Coorg - Pork Heaven, Piggy Hell

There are few things that are more miserable than a lean piece of pork. Fat makes pork. In fact, fat makes most food. It is the best carrier of flavour. Nothing breaks my heart more then seeing someone sitting across the table, picking out the fat off a lovely portion of pork chops and pushing it to the periphery of the plate. Why? WHY? Don’t like fat? Eat chicken then. Or better, chew on a courgette.

When I was in Coorg I must have gone through ten kilos of pork in less then a week, half of which was fat. And did it make me happy. In fact, in Coorg cuisine, which is basically no more than pork and rice, in one form or the other, fat is prized. But then, imagine, back in the day, a culture of warriors, traversing hills, living in the dense forests, hunting for food – I don’t think a smoothie and celery would have kept them going.

Ask anybody in Madikeri or there abouts  (Coorg is a district, with many hill stations, Madikeri being the most popular) what the best place for local food is and chances are that every body will point you to Coorg Cusinette. A functional place; tables, chairs and a sink to wash your hands. And while the food they serve would have been ‘functional’ to the people is has sustained over the centuries, to someone like me it is nothing short of gourmet. This is one of those place where the food is sold out by 8 pm, so head there early.

The menu doesn’t run into pages and having tried every meat dish on the menu I can tell you that the Pandi Curry (Pork Curry) and the Pandi Beev Barthadh (Pork Chops) are pretty similar. But then they would be; they both have the same magical ingredients – fatty cuts of pork and lots and lots of pepper. Now, I am sure there are subtle differences, barring the cuts used, but the proportions of fat and pepper don’t leave much room for these to stand out. I have managed to get the recipe for a Pandi Curry, not from this place but from the chef at the resort where I was staying, so I will be giving it a shot at some point. The Pandi Malukootunadh (Chilli Pork) was also superb. Dry, sticky, crisp in part, spicy. Basically, fried bits of fatty pork tossed in a spicy sauce. I do think that this is not that traditional a dish as the other two. Or maybe it is, but doesn’t go back that long. I just got the impression that while it sort of made sense on the menu it wasn’t authentic – like Butter, Pepper, Garlic Crab at the Mumbai Lunch Homes.

 

Pork Chops

Spicy Pork

The pork was served with rice rotis and rice dumplings. I apologise for the photograph of my half eaten plate of food. Though I am notorious for not letting people dig in till the time I have got a shot the the food first, I forget all about my camera this time around.



11 o clock to 6 o clock - Pandi Curry, Pork Chops, Spicy Pork, the Rice Dumpling, Rice Roti

 

Ish liebe Deutchland!

I know it's been a month since my last post, and let me assure you it is not because I haven't eaten since. I've been rather uninspired. Bloody bored. But there's nothing quite like Bavarian food to brighten your spirits. Well, the last time I was out for Bavarian food, it involved a whole lot of chanting, dancing on tables, and then spending the next 3 weeks nursing a broken ankle. Wouldn't blame the brew though. Or would I? Can't remember.



I was looking at ze menu and I couldn't help thinking - "ah this is some solid, rustic, wholesome food". Rustic, wholesome, and ze likes, often used to describes food, describes more accurately what ze food is not, rather than what ze food is. In nouvelle cuisine ze main feature is more often than not placed in the centre of the plate, as though drawing upon itself a sort of planetary importance, boulstered by other elements of ze dish circling around like moons. Nice at times, but too perfect most others. You never look at something like that on a plate and think to yourself - "I can't wait to dig in." It's more like - "It looks great. Genius. Maybe I'll look at it some more before I send ze perfectly symetrical, dandy arrangement into a  worm-hole-like chaos." A distraction, in a way, for a glutton like me. If nouvelle cusine is a selection of the best bits from the whole world arranged as a delicate system of balance on a plate, then Bavarian food is ze whole damn universe! And in my mind, in food terms, the whole universe contains, and should only contain two things - meat and starch.

On occasions, when ordering something off a menu, my expectation of how large ze dish is going to be does come into consideration. There is nothing worse than ordering something that is not enough, Not the case with German food. Order even a salad and they plonk a entire garden on your plate. With all the wildlife ofcourse. I ordered a Liver Dumpling Soup to start.

