Weblog of Vikram Karve

MY FAVOURITE “KOLHAPURI” RESTAURANT
by
VIKRAM KARVE



It’s a hot Sunday afternoon in Pune. I am voraciously hungry and am pining for a fulfilling meal. And what can be better than a wholesome authentic Kolhapuri meal to blissfully satiate my pangs of hunger? So I proceed to my favourite Kolhapuri restaurant called “Purepur Kolhapur” near Peru Gate in the heart of Pune City. It’s a Spartan no-nonsense eatery; the only thing conspicuous is the ‘Kolhapur zero-milestone’ outside the entrance which makes it easy to locate. I saw a similar zero-milestone somewhere in Kothrud the other day and wonder whether a branch of “Purepur Kolhapur” is coming up there too!

There are just three main items on the menu – Mutton Taat (Thali), Chicken Taat, (which cost Rs. 75/- each), and Purepur Special Taat for a princely Rs. 120/- (I am told that the ‘Purepur Special’ contains everything the place has to offer!).

There is a flurry of activity and a large stainless steel taat is placed in front of me almost instantly. The Purepur Special Thali comprises the following:
• A large bowl of thick chicken curry with four generous pieces of chicken.
• A plate of appetizingly crisp dark brown pieces of fried mutton liberally garnished with almost burnt deep fried onion strips.
• A Kheema Vati (Katori)
• A vati of Tambda Rassa ( Red Gravy)
• A vati of Pandhara Rassa (White Gravy)
• Kuchumber salad made of onions, ginger, coriander, green chillies and curds
• Lemon pieces
• A fresh piping hot chapatti (You can have bhakri if you want, but today I’m in a mood for a crisp hot crunchy chapatti splattered with pure ghee)
• A bowl of jeera rice garnished with crisp brown fried onion strips and cashew nuts.

I sip the pandhara rassa – it’s invigorating. Next I spoon into my eager mouth a generous portion of mutton fry. It’s not melt-in-the-mouth stuff (I think it is the inimitable Bolai mutton). I chew slowly and savor the sweetish taste of the fried onions blended with the lively spiciness of the crisply fried mutton. I dip a piece of the piping hot chapatti into the tambda rassa allowing it to soak in, place it on my tongue and chew it to a pulp until it practically swallows itself savouring the flavour till the very end. Exquisite!

Now using my right thumb and two fingers, I lovingly pick up a small piece of chicken from the gravy; delicately place it on my tongue and roll it against my palate. I close my eyes, look inside, and focus on the succulent boneless chicken release it’s zesty juices and disintegrate. Yes, unlike the crispy fried mutton which need a vigorous chew to truly relish its deliciousness, the chicken is soft and tender, almost melt-in-the-mouth. I sample the Kheema Vati – it’s totally different from the Kheema I’ve tasted at Irani and Mughlai eateries. The Kheema has an unusual taste I can’t exactly describe – a bit sweet and sour– a counterbalancing contrast, perhaps.

Now that I’ve sampled everything in it’s pristine form, I squeeze a bit of lemon on the mutton and chicken and embellish it with kuchumber to give it the right tang, and from time to time I sip the wholesome pandhara rassa. I thoroughly enjoy the confluence of contrasting tastes. In conclusion I mix everything with the rice and rejoice the riot of zesty flavours. At the end, as I always do after all hearty spicy meals, I pick up a wedge of lemon and squeeze a bit of lemon juice into my glass of water and sip it down. Believe me, it improves the aftertaste and lightens the post-meal heaviness sometimes caused by spicy Indian cuisine.

It's an exciting, invigorating meal which perks me up and the sheer epicurean pleasure I experience makes up for the crowded, hassled ambience and indifferent service. Purepur Kolhapur is worth a visit for the quality and authenticity of its food.

For most of us “Kolhapuri” food has become synonymous with the “chilli-hot” self-styled, purported, ostensible Kolhapuri fare served in both highfalutin and run-of-the-mill restaurants whose menus often feature dishes called “Chicken Kolhapuri” or “Vegetable Kolhapuri” which masquerade as Kolhapuri cuisine. Kolhapuri cuisine is “spicy”, not “chilli-hot”, not “rich” and “fatty” – nothing exotic about it. A Kolhapuri meal, unique in its simplicity, comprises a variety of lip-smacking, earthy, flavorsome, nourishing dishes and is so complete that it creates within you a inimitable hearty wholesome sense of fulfillment, and is a welcome change from the ubiquitous fatty and greasy-rich Makhanwalla, Masala, Kadhai, Handi, Naan, Biryani Punjabi / Mughlai fare you eat day in and day out. There is a world of a difference between pseudo- Kolhapuri and authentic-Kolhapuri food.

