I have combined my three passions - travel, food, books - to create a single website called Cutting Loose.
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Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Food On The Road: Images
After a long (off) road trip in Himachal this summer, I concluded, my taste buds and gourmet choices cannot be parted beyond four days...at the most! Friends and my co-offroaders, Mini and Mari concurred wholeheartedly. Retracing a historical trail in Kinnaur we were prepared for slipping and sliding along non-roads, crossing non-bridges and violent nature.
But we were wholly unprepared for the food choices awaiting us on the menu. Aloo parathas for breakfast, and daal-chawal for the remaining two meals. Revisited every day without fail, on the meal, every meal. Till we entered the Spiti valley and our mood brightened at the thought of Thupka and Momos in Nako. And then... we had these dishes coming out of our ears after we overdosed on them for the next, you guessed it, four days! Finally, deliverance came with Manali. Although there were some eggciting moments en route.
Here's a link to our wonderful food adventure in pictures. http://www.flickr.com/photos/dromomaniac/sets/72157624484861408/
Bon Appetit.
But we were wholly unprepared for the food choices awaiting us on the menu. Aloo parathas for breakfast, and daal-chawal for the remaining two meals. Revisited every day without fail, on the meal, every meal. Till we entered the Spiti valley and our mood brightened at the thought of Thupka and Momos in Nako. And then... we had these dishes coming out of our ears after we overdosed on them for the next, you guessed it, four days! Finally, deliverance came with Manali. Although there were some eggciting moments en route.
Here's a link to our wonderful food adventure in pictures. http://www.flickr.com/photos/dromomaniac/sets/72157624484861408/
Bon Appetit.
Labels:
aloo parathas,
daal-chawal,
food in himachal pradesh,
manali,
momos,
pastas,
pizza,
spiti,
thupka
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Nameless Dhaba on NH 22
It's difficult to focus on the surroundings when you're sending up a prayer a nano-second to the gazillion gods that oversee the well being of the himalayan hinterland. God knows, it needs it! Not least because your driver may be taking a phone call with one hand while changing the music with the other. Suffice it to say, it was a grrrrreat experience, only because I lived to tell.
Made memorable by an unforgettable maash daal-rajmah-chawal experience at this non-decrepit shack cantilevered hundreds of feet above the ferocious Sutlej. That, my friends, is the dhaba's only claim to fame. Deservedly. Servings large enough to assuage elephantine appetites to start with, and then refills galore, at Rs.30 only. Apparently, the owner is charitably inclined. A few raw onion rings and the fiery red chilly, fried crisp, your only hope as accompaniments.
Gourmet tip: Eat with your hands. It will help unlock the clenched knuckles from the harrowing ride you will have made to get here!
Made memorable by an unforgettable maash daal-rajmah-chawal experience at this non-decrepit shack cantilevered hundreds of feet above the ferocious Sutlej. That, my friends, is the dhaba's only claim to fame. Deservedly. Servings large enough to assuage elephantine appetites to start with, and then refills galore, at Rs.30 only. Apparently, the owner is charitably inclined. A few raw onion rings and the fiery red chilly, fried crisp, your only hope as accompaniments.
Gourmet tip: Eat with your hands. It will help unlock the clenched knuckles from the harrowing ride you will have made to get here!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Berry & Boti - The Parsi Way
"There is no love greater than the love of eating", proclaims Robin the rooster from his perch on the restaurant's publicity material, as you walk into the dingy yet bustling environs of Brittania & Company at Ballard Estate. Need I add...? A place after my own stomach.
Mahima and I were led to our lunch table way, way back in the cavernous cafe by the charming and friendly owner Mr Boman Kohinoor: avuncular figure in pic above. With table seating at a premium, he was none to pleased to learn that we required a table for three, as we were being joined by Mahima's husband shortly. That seemed to get his goat even more, chiding us 'girls' for arriving unescorted and before the gentleman in question. Flattering as his old-world manner was, I didn't have the heart to tell him that that kind of a gentleman was way past his sell-by date. And DV, when he did finally manage to get away from work, got himself a good natured earful on etiquette from the old man. Yet another, for eating his food cold and hence losing, in the bargain, the true essence of wholesome Parsi food.
