabhiman but those were the times we had only them to watch and nothing else. If there was a power cut during the air time we lost those episodes forever. Also I remember watching a weepy called  Thoda Hai Thode Ki Zaroorath Hai. This one was probably a weekly. Not sure though, it is been a long time and as can be expected I abandoned it midway after it got too tedious. I did watch the Kyon Ki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi initially when Tulasi was a Physics MSc topper (anyone remember?) and abandoned it once she because bahu wearing ridiculous jewelry/sari. I should mention a disclaimer here. I did watch Iss Pyar Ka Kya Naam Doon the original one. It so happened that when the male lead quit the show there was a great hubbub, it was in the newspapers, internet everywhere. I was the proverbial cat that got curious and rifled though the internet and saw one of the episode. The male lead was super attractive, female lead good, story intriguing and it got me hooked. The soap was by then off air and here I was trying to catch up from episode 1. I did manage to watch the whole thing in about a week, of course forward tab helped. Since I started with last episode, there was no waiting to know the end and it suited me perfectly.

    Now for the current soap, how is that the hero and heroine always manage to tangle their dupatta/watch, bracelet /watch. God knows, it is like they wear their accessories with single intention of getting tangled with the other person. It has never once happened to me in real life and I am a rather clumsy person, yeah I have stumbled awkwardly in platform heals, tumbled down wearing PJs but never got tangled in another person’s accessories, not even in my sisters long hair back when we used to share the same bed, not even when sleeping like a logs. I always wonder how the writers came up with this kind of situations. And then hero and heroine manage to get locked in store rooms/ horse stables/lifts/jungle lodges, their own homes and what not. And the viewers are supposed to interpret it as a romantic getaway! Wonder if the writers have any clue how it might pan out in real life? If I ever get locked in a store room or lift with Honey, it would scare the living daylights out of me. What are we to eat? what about coffee? Honey would turn into a vampire without periodic ingestion of caffeine.(Periodic I mean once every 60-75 minutes) Even if single but people with mutual interest were locked in I seriously doubt if they think of a song and a dance instead of figuring out a rational way to get out. So much for willful suspension of disbelief, but hell I am hooked now and I cannot stop watching. Time to check into soap rehab -now called 'netflix'.
      
    How the hell did I end up writing about soaps when I should have been writing about Peda? There is a connection. Yesterday was Sri Krishna Janmashtami and I made some Pedas. Every time I think of Krishna, I do think of Nitish Bharadwaj –remember the guy who played Krishna in the original BR Chopra Mahabaharata? There is goes, even gods are not free from the clutches of soaps, I am a mere mortal. After all this I did not even realize my pedas were out of focus. But it is too late, Pedas are gone. I will go ahead anyway.

    This is what I do every festival season, get vats of ricotta cheese and sneak it in as many dishes in every possible combinations.
    Here we go, we will need,

    Fresh Paneer 1 measure
    Ricotta cheese 1 measure
    Jaggery 1/2 to 3/4 measure
    Cardamon 1 pod (seeds crushed. save the skin to make masala chai)
    Ghee a few tsps

    Method.
    • Crumble the Paneer into a thick non stick pan. Scoop the ricotta into it and mix. Place the mixture on low heat. 
    • Crush the jaggery and stir it into the cheese mixture. Keep stirring gently so that the mixture does not burn. The mixture will loosen up but keep stirring till it leaves the edges and comes together into a ball. Remove from heat.
    • Stir in the crushed cardamon. Using the back of a ladle, rub the mixture against the bottom of the pan. 
    • Once the mixture is cool enough to handle (but very warm), remove it onto a greased platter and rub it well using the heal of your hand till the mixture is soft and no longer crumby. Pour in some melted ghee if the mixture is sticky or feels too dry. 
    • Make it into a log and pinch balls the size of a gooseberry and press it into desired shapes. Refrigerate or consume immediately.


    Burfi

    I have an incurable sweet tooth. Somehow I manage to have at least a small piece of sweet every single day. Despite the ill effects of sugar, I am hooked. Sugar like a lot of other stimulants does lead to a sort of addiction much like nicotine. I cannot help myself from that bits of chocolates, Laddoos, Burfis that seem to seek me out. I am thinking of going sugar free for a few weeks to experiment with myself. More on that later. For now it is all about Burfi.

    Burfi is the Indian equivalent of fudge. It is sweet, rich and crumbly, mostly made of fatty milk from native Indian breeds. It has relatively a small list of ingredients but it is the technique that is slightly complicated. Because of the simplicity of the ingredients the quality of the ingredients is what differentiate the end product. Somehow Burfis made from the homogenized milk in the regular American super market can never beat the taste of the ones made from fresh and fatty cow /buffalo milk back home. Again not the homogenized, processed junk that comes in plastic bags in India, they are just as crappy as the ones in the cartons here in America.

    Not that I have the perfect Burfi, But I am on the way.  This particular draft has been lying in my folder for three -four years now but somehow I never posted it. Recently I made a batch as a hostess gift at one of the dinner parties we were invited to. Our hosts loved it, so did other guests. So here we do.

    We will need,

    Milk powder /dry Mawa 2 cups
    Evaporated milk  1 small tin

    Sugar 3/4 cup
    Butter 4 tbsp + extra
    Pista 4-5 chopped or Tooti-fruiti  1 tbsp chopped



    Method:
    • Butter the insides of a baking dish about 8"-10" square. Cover the bottom and  sides with a piece of wax paper. Set it aside.Take a small bowl of water and set it aside.
    • Combine the milk powder, evaporated milk, sugar and the 4 tbsp butter in a sauce pan. Stir using a wire whisk to make sure there are no lumps. Set the pot on medium heat and stir constantly. 
    • The mixture will start boiling and there will be bubbles all around. Reduce heat and cook for five minutes or so. 
    • Now take about half a teaspoon or so of the mixture and pour it into the bowl of water that was set aside earlier. Try to wrap it into a ball in the water. It can be hot, so got to watch out here. If the mixture is in soft ball stage that is, if a ball can be made from the mixture, remove from heat and keep stirring till the mixture hardens slightly. 
    • Pour into the prepared baking dish and spread it around.Garnish it with chopped Pistas/ Tooti-fruti.
    •  Let it sit for a few hours, preferably overnight 
    • Once the Burfis are set cut it into pieces. store it in an air tight jar for a few days.