Good soup this. A meaty, marrowey broth. Well seasoned, as all good food should be, sprinkled with Parsley. The Liver Dumpling, no different to a Faggot. Just right considereing what I had coming.

Ze Leberknodel !

For ze main course, it was ze Roast Pork with a Potato Salad. The Pork was cooked to perfection. Ze best hunk of pig I have had in a long long time. Skin and fat left on. Would make a madallion look like baby food. The Potato Salad, good too. Tangy, like most Germany accompaniments. Goes well with the fattiness of ze meat. Had some crispy lardons of bacon on top, just for good measure. It's almost like the more fat they can introduce, to what's already a super heavy dish, the better. I like a lot. Fat's got a bad name. It's the best carrier of flavour. And that's the most important thing about food - the way it tastes.

Down in Shanghai Town

China never fails to amaze me. Order a critter and get served it's blood in a glass along with its man rocks? Classic!

This time round I skipped a visit to the Heart of China in favour of the commercial capital. And I learnt very quickly that the food culture in the two cities is worlds apart. The kind of street carnival-esque setup that I experienced in Beijing is not to be seen here. At least no where near the city centre. So in the hope of some local food I headed, with a friend, to a haunt, not very far from the ex-pat district, that serves up some killer food. Don't ask me the name of the place. I haven't a clue.

The Pickled Monkey Ear Fungus (Auricularia) was an easy one to pick off the menu. I have had this before. But this serving was sharper, with more vinegar. The texture reminded me of the cartilaginous Sliced Pig Ears that I have eaten elsewhere. But with less bite. A texture that you can't really get bored of.

Pickled Monkey Ear Fungus

In the name of novelty - maybe for me, but this is a very popular Chinese snack - I ordered some Pickled Duck Tongues. Now, I am all up for eating everything, but this was probably one of the most pointless things I have every eaten. Almost as pointless as a vegetarian sausage. I think they would have been a lot better fried of grilled with some of that super sticky Chinese sauce. Nonetheless, a first.

Pickled Duck Tongues

Then cometh something that was very close in flavour to the Chinese we get back home. Sweet and Sour Fish. The fish was first deep fried and then tossed in the sweet and sour sauce. Topped with pine nuts. A lot more pungent than the stuff we are used to. Owing to the generous lashings of vinegar again. Quite a superb dish. The frying of the fish made the skin crunchy, adding a great contrast to the gooey, sticky sauce.



Sweet and Sour Fish

And then, a local speciality. Braised Pork Belly. With boiled eggs, which I was told were boiled in Green Tea. Couldn't really taste the tea through all the fat and flavour but the thought of that being true made the whole thing seems a little more special. It is the style of cooking - braising in a heavy iron pan - that makes this dish so characteristic to the region. I had the same dish again in city nearby Shanghai, where once again, it was introduced as the local speciality. The sensible ones, including locals, do not eat all of the fat. I was in considerable discomfort that night for not following suit. But I'd do the same again.


Braised Pork Belly



Rule Britania

The second Parsi food institution I have been to in the past few months. The first was Kayani Bakery in Pune. For their Mawa Cakes and Shrewsbury Biscuits. Never have I seen such a line of punters waiting outside drawn shutters like that. And when the shutter opened, you know exactly where the term selling like hot cakes came from.

It would have been a bit of a let down if I didn't have to wait my turn to be fed at Britania. Remember watching an interview on TV with the gentleman who still sits at the joint, and supervises his son, who in turn supervises everything else. The name Britania, he said, was given to the place to drawn in the British folk back in the day. Typical Parsi.

It was a good feeding. But a mixed bag. Partly because not everything was up to standard and partly owing to the fact that I was so looking forward to this that no matter how good it had been I would have found something lacking. I was looking forward to the raspberry lemonade, central to any Parsi occasion, as much as I was everything else. Nearly drove right through a red light day dreaming about the stuff. It had been years since I last had my last raspberry lemonade at a Navjot. Over the years I had so romanticised the thing in my head when actually it tastes a bit like cough syrup. The human mind eh?!