My point really is that the true epicurean in all his glory will soon be extinct, just like the fast disappearing Irani cafes of Bombay. And I am mighty glad, as are my taste-buds, to have made a pleasurable acquaintance with Brittania's famed fare. Before they decide to call it curtains, which could possibly be sooner rather than later.
Starting with a refreshing lemonade recommended by the owner through a ditty accompanied by flapping arms. Lyrics are really not my thing but I caught the last bit. It went something like this, '....to beat the mumbai heat'. It's a clever ploy given the absence of modern day cooling appliances. But these things, along side peeling paint, cracked ceiling, exposed wiring, noisy refrigerators in close proximity, sluggish service, and such like usually don't bother me unless the establishment claims to provide a fine dining experience. It's the food I'm after. Always.
Feted for their large portions of Berry Pulaos - the mutton won hands down - Sali Boti (Mutton with potato crisps served with Parsi Roti), Patra ni Machchi (steamed pomfret wrapped in banana leaf), Dhansak (lentil preparation) and Chicken Cutlets with gravy. Got to try them all over the couple of weeks I was devouring Mumbai cuisine. That day we ordered a vegetarian and mutton berry pulao (tiny and tart, the deep-red barberries garnishing the pulaos are imported from Iran, a throwback to ancestral roots), sali boti with chapati and the very English of all puddings: caramel custard.
I would imagine a great time (and meal) would have been had by all. But nay...'twas only me. Reason being, Mahima subscribes to vegetarianism and DV to tardiness. Both detrimental to relishing a carnivorous Parsi meal served fresh and steaming. What a shame.
Ergo, I have just the one tip for visitors. Heed it, if you will, to assure yourself an indelible gourmet memory.
Go really hungry, never with vegetarians...!
Mahima and I were led to our lunch table way, way back in the cavernous cafe by the charming and friendly owner Mr Boman Kohinoor: avuncular figure in pic above. With table seating at a premium, he was none to pleased to learn that we required a table for three, as we were being joined by Mahima's husband shortly. That seemed to get his goat even more, chiding us 'girls' for arriving unescorted and before the gentleman in question. Flattering as his old-world manner was, I didn't have the heart to tell him that that kind of a gentleman was way past his sell-by date. And DV, when he did finally manage to get away from work, got himself a good natured earful on etiquette from the old man. Yet another, for eating his food cold and hence losing, in the bargain, the true essence of wholesome Parsi food.
My point really is that the true epicurean in all his glory will soon be extinct, just like the fast disappearing Irani cafes of Bombay. And I am mighty glad, as are my taste-buds, to have made a pleasurable acquaintance with Brittania's famed fare. Before they decide to call it curtains, which could possibly be sooner rather than later.
Starting with a refreshing lemonade recommended by the owner through a ditty accompanied by flapping arms. Lyrics are really not my thing but I caught the last bit. It went something like this, '....to beat the mumbai heat'. It's a clever ploy given the absence of modern day cooling appliances. But these things, along side peeling paint, cracked ceiling, exposed wiring, noisy refrigerators in close proximity, sluggish service, and such like usually don't bother me unless the establishment claims to provide a fine dining experience. It's the food I'm after. Always.
Feted for their large portions of Berry Pulaos - the mutton won hands down - Sali Boti (Mutton with potato crisps served with Parsi Roti), Patra ni Machchi (steamed pomfret wrapped in banana leaf), Dhansak (lentil preparation) and Chicken Cutlets with gravy. Got to try them all over the couple of weeks I was devouring Mumbai cuisine. That day we ordered a vegetarian and mutton berry pulao (tiny and tart, the deep-red barberries garnishing the pulaos are imported from Iran, a throwback to ancestral roots), sali boti with chapati and the very English of all puddings: caramel custard.
I would imagine a great time (and meal) would have been had by all. But nay...'twas only me. Reason being, Mahima subscribes to vegetarianism and DV to tardiness. Both detrimental to relishing a carnivorous Parsi meal served fresh and steaming. What a shame.
Ergo, I have just the one tip for visitors. Heed it, if you will, to assure yourself an indelible gourmet memory.
Go really hungry, never with vegetarians...!
