Anyhow, so way back in late August/early September last year (yes, its been 6 months!) I got invited to join an exploratory expedition into the winding by-lanes of Mohd Ali Road during the holy month of Ramzaan. Muslims fast during the day for the entire month, and can only eat during the night, so the narrow alleys sprouting off from the arterial Mohd Ali Road in South-Central Bombay come alive at night during this time. Not only is it a food fiesta, but also a time to deck up, shop,catch up with friends/family......all amid the multi-hued splendour of a thousand and one stalls and shops.
We were lucky to have with us H, who knew the entire area like the back of his hand AND knew all the best places to eat at. Being a practising Muslim meant he had fasted the whole day and could not partake in all the gorging - when one has not eaten the whole day, you cannot begin stuffing you face with rich food right away, else the tummy protests. :) So he only nibbled at the spread of food we tasted, while we indulged in an all-out feeding frenzy. :D
To start off, H took us to this restaurant at the end of a dark dead-end alley. During normal (read: Non-Ramzaan) days it would have been a small nondescript eatery, but during Ramzaan, it was a DESTINATION - with tables spilling over onto the road under strings of bright lights. We began our epic food yatra with payaa - a gravy dish made by slow-cooking lamb/beef trotters with spices in enormous cauldron-like pots. The piece de resistance was the bara handi - a blend of payaa from 12 (bara) different cauldrons (handis).
Surprisingly the payaa was not spicy - it was bursting with flavour, but was easy on the chilli. We got thick wads of tandoor-fresh roti to mop up the sauce with and cold Thums Up to wash down all that richness.
Next stop was a roadside stall (again, with seating consisting of plastic tables and chairs on the pavement) selling only one thing - roasted chicken. It had all the makings of a tandoori chicken except for the fact that it wasn't grilled in a tandoor, but on a open charcoal grill.
You could choose your pick from three offerings - eloquently named Laal/Hara/Safed'(Red/Green/White) - no zaffrani/hariyali/nawabi window-dressing for these guys!
We chose to have one of each like well-behaved epicureans (rather than asking for all the chicken the guy had to offer like gluttons!)....and regretted this restraint on off the first bite of the steaming hot chicken...
....such succulence! Such superb balance of juicy tenderness and smoky charredness! Such a glorious bouquet of spices and tastes! It was easily the best tandoori chicken I have ever had in all my....err... considerable years. The red chicken was significantly spicier than the other two, and we quickly made up for our mistake of ordering only one of each by ordering 2 more pieces to share. :D
Luckily, H wisely shepherded us out of the place before we could order another round, luring us by promises of more treats to come. Else we (OK, OK, I!) would have happily stayed there all evening, downing endless pieces of grilled chicken!
Pushing our way through the throngs on the brightly-lit streets, we went to Hindustan Chhota Kabab, a place specialising in, you got that right, kababs. Here we were met by a revelation - these 'kebabs' were small (grape-sized or slightly larger) and sold by the dozen! Not only that, but they were deep fried, rather than grilled. Made of mutton mince these were spicy, oily and served in a newspaper lined by leaves.
Personally I found them too oily and spicy rather than flavoursome, but I can imagine them being an addictive snack with a beer or two (or more! )
H had saved the best for the last of course. After what seemed like miles (but was only a few hundred feet) of trekking through narrow lanes bursting with decorations and lights and music and CROWDS we reached the main road and the shrine of sweets of that area - Suleiman Usman. This bakery/sweetshop has been a culinary landmark for generations and is particularly sought-after during Ramzaan. We betook of creamy, comforting phirni set in earthenware bowls and piping-hot, fresh-from-the-kadhai malpua.
Each malpua was easily the size of a dinner plate - golden, gleaming with syrup, redolent with the aroma of pure ghee, and drizzled over with creamy rabdi. My personal reason for loving malpua is the textural contrast between crisp, crunchy latticed outer edges and the soft, pillowy centre....such bliss!
We were so lost in the sugar-and-ghee induced daze that the malpua had brought on that, when it suddenly started raining - puring!- it took us several moments to shake off the stupor and run for shelter. Needless to say, we followed the 'women and children to be taken to safety first' principle, and pushed the plates containing our precious malpua and phirni into safety of the makeshift pandal before taking refuge ourselves. :D
All in all, it was a fun evening with plenty of good food and great company. But on a personal note, it was like a culinary pilgrimage - a long-standing item in my Foodie To-Do list was finally ticked off. So what if it took me 6 months to write about it!
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