The Sali Boti was interesting. It's not like your North Indian Curry. There is the Gujarati influence in there somewhere. The Sali, crispy fried potatoes on top, do add other dimension to the texture, but take away from the flavour, I thought. A little sweet, from the tomatoes. Watery. To be entirely honest this was the let down. Served stone cold, not enough meat. The sure sign of a place cutting corners. And it isn't cheap. I'd at least expect something mildly warm for that kind of money.



Sali Boti

The Mutton Cutlets were exactly what you'd expect.Well seasoned, wholesome and damn oily. A little more care to the oil temperature goes a long way when frying anything. If the oil temperature is right, what you fry doesn't soak copious amounts of oil. Contact with the well hot oil will seal the food immediately. More Sali. A meal in itself.


Mutton Cutlets

The Mutton Berry Pulao is a winner. Iranian I gather. The Berberis makes this dish. They add a certain sweetness and tartness. The caramelised onions, more sweetness. Still, not enough meat. To make up for the meat the Pulao had little meat balls made from the same stuff the cutlets were made of. Cutting corners again? Still worth a trip for the Pulao.

Mutton Berry Pulao

For dessert? My favourite! Sneak a peak into the fridge, on the right, as you enter. The Caramel Custards sell fast. Might have to order yours early. Now that I mention, the Caramel Custard has been my unicorn. The last two times I have ordered it, it's been sold out. Makes this one all the better. Try the Caramel Custard at Trishna, Kaala Ghoda. Great too.

Caramel Custard

The Grill of the Punjab

There's something about the title 'food consultant' that doesn't quite sound right. Gives and impression that someone's career didn't go as planned. Now I don't know who bestowed this title upon Jiggs Kalra but I think food consultant kind of works for him. I get an impression he could fry a pakora with as much finesse as with which he could put together a complex curry. Sure he doesn't cook himself at his restaurants; but consultants are implementers, at least that's what they tell themselves, not doers. There is a difference. Punjab Grill is probably the most talked about Indian Restaurant in Mumbai. Don't think I've visited the city without someone mentioning the place. It's probably old news to be honest, but where do we village dwellers get to prance around in the big city on a Sunday afternoon.

Have a look at the menu and there is no shoo-sha whatsoever. No mention of reductions and emulsions and coulis - stuff that gets squirted onto plates from plastic bottles. But fine-dining nonetheless. Its was great to see a whole load of Punjabi dishes (undivided Punjab that is) that none of us had heard of, and there were 3 Punjabis out of 5. Probably recipes brought back to life after having died a death at the hands of the convenience culture. This the time of 50 horsepower grinders and appliances that only a physicist can understand. I like to think that the good, old-fashioned menu was all prepared using good, old-fashioned cooking techniques. But if not, no bother.

The meat platter to start came highly recommend. A quick look and a sniff, as the waiter dished it out, and a repeat was ordered. Ordering a platter is like target practice with a machine gun. You're bound to be happy with something on a plate of 5-6 different things. Tell you what, I loved the lot. Obviously a lot of care had been given to timing. All the meats were just right. Not always the case at an India restaurant. If the mutton is tender, then the chicken can knock your teeth out. But at PG, all superb. The Amritsari Fish, only second best to Jai Jawan on Linking Road. And it was great to see chops that looked like they came from a very well fed, and slaughter-ready animal. Cuts of meat don't always make sense here. Sorry about the lack of photographic evidence.

I saw a Shorba (just Punjabi for soup. Same in Turkish I think.) that looked too good to miss. Wouldn't normally have one when it 40 degrees outside. But this one was worth the irrational behaviour. Creamy and fragrant. Meaty, of course. Spices so well blended and balanced that it was pretty brain cramping trying to pick out the flavours. A sweet woody flavour from cumin and coriander (I think). And surprisingly light for a soup made from, basically animal fat and cream. A must try if you like lamb.


Paya da Shorba

For the main course I agreed to go with Murg Makhani (Butter Chicken) and Daal Makhani (Butter Daal). Think I regret that now. The Doon School conditions your mind to order exactly that when you don't want to be making decisions.  Both were good. Sorry I can't do either of them justice here with lyrical praise. Butter Chicken and Daal Makhani will always be benchmarked against Prezzi's, and it's difficult when you are up against the best. So 'good' is praise enough. The Rotis could have been better. The Rasmalai was horrendous. Too sweet, and hard. No good.


