Rolling With the Punches

I am probably the world's biggest fan of kebabs and kebab rolls and frankies and Holy Crap, I'm craving the tangy, crunchy, spicy, stuffed goodness already...
Point being. I love the stuff, but I am also very demanding of my rolls. And I have noticed that my side of town is rather roll-friendly. Which made me want to proclaim the beauties of the hidden roll-vendors as far and wide as I possibly could do.

Obviously, we have BADEMIYA'S rolls. I mean, you can't ignore the man, he does brave the late hours and provide us with yummy nourishment. Personally, I also believe that the man might charge a tad more for his rolls than is strictly required. Also, his marketing gimmick is beyond unfair. You don't waft the scent of succulent meats cooking at your customer and then charge them. But I will still eat from Bade's when I'm flush. You can't beat his beautifully cooked and marinated meat. There was a time when he also sold beef, but that time was well over 5 years ago. Or is it 6?

Anyway. Diagonally opposite him, we have GOKUL'S HEALTHY BITES. One tends to ignore him in the mad rush towards Gokul's and towards the cigarette shop which flank it. But when you relax a little or get drunk enough, the realisation hits that there is one Healthy Bites there to eat from. Who is marginally cheaper than Bade's. Who also makes one helluva roll. Long-term popularity stands as proof of this; I am not shooting my mouth off about this, mind you. His combinations are not strictly tandoori roll combinations, but they taste amazing enough for you to forgive them their sins.

I cannot be talking about rolls and not mention TIBB'S FRANKIES. Situated in a little Parsi eatery; Aga Brothers, this little stall has been serving up amazing frankies for a long time. However, recently (I mean, like, a couple years ago), the man who used to make the most phenomenal frankies has left and been replaced by some cranky woman. Now because of the inherent brilliance of the ingredients of the frankies, the taste doesn't suffer. I merely miss a time gone by when they were amazing and tasted like the guy who made them really liked making rolls. I know it's a ridiculous thought, but that's what it is, okay!

Oh and there is also PICCADILLY'S. I am well aware that a Shawarma is not a roll in the sense that a tikka-roll is a roll. However, it is a Lebanese roll. Now deal with it. So Piccadilly serves some pretty great shawarmas. Stuffed beyond belief, really consistently rich tastes and it really feels good to eat. Also, hello... So healthy! I mean, it's not even fried!

Can I count the bhurji-pav/omelette-pav guy at the Gokul's corner as a roll place? You know what, why not? It's a loose definition, but it'll do for the purpose (which is that someone goes out there and eats the food the good man is creating). So the anda-pav guy. He makes a mean masala-scranbled eggs (for those who don't know, that is the definition of a 'bhurji') and omelette. It's the perfect pre/post-alcohol meal. Leaves your funds intact either for the booze or for many other outings in the month.

Maybe it's the feeling of being outdoors and eating something that's been freshly prepared for you in front of your eyes. Maybe it's the camaraderie you share with the other hungry people around you. Maybe it's the lovely, wafting smells of many spices (and probably a ton of dirt, but who cares, it's all getting cooked)...
Either way, these food-makers are my all-time favourites. Despite the high costs, I end up revisiting. And again and again and again...

Aah, now I want some of everything!

In Memory of Thecha

I have sampled the humble Indian burger from a hundred places in my life, by now, and I can say one thing with conviction: They just don't make em like they used to anymore...
And I think I've deciphered why... They don't use the good old thecha.
What is one thecha? How do you even pronounce this creature? Is it something to eat? Is it veg?
Arre wait, children, wait! I was merely taking a calming breath!
Thecha... Pronounced as follows: the (as in th of thunder and hey of whey) cha (as in cha-cha-cha).
It is a brilliant concoction of garlic, chilies, coconut, I think some peanut and a whole load of fantastic stuff. And they have served it up with the humble vada-pav for ever. Till now, it seems.
It used to lend a tangy, spicy-sweet taste to the vada-pav. It used to be this explosion of taste in your mouth... It used to be amazing! And they don't add it to the vada-pav anymore...
Except, I found out yesterday, at this place at Flora Fountain in Colaba. The man (according to his newspaper clippings) has been around for donkey's years. I won't question his credibility; I will merely eat his amazing culinary creations.
You must go. Although it's a little pricey for vada-pav (10 bucks is a lot according to me), it's worth it for the thecha.

