As the cookies were being baked and the aromas were sifting through my soul, I got a chance to join a table with a small group of foreigners who were backpacking through India. There were three guys, Alexter and Amir from Israel, Alex from England and Natasha from Spain. They had been regularly visiting this café for the past three days and were totally in love with Manali. On being asked what he loved the most about India, Alex answered, ‘It is very different from what we thought. People are extremely hospitable, it is not as crowded as we imagined it to be, at least not so in the hills, and it is given me a lot of peace and love.’ It made me feel very proud and it was encouraging to hear such great words about my country. In a short while, the cookies were with me; I shared the whole batch with my new friends, bid Raj goodbye and sat inside the Tamatar for our next destination, where we would be catching a fresh Himalayan trout and then cook it.
It was 3 p.m. and I was sitting on the banks of a mountain stream, the city rush, long forgotten. There was a cool breeze and the sounds of waves rushing by, which transported me to a different realm. When I had left home for this journey, I had promised myself that I would overcome all my fears. I wouldn’t get scared of anything. Fish was one of those things that I never fancied, catching it, definitely not! But a promise is a promise! It was time to face that fear and I was told by my director that till the time I wouldn’t catch a fish we wouldn’t leave the place. Hence, catching a fish was of paramount importance for me.
The trouts of this region are very popular. January to March are the best months to catch trout, but unfortunately, we were here in the wrong month. So, it would be a miracle if I happened to catch one. Thirty minutes had already elapsed since I put the hook in and nothing happened. After an hour of staring at the empty hook, disappointment sunk in and it was one of the first defeats I faced on this trip. To not dampen the spirits, I still decided to cook a fresh trout bought from the market and made it as tasty and simple as possible. I dedicated this recipe to the region and called it Kullu Manali Trout. One important thing to remember while cooking this trout is that you don’t remove the skin because the taste lies in the skin of this fish. Within 10 minutes, the fish was ready with a lot of help from the crew.
KULLU MANALI TROUT
(Pan-fried trout marinated with local herbs.)
Ingredients
2 trouts
2 tsp curry leaf (kari patta) paste
2 tsp crushed coriander (dhania) seeds
1 tsp red chilli flakes
1 tsp orange rind
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tbsp mustard (sarson) oil
Salt to taste
Method
1. Clean and wash the trout. Do a fillet and do not remove the skin. Trout is best cooked with its skin on.
2. Make a marinade by mixing curry leaf paste, crushed coriander seeds, red chilli flakes, orange rind, lemon juice, salt and mustard oil in a bowl.
3. Rub this marinade all over the fish and let it rest in the fridge for about 10 minutes.
4. Heat two teaspoon olive or mustard oil in a pan and add the marinated fish and cook on both sides on medium flame for five to seven minutes or until the fish curls up.
5. Have this hot fish like a starter or with a bowl of rice.
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Despite not having caught a trout together, the whole exercise of cooking the fish for my team definitely established a great bond between all of us. This journey of Kullu and Manali was very different and it challenged my thought process as a chef; having trained in professional kitchens, a chef’s outlook is very different from someone who cooks in home kitchens. Kullu made me realise the importance of instinct and a constant thirst for knowledge for a chef. After having seen people cook at a woodfired stove and pickling a fern, it opened my eyes to a completely new dimension of food. I started questioning myself, what all could be created if this knowledge was transferred into a professional kitchen and then developed further? I started realising that food is bigger than I ever thought, it doesn’t stop at serving a good meal to a guest. To go beyond I’ll have to unlearn a lot and then accept all these new learnings. Also, someday I’ll catch a fish! Kullu and Manali are usually mentioned together. But during my visit, I saw two very different flavours; while the Kullu cuisine has very localised flavours of the mountains, Manali’s eating joints are cosmopolitan with a lot of Mediterranean influence.
DAY 12
18 August / Rohtang Pass
If one is willing to let go of all food inhibitions while travelling, that is when the right kind of food will find you. There are many ways to find the right place to dine at in an unknown city, from guides to websites to blogs. The real deal, though, lies with the people of that city. It is always a much more interesting way of discovering local eateries, talking to the people of the city or friends who have visited that city before and you’ll be amazed at the in-depth information people are willing to share when it comes to food. If you’re planning a road trip to the serene and enchanting Leh in Ladakh, these guidelines will definitely come in handy.