I'll have the usual please

And then the thing we had all been waiting for - the Paan Shot. A great idea I think. And the only bit of shoo-sha. But needed to cut through all the butter that had been consumed. Cutting butter with cream? Again, I would have liked it a little less sweet. Tasted like there was some synthetic syrup in there somewhere. Maybe just too much sugar.

All in all a great place. Worth the money then? Maybe, if we'd ordered differently.

Punjab Grill by Jiggs Kalra - http://punjabgrill.in/

The messy art of Hot Potting

21st March 2011, Dinner.

Frogs in a Pot

After a traditional Hunan lunch, mild flavours, quite skillful in preparation, it was an adventurous Schewan dinner. I first ate Hot Pot in Edinburgh and it became a pretty frequent ritual. A few of us would go there and order copious amounts of meat with two different broths. A Schezwan one for the one's that didn't mind shedding a tear over dinner and a mild chicken one for the men. Don't mind weeping like a girl now and then.

The pot came with a crimson red broth, with sprouts and millions of little Schezwan Peppers. And had frog feet sticking out (no frogs in Scotland). Frog is a Schezwan favourite and I quite like frog myself. It's a very tender meat, sweet and delicate. The frogs are not like the colourful critters you see on National Geographic, photographed against the foliage in a rainforest. These Bull Frogs are farmed and are the size of a quail. I wanted to dig right in but Hot Potting is a patience-testing indulgence.

Bull Frogs

The cooked frogs, and other meats, were eaten with a sesame sauce. Superbly nutty. And perfect to balance the eye-popping heat. You eat all of the frog, bones and all. Only the larger bones get spat out.

After the frogs, thin slices of lamb went in. The pot was topped up with chicken stick now and again. When the water in the pot evaporates the spice gets really concentrated and you can feel any meat coming out of it burning its way into your stomach.

Sasame Sauce with Lamb

Hot Pot Frog

 

Hot Pot Shrimp and Shrimp Balls and the Frog Graveyard

The lamb was followed by shrimp, shrimp balls, a green leaf which I couldn't identify a 100% (think it was from the spinach family) and tofu. The tofu was unbelievable. The best I've ever had. Probably made on the premises. Oh yes, and a flat potato noodle. Looked like a really wide glass noodle, almost an inch wide. Tasted fantastic when soaked in that sesame sauce.
Like life in China on the whole, there are rules that must be followed while Hot Potting. A separate pair of chopsticks are reserved for the pot. Don't think this would be the case if you were eating at home with family. And there are certain things that don't go into the pot together. Don't ask me why. Maybe to do with cooking times. But I have a hunch it's to do with some cultural significance. Like 'no tofu and that green leaf together in pot', as I was told.

I was a little disappointed to see that the shrimp and the shrimp balls were frozen. But the place was packed with locals and if it's good enough for them, it damn well is good enough for me.

Tried asking for a fork for someone with us and no one knew what the hell I was on about. Proper Chinese then. Everything was finished off with some Chinese White Wine. 60% volume. Wine my ass!

Dog Don't Eat

Dog Don't Eat

21st March 2011, Lunch.

After having spent the morning, and the early part of the afternoon, walking among sheds at an industrial estate, a good lunch was needed. I wanted to eat what Chinese eat for lunch on a Monday afternoon. We drove to downtown Tainjin and reached what I am told is national icon serving food of the Hunan province. Dog Don't Eat is an impressive looking place. Surrounded by modern development, the place still lives up to the stereo-typical idea of a Chinese food joint. A small entrance (relatively, the place is 5 stories big), gold and red, and the un-missable slanted roof. The name apparently comes from a person called Dog (obviously lost in translation), who was not liked very much by the Chinese. Or something to that effect.

Normally I would jump at the menu and would want to order at least 2 things from each page. But no! I am unlikely to pick the stuff a local would pick. So the ordering was outsourced.