Bombay to Goa

I remember the first time I went to New Martin's Resaurant. I didn't know what to expect. I wanted to go to my cosy, safe hostel bed and eat me some toast and tea.

But Martin's is epic. Thank God I went.

As you head down Colaba Causeway, away from Regal cinema, you'll reach a temple, otherwise known as 'that turning opposite Theobroma'. Once you take that turn, take the first right and walk about ten paces. And you're there. It's a tiny place, but very clean and very, very good at what it does. Note to you, though, it's only open in the mornings from 12.30 to 3.00 and in the evenings from 6.30 to 9.00. And it's closed on Sunday. And at mealtimes, if you want to sit as soon as you reach, I'd suggest you get there early-ish. Or after 1pm. Because otherwise you'll have to wait outside while people chow down on something that smells amazing. The service is brilliant, though, and everything comes out to you very quickly once you've ordered and they're very prompt with the onion and lemon that you're to eat with the food.

Goan food is generally supposed to be drugs and booze and fish. Popularly, at least. Martin's serves a dish I had never heard of before, though it's a thing, apparently: Goan sausage chilly fry. It's basically a sort of pickled pork sausage that they then make into a tangy, onion-y dish which they serve with pav. The first tangy bite can send you to heaven. They also serve a very ncie Beef Chilly Fry. Again, to be eaten with pav, it's good beef, spiced to perfection and it hits all the right spots. One must also definitely try the steak onion and chips. And the fish curry-rice. I haven't eaten the fish fry or the sausage-egg business, but it seems to do okay. The one encounter with the vindaloo was not one of my better experiences. But I must insist that you eat at Martin's if ever the thought crosses your mind.

Sadly, it isn't the place to take your vegetarian friends because they don't do vegetarian. They have a dal and vegetable on the menu; but I don't know how that will work out.

The menu is another very quaint thing about Martin's. It's a chalk-board with all the items listed on it, with the drop-dead-gorgeous prices and when they run out of something, they put a little cross next to it, much like they're playing a long drawn-out game of battleship.

And the prices. Assuming you have a regular appetite, one dish is enough for one person. The heavier stuff like Steak and Fish-curry-rice might even be rather stuffing. And so you're spending around Rs. 70-100 per dish. Which, in my opinion, for the food you eat is pretty brilliant.

So the next time you want to try out something different on Colaba Causeway, think about Martin's. It's addictive. And if you're only going to be going there the one time, you HAVE to eat the Goa sausage chilly fry.

And when you leave, take a look at the Dry Cleaners next door. They have the most amusing felines on the premises.

