The Food Weekend

I say this as if every weekend, every day in fact, has not been about food. It has been. But this weekend we made a special effort to sample some of the more delicious treats Jaipur has to offer. Under special recommendation by our Hindi teacher Rishi ji, Sophia and I embarked on a quest for food greatness.

Our first stop was Shreethal, a thali-lover's paradise. Thalis (plate in Hindi) are basically buffets brought to you ... you are sat down in front of a large plate full of smaller empty bowls, which are quickly filled with a wide array of dishes. Ours included a paneer curry, aloo (potato), daal, beans, a sweet soup, puris, rotis, pakora, chutney, and several things I couldn't even identify. The idea is to eat until you are satisfied (I reached that point... and then went for another round), so the bowls are continually replenished.

Next (and the next day mind you) we sought out the highly recommended and coveted pani puri at a sweet shop called Kanji. Before coming to India, everyone told me I either had to eat pani puri (they are the best) or I absolutely must not eat pani puri (you will surely get sick). Pani puri is a popular street dish that consists of a small puri (a crispy, puffy little fried bread) that is punctured and filled with tamarind, chili, chaat, potato, onion, and other ingredients depending on the recipe. The danger for us travelers is the final touch, the pani (or water) that is spiced and poured into the hollow puri. The vendor then thrusts the fresh pani puri at you, and you eat it immediately, sliding the whole thing into your mouth. You crunch down on the puri and the pani bursts in your mouth in an explosion of sweet and savory flavors. Just when you think it can't get any better, the vendor has made another and it's time for round two. and three. and four. and five.

And boy was the absolute indulgence in a food weekend direly needed. One chink in my emotional stability finally opened the floodgates, allowing India to truly assault me with all her traffic, disorganization, frustration, disappointment, smells, and stares. Oh, the stares. It's as if I am a creature from another universe, as if the people here have literally never seen anyone who looks like me in the history of creation. A passage from Shantaram, an action-filled novel set in Mumbai, puts it quite nicely:

"Foreigners were stared at in India. Somewhere in the five or more millennia of its history, the culture had decided to dispense with the casual, nonchalant glance. By the time I came to Bombay, the eye contact ranged from an ogling gaze to a gawping, goggle-eyed glare. There was nothing malicious in it. The staring eyes that found and followed me everywhere I went were innocent, curious, and almost always friendly. And that intense scrutiny had its benefits: for the most part, people stared at what I was, not what I did. Foreigners were stared at into invisibility" (549)

I can't really quite describe what a city street teeming with people all staring conspicuously at you feels like, I guess you'll just have to come to India and find out yourself. Make sure to take a bite of that pani puri if you do. Try not to get sick.

**all photo credits to my dear Sophia Maes

Bikaner

Bikaner, a dusty little cow and camel-filled town in northern Rajasthan, served as our playground this weekend. Reminiscent of the streets in Aladdin, the Old City is a bustling market of food, sweets, spices, camel shoes, and endless textiles. Things to do and people to see, but not as much of a tourist hot spot as some of the larger cities (made apparent to us by the number of near traffic accidents we caused walking through the streets.) Our adventures included a Camel safari in the desert, strolling through the bazaar in search of cheap fabric, and a night on the town with our new-found Dutch friend Fons. Oh and getting run down on the street by a bull, a scooter ride to a rooftop restaurant by some friendly hustlers, and late night deaf karaoke.

 The weekend (and this entire experience for that matter) could have been exhausting and stressful. Coping with the never-ending bus rides, the not-so-friendly hustlers, and the heat can be rough sometimes, but I always draw solace and rejuvenation from the food. Whether it's a quick onion pakora before a long, dusty auto-rickshaw ride or a free chai from the textile market chai wallah, the food never fails to get me going again. A few intricacies in the food in Bikaner really stood out for me...

We grabbed some mid-morning Gulab Jamun (milk-based cake balls soaked in rose syrup) from a sweet shop in the Old City. After sitting on the street near some cows and taking a few bites of heaven, I found these gulab jamun to be filled with some kind of spices in the center. Running back to the shop to badger the guy behind the counter, I discovered it was some kind of confectionery mix. Stand by for my quest in search of this magical mix.

Later, Sophia and I  stopped at a street side restaurant for a late lunch, pulled in by mutter paneer (a peas and cheese curry) on the menu. The butter naan was what really wowed me here, and after the waiter called together a council of men and cooks in the restaurant (why does it always seem to take 5-10 men to do anything here?) he told me the cook puts black cumin in the naan before throwing it into the tandoori oven. Success.

So a couple fun additions to food to think about. Stay tuned for an Idli Sambar recipe.