We started with some boiled soya pods, peanuts and some other bean. Boiled in really salty water. After I had piled up the peeled pods my host tells me that this other bean doesn't need to be peeled. Tells me after I have spent 10 minutes doing exactly that. The empty pods taste nice too. All this peeling was accompanied by a green salad tossed in what seemed like some peanut oil, soya sauce and sesame seeds. Good stuff. All with a steady stream of green tea.

To start

This was followed by a kind of thick soup made from a small variety of rice (I am told). I think it may have been wheat though. Was served at room temperature and was bland. Could do with lashings of Blue Dragon Sweet Chilli sauce. Only joking.The soya sauce tasted different to any I have had before. My host tells me that north of Tainjin the soya sauce gets saltier, gets sweeter when you go south and is sour in Tainjin. It tasted like soya sauce with vinegar mixed in it. And I learnt that it is acceptable to sip soya sauce out of the little dish. I drank a little too much and felt a little sick during the drive back to work.

Cereal Soup and a pretty superb Soya Sauce

Then came the steamed dumplings. Not exactly dumplings actually. These things were called Pow Zzah in these parts. Pronounced that way. Very difficult for me to spell a word that to me is more sound than word. The casings were fluffy. Made from fine wheat flour and were fermented, I think. Couldn't confirm that - tried but the language barrier again.

Pow - Zzah!

Little Parcels of Goodness

The Heart of China

Dear Great Leader of the People's Republic of China,

Nihao!

Much though I wanted to write to you earlier, I was unable to owing to the fact that you have had to restrict access to websites that have the potential to mobilise public opinion. I, like you, am also of the belief that free-will is unnecessary and over-rated.

I was in Beijing for half the day and I felt compelled to visit 'The Heart of China'. So what if it's nowhere near the middle of the country? I must say, downtown Beijing is a beautiful place. The old city gates are truly magnificent. I, however, think that 'palace gates' is probably a better way of describing them since in their day only the Emperor and his sycophants and posse stayed in the 'city'. Nonetheless a slight linguistic cock-up doesn't belittle the grandeur of the structures.

The 2nd gate

The main gate

Having admired the gates, and having wondered how the bloody hell the you still keep them looking like they were built yesterday, I went into Tiananmain square. And what a square it is. An epitome of order. A showcase of discipine. I felt a sudden urge to start marching with my heels digging deep and my chin tucked in. It was noting like what I expected. There were no bullet hole ridden walls from the time you were forced to use live fire to control angry students. Students can be very dangerous. I know. I was a student once. In my country, and most others, a site of such mischief would be preserved as a reminder of where the country had lost it's way. What a waste of time. Your clean-up job though is worth commending.

Museum to the right of the square

Gate to the Forbidden City, guarded by Mr. Mao

I then walked towards the gate of the Forbidden City. And behold! A picture of the greatest of all Great Leaders - Chairman Mao. I didn't have the pleasure of knowing him in person but I am quite certain he would want nothing to do with the American-style hot dog cart that parks steps from his memorial. I also witnessed the great audio-visual display in the middle of the square that was screening one of your many, superbly directed, propaganda films. I couldn't stay and watch the entire feature but understand the screening was about Xianjin, the Muslim, oil and gas rich province, that you are so selflessly trying to incorporate into your great land. On that note, whatever happened to the plan to integrate Tibet into China by offering free lifetime food to Tibetan women who married Chinese men? Any luck? I rear my own chickens and goats and do see how forced breeding can be used for a greater social good.

Ankle deep in propoganda

Knee deep in propoganda

Chest deep in propoganda

Nose deep in propoganda

After feasting my eyes, my stomach needed some attention. Leaving the old city, I went into the market just opposite. Not too far in, number 30 to the right, was where I had heard I could get the best Peking Duck. Do you prefer Beijing Duck? Not only that, I was ecstatic to hear that this was the place where the icon of the East was actually invented. Then, I was very disappointed to find out that there were no seats, and would not be for a while. I had lost all hope of sampling the fatty goodness when mass commercialisation came to the rescue. It is a great idea to have a fast-food version of the traditional sit down restaurant under the same roof. You've even put an outlet at the airport so people can take pre-cooked ducks home with them? You clever fox.

