The well-spoken gentleman at the counter, Rajeev, the owner and a postgraduate in marketing and business, now ran the family business, with a vision to expand his business across the country. The original
laddus
dated back to the time of Aurangzeb, when he was trying to conquer India. He, of course, took his chef along with him when he travelled. When he was in this part of the country, it was his chef who invented this
laddu
; that’s how the story goes. Another reason why they are so popular is because of the river Son, which is said to have sweet water. Rajeev’s grandfather was also an actor who had acted with Shatrugan Sinha in the same movie which led to the
laddu
becoming famous in Bihar and all over India. By now, my curiosity levels had gone through the roof, and I asked Rajeev if I could see how the
laddus
were being made. Kilos and kilos of
laddus
were being made here. Wherever the eyes looked, there was
laddu
everywhere.
The process was actually very simple. First, a thin batter of gram flour
(besan)
was made using the sweet water of the river Son. The
chana dal
(split Bengal gram) used was also called Bombay Gold. The mixture was then passed through a large eight millimetre perforated strainer. It was then tapped on the edge of the big
kadhai
which had hot
ghee
in it. The tapping made the
besan
fall like droplets into the oil. These droplets were commonly referred to as
moti
(pearls). The
motis
needed to be fine, and once fried they were removed from the
kadhai
and added to a thick sugar syrup flavoured with saffron. It was then cooked for five to 10 minutes, after which it was left aside for the granules to soak up the syrup. Once the granules fluffed up, they added cashew nuts, pistachios, melon seeds and
kewra
water. The mixture was then rolled gently into a small ball. I was lucky enough to try the whole process on my own. Considering the fact that I made my first
jalebi
when I was 12, I felt confident about making my own
laddus.
The owner, Rajeev, agreed that I was quite skilled at making them. I was feeling quite pleased with myself, the
laddu
turned out very well. Just like the
motichur laddu,
they crumbled in your hands, melted in your mouth, and left a long lasting flavour for you to remember.
D
AY
84
28 October / Patna
It had been a journey of 260 km to Patna, and the next day was to be filled with a whole lot of new experiences to add to my
handi
(an earthenware or metal pot used in Indian cooking). Kolkata-Bihari cuisine is predominantly vegetarian, but because they live by the rivers, there are a few fish dishes on the menu. A few dishes they swear by are
sattu
(powdered and baked pulses and cereals), and yoghurt. The first dish I tried in the morning, on my long journey towards Kolkata, was
litti chokha.
Found at every kilometre, it is so common that some people eat it for lunch and dinner, both. If you don’t like this dish, I doubt you would survive in Bihar. Definitely the common man’s food,
litti
is a hard pastry-like dumpling, smaller than a tennis ball, baked on a coal fire. It is made of white flour and filled with
sattu
and spices.
Sattu
is primarily made of gram four. According to my grandfather,
sattu
gives heat to the body. It is also one of the healthiest dishes you could eat. It gives strength to the body and helps the laborious workers of Bihar afford a healthy meal. Sometimes, it is even dissolved in milk and had in the morning like a
desi
malt powder.
It might sound boring and bland, but it was very tasty because of the spices used. The main ones used were: roasted cumin seeds, dry mango powder, carom seeds, finely chopped green chillies, onion, coriander, ginger, chilli, pickle masala, and garlic. The
sattu
was then stuffed in the
litti
casing, and then shaped into a tennis ball. Traditionally, it is baked on an open coal fire, but there were options of cooking it in the oven, or deep-frying it.
Litti
was traditionally had with
chokha,
a stir-fry of brinjals or potatoes. I ate this interesting meal for breakfast. Not realising initially how filling or energy giving they were, I had four of them. You definitely need to have a body and stomach of steel to eat these. I ate mine from a street vendor near one of the railway stations. There are no personal favourites, you can go anywhere, and find a decent plate of
litti chokha
for yourself. It reminded me of the
dal bati
I had in Rajasthan. I spent the rest of the day travelling to reach my ultimate destination.
I wasn’t bored of my Bihar delicacy, and stopped on the highway to eat some with fish curry.
D
AY
85
29 October / Kolkata
As I moved towards a new side of the country, the landscape and the lifestyle changed slightly, and so did the scenery. We were clearly moving into West Bengal.
I was trying hard not to succumb to the pressures of my travels. I almost caught a terrible flu, I seemed to be a few sizes smaller than my clothes, and I had an irreversible tan. I hadn’t shaved for days and I did look quite unwell. In fact, I not only got the flu, but I gave it to my director as well. With such tight schedules, there was no stopping and resting. I was a man on a mission; to complete 100 days of India, non-stop. A difficult drive health-wise, I must say.
The road was very smooth from Patna to Kolkata. We managed to reach Kolkata at 4 p.m. in the afternoon, checked into the hotel, took a medicine for fever, and slept for four hours.
I never did actually wake up for dinner; my first half day off since we left Delhi!
D
AY
86
30 October / Kolkata
I woke up early, hungry and sick. For a second, I actually did ask myself if I could finish this journey. My crew asked if I wanted to fly back. It all seemed too good to just let go off because of a fever. No, I wasn’t going to go back, I was going to go find some good old Chinese chicken soup.
Before that, I want to formally welcome you all to Calcutta, or Kolkata. Well, I prefer the latter over the former…for reasons I can’t explain. The capital of West Bengal, it used to be the capital of India during the British rule. This was pretty clear considering the architecture, the roadways and habits of the people. The place reminded you of a different era altogether with the tea-drinking habits, the way the locals spoke English and the general aura of the city. As far as the cuisine went, fish meant everything to Bengalis. I cannot imagine a single traditional meal without fish, and the staples: lentils and rice. The Bengalis are also known for several creations that are popular across the globe:
kathi
rolls (skewer-roasted kebab wrapped in a
parantha
bread),
kala jamun
(dark brown sweet balls made from cottage cheese and whole dried milk, deep fried and coated with sugar), and
rasgulla
(Indian sweet consisting a ball of cottage cheese cooked in syrup).
