December 13, 2006
Storm in a coffee cup
This has appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.
Expresso in my childhood days meant a frothy coffee with milk, halfway between a cappuccino and latte, that used to be served in movie halls and theatres. At home too, this was made on special occasions as a treat and like the new Bru ad, the fun was in getting the froth all over your face. Growing up, I then learnt to appreciate the dark decoction that Amma used to make, with milk and sugar, at least 10 shades better than similar stuff available in the Udipi joints in Matunga.
Traveling abroad in the mid-90s brought me in touch with Starbucks and I slowly learnt to differentiate my espresso from a ristretto. My all-time favorite drink however, remains the caramel macchiato, a signature Starbucks drink. Though, all the coffee I otherwise drink is black, without milk and sugar, the caramel macchiato, with vanilla, milk and caramel is the one exception.
Somewhere down the line, heavily influenced by Starbucks, came the Barista chain. The outlets were an immediate hit, with well-trained baristas who knew their coffee intimately. The Shivaji Park outlet has been my favorite. Sitting out, watching the world go buy, while sipping one Doppio after another, used to be a favorite past-time. This was the nearest Barista, until the one at Sion came up, a few buildings ahead of Sion Hospital. Despite this outlet being so near, it never had the ambience of the Shivaji Park outlet and the baristas were also less knowledgeable and though it hoped to be a coffee pit-stop for those on the way to the suburbs and beyond, it was never open early in the morning, when you were going to Lonavla or Pune and the take-away coffee, in any case, came in horribly thin cups, often too hot to hold properly, with lids that didn’t fit…I’ve spilt coffee on my lap at least twice.
A few years ago, on a trip to Dubai, I saw a Starbucks outlet and right next to it, a Barista outlet. It was a proud feeling, much like seeing a Jet Airways plane at Heathrow or Changi.
But, Barista never came to Matunga. CCD did. And how! When it started, it was the new kid on the block, loud (it still is), but with attitude, and obviously aimed at the college crowd. The coffee was cheaper, not as as good, especially the espressos, which were bitter and yucky. The service was slow and the food passable, and yet the college kids loved it. The juke-box was a hit, as was the outside seating, which also allowed girls to smoke.
And then Barista screwed up. It dropped its prices and started playing loud music. Instead of aiming higher, at the 40plus generation, which felt CCD to be too loud, they tried to become like CCD. And the last few times, I’ve been there, there seems to be a distinct deterioration of services…the baristas are undertrained, the espressos are bitter, granitas have not been unavailable and a couple of times, even the air-conditioning wasn’t working.
On the other hand, CCD has become more and more vibrant. Their espressos have improved, as has the food. They now sell their own brands of chips and cookies (my daughter loves their eggless chocolate chip ones). And most importantly, they sell specialty coffee powder (which, as I have earlier mentioned is far superior to the stuff locally available in Matunga), and now we even get single estate (like single malt) coffees, some of which are excellent, especially the new dark roast. It’s a pity the Monsoon Malabar is no longer available.
What does this have to do with Matunga? Most big brands don’t come to Matunga, because they don’t see potential. Barista didn’t see potential and CCD did. One is doing great and the other, at least for me, is no longer happening. Maybe there’s a lesson in there somewhere?
Posted by bhavinj at 11:19 AM | Comments (0)
September 17, 2006
South Indian cuppa vs the French press
This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.
My first memories of coffee are of drinking Mom-made, cold Nescoffee at home. Expresso in those days was the frothy hot coffee you got at fun-n-fairs, from “Expresso” machines. And black coffee, was what I used to make, using two table-spoons of instant Nescafe powder, in boiling water, trying to stay awake at night before important exams.
My favorite filter coffee though, was brewed by Jamuna aunty in her kitchen, where a decoction using filter coffee from Mysore Concerns (MC) was always ready, the added milk and sugar, yielding perhaps the best cuppa in town.
