Metro Plus
Bangalore
Chennai
Coimbatore
Delhi
Hyderabad
Kochi
Madurai
Thiruvananthapuram
Visakhapatnam
Sarson da saga
|
The ongoing Punjabi Food Festival at the Le Meridien brings home the true flavours of frontier country
|
The fare at Sanjha Chula reminds one of cold Punjab winters and a warm fire.
MY FATHER used to cook an exquisite dal makhani. He'd dig a hole of sorts in the ground and light a fire in it. Then, he'd place an earthen pot with the dal, some ginger-garlic and cover it with some coals. He'd tend it through the night and nearly half the next day. Obviously, you could lick your fingers off.
It's been a long time since I've had dal that matches it. The hope that I just might find something close to it encouraged me to take up the offer of checking out the Punjabi food festival, Sanjha Chula, at the Le Meridien. Though it wasn't the evening for the dal makhni, I rediscovered sarson da saag. Now, people tell me that sarson da saag and makki di roti are highly over-rated Punjabi food. That's because all they've probably had is the palak-filled bowl of greens desperately disguised as sarson (mustard) or the tinned Verka variety. This one, at Sanjha Chula, was different.
Chefs S.R. Saini and Balwinder Singh told me that the sarson had been flown in fresh from Delhi. And had been embellished with the usual methi and shallot leaves. But what made it authentic was that it had not simply been put into a blender and atomised. It had actually been churned with a handful of makkai flour thrown in. The result — a creamy saag that reminds you of cold Punjab winters and a warm fire.
There was much to remind one of Punjab at the Le Meridien's poolside. The dιcor was one of a highway dhaba with milestones giving directions to various places in Punjab. Sigris, charpoys, and hookahs added to the setting, as did the village well with a bucket and a milkman's bicycle, complete with a milk urn and a rubber horn. Full marks to Reny Choudhury for turning out an ambience that was nearly perfect, especially the transport tempo and bullock cart on which the food was spread, the truck tyres, sugarcane, and costumes of the staff. A couple of them even looked as intimidating as a burly dhabha owner on the G.T. Road.
To go back to the food. I ignored the chaat (I've always believed it has its origins in Delhi) and dived into the lassi. Churned with a mathni, it had the wholesome flavour of curd well frothed. And, I began with the kebabs. Cooked in a charcoal tandoor, they were succulent and spicy, well marinated, and done to perfection. The main buffet is changed everyday. But I lucked upon bharwan karela and sukki dal. Now, only someone from the heartland can make sukki dhal (literally translated, it is somewhat of an oxymoron — a dry dhal). Ginger sliced thinly, some garlic, and a dash of asafoetida turn the ordinary urad dal into a gourmet's delight. Chef Balwinder Singh reeled off the recipe, bringing to mind my father's spice box. Even the bharwan karela was just that bitter, and more importantly, not deep-fried, but shallow-cooked on a slow fire. The rajma was the way my mother makes it — keep the spices to a minimum and let the original flavour come through — not your friendly neighbourhood dhaba's style with an overdose of chillies and garam masala.
Non-veggies should check out the melt-in-the-mouth rara gosht, which is fried till cooked. Totally sinful.
The masalas for all the food had been ground in-house, ensuring that they were full-bodied, but light on chillies. Butter liberally covered everything in true Punjabi style and the tandoor turned out excellent rotis. On offer is a range — from makki di roti (which was not entirely authentic — they had added wheat flour) and missi roti to laccha paratha and lasooni nan. But, if you ask nicely, they'll even give you a couple of soft, fluffy phulkas that go excellently with the dal.
Ghanendra Singh, Assistant Manager, Food and Beverage, plays the perfect Punjabi host, plying you with more and more food, even when you've had more than your fill.
Punjab has such few desserts of its own that you can't really blame the organisers for throwing in a rasmalai and some vanilla ice cream. But the jalebis tasted heavenly, though, by my reckoning, they could have done with a little less sugar. A last word on the music — Punjabi need not always mean head-shrinking bhangra and bhangra pop. There's more that could have been explored. For, if you were educating the public on food the way it ought to be made, then it wouldn't hurt to tweak their tastes in music as well.
The dinner buffet spread costs Rs.595 per head, plus taxes. The festival is on till February 7.
KANCHAN KAUR
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Metro Plus
Bangalore
Chennai
Coimbatore
Delhi
Hyderabad
Kochi
Madurai
Thiruvananthapuram
Visakhapatnam
|
