bedmi sabzi

THE PUMPKIN is a strange vegetable. Call it what you will, the sitaphal or kaddu, it is mood insensitive. In parts of northern India, it is a must for all ritualistic meals - on happy or sad occasions. Sitaphal has to be served for weddings as well as for tehrvis to mark the dead. So, not surprisingly, the sitaphal was an integral part of my youth. And unimaginable as it may sound - the poor pumpkin, after all, has its share of bitter detractors - I have quite a fondness for the vegetable. As college students in Meerut, we visited Gokul Halwai at least twice a week for breakfast. For one rupee, we got six puris, aloo ki sabzi, some thick raita and a healthy dollop of sitaphal ki sabzi.

Delhi was an eye-opener after life in a mofussil town. All those small non-vegetarian stalls found a ready customer in me. But I also spent time scouting all the lanes and by-lanes of Old Delhi in search of vegetarian savouries. Every gali had a puri-sabzi stall or a hawker peddling his wares on a cycle. But what disappointed me was that though one could always get some good bedmis (lentil-stuffed puris), the accompanying vegetable was usually made of potatoes or chholey. So my craving for some sitaphal sabzi could only be fulfilled when a relative got married - or died!

Jain Sahab

But, one day an informer whispered into my ear that there was this small shop in Daryaganj that served sitaphal with its bedmi. Daryaganj is such a maze that I took the help of a friend who spent his childhood and most of his youth in the area. Even he needed to ask some locals for directions before we finally managed to reach Jain Sahab's shop.

Now that I know the directions, it is not all that difficult to find Jain Sahab. All you have to do is reach Golcha cinema hall, cross over and take the broad road which links up with Ansari Road at a T-junction. Just before the junction, on your left, is a small place called Arihant sweets and their bedmi counter. The locals refer to it as Jain Sahab's bedmis.

A revelation

My first time there was a revelation. I saw a large crowd of men, some sitting by a table and eating bedmis, and the others waiting for their orders to materialise. Like a true Delhiwallah, I rushed towards the owner, Jain Sahab, yelling for two plates of bedmis and waving a currency note in my hand. I was in for a humbling experience. Jain Sahab gave me a cold look and said: "This is not New Delhi. First you eat, and then you pay." I was put in my place, but knew that very instant that the bedmis sold by a gentleman steeped in tehzeeb would be great.

The bedmis - one plate of two bedmis comes for Rs.8 - were small and crisp. With the puris came a dona of aloo-chholey sabzi with one moong-dal ka kofta. The potato vegetable was delicious, and the methi ki chutney that laced the dish gave just the right taste of tartness to it. But it was the sitaphal ki sabzi - served on a separate sal leaf - that floored me. It was lightly spiced, and the sweet taste of the vegetable dish nicely balanced the masalas of the aloo-chholey.

I couldn't resist it. I ate six puris and drank a kullar of lassi. And then I rounded up a great meal with four delicious pedas. Going to Jain Sahab's was like going back home. My relatives are pretty happy that I have found the perfect place for sitaphal in Delhi. I no longer call them up, asking eager questions about marriageable nephews or nieces, or making solicitous enquiries about the old and the ailing.

streetfood

streetfood: "hello,
i have started this blog for street food lovers of delhi. I think nobody knows more about delhi street food than i do. So in due course i shall guide you through the lanes and bylanes of delhi on a food tour. bye for now"

streetfood: introduction

streetfood: introduction

hello,i have started this blog for street food lovers of delhi. I think nobody knows more about delhi street food than i do. So in due course i shall guide you through the lanes and bylanes of delhi on a food tour. bye for now

streetfood

streetfood There was a time, years and years ago, when a visit to a friend's or a relative's place on a hot summer day meant a tall glass of doodh lassi or dahi lassi. For those of us who grew up in the Hindi heartland, it was one way of helping us combat the effects of the infamous loo or the hot winds of the North. A doodh lassi is a chilled drink made of milk and water. It is
sugared and iced, and then served as a light beverage when the temperature starts to soar. But I can't recall when I last had a glass of milk lassi.
If there is a good thing about summer, it's the fact that there are all kinds of fruit juices, sherbets and lassis for you to drink. My favourite is the sweet lassi. Nowadays, you will find on every street corner a dhaba or a theley-wallah with a sign declaring the vendor as Sharmajee or Guptajee Lassiwale and his lassi as the best in town. But I am a little finicky about my lassi. Having grown up in the cow belt (more a buffalo belt, if you ask me), I have doodh and lassi in my veins. And for that, the milk has to be thick and creamy.
Whenever I want some good lassi, I go to Pakodimal Doodhwala's shop in Naya Bans. Legend has it that this shop is the oldest doodh shop in Delhi. You have to go to Khari Baoli, the spice market, and walk down to the opening of Naya Bans. You'll know that you have reached the mouth of Naya Bans when your nostrils get invaded by the smell of `hing' emanating from some delicious kachoris (but about that, another day).
Directions to Pakodimal's
Pakodimal's shop is three stalls down the lane, on your left.
It's a small, unassuming shop, and many believe that the man who makes the lassis is older than Delhi. He is a cranky old man, so I am always on my best behaviour when I am there. I had heard about a shaharwallah who had made the mistake of asking the old man to hurry up. The old man returned the client his money and refused to make him his lassi. I like his attitude. When you are the oldest man around and make the best lassis in town, you are entitled to your moods.
I always ask for a burfi wali lassi when I am there. The old man puts a burfi in a vessel and then crushes it to a smooth paste. To this he adds some dahi, sugar and water. He then churns it with his scarred hands - said to be battered out of shape by the water that his hands are always immersed in. The lassi costs Rs.15. The shop also sells milk, curds and other dairy products.
People buy their dahi and often eat it then and there with some salt and masalas laid out on the side. Old-timers tell me that a poor man who wants curds worth two rupees is accorded the same respect as the rich client buying stuff by the kilos. That is, of course, if nobody makes the mistake of asking the old man to hurry.

introduction

hello,
i have started this blog for street food lovers of delhi. I think nobody knows more about delhi street
food than i do. So in due course i shall guide you through the lanes and bylanes of delhi on a food tour. bye for now