Over the years, I have now learnt how to use a coffee-maker with paper filters, how to differentiate between espressos and ristrettos as well as between lattes, cappuccinos and macchiatos. And, for some time now, I have been using a French press, to make my own cup of wake-me-up morning coffee.
A French press needs a medium-to-course grind, which I’ve always been able to stock up on, during my travels abroad or thanks to traveling relatives.
Three weeks ago, I ran out of coffee for the French press.
Assuming that I could always find coffee powder in Matunga, I made my way to MC. Though MC is one of the four pillars of Tamil Matunga, the only time I’d been there earlier, was about 5-6 years ago, when I had tried to get them to grind some coffee beans I had bought abroad. The person at the counter flatly refused, without any explanations and I finally had to use the grinder at home.
This time around too, I didn’t get much help. MC makes a very fine grind coffee powder, which is not appropriate for a French press. No amount of cajoling, asking them to make a more medium to coarse grind, worked (honestly, how difficult could that have been). I still bought their smallest packet, hoping against hope.
Still, knowing it wouldn’t work (which it didn’t, when I tried it at home that afternoon), I decided to drown my sorrows in a mocha at the local Café Coffee Day (CCD) opposite Don Bosco. While placing the order, I saw a tin of “Dark Forest”, a specialty coffee, on sale. When I asked the barista whether this would work in a French press, he was emphatically negative. The coffee was expensive (Rs. 120 for 200gms) as compared to the Rs. 20 for 100gms at MC, but I decided to give it a try anyway.
After a disappointing attempt with the MC coffee, I opened the Dark Forest tin and made a glass of coffee. The aroma was enticing and the cup turned out great. I then went through the literature that had come with the tin, which apart from all the self-praise, including comments from a famous coffee expert, had this line… “Best used with a French press”. Methinks, the CCD baristas need a wee bit of extra training.
So finally, I did find the medium grind coffee that I wanted…and in my own backyard. But the times…they-are-a-changing. Instead of finding what I wanted, from the local famous David, it was actually the multi-chain Goliath, who came through.
Posted by bhavinj at 06:04 PM | Comments (0)
August 13, 2006
A Chinese Tale
This appeared in yesterday's Mumbai Mirror.
A couple of weeks ago, we were returning from a “jagran”, in Bandra/Khar. Luckily, “jagrans” don’t go on through the night anymore and we were able to leave within an hour. It was a Sunday and we thought of eating out in the area…as we cruised along Linking Road, we could see every eatery packed to the gills and with our six-year olds with us, we just didn’t have the courage or energy to wait in line to be fed.
We were discussing our options, when suddenly my wife, in a conspiratorial tone, confessed to a craving for American Chopsuey. And suddenly, as if a partner in crime, I felt the urge to pig out on this dish as well.
It was already past the childrens’ bed-time, so we decided to do a take-out. For people like us, living in Matunga, there is but one logical place for American Chopsuey. Nestled between Koolar and Kamal Towings, in a tiny 100 sq. ft place, with four tables, which at the most can hold fifteen people, Fu-Yong has been around ever since my graduate college days, and therefore at least for the last twenty years, if not more. And John, who oversees the place, seems to have been around for that much time at least. Add in one more waiter, and a cleaner boy and the picture is complete. Though how the waiter is able to serve when the place is full, is one for Ripley’s Believe It or Not.
While growing up, Chinese food was all about American Chopsuey, vegetable spring rolls and sweet corn vegetarian soup. It was only much later, when we first went to China Garden, then at Om Chambers, that I learnt the truth…that American Chopsuey was neither Chinese nor American, but an “Indian” concoction with a “Chinese” taste. I can still remember the supercilious look I got from the maitre, when, in all my junior college confidence, I asked for American Chopsuey, which I then found was not even on the menu.
Years later I also realized that “American Chopsuey” is the one dish you never ask for when traveling abroad. In some places, it could mean a mash of chops (a meat dish), in some other parts, a mash of pasta and in Chinese places on the west coast, a bland mix of vegetables, which some people believe is a corruption of “chopped sewage”. Which may not be a bad term to describe the possible ingredients of some of the variants of American Chopsuey dished out by the roadside Chinese stalls that have sprouted all over Mumbai. After all American Chopsuey is just a mix of vegetables, with soya and hot and sour sauce and crispy, fried noodles, thrown in on top, the most important part being its look…as red as possible.
