I am no expert on India. I know enough to get me by and sometimes I have to reconstruct ancient history lessons from school to remember who built which palace. But I do like to think that I am somewhat of an authority when it comes to Indian food. Or at least the ingredients. So imagine my surprise when I found myself gobsmacked at the Lulu supermarket in Al Wahda Mall.
The Indian Food Festival had just kicked off, and amid the Bhangra drummers and all the special aisles dedicated to obscure Indian veggies and fruit, I was stopped by the smell of delicious biryani. You could tell that whoever made a vat of that had added saffron and caramelised onions to it (two top secrets to a good biryani and an ode to my strangely acute olfactory senses). Instead, I turned the corner and was greeted by 10 different kinds of biryani. Did you know there is a Goan fish biryani to be had? Or a Sindhi chicken biryani? A vegetarian version (a personal affront because the best biryanis must be cooked with meat)? Then there was the royal Awadhi type. OK, I was familiar with the last, but still... 10 varieties and I knew only one?
Much mystery surrounds the arrival of the dish in India. While some believe it was concocted by a Mughal queen to feed the army, a more probable explanation lies in its travel from Persia to northern India by the many marauding armies that stormed the subcontinent. Regardless, one can't sample 10 kinds of biryani, but the crowds were digging in. And while I am not an apologetic eater, I was suddenly too overcome by shyness to ask for a sample of a biryani that (a) I could make and (b) was probably meant for all the dignitaries who had arrived to inaugurate the festival. So I stared longingly for a while and took in the smells.
I didn't have to go much farther to be tempted again. Someone knew how to torture me: the next stall was filled with street eats. No vada pav or pav bhaji, but delicious, golden crunchy balls of dough filled with spicy potatoes and a mint and tamarind chutney were crying out to me: pani puri in all its glory. I sampled one. It was like being back on the streets of Kolkata again. The ubiquitous pani puri has a number of names, including gol guppa and phuchka - that's the name I grew up with three decades of existence ago.
Apart from sneaking a few phuchkas from the street vendors when visiting my cousins in Kolkata (and lying to Mother about tummy aches afterwards), I have searched for a decent one ever since. To the point that I'd almost forgotten that it is my favourite street snack. Ever. Lulu's Indian Food Festival runs until February 5 at its various outlets.