So, I was expecting this leg of the trip to be definitely the most scenic and adventurous one. And I couldn’t believe my luck, I was actually going to Leh!
If someone in Ladakh smiles and says ‘Julle!’ don’t get confused. Because that would mean he or she is saying hello in the local language. That was also my first word to Ratan, who ran a small dhaba called Maggi Point, which was the only place to eat before Rohtang Pass. Also, it was raining, so the possibility of getting stuck in a four hour-long jam at Rohtang Pass was certain. The journey to reach Leh, about 473 km away, was a two day-long trip. It was amazing to see that Maggi was a lifesaver even in this part of the world. As it was 4:30 a.m. in the morning, that was the only thing Ratan had to offer. He served a hot bowl of Maggi to each one of us, and I must appreciate the fact that he had a lot of courage to have opened a shop just 10 km below Rohtang Pass. Ratan explained his business model by saying, ‘During season time around 1000 vehicles go to Rohtang per day, out of which 100-200 are sure to stop here.’ It was a tough bet as he lived in Manali but it was necessary for him to run this shop to support his family.
As presumed, I knew what was going to come next. After driving uphill for another three kilometres, we got stuck in a seven kilometre-long traffic jam at Rohtang Pass. To top it all, our poor Tamatar got stuck in a mud pile. After remaining stuck there for two hours and running low on patience, I finally decided to trek on foot for at least two or three kilometres. The beauty of Indian roads is that you can be sure to find food somewhere near them. To my surprise, I met this incredible entrepreneur with a mobile kitchen who would wait every day for passers-by to get stuck in a similar jam at Rohtang. His mobile kitchen comprised Indian chaat items like matra kulcha (a popular street food consisting of round Indian bread made from flour, milk, and butter, typically stuffed with meat or vegetables and a chickpea curry) and bhel puri (an Indian dish of puffed rice, onions, spices, and hot chutney). He would sell 100 plates in a day just because of the traffic jam. It does need some business acumen and guts to do this! He has served food to people from at least 50 countries. He said of his venture, ‘Sahab, I’ve served everyone, from Amreeka to Dilli and I feel blessed and thank God every day for this opportunity.’ He quickly dished out three kinds of chaat and I tasted all of them. They were not only finger-licking good, but it was astonishing to see him serve another seven Australians that same chaat with a dozen chillies in them!
Talking about epic kitchens and cooks, this man certainly had a certain kind of magic in him to run his mobile kitchen. At the moment, I felt small, thinking of times and of challenges I would cry about in a fully functional kitchen in a five-star hotel. After being stuck in the jam for almost the entire day, everybody was numb with frustration and had a backache to accompany the fatigue. So we decided to take a stopover after a mere 100 km and called it a day.
DAY 13
19 August / Keylong
After a rather d
ifficult start to the Leh trip, we decided to start this day with some good luck. It is believed that travellers who visit Leh make stupas (piles of stones) en route at a popular spot meant for good luck and to receive blessings and prayers for a safe journey. Believe me, things actually changed after the stupa ritual; the day turned sunny and the landscapes became breathtaking. Have you ever seen five different colours in one go from the sky above to the ground below? The scenes were so unreal as if God had painted his own canvas. My eyes won’t tire staring out of the window as the sky was so perfectly blue. After a long day and one of the best scenic and picturesque journeys of my life, we finally made it to Leh. All thanks to the good-luck stupa.
DAY 14
20 August / Leh
After a very long journey we did finally reach Leh; it was a very tiring trip and the oxygen levels here were not the greatest, so it took a while to adapt. Leh being a spiritual land, I needed some peace and calm after being 15 days on the road without any break. So the first place we decided to visit was Thiksey Monastery. The monks in the monastery had a certain sparkle in their eyes that seeped in the beholder’s gaze and was attractive. The air here was different, with a peaceful wind blowing, there was always a smile on people’s faces, bright eyes sparkled and there was melody in their voice. I wondered why? I reasoned that it could have a lot to do with what they ate. So, I decided to explore their food culture?