Over the years, Chinese cuisine has amazingly evolved in Mumbai and we get a phenomenal variety of exotic dishes…with bamboo sprouts, mushrooms, black beans, asparagus, tofu, etc, all with fancy names, such as “Buddha’s delight”, “whatever, whatever, Hunan style or Peking style”, or at the end to make something sound really authentic, “Chef’s Delight”. Along with dim sums, lettuce wraps (kind of like bhel in a rotli) and a terrific variety of bean curd based starters.
And yet with all the Lings and Royal Chinas and Shanghai Clubs, once in a while, it feels really nice to just forget all this “authentic” Chinese stuff and to go back to simpler times…to “Fu-Yong’s American Chopsuey”.
Posted by bhavinj at 08:33 AM | Comments (0)
January 28, 2006
Of the idli ilk
This is my new piece that came in today's Mumbai Mirror.
After having been around for 40 odd years, you often start believing that you’ve been there, done that and seen it all. Fewer and fewer things (unless they are IPODian gadgets or large-screen plasmas) get you excited. More and more, everything starts becoming routine. But then…once in a while…something happens….
Being in Matunga, I thought I knew everything that I had to about idlis. I’ve had idlis in all sizes and shapes; from simple idlis to idli-vada combinations, to dahi idli, butter-idli, fried idli, and masala idlis with cashews, etc embedded in them. I’ve had Muthu’s idlis, my Mom’s idlis, cocktail idlis, and the idli-like khottos and mudhos.
I’ve had idlis outside of Matunga, the best ever in Leela Goa, as well as in Kerala, Tamil Nadu, in Gujarat, Punjab, in London, San Diego, Dubai and God knows where else. I’ve had idlis without anything, with sambhar, with sambhar and chutney separately or sometimes even together and sometimes just with butter. I’ve fought with restaurateurs over their coconut chutneys, facing shameful admissions of embellishments with “daaliya” and “chana” or peanuts, as well as incredulous expressions of “how can you even ask if our chutney is pure coconut or no”.
Last week, on a lazy Sunday morning, we decided to go to Anand Bhuvan for breakfast. Wondering what to order apart from the usual idlis and dosas, my eyes fell on a name, written in chalk on a blackboard, in “Today’s Specials”, a dish I had never had before. There was nothing really great about the name itself, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never before had this combination….a combination of rasam and idli forming a dish called…“rasam idli”. Rasam vadas, yes… rasam on its own, yes… rasam with rice…yes, but rasam idli…that was a new one.
And…the rasam idlis were absolutely to die for. As I put each portion into my mouth, the rasam-soaked pieces would melt immediately, releasing an explosive mix of a difficult to describe but a predominantly tangy mix of flavors and aromas. The combination was amazing and between the two of us, my wife and I finished another plate as well.
I guess it’s all in the combination. Unlike sambhar, which is much too thick, idlis just soak up the rasam. With that, I guess, they become softer and the rasam becomes part of the idli itself. When you then eat that idli, the combination becomes unbeatable.
Its amazing, isn’t it. Nothing fancy, no fusion, just a change from sambhar to rasam and boom!
I am sure that I will be besieged by emails from people telling me that this is a very usual, ordinary experience for many of them and that they have been having rasam idlis for years and years. Maybe so, but it is not listed as an item in most menus (unless I have been blind) and for some strange reason, in the last forty years (OK, 30, to count only the conscious, idli-eating years), I’ve have never had this combination before.
So from now, its going to be rasam idlis, for a long time to come…until the next Nirvanic experience (which I actually had with some home-cooked red Thai curry, but I can’t talk about it, since neither the chef nor the experience was in Matunga or Greater Matunga).
Posted by bhavinj at 06:47 AM | Comments (2)
