3. Heat oil in a wok and deep-fry these
paneer
pearls on medium heat till light golden brown. Drain onto an absorbent paper and keep aside.
4. Cover these balls with silver
varq
(beaten gold or silver edible leaf adorning many desserts). They will almost look like pearls now.
5. Heat
ghee
in a
kadai.
Add cloves, bay leaf, cinnamon sticks and green cardamoms. Once they start to crackle, add the rice. Gently sauté for two minutes.
6. Add two cups of hot water and salt to taste. Cover and cook till rice is done. Cook it on low heat.
7. Crush saffron in warm milk. Add this to the rice to give it a beautiful flavour and colour.
8. After rice is done. Let it cool down for 15 minutes; if you open and mix it when hot, the grains tend to break and rice becomes mushy.
9. Now, toss half the
paneer motis
with saffron rice. Serve this rice garnished with more silver pearls and dry fruits on the top.
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AY
6
11 August / Dharamshala
Covered with dense forest, filled with pine trees, Dharamshala has to be one of the most beautiful and unexplored hills in the northern part of India. Until the IPL (Indian Premier League) cricket happened, not many people even knew about it. Actually, the scenic cricket stadium of Dharamshala, which has hosted many international and 20-20 matches, has attracted large crowds from different states and cities resulting in an influx of tourism here. After taking a morning stroll in the hills, with rains following me wherever I stepped, it was time to visit Norbulingka. The Norbulingka Institute was established in 1988
to teach and preserve the traditional Tibetan art forms, including woodcarving, statue making,
thangka
painting and embroidery. It is a part of upper Dharamshala, known more commonly as McLeod Ganj, which is the seat of the Tibetan spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama. The artwork depicting their culture, a beautiful spiritual garden, and excellent souvenirs are what you’ll like about this place. But, what I loved the most was visiting the Norling Café that served traditional Tibetan food. I don’t know if my words can do justice, or these pages can give you a whiff of the aroma, but the
thenthuk
here is a must-try. It is basically a cold-weather soup made with noodles and various vegetables. The spices were controlled, herbs were balanced, a bittersweet symphony was playing in my head with the pretty rain outside. Perfect lunch I would say!
Next mission of the day was to visit a momo place in Dharamshala. It would have been a sin had we not tried some Tibetan cuisine while in McLeod Ganj. Numerous Tibetan street vendors sell momos here and they sell it pretty cheap; Rs. 20 for four pieces. One of my dear friends, who had visited Dharamshala earlier, suggested I go to Mama’s Kitchen, run by a middle-aged lady Neema. It is a cute little café overlooking the valley, orange in colour, with posters of her sons who perform as a popular rock band called J.J. Exile Brothers. As I entered the kitchen there, it ended… It was perhaps the smallest kitchen I’d ever visited, so much so that it was difficult for two people to fit in at the same time. But, because it overlooked the valley, it had a breathtaking view which any chef would gladly accept.
Now came the moment that I had long been waiting for; it was time to eat the famous
aloo
(potato) momos. Yes, you read it right! The only tip I could gather from Neemaji was not to make the dough very soft else it would be difficult to handle and shape the momos. The potatoes were yellow because there was turmeric in them. Apart from that not many spices went into the stuffing, as it was rather bland. The chilli sauce served was super hot. So, that balanced the subtle potato flavour extremely well. They were delicate and had a wheaty taste to them. Potatoes though weren’t doing much for me. Regardless, I had a great after-meal snack, thanked Neemaji for being a great host and quickly got myself a bottle of some fizzy drink as I stepped out because my tongue was burning like hell. That sauce was fiery!
D
AY
7
12 August / Dharamshala
’You tend to appreciate and value a lot more when the absence is felt…be it for a person, a place or an entity,’ is what my dear friend Anamika Singh truly believes in. She mostly speaks so for her hometown, which is Dharamshala, and now I understand her love for this place. She has played a major role in promoting teas from this region. Dharamshala has beautiful tea estates. Anamika is the founder of Anandini Himalaya Tea and the marketing director of Manjhee Valley Tea Estate. I had promised her that I would visit the tea estate whenever I get a chance to travel to this part of the country, and here I was, standing in her tea estate early morning, learning how to pick the best tea leaf—the
dhai patta
or two leaves and a bud—which makes the perfect tea.