The place where Peking Duck was invented

Enterance to the place where Peking Duck was invented

Street on which there is an enterance to the place where Peking Duck was invented

I was happy with the size of the portion, which is a rare occurrence. I ate 2. The duck was moist, as I had expected. I am pretty sure it wasn't much different from the one served in the restaurant - minus the table-side carving of course. The skin was not as crispy as it should be but good enough for a fast-food joint. I hope I can enjoy the duck the traditional way, and not on a plastic plate, next time. Have you tried roasting the duck with any wood other than apple and pear? I reckon cherry or orange would go well too. No?

I washed down the Duck Pancakes with some Duck Bone Soup. I saw Duck Webs in Mustard on the menu. Maybe next time. I had a additional plate of condiments on the side - with cucumber, pickled walnuts and jasmine buds and some green beans. This was the best fast-food meal I have ever had. Even better than  the time I ate a kebab in a London kebab shop, with a sozzled friend, a portion of Chips and Cheese, a dozen pickled jalapenos  and a chilled bottle of Mumm.

Peking Duck

Peking Duck on plastic plate

More plastic plates



Duck Bone Soup

Anyway, as I was leaving I asked if the place I had just eaten at was still run by the founding family. What I was told was that the place has been state run for years now! Genius. Next time could I please have my Hoisin Sauce container filled to the brim? Thank you.

Yours faithfully,
Vikram Singh

Multi-cuisine. No, really!

I haven't been getting as much time as I used to to cook, let alone to write about food. Still eating well though. A lot of time is spent reminiscing about the good grub of the near past. And given that despite being technologically backward I went and got myself a BlackBerry, I thought it might be a good idea to use my thumbs while on a flight to Bangalore. Speaking of which - I haven't had a good Dosa in a while. Pretty fed up of the Shiv Sagar type nonsense. Before that though I have a reheated meal out of a plastic container to look forward to!

Anyway, the past - one of my long held food beliefs was challenged in Goa recently. I am generally quite sceptical of food in multi-cuisine joints. May have something to do with all those road side laaris that  read - Punjabi and Chinees/Chines (or something to that effect) Food. In this country Chinese and Punjabi seems to cover 75% of what can possibly come out of a kitchen.

If you've been to Goa, seen a typical menu at a shack and have the same apprehensions as I do, you wouldn't think of a shack as a place you'd go to for a meal - more like a place to go eat when you are slightly incapacitated by all the drinking. There are plenty of good, proper, restaurants in Goa. Many a portion of fried and quite a few Veg Manchurians later (thanks to my vegetarian friend) we chanced upon Bay View, in Candolim. The shack spots  on the beaches get auctioned every year and Bay View has been around for 15. The menu is very typical, but order your food, from all over the world, and you'll know why I give the little joint special mention and a solid recommendation.

The ordinary shack with an extra-ordinary kitchen

I did'nt hold back and ordered a Prawn Vindaloo (pronounced Vind-Aaloo I am told by a trusted beef griller), a Goan Prawn Curry and a Goan Sausage Curry. All with rice and rotis.




Prawn Vindaloo

 

fore - Prawn Curry, following - Goan Sausage Currry

The prawn dishes were superb, but it was the Goan Sausage Curry that really did it for me.  The Goan Pork sausage was cooked in a spicy gravy with potatoes. Quite full-on on the flavour front. Garlic, paprika, quite like a Chorizo. Very much like a Chorizo in fact! Now a lot of people will turn their nose away from a Goan sausage. Something to do with eating something that eats something  that's already been eaten. - don't care. The damn thing is delicious. So Bay View scored on the Goan cuisine. And it should. It's in Goa after all.

And then came the surprise. Surprises rather. The Paneer Pasanda that the friend (he isn't really) ordered. Fantastic. Better than what I've eaten at most Punjabi or Muglai places. The richness of the cashews really came through. Its wasn't cooked in a hurry and you could tell. Another  friend ordered a Spaghetti Bolognese. Brilliant again. Pasta was al dente, the tomato sauce was subtly flavoured (not something we Indians do well) and richly tomatoey!

Truly a multi-cuisine joint. A must go next time you are around during the season.