08-20-2004, 10:48 PM
From Pioneer, Aug, 20, 2004....
Garba grub
Dining at village theme restaurants in Ahmedabad is like eating on the sets of Lagaan. And the traditional Gujarati cuisine served here has more takers than that of tandoori chicken and chowmein, says Prerna Singh Bindra
How did our ancestors eat minus the modern day conveniences of mixers, grinders and microwaves? Before the British imposed their regime of table etiquette and a confusing array of cutlery, when Maggi-two-minutes had not invaded kitchens and food simmered in handis for hours over a sigdi? My rustic culinary passage finds an unexpected destination in Ahmedabad. The metropolis is a classic study in urban chaos, but in this concrete jungle exists an ethnic Epicurean oasis.
Village chic is hot in Ahmedabad. There are plenty of restaurants - may I say bhojan nivas instead - set in picturesque rural environs. Of course these places are just too perfect to be real and resemble a Lagaan set. These make-believe villages have put traditional Gujarati cuisine on the map, holding its own against veg chowmein and tandoori chicken.
Vishala is the pioneer and gave birth to various me-too clones like Rajwadu, Goras and Gamthi, making the Ahmedabad-Gandhinagar highway consist of little more than tiny village replicas where the customer can eat <b>undhiyo, gathiya </b>and such like on a charpoy, served by men who look as though they would burst into joyful garba at any moment.
Today Gujarati cuisine might be a success story, but when Surendra Patel created Vishala more than two decades ago, everyone wrote it off. Who, said the wise men, would want to eat a meal cross-legged on the floor and off a plate crafted from leaves? Patel thought otherwise. When everyone was aping the West, he went back in time - only organic chemicals are used, milk is straight from the udders on campus, there are kerosene lamps instead of jarring tube lights and liquids are served in kulhars. Yes, they existed before Lalu Prasad Yadav.
No mixers, the spices and chutneys are ground on stone. The phone is only a recent entrant and a concession to the staff. It is a tough call, but well worth it since it is the highlight of Ahmedabad's tourist map. It's difficult to ignore. Indira Gandhi visited it scorning security restrictions, Amitabh called it a night to remember while "master-blaster" Sachin Tendulkar surrendered to the food.
I realise much of the myths surrounding the Gujarati palate are just that - myths. Everything is not dipped in oil, nor is it a queer mixture of sweet and spice. The menu is exhaustive and men in colourful attire persistently replenish the 60-odd items on the menu. It is impossible to remember them all; <b>baked dhokla spiced with til and herbs, bajra na rotla cooked on a clay tava, gavar with gathiya (a sort of lightly fried and spicy bajri pakoras), garlic chutney, dahi kadhi served gently streaming, bakhri, stiff rotis served with pure ghee.</b> Sinfully delicious.
Agashiye is a uniquely different experience, combining a traditional meal with rich history. Sitting on the agashiye, which translates as terrace, the haveli seems right out of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, minus the glamour of Aishwarya Rai but credited with playing host to Mahatma Gandhi. The haveli belongs to the Mangaldas family, textile tycoons instrumental in convincing Gandhiji to set up the Sabarmati Ashram. It lay misused for years, till the prodigal son, Abhay Mangaldas, returned and converted it into Ahmedabad's only heritage hotel.
The haveli is located in the heart of the of the city near the historic Lal Darwaja and with a view of the 16th century Sidi Syed Mosque. The best way to describe the food and its ambience: A typical Gujarati home a hundred years ago, discreetly made contemporary. The thali is made of kansa, an alloy of seven metals and beneficial to your health. Forget Coke and Pepsi, they don't exist here. Have Kutchi beer instead, that's a nickname for lassi in dry Gujarat.
Or the house speciality, nariyal adu limbu, tender coconut milk flavoured with ginger and a dash of lime. The meal is a pleasant deviant from routine. <b>Among the innovative items I liked was bhindi stuffed with paneer, panchvati, a combo of five veggies, padya bhaat which was rice wrapped in leaves and apple jalebi. </b>
Most recipes are pages from the diary of Abhay's great grandmother, a closely guarded secret with an occasional modern, low-cal twist.