Labels:
berry pulao,
britannia and company,
irani cafe,
parsi,
patra ni machchi,
sali boti
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Girls Just Wanna Have Lunch
Wierd Al is graciously credited for this song at the outset since I am adopting it as this blog's anthem. After all, lunch is fun, too! Alongside bed-tea, breakfast, elevenses, hight tea, afternoon tea, supper, dinner, midnight feasts.... Didn't leave anything out, did I?
http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=0Rti4YglT4E&feature=related
This one's for a friend who has introduced the musical element into an arena that was, thus far, only resounding with chomps and slurps. Wonder when the strawberries will follow?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
This one's for a friend who has introduced the musical element into an arena that was, thus far, only resounding with chomps and slurps. Wonder when the strawberries will follow?
Monday, March 22, 2010
Global Fusion
Having anointed Delhi my invincible Mecca for food, I almost felt like I was cheating on a loved one while delighting in the gourmet experiences in Bombay. In my defense, I was only looking for what land-locked Delhi could not offer me. Fresh seafood. And so I found myself turning to Global Fusion @ Linking Road, that foodie haven for all things that live and move under the sea. Actually, for all things that once lived and moved under the sea. The restaurant's motto appears simple enough: if it swims, it will be steamed, grilled, tossed, toasted, baked, braised, fried, sauteed, rolled, dressed, undressed, de-gilled, de-boned, de-finned, (sometimes) de-clawed, wrapped and served!
A large counter laden with bite-sized dumplings, sushi, sashami, prawns, salads, soups, sticky rice and noodles snakes along two sides of the largish hall replete with Japanese ponds and bridges. (Makes me wonder why it's even called Global, the feel is so totally Oriental?).
Anyhow, let's just concern ourselves with the food... The starters are over a whopping hundred. And with an eat-all-you-can mantra at a very affordable price, it is also a den of iniquity for greedy taste-buds.
Scores and scores of snacks later, bursting at the seams - gills, whatever - I still managed to groan my way to the dozen or so items in the main course. The only one that caught my fancy was peppery crabs. Shlurrrp.
Verdict: worth every moment of discomfort that denim waistbands inflict on bloated middles!
A large counter laden with bite-sized dumplings, sushi, sashami, prawns, salads, soups, sticky rice and noodles snakes along two sides of the largish hall replete with Japanese ponds and bridges. (Makes me wonder why it's even called Global, the feel is so totally Oriental?).
Anyhow, let's just concern ourselves with the food... The starters are over a whopping hundred. And with an eat-all-you-can mantra at a very affordable price, it is also a den of iniquity for greedy taste-buds.
Scores and scores of snacks later, bursting at the seams - gills, whatever - I still managed to groan my way to the dozen or so items in the main course. The only one that caught my fancy was peppery crabs. Shlurrrp.
Verdict: worth every moment of discomfort that denim waistbands inflict on bloated middles!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The Tea Centre, Churchgate
Simmu, one of my dearest friends, lives and works in Bombay. She is quite the foodie albeit a vegetarian one. Her favourite repast is the evening tea. Mind you, she attaches great ceremony to it... a multi-hued, rooster shaped tea-cosy knitted by a favourite aunt included! It was no surprise therefore, when on a recent visit to her I was proudly introduced to The Tea Centre. Close to her place of work, it soon became a rendezvous for us girls (Mahima, another friend from school had recently moved there and was promptly seduced by this treasure-trove of tea).
Charming, old worldly and clubesque, it was an anachronism in this day and age of coffee bars. The one thing that strikes you about the place is the welcoming lack of piped music. Soft murmurs, clinking china and tableware, and the gentle tinkle of tiny bells to catch the waiter's attention - the only sounds. Enhancing the colonial flavour, a tad inconsistently, were their wafer-thin sandwiches, freshly baked muffins, and crumbly scones with jam and clotted cream.
While eye-catching posters emblazoned wall spaces with humourous tea quotes. "Kissing is like drinking tea out of a strainer, you can never get enough of it", said the cheeky one hanging in our preferred corner.
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- Babe
- Lao Tzu had me in mind when he suggested one be like the traveller who has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving. Metaphorically, too.