Comfort Food

I live alone in the big, bad world. I have been doing for almost three years, now. The things we sacrifice in the interests of education and a cushy future. It all seemed worth it at the outset, but on hot, tiring days when you know you're not getting lunch back at 'the crib' and you face another meal of toast and orange squash, it's the easiest thing in the world to envision chucking it all and going back home.
And on one such day, your protagonist; yours truly, was trudging along homewards when she saw an interesting sight. There was a large crowd of people standing around an oldish couple standing behind a table piled with large steel containers. It was obviously food, and just as obviously, it was good food. Hungry, and having spent enough time in the city to know that street-vendors are cost-effective, I edged over to see what it was. Imagine my surprise when I saw the lady grab a plate and ladle a vegetable curry, a dry vegetable dish and some rice onto it. Just as I was marveling at my luck (I was planning on getting me some vegetable something to eat with my bread), she pulled out a couple of rotis that reminded me of rotis back home. That did it. I lived in a place where rotis were tantamount to frisbees or jaw-toning exercises. This was just too good to pass up, food poisoning be damned.
So I walk up to them and with all the hesitancy of the new customer, ask about the price.
"15 rupees, roti and vegetable"
I walked off with my prize; 2 rotis and two portions of vegetable, enough for a nice, satisfying, nourishing meal.
I got home and opened it all out and tried a bit. Oh, so good. Having wolfed it down, I was awaiting a digestive disaster, which never came.
I was hooked.
These home enterprises can be found dotting the street corners around busy, office areas. They cater to the on-the-go, low-on-cash clientele who need to eat healthy and run back to work. Some, in the lane that runs parallel to the main road connecting Fountain and Kalaghoda, get more creative. Here you find fried fish, curry and rice, roadside chinese (which will be another entire post), even, recently, biryani. I haven't seen anyone yet drop dead after eating from these stalls, so it isn't just that my stomach is made of stainless steel. But they have their time constraints.
Lunch is the time to go. If you turn up around 3-ish, they'll be cleaning up, and all you'll get is chai. If you're looking for breakfast, then you might find the idli-vada-chutney guys roaming around with their large steel containers in the morning. There is one uncle who sells idli-vada on the turning just before Siddharth College at Fountain, on the same side of the road. I've seen him there often.
If ever in the vicinity, you must, for fun, if nothing, ferret out one of these people. If you're lucky, you'll even get some shira. 

Broth Without Bread? NEVER!

Bread is beautiful.
In fact, bread is the best thing to happen to a hostelite. What can you keep around that won't need maintenance beyond an eye on expiry dates? Bread.
I won't break into song, I promise.
Now, the question is, are we happy with plain old Wibs from the nukkad ka bread wala? Most people are. I like my bread to be good. And cheap. Either-or, sometimes.

As a young, intrepid explorer, I stuck to my safe spots. Gaylord, the bakery-restaurant at Churchgate was where I bought my loaf of bread from. For the simple reason that it was nicer than the packet stuff and it was a LOAF! Although, now, given insanely rising prices, it's the bread I buy in a fit of craziness and when there is an urge to splurge. They have some very good breads, still, though. Baguettes, milk rolls, white, brown, loaves, slices, croissants, puffs, savouries, cakes, they have it all. It's a heavenly place to be in. Plus, you get to use trays and choose what you want and take it to be wrapped up for you.

Next, while hunting for something else, I found a little bakery for pav and brun very near Camy Wafers on Colaba Causeway. With Camy on your left, walk ahead on the same side of the road till you reach a lane on the left, sloping slightly upwards. It is the same lane as the famed Nariman House of the 26/11 terror attacks. Walk down the lane, staring hard at your left till you read "Rex Bakery". They sell fresh pav and brun all day long, and at rates you read about in books your mother read as a child. Maybe that's an exaggeration. But it's good, cheap, fresh, warm, tasty pav.

Another amazing place I found recently (although I've heard of and read of for a while) is Yazdaani. It's this little bakery place in the by-lanes of Fountain. I cannot give exact directions, because I generally play it by ear myself. But ask anyone and they will direct you. Their bread is fresh out of, what they claim to be, a wood oven. I believe them. The pizza bread I bought from there was the most divine bread of any sort that I have tasted in life. At 3.30pm every afternoon, they also sell apple-pies. Little ones, but they impressed me. And I don't much enjoy sweet things. If you have a mind to, you could sit inside and have some buttered bun and chai. Is nice.

However, I am a loyalist. Kayani's at Metro is the place for me. At Metro cinema, with Metro on your left, walk ahead. You'll cross a road, and find yourself at a bus-stop. Opposite, you will find Kayani's. Don't expect anything of the service, it's erratic. But the bun-chai is lovely. And I like the various egg preparations. Also, they have a bakery section where, around 11am everyday, they get newly baked buns. I lived off them during my exams. They also have decent doughnuts, and nice bread, milk bread and WINE BISCUITS! Among other biscuits as well, not just those. But those are my favourite. Must go. Really.

As of now, I can recall only this. Be warned, I love bread. If I find a nice bread-place, I will mention it.