There is also a thriving Chinese community in Kolkata, that continues to live in China Town. Geographical proximity to China has, over the years, resulted in a large Chinese population in Kolkata. Of course, this has also led to the evolution of the Bengali Chinese menu and a whole array of dishes such as sweet corn soup, manchurian, chilly chicken, all heavy with the use of MSG (mono sodium glutamate a.k.a. ajinomoto)—the villain of Chinese food. There are still places in Kolkata that serve authentic Chinese food, out of which the most popular is Tiritta Bazaar. It is very popular for its fish ball and prawn ball soup. At 6 a.m. I found myself in the market following my nose to the nearest soup shack. I met an acquaintance there, a freelance journalist called Anshuk, who helped me get better with a Chinese breakfast! The bazaar was open from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. People bought and sold everything available here in these two hours. It was right at the entrance to Old China Town, a broad road with shops lining the two sides of the street. For the late party goers and insomniacs, this was a great place to have breakfast to close an eventful night. Both steamed and fried momos were served with a sweet chilli sauce on both sides of the road, flanked by
bao
(also called
baozi,
it is a type of steamed bun with fillings, in various Chinese cuisines, as there is much variation as to the fillings and the preparations) and sausages, vegetables and soup. For a second it did look like a Chinese town, until you heard them speaking in Bengali.
Anshuk was one of those people who fell in love with this market and suggested we start the morning by having a warm bowl of soup. The soup stall was run by a middle-aged lady, who was a bit cranky at first. She was not especially interested in me or my questions about her family history. All interviews are not planned, and some don’t go very well. Anshuk explained that as a community, they had been through a lot, and generally liked to be reserved and private. I quietly took my fish soup and went to a corner. The soup was not thickened with cornflour, nor heavily laden with MSG. The fish ball was made of surmai, and the soup was clear, with some serious restorative properties. These recipes had been handed down generations and that was very evident by the simplicity of the dish and the flavour of the broth. There wasn’t much place to sit or stand, and the vendors had not set up fancy shops. I had two bowls of soup that gave me the energy to go on for the rest of my day.
It was time to take a deep breath and go get some real breakfast. I moved around the market and surveyed the various other dishes on sale; different types of chicken, pork and shrimp dim sums (all of which I tried and loved). Pork sausages were hung from store ceilings; I tasted those as well. I was most happy with my big
bao
as they call it, which was stuffed with chicken, egg and spring onions. The
bao
was slightly sweet and the chicken stuffing complemented the soft springy texture of the insides. I still wasn’t full, so I went in for the rice dish that looked like a
churro
(a fried-dough pastry, predominantly choux-based snack), and was called
lathi
(stick). For those who really didn’t care for Chinese breakfast, there were a few
aloo-puri
stalls in a corner. I ate till it was time for the market to shut down, and there was literally nothing left to eat. It was humanly impossible to eat for the next few hours; so instead, I decided to explore the Kumartuli Market.
Traditionally a potter’s quarter, Kumartuli is where clay idols of Hindu Gods and Goddesses are made. In recent years, this area has become very popular because of the idols of Durga that are made for Durga Puja every year. Kumartuli is even on the tour map of Kolkata city. Filled with extremely skilled artisans, who model clay with their hands, and follow a traditional technique which hasn’t changed for many years, they get really busy for a whole month before Durga Puja. A well made sturdy idol is about 10-feet tall. They first make a brass frame in which they fill straw, and tie it into the base shape of the idol. They then make a mud and clay mixture and coat the hay that is tied using string. Once coated, they begin to carve in the intricate designs. Surprisingly, they don’t use any references and just model the idols freehand. It takes about 10 days to complete the whole process. These idols are, I was told, exported to 90 countries across the world, and the artisans produce 20,000 deities throughout the year. I tried designing one of the clay idols and made a complete mess. It obviously required great skill, patience and practice, like cooking.
After my visit to the market I went to the Victoria Memorial, another popular tourist stop. The entire building was made of marble. I would recommend everyone to take the tonga ride and go to the memorial. I actually took a detour and went behind the memorial to eat
chaat,
and drink masala aerated drink, made with lemon and chaat masala. My version was spiked with green chilly. If you are not planning on going to Kolkata any time soon, try this at home; it is very refreshing in summer.
After my morning soup and mid-day snack I was feeling a tad bit better. I decided I would spend the evening exploring Kolkata’s street food culture that is very famous all over India. The street food had the daily specials common to all the metro cities:
chaat, bhelpuri, pucchka
(called
gol gappa
in Delhi and
pani puri
in Bombay),
samosa,
chowmein; but the most popular was still the
kathi
roll. Though everybody had their own personal favourite, Decker’s Lane had some of the best street food in Kolkata. Me being the enthusiastic chef that I am, I requested one
kathi
roll owner to let me take over his stall for a while. The idea was to see if I could generate more revenue for him by making my own version of the
kathi
roll. A typical one is almost a shallow-fried flaky
parantha,
with or without egg, which is then stuffed with various fillings like
paneer,
chicken, mutton, vegetables. Known to be extremely oily and greasy, it tastes absolutely divine. The idea was to create a new roll, an experiment that would fit in with the taste of Kolkata.
I sold eight pieces of my
Thai
Kathi
Roll
by pulling people off the street and making them sample my experiment. All of them agreed to pay after having the roll. Nothing gives a chef more joy than that.
T
HAI
K
ATHI
R
OLL
(Thai noodles wrapped in a flaky flatbread.)