There were a lot of ladies in this gorgeous tea plantation carrying baskets strapped to their heads. They were all extremely sweet and a bit camera shy while they taught me how to pick the best leaves; they made it look so simple while I couldn’t even figure my way into the plantation as there were no set paths here. If you have a bucket list for travels, make sure you add a ‘tea plantation visit’ to it. Anamika is one of the most vibrant people I’ve met in my life and as camera savvy as her tea estate was. She hated the fact that many people, including the vendors, over brewed their tea. Anamika’s tip for a perfect cup of tea was to time the brewing of tea with precision, which is four minutes. It was a delight to see her personally brew some tea right there at the plantation. The procedure was fairly easy as this was a no sugar, no milk tea. This would not dilute the essence and flavours of her special handcrafted blend of one of the varieties of green tea with Himalayan
tulsi
(basil) and pomegranate flowers. You had to infuse the tea in hot water for four minutes and then fill all the cups halfway through first and then top them up. This was because the tea in the top half of the kettle was lighter than the bottom half. So to balance the flavour and depth of the tea in all the cups this procedure needed to be followed. After some Delhi-style gossip, overlooking the tea estate and sipping one of the lightest and most aromatic teas I’ve ever had, I gave Anamika a big hearty hug and left with some fond tea-time memories.
D
AY
8
From Dharamshala, I now moved towards Andretta in Himachal Pradesh.
D
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9
14 August / Andretta
Waking up today was a bit tough. After spending eight days with no real rest, I could now see how tough pulling off 100 continuous days would be. It all sounded very romantic and adventurous while it was being planned; well, till now, it had been a super trip, so I wasn’t complaining, though the bum did hurt a little bit. My journey had brought me from Punjab to the state of Himachal Pradesh, a land which people called Dev Bhoomi or the ‘Abode of the Gods.’ The art, beauty and taste of this place inspired me to explore its culture and tradition.
Andretta, a small village, is close to Palampur, whose serenity has inspired many artists from all over India, for generations. Everybody knows about Shimla, Mussoorie, and Nainital, but Andretta is the village where art is born and the valleys here take your breath away.
We were going to visit a very famous art studio here, and meet the manager of Andretta Pottery and Craft Society. People from all over the world came here to learn pottery and take short and long courses for the same. Being a chef, it excited me because it was something that needed similar kind of attention to detail that we gave to food; so it was a combination of great craftsmanship and creativity. Why shouldn’t I also give it a try was the question, which was quickly answered by Jugal, a master potter and teacher at Andretta Pottery. He was a nice south Indian Brahmin with a hint of Tamilian accent in his speech, who had decided to become a potter many years back. They were very strict that I should wear an apron before I sat on a wheel where they shaped the pots. Jugal pointedly noted, ‘Just as you wear an apron in the kitchen, you have to wear an apron here too.’ I was sitting on the wheel where the pots were shaped. Jugal further explained, ‘First, you will need to prepare the clay. I have already done this for you. Now you take the clay dough and place it in the middle of the potter’s wheel by hitting it hard. Hold it with both your hands and smoothen it. You move first to the centre, then to the bottom, towards the wall and finally outside.’ With the passion that Jugal explained his art to me, I felt I was back in the kitchen. Just like a knife, a pan and a pot are a chef’s best friends, the same way the wheel is a potter’s best friend. With very delicate hands I had to mould the clay.