For the First Time in Years

This is the story of the day I decided to stop eating the tripe I've been paying monthly installments for, and decided, along with the room-mate, to order in.

So we were debating and deciding and counting out our pennies, and we decided to go ethnic and get a little closer to our titular roots. Besides, we'd heard nice things about this little hole in the wall, and I'd spent a good, long time trudging around in the by-lanes of South Mumbai trying to find it. Seeing as there was so much effort invested in this venture, we went ahead and decided to splurge a little and get us some South Indian fare from Taste of Kerala.

Now, if you're planning on actually dining in on site, you'd better be prepared to wait for a table at meal times, because this place is beyond cost-effective and placed in the prime business area of the city. At what is known as Fountain, if you're on the road going towards the famous Victoria Terminus, now Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus, just before the large CitiBank on the right side of the road, there is a turning. Take that right turn and then take the immediate next right turn. You will see a small temple to prove you're on the right path. A few steps down, and you're outside Taste of Kerala.

Assuming you've seated yourselves, and have had a look at the menu, I'll just say this: Order anything.
Although, since I haven't sampled the Chinese stuff on the menu, I'll just stick to the regular, Indian fare.

At breakfast time, the counters will be full of steaming idiyappam, appam and dosai, among other things. After that, it's only available for dinner.

If you're there for lunch, you must have their 'Porotas'. What a concoction! They're these beautifully flaky parathas made from refined flour and O Lord, they're amazing. I haven't eaten such amazing porotas since the 'Malabari Parathas' from a stall by the side of the road in Kochi, just entering town. With them, order any gravy. No, really, anything. Be warned, the place is South Indian, and food will be slightly on the spicy side. But while you're huffing your way through, you won't regret a bit of it.

When we ordered in, we got one chicken dish per person and ten porotas, to be equally distributed.

We spent, for the two of us, Rs. 184. No, I kid you not.

And after that, we were too stuffed to move. But it was the most amazing meal in ages. If they haven't run out, they even wrap the porotas in banana leaves before they put them in paper.

If you're dining in, make it a point to order the seafood. They have the very fear-inducing 'Price as per size' next to a lot of the seafood, but when I went with my bill payment guaranteed by my parents, we did get some prawns and some pomfret. The beautifully spiced and cooked prawns were perfectly sized for satisfaction (although, that may just have been luck) and the fried pomfret was fresh and clean to taste, and had the flavor I remembered from days when, as a child, the fisherwoman would deliver live catch at the door. Each dish was Rs. 350. Which, given the current rates and the size of the fish and prawns, was tantamount to eating for free. For four people, including the fish, prawns, one chicken dish, one surmai curry and around 16 porotas, the total bill was Rs. 1035.

And the staff is nice enough to smile at you, remember you (much to my embarrassment, seeing as I order from ToK like I'm starving for months) and service is very efficient.

Honestly, I love it.

Oh, also. Friends have raved about the vegetarian thali. I'm a meat-eater, but I think I'll take them at their word.

Sheep in the Big City

Mumbai is the city to head to if you're looking to make it big in the glamour world. At least, that's what all Hindi movies or urban legends told by mothers to their kids about the big bad world teach us. Mumbai, the city that never sleeps; the place where dreams come true; where, literally, ships come in. But the truth of the matter is that living in Mumbai does not mean that you're suddenly transported into the big league. You don't hobnob with the stars and dine with the elite the moment you begin to breathe the air here. One look at the streets every morning, and you know that not all the people who live here have roofs over their heads. However, rich or poor, bed or street corner, you have to eat. And food is one thing that this city manages rather well for almost all its inhabitants. Whether we're talking about spending a hundred a head, or ten, we can find something for you. At least, that's the endeavor. The problem is, it's a large city and I have enjoyed it longest as a poor low-on-funds college student confined to the most expensive part. This will be the tale of my trials and tribulations and all those triumphant moments when a still-heavy wallet allows you to give a belch of VFM satisfaction.