MEMORABLE MEALS
 Off the beaten track

 Their meal is the message and it often travels by word of mouth. Pushpesh Pant on lesser-known eating places and the excellent fare they offer  

(Clockwise from top right) Street food at Lucknow is hugely popular; Bawarchi Biryani Place, Hyderabad, is a gourmet’s delight; and galouti being fried at a roadside eatery.— Photos by the writer

Some of the most memorable meals we have had belong to the realm of roadside eateries. Dhaba is the catch-all word usually employed to describe these places but to be honest, some were less noticeable than the proverbial ‘holes in the wall’. Others were straining hard to upgrade as motels or restaurants.

There was a time when the ‘breakfast break’ en route Nainital was de rigueur at Ghar-Mukteshwar. The stench from the fertiliser (?) factory was unbearable but the steaming flavourful daal makhani and hot-from –the-tandoor rotis or greaseless parantha (choice of alu, gobhi, pyaaz, or paneer) rendered that irrelevant. To round off the meal, one could have thandi kheer, garnished with grated coconut and pistachio slivers.

Readymade chai in glasses was the booster that made the rough road ahead endurable. The most popular joint was Bhajan Da Dhaba, with its walls adorned with fading photographs of macho film stars who had sometime partaken the bounty; nipping at its heel was the Gyani Ka Dhaba. The more modern midway across the road did not qualify as an ‘also-ran.’ Both places also had toilets, a non-culinary bonus of sorts. The waiters did not need much persuasion to procure a bottle of thanda from the Angrezi thekha to slake the thirst on a scorching summer afternoon. But, the times are ‘a changing’ and the old has yielded place to new.

Bhajan has been relocated and been renamed as Tadhaka at a petrol pump in much cleaner environs about four kilometres farther down the road. The food fortunately remains the same. It is classic Punjabi dhaba fare: karhi, bharta, myriad paneer, saag and makki di roti in season. Be warned though it is strictly vegetarian—eggs discounted. The roof is thatched, seating is on a morha but the water flows out of aquaguard and the toilets, exceptionally clean now, have piped music. The prices, lest we forget, are not likely to burn a hole in your pocket. What is remarkable is that the quality of daal and parantha is consistently very good. (Regrettably, the same can’t be said of the karhi and the kheer!).

If it is ecstasy that you are driven by, head straight for Lucknow. And, no we are not once again trying to direct you like a guided gluttonous missile to Tunde Miyan in Aminabad for the much-hyped galouti. Next door, literally, is Bismillah Hotel to our mind an uncut gem waiting to be discovered. Raja Bhaiyya, the owner is a chef who specialises in heritage cuisine. He presides over the establishment in full regalia of an Awadhi nawab of yore, replete with chikan ka kurta and dopalli topi. He is ably assisted by Arafat, his Sancho Panza. The food they dish out is outstanding—be it qorma, kaliya, salan or musallam. Our personal favourite is naqabposh champ—spicy mutton chops done on dum in a lagan and wearing a translucent veil of egg batter. His father made an enviable reputation with an exceptional biryani in a city that prefers pulav, which is no mean achievement. Indeed, the son has done the Bade Miyan proud.

Jameel is to Bhopal what Karim is to Delhi. Or, the other way round if you please. Karim is undeniably cleaner, more comfortable and has a ‘richer’ menu but for our money the ishtew at Jameel leaves its namesake miles behind—and panting. The dish is ready around 1 pm and the bottom of the vessel is scraped clean by 1.45 pm. It’s a pity that the proprietors provide three-inch squares cut from newspaper raddi in lieu of napkins. This obviously is a case of taking atmospherics too far. The cahamp, keema kaleji and qorma are all much above par. The reluctance to keep up with if nothing else but hygienic concerns of the Gen-next has cost Jameel dear. The pretender to its throne is Philphora, the new kitchen kid on the block, which has started luring even loyal patrons away.

A place that often haunts us in our dreams is Madhuban, a nondescript kiosk—one among 20 or more—dotting the lakeside in Naukuchiya Tal. During peak season the place is crowded with tourists—shouting and shrieking, munching chips guzzling colas with brats throwing tantrums at the non-availability of burgers and pizzas or chow mien but on a good day (that is most of the year) you can have the Madhuban to yourself. Ghanshyam and his better half run the place and no one really cares to remember when the couple immigrated from ‘Ranikhet side’ but opinion is unanimous that this is the best place for the best dal in the hills. We are tempted to say the best dal anywhere. It is is not the me-too mah di makhani or tadka fry yellow. This is the real Mc Coy—mixed pahari lentils, slow-cooked in a brass tauli and part of the magic is the local water. It is not only the single malts or Darjeeling that owe so much to the quality of H2O. Of course, the masala-haldi, dhaniya and mirch are freshly ground every time. The rotis are tawa, not tandoor and chawal is mota not fine and long-grained, polished etc. Nothing comes close in sublime simplicity and sheer bliss. We have happily taken a detour of 50 km and waited patiently, salivating for this treat. One can’t wish for more idyllic surroundings—the lake is pristine and nestles in the lap of verdant hills. It is a good idea to take a leisurely round of the lake, work up an appetite to do justice to the home-style cooking—an endangered genre.