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rajeshG, Any hope of getting some sort of recipes for the bolded items?
Garba grub
Dining at village theme restaurants in Ahmedabad is like eating on the sets of Lagaan. And the traditional Gujarati cuisine served here has more takers than that of tandoori chicken and chowmein, says Prerna Singh Bindra
How did our ancestors eat minus the modern day conveniences of mixers, grinders and microwaves? Before the British imposed their regime of table etiquette and a confusing array of cutlery, when Maggi-two-minutes had not invaded kitchens and food simmered in handis for hours over a sigdi? My rustic culinary passage finds an unexpected destination in Ahmedabad. The metropolis is a classic study in urban chaos, but in this concrete jungle exists an ethnic Epicurean oasis.
Village chic is hot in Ahmedabad. There are plenty of restaurants - may I say bhojan nivas instead - set in picturesque rural environs. Of course these places are just too perfect to be real and resemble a Lagaan set. These make-believe villages have put traditional Gujarati cuisine on the map, holding its own against veg chowmein and tandoori chicken.
Vishala is the pioneer and gave birth to various me-too clones like Rajwadu, Goras and Gamthi, making the Ahmedabad-Gandhinagar highway consist of little more than tiny village replicas where the customer can eat <b>undhiyo, gathiya </b>and such like on a charpoy, served by men who look as though they would burst into joyful garba at any moment.
Today Gujarati cuisine might be a success story, but when Surendra Patel created Vishala more than two decades ago, everyone wrote it off. Who, said the wise men, would want to eat a meal cross-legged on the floor and off a plate crafted from leaves? Patel thought otherwise. When everyone was aping the West, he went back in time - only organic chemicals are used, milk is straight from the udders on campus, there are kerosene lamps instead of jarring tube lights and liquids are served in kulhars. Yes, they existed before Lalu Prasad Yadav.
No mixers, the spices and chutneys are ground on stone. The phone is only a recent entrant and a concession to the staff. It is a tough call, but well worth it since it is the highlight of Ahmedabad's tourist map. It's difficult to ignore. Indira Gandhi visited it scorning security restrictions, Amitabh called it a night to remember while "master-blaster" Sachin Tendulkar surrendered to the food.
I realise much of the myths surrounding the Gujarati palate are just that - myths. Everything is not dipped in oil, nor is it a queer mixture of sweet and spice. The menu is exhaustive and men in colourful attire persistently replenish the 60-odd items on the menu. It is impossible to remember them all; <b>baked dhokla spiced with til and herbs, bajra na rotla cooked on a clay tava, gavar with gathiya (a sort of lightly fried and spicy bajri pakoras), garlic chutney, dahi kadhi served gently streaming, bakhri, stiff rotis served with pure ghee.</b> Sinfully delicious.
Agashiye is a uniquely different experience, combining a traditional meal with rich history. Sitting on the agashiye, which translates as terrace, the haveli seems right out of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, minus the glamour of Aishwarya Rai but credited with playing host to Mahatma Gandhi. The haveli belongs to the Mangaldas family, textile tycoons instrumental in convincing Gandhiji to set up the Sabarmati Ashram. It lay misused for years, till the prodigal son, Abhay Mangaldas, returned and converted it into Ahmedabad's only heritage hotel.
The haveli is located in the heart of the of the city near the historic Lal Darwaja and with a view of the 16th century Sidi Syed Mosque. The best way to describe the food and its ambience: A typical Gujarati home a hundred years ago, discreetly made contemporary. The thali is made of kansa, an alloy of seven metals and beneficial to your health. Forget Coke and Pepsi, they don't exist here. Have Kutchi beer instead, that's a nickname for lassi in dry Gujarat.
Or the house speciality, nariyal adu limbu, tender coconut milk flavoured with ginger and a dash of lime. The meal is a pleasant deviant from routine. <b>Among the innovative items I liked was bhindi stuffed with paneer, panchvati, a combo of five veggies, padya bhaat which was rice wrapped in leaves and apple jalebi. </b>
Most recipes are pages from the diary of Abhay's great grandmother, a closely guarded secret with an occasional modern, low-cal twist.
--------------------------
rajeshG, Any hope of getting some sort of recipes for the bolded items?