I do not know where you get genuine Kolhapuri cuisine in Mumbai or any of the Metros. When we visit Kolhapur, we eat at Opal. I walked all over South Mumbai, experimented, tasted, sampled, but there was no joy. No Kolhapuri Taat anywhere, and even a la carte, nowhere was Mutton or Chicken Kolhapuri the signature dish – it appeared they had put it on the menu just for the sake of it, maybe to gratify the dulled taste buds on the alcohol soaked tongues of inebriated patrons who probably were in no state to appreciate the finer aspects of relishing good food. When queried, the waiters invariably said that Kolhapuri was synonymous with fiery chilli-hot food.

I was disappointed to find not even a single authentic Kolhapuri restaurant listed in various Good Food Guides to Mumbai. If you, dear fellow Foodie, know of an authentic Kolhapuri restaurant, will you be so good as to let us all know?

Happy Eating!


VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

MOUTHWATERING MEMORIES - RUSTIC INDIAN CHICKEN CURRY AT A WAYSIDE DHABA IN VIZAG
By
VIKRAM KARVE


It’s a cold, damp and depressing evening in the back of beyond place where I now live.. There is an ominous wind, menacing lightening and disturbing thunder, and it starts to rain. Predictably, the lights go off, adding to the gloomy atmosphere.
My spirits plummet and I sit downcast in desolate silence and indulge in forlorn self-commiseration mourning the past (which makes me feel miserable), speculating the future (which causes me anxiety) and ruining my present moment (which makes me melancholic).

Whenever I am in a blue mood, two things are guaranteed to lift my spirits – good food and beautiful women – or even merely thinking about them in my mind’s eye. [In fact, I dread that the day I stop relishing good food, or appreciating beautiful women, for on that day I will know that I have lost the zest for living and I am as good as a dead man!]. As I languish out here in this godforsaken environment bereft of gustatory or visual stimulation (Colaba and Churchgate but distant memories), I close my eyes and seek to simulate my senses (that’s the trick – if you can’t stimulate; then simulate) trying to think interesting thoughts, evoke happy nostalgia, and suddenly a mouthwatering memory rekindles my spirits as I vividly remember the tastiest chicken curry I ever eaten and truly relished long back, almost twenty years ago, sometime in the eighties, at a rustic wayside dhaba on the highway near Visakhapatnam , or Vizag as we knew it.

The ramshackle place was called NSTL Dhaba, why I do not know, and maybe it does not exist now, or may have metamorphosed into the ubiquitous motel-type restaurants one sees on our highways. We reached there well past midnight, well fortified and primed, as one must be when one goes to a dhaba, ordered the chicken curry and watched it being cooked.

Half the joy of enjoying delicious food is in watching it being made – imbibing the aroma and enjoying the sheer pleasure of observing the cooking process. And in this Dhaba the food is made in front of you in the open kitchen which comprises an open air charcoal bhatti with a tandoor and two huge cauldrons embedded and a couple of smaller openings for a frying pan or vessel.

They say that the best way to make a fish curry is to catch the fish fresh and cook it immediately. Similarly, the best way to make a chicken curry is to cut a chicken fresh and cook it immediately with its juices intact. And remember to use country chicken or desi murgi or gavraan kombdi for authentic taste.

And that is what is done here. The chicken is cut after you place the order and the freshly cut, dressed and cleaned desi murgi is thrown whole into the huge cauldron full of luxuriantly thick yummy looking gravy simmering over the slow fire.


How do you cook your Indian Mutton or Chicken curries? Do you fry the meat and then add water and cook it, or do you cook (boil) the meat first and then fry it? Here the chicken will be cooked first in the gravy, on a slow fire, lovingly and unhurriedly, and then stir fried later (tadka).