There is something about the hills where basic sustenance often and easily outshines more elaborate spreads elsewhere. What conjures up the magic purity of ingredients, value for money, unexpected delight—under promised over delivered, we have never been able to unravel the enigma. Tastes lingers on our palate of the absolutely out of this world rajmah and chawal drenched with desi ghee at Ramgarh some 20 km down the road from Patni Top on way to Doda. There is nothing else you can order and there is no competition. Every one or his or her escort knows where to stop.

Till we had tasted Paradise, we had thought Gianiji at Dharampur was the best. But then Kashmir is not so easily reached—even now with tranquility returning slowly to the Vale. Simla-Kufri-Kasauli are much more frequented and let’s be grateful to Gianiji for his staples. The place is always full and if you visit the washrooms some one has to hold your place for you. During a recent trip to the hills we discovered to our great delight that this eatery has a wonderful cellar—you can sample a variety of fruit wines made in Himachal: plum, peach, apricot, rhododendron, apple, and cider. The liquid menu blew our mind. The rajma was as good as ever and the roti garam and karak the way they should be.

However, there is no dearth of bold innovators at higher altitudes. We were pleasantly surprised by a youngster who insisted on treating us to home-made pasta on the banks of River Sutlej in Tattapani—his brother had fallen in love with an Italian tourist and gone away with her. The pasta machine was a gift from him. Sad to say, romance apart, the pasta was not a patch on the local rajma. The rush of memories is unending. Once upon a time scores of dhabas—veg and non-veg—lined the legendary GTR. Karnal, Murthal,Panipat and Sirhind, all are names that continue to stir up desire for fabulous food. Alas, the ambitious projects of National Highway Authority of India have razed these to dust. Ruins and wrecks bear testimony to the glorious days gone by, One fears that never again will these shacks be able to rise like a phoenix—much more likely is the prospect of sterilised food courts sponsored by corporate biggies occupying this space. The survivors are not even a pale shadow of the originals.

Perhaps, it is not right to blame the eight-lane expressway—an indispensable status symbol of 21st century India. Proliferation of cars—speedier and airconditioned—transports passengers to their destination faster, reducing the number of mid-way breaks.

There used to be a settlement called Garam Pani and another called Kosi to the south and north of Almora, famous for Pahari delicacies like alu ke gutke-puri and mustard-laced wasabi killer raita, chai in brass glasses and piping hot pakora and tel ki jalebi. That was the time when the 100-odd km took an entire day to travel.

Tewari tea stall tries bravely to defy time but no one stops there to gorge anymore. Other food streets have started sprawling at Khairana, Gadi Parav and Chhada a short distance away catering to new tastes tandoori and Indian Chinese-shinese but it will only be a palate-challenged starving person who will fall for this fare.

What the good Lord taketh away with one hand, He replenishes with another. Imagine our happiness when we encountered pav-bhaji, dosai, idli, samosa-tikki, chole-bhature, chowmein and pizza along with burgers all strictly Kosher andmade very very well under one roof at Meghna the landmark restaurant at Pithoragarh, a district headquarter bordering Nepal. Kamal Khatri has great imagination, an open mind and an unerring feel for the pulse of the people. The place evokes images of Sonar Bangal but is colourfully trendy, rendezvous of the young-both resident and visiting. If you want a regular meal, that too can be ordered paneer, daal and roti-naan. They can, on demand, source a very tempting kali mirch ka murgh or mutton ke shami from a shaukeen cook who has set up a takeaway, a stone’s throw away. The spirit of enterprise is amazing because Pithoragarh town is far from the maddening crowd, not on the beaten tourist track and the business model of Khatri brothers is based on value for money and uncompromising quality. Make no mistake this is no dhabha, it is a great place to enjoy good food without being ripped off or laid low by imported junk.

And, how can we forget listing the ECR (East Coast Road) dhaba that provides succor to the weary, hungry and thirsty on their way from Pondicherry to Chennai along the more scenic route? The food outlet masquerades as a north Indian Punjabi dhaba, truck body and all, it remains at heart a coastal village eatery specialising in simple but extremely satisfying seafood. We have splurged at the ECR right royally on chilly-spiked grilled prawns, peppery Chettinad fried fish, fiery Mangalore fish curry, never for a fleeting moment missing all the vegetarian delicacies we have so far been waxing eloquent about.

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