Upon taking a general tour of the streets, Leh as a town seemed very similar to Manali, perhaps a bit more untouched. I found a lot of dried yak cheese, red chillies, sun-dried tomatoes (yes, you have them in India too) and even apricots being sold on the streets in bulk. Then there was the fresh vegetable and fruit market that had some weird and interesting vegetables that I’d never encountered before, like pink radish, baby carrots and a certain branch of turnips. It made me realise that the local organic food culture was very strong here. After some scouting we chanced upon a bistro called the Open Hand Bistro and Espresso Bar. It had its own organic farm and the interesting bit was that the head chef Jack was an American. His six feet one-inch frame was a bit lanky and he wore a bandana all the time and loved living in Leh.
On being asked about the menu in the café, Chef Jack explained, ‘I designed it to cater to a lot of Indian tourists who come here so we have things like thali (a set meal at an Indian restaurant) and khichdi (primarily made of rice and lentils) on the menu. We also offer dal every now and then. Leh also has a huge influx of Western tourist now so I have got to keep European salads as well, so we have varieties of Greek and Spanish salads. My absolute favourite on the menu is the healthy salad as everything in it is fresh from our own farms.’
Later, Jack was happy enough to give me a walk through his farms, taught me how to pick vegetables of choice and then we cooked for each other. It was an absolute delight to be cooking with vegetables that were smiling back at you. Tomatoes were so juicy that I felt like biting into them while they were still uncooked. As Chef Jack made the healthy salad for me, I made Lettuce Wraps for him. My dish was wholeheartedly approved by Chef Jack; it was a happy moment, trust me, so I unapologetically dug in to that soulful spiritual salad that Chef Jack had prepared. Well, I sort of understood the new world food culture here but traditional food was still a big question mark to me. Coming back to lettuce wraps, here’s the recipe:
LETTUCE WRAPS
(Freshly tossed salad served in lettuce cups.)
Ingredients
12 large lettuce leaves
2 tsp olive oil
200 gm mushrooms
1 large onion, chopped
100 gm water chestnut
2 tbsp minced ginger-garlic (adrak-lasun)
1 tbsp thick reduced soya sauce
¼ cup Hoisin sauce
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
2 tsp chilli sauce
100 gm tofu or cottage cheese (paneer)
100 gm radish
¼ cup pine nuts or walnuts, chopped
1 tbsp sesame oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Method
1. Rinse the lettuce and then soak it in ice water.
2. Cook mushrooms, onions, and water chestnuts in a large pan over high heat for two minutes in olive oil.
3. Then add ginger-garlic, soya sauce, Hoisin sauce, red wine vinegar and chilli sauce. Cook until the mushroom just starts to sweat. Add the tofu or cottage cheese, radish and pine nuts or walnuts. Cook for about one minute more.
4. Stir in salt, pepper and sesame oil. Arrange lettuce leaves with their hollow side facing up (trim the leaf to make it look like a neat cup). Spoon the mushroom mixture in the centre, chill for five minutes and then eat it like a taco.
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There are different types of confluences, be it people coming together, of food, music and others. An interesting one in Leh is the confluence of the Indus and Zanskar rivers. The confluence point is located on the National Highway 1 from Leh to Srinagar. Watching the muddy Zanskar water mix with the blue-green Indus is breathtaking. Sitting at this junction you’re living in the moment, there is no past or future.
I was patiently waiting here for my friend Neema whom I’d never met but known for a long while. He ran a water sport training company and used to train a very close friend of mine in kayaking; I had heard great stories of Neema being a kayaking champion several times. After 10 minutes Neema shouted from afar, ‘Julle!’ It was a crazy moment to finally meet a person you’d known for so long but never met. He is a gem of a guy and does adventure sports for a living. Neema insisted that now that we were in Leh we had to visit his home for a traditional and special Ladakhi feast. Who could say no to that?