There are a number of whole chickens floating in the gravy and the cook is keeping an eagle eye on each and every one of them, and from time to time gently nurturing and helping them absorb the flavor and juices of the gravy (As the chickens absorb the gravy they become heavier and acquire an appetizing glaze). Once the cook feels a chicken is ready (30-40 minutes of gentle slow nurtured cooking), he takes out the chicken, chops it up, and throws it into a red-hot wok pan to stir fry basting with boiling oil and then ladles in a generous amount of gravy from the cauldron. When ready the chicken curry is garnished with crisp fried onion strips and coriander and savored with hot tandoori roti. We have a bowl of dal (simmering in the other cauldron) duly “tadkofied” as a side dish. The chicken is delicious and the gravy is magnificent. Ambrosia! We eat to our heart’s content – a well-filled stomach radiates happiness!

I still remember how delightfully flavorsome, tasty and nourishing every morsel was, and just thinking about the lip-smacking rustic chicken curry has made me so ravenously hungry that I’m heading for one of those untried and “untasted” Dhabas in my vicinity to sample their wares.

If I don’t find it anywhere I’m going to try and make this rustic chicken curry at home. And if anyone in Vizag is reading this, do let us know whether the highway dhaba still exists or has it vanished.

Till next time,
Happy Eating


VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

PUNE - Down Memory Lane
By
VIKRAM KARVE


September 12, 2006. I turn 50. After traversing the length and breadth of the country for almost all my life I’m back in my hometown Pune. I am overcome by nostalgia, for the Pune I once lived in no longer exists.

Then, in the early sixties, when I was a small boy, Pune was called Poona, and I used to live in my grandfather’s house on Parvati Chowk on Tilak Road opposite Madiwale Colony in Sadashiv Peth. A hugely bearded man prepared the best bhel in town (Kalpana Bhel) just below our house; today the bearded man is no more, the stall is there, but the old tasty bhel is missing – today it’s just run of the mill stuff. And there was Santosh Bhavan opposite for Misal, thali and yummy snacks.

In the evenings we ran to Talyatla Ganpati, to pray, and Peshwe Park zoo, to see the animals, play on the swings and slides in the park, or ride the toy train Phulrani. Now there is a beautiful Saras Baug surrounding the Talyatla Ganpati Temple and the zoo has gone to Katraj.

If you wanted to have Non-Veg, there were Asara, Jeevan, Poonam, Good Luck and Lucky in the city, otherwise you had to go to Camp. Asara has closed down, Jeevan has become Grahak Peth departmental store, Poonam a pure veg place, Lucky demolished; only Good Luck at Deccan is going strong. There was Poona Coffee House at Deccan, and Irani joints like Ideal, Regal and Volga, for tea, coffee, bun maska, omlette, kheema pav and samosas. In Camp there was the famous Naaz serving delectable mutton samosas and the Coffee House on Moledina Road serving delicious breakfast.

Naaz has been replaced by Barista, and it’s other avatar, the Maha Naaz, a veg place, is also going to close down. Most of the Irani joints and the Camp Coffee House have been transformed into Udipi eateries serving Dosa and the like, and Poona Coffee House, which underwent an upmarket transformation, may also close down as per a report in Sakal. Yes, Sakal, my favorite Marathi newspaper, is still going strong, but the Poona Herald (called Herald now) has The Times of India and the Indian Express to reckon with.

In camp Dorabjee & Sons is still there for scrumptious Biryani and Parsi food, but the inimitable Kamling on East Street, where I first tasted Chinese, has disappeared and in its place stands a veg thali place which I must visit.

Bhanuvilas, where I saw Marathi films, New Empire, which screened Hollywood stuff, and Hindvijay at Deccan have vanished, and the old world West End with its unique chairs and soda fountain has been replaced by a modern hall minus the soda fountain and the relaxed ambience. Now there are Multiplexes.

I can go on and on in this vein, but that will make me melancholic. So let’s look at the positive side – Ganu Shinde, Kawre are still there for pure ice cream and mastani, but Bua has gone. Ramnath and its fiery Misal still stimulate, and so do most of the Amrututulyas like Ambika and New Ambika and Badshahi Boarding is still unchanged. In camp there is George, Kayani, Kwality, Marzorin, Mona Food and Budhanis. And all the sweet shops like Chitale, Kaka Halwai, Karachi and Bhavnagri are flourishing from strength to strength. And many new places have come up. And all the bookstores like Manneys, International, Popular and the ones at Appa Balwant Chowk are getting better and better, and there is Crossword too.

And of course, “Yours’ truly” is still going strong at 50. So I’m going to celebrate my half century - Happy Birthday to me!

VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com