The beauty was that even after giving the clay a shape, it took just one more turn of the wheel to change the mould into something new. After you have shaped the pot, you proceed to reach the harsh stage. Jugal further explained, ‘After the harsh stage, you have to put the clay on the wheel upside down and then start trimming it. After the trimming, you have to dry it in the sun. Then, the pot will be put through the first firing, and later the brisk firing. After that, glaze will be applied to it and then it will be given the second firing. It is a 10-day process. If the sun is good and everything goes well, then the pots will get ready in a minimum of 10 days’ time. It took a lot of patience and skill to make one pot and no two pots were similar. So after I’d learnt the magic that potters had in their fingers while they shaped a pot, it was my duty to work my magical fingers and make something tasty and serve it in those beautiful pots. I had picked up some nice green tea from Kangra and I thought it would be a great idea to prepare some green tea rice. The process was simple; all you had to do was soak green tea leaves in hot water for a few minutes, and then strain it. Thereafter, this was used to make rice. It turned out to be pretty aromatic and was served in a beautiful clay pot. Next time when you’re cooking rice, just cook it in water flavoured with green tea. Jugal was a great teacher and a true motivator. ‘It is really tasty. What you’re doing is also an art, and I really appreciate the journey you’ve taken up to explore India and show it to the world,’ he remarked. I had a huge smile on my face as I walked out on the street to explore the local Himachali culture.
I don’t think there is any place in the world like India where, as you go from one place to another, there is a change in the way people speak, live and eat. In order to see these changing colours, one must travel in local buses. As we were on a journey across India, there was no better way other than travelling in local buses to discover the real India. And that’s the mode of travel that we opted for Kullu. It cost me only Rs. 80. What I gained was a bunch of local people singing Pahadi songs and giving me guidelines on what to eat and what to do while in Himachal. We arrived in Kullu well before lunch time. Kullu is a broad and an open valley, between Manali and Largi. This valley is famous for its temples, beauty and its majestic hills covered with pine and deodar forests and sprawling apple orchards. So, a conscious call had been taken to mix with the locals here and eat like them too. The hype around this lunch had been massive and the whole crew was waiting for this experience. It was going to be my first meal with a typical Himachali family in a small village; the food was cooked in a traditional manner. To help us out with this arrangement we had Dheeraj, who was a local resident and our guide for the day. We had to trek four kilometres uphill to reach a certain village and en route, Dheeraj made me pluck apples straight from the trees and introduced me to the wild growing
gucchi
(morel) mushrooms that were present around us. He said we were plain lucky to find these mushrooms in this season. In Delhi it costs us Rs. 20,000 per kg to have these morels. For a second I wanted to steal a kilogram from here! Chefs, I tell you!
Tired, and exhausted,we finally found our way into a tiny little village and located the house of the Himachali family who were playing host to us. The rustic feel of that place, stone architecture paired with wooden ceilings acted like a rejuvenating tonic for my mind and body. As I entered, I was greeted by a large family who had been waiting for me. I touched the most senior person, Mr. Karam Singh’s feet, and he quickly gave me a hug, and said, ‘My name is Karam Singh and this is my entire family and from today you too are a part of our family.’ There was a part of me that felt so accepted and at such peace that I wanted to cry.
What I quickly noticed was that the women of the house were missing. Any guesses? Yes, they were still in the kitchen. From what I gathered later, they had been inside for the past six hours preparing for the feast. Without wasting a single second, I took permission from the eldest lady of the house, touched her feet and entered the kitchen. For me, that kitchen was an era lost in time. It was made out of clay and mud, and had a lovely charcoal smell. Ah! I felt like Charlie who had found his chocolate factory in this kitchen.
I considered myself fortunate that instant. I saw women, dressed in traditional Pahadi dresses, cooking their regional cuisine with love and devotion. After finding a spot for myself on the floor, I crossed my legs and started helping them. There were six dishes on the menu.
Kodra
(type of local millet)
ki roti, jaatu
rice,
kaathu
(local spinach preparation),
bhalle
(yellow lentil dumplings),
Siddu
(local buns stuffed with lentils) and
rajma
(kidney beans). There were a few accompaniments like locally produced cow
ghee
and fern pickle. The food was slow-cooked over wood-fire. All the spices and vegetables used, were grown and produced locally. It was a village style sit-down dinner as everyone assembled on the porch and we sat down on carpets with beautiful copper plates in front of us. My mouth watered and I drooled at the fragrance of the food being served. Did you know that you can survive the entire day by just eating one
kodra ki roti.
It has an amazing amount of fibre and gives warmth to the body in winters. The local spinach was divine to taste and I packed some
ghee
for my onward journey.