As we reached his house, which was a beautiful cottage in the hills, the aromas emanating from the kitchen made me head straight to it. It was quite a sight to visit a traditional Ladakhi kitchen. My first reaction was, ‘Wow! It is flamboyant and very ethnic.’ Most of it was made with brass and copper. Even the equipment being used was traditional. Neema’s grandmother, who was cooking in the kitchen, was an octogenarian and looked extremely cute in her traditional Ladakhi dress. She was generous in giving her 50-year-old Thukpa recipe to us.
While I helped her blend and crush spices in a mortar and pestle (not in a mixer), she explained, ‘You must be getting a different aroma from this vessel that we are cooking in; this handi (an earthenware or metal pot) is made of brass. You will not only get a different taste but when we cook in this, the food doesn’t get spoilt easily.’ She was very active for her age and deftly made very thin and fine paape, which were like torn lasagna sheets made from wheat flour. She almost made 100 paapes in a minute! The thukpa, by now, was cooked and I had the company of Neema, his family and other friends who had joined us to make that dinner memorable. In Ladakh, before eating, they always remember the Lord. So, we thanked God for this lovely meal, played some music, and made some great memories.
THUKPA
(Spicy soup with hand-rolled noodles.)
Ingredients
2 tbsp mustard (sarson) oil
3 spring onions, chopped
8-10 garlic (lasun) cloves, crushed
3 tomatoes, chopped
1½ tsp cumin (jeera) powder
1 tsp garam masala
1 tsp freshly cracked black pepper (kali mirch)
1 cup spinach, chopped
3 radishes, chopped
4½ cups water
3 cups wheat flour (atta)
1 egg for making paape (kind of wheat pasta)
¼ cup spring onion greens, chopped
¼ cup coriander (dhania patta)
1 tsp lemon juice
Salt to taste
Method
1. In a heavy pan, or preferably a copper pot, heat lots of mustard oil until hot and smoky.
2. Add the onions and garlic and sauté until onions are translucent. Then add the chopped tomatoes and cook for three to four minutes or until the tomatoes are soft and mushy. Now add cumin powder, garam masala and
pepper.
3. Add the chopped spinach and radish and sauté for two minutes. Top it up with four cups of water and bring to boil. Immediately lower the heat and let it simmer. Meanwhile, prepare the pasta-like paape.
4. Mix flour with egg and half cup water. Add water in parts while kneading to ensure there isn’t too much of it. When it is nicely kneaded, roll out the dough like a roti and then, just like Neema’s grandmother, try to make 100 paapes in a minute (and fail miserably like I did). Keep adding these irregular bite-sized dough strips into the simmering broth, as you tear them. Add about 30 pieces. Cook for another 10 minutes.
5. Neema’s grandmother mentioned how they add less salt in food so they can taste the ingredient as it is supposed to be. So finally, add a little salt, garnish with coriander and spring onion leaves and have it hot.
DAY 15
21 August / Ladakh
If you’re a food traveller, you must always try figuring out the basic foundation of a cuisine, like what kind of spices and herbs are used, what’s the vegetation like, what kind of meats or seafoods are popular. A lot of the food that people eat also depends on the climate, soil and water of the region. Ladakhi cuisine, as we tasted, is not high on spices; it relies more on the fresh herbs and produce available to them. A few traditional Ladakhi dishes like thukpa, gud-gud chai (butter tea) and thenthuk (soup made with handmade noodles) are found easily in the city and people are willing to share their thukpa stories and family recipes if you ask, like Neema’s grandmother did.
The Leh journey was almost coming to an end and there was one life lesson yet to be learnt. I came to Leh in search of good food but this city had given me more than that. Apart from people there was this deep sense of spirituality that was omnipresent here. There was one such example of spirituality in Leh, which was recognised as ‘Mahabodhi.’ This was a school/institution where students were taught spirituality and even special courses were designed for common people interested in it as a subject. So today was all about spending time with the students in the kitchen, learning a thing or two from them and teaching them a thing or two about cooking. It was a fun exercise to see 12-year-olds cook as well, it made me nostalgic and reminded me of my cooking days when I was a kid.
India on My Platter Page 4
