Sunday, August 30, 2020

Notes from Bulgaria




By Raul Dias

In early June this year, as demonstrations over the killing of George Floyd gained momentum in the US capital of Washington DC, it was reported that secret service agents spirited President Donald Trump away to a White House bunker. Though denials of this were issued forthwith, it is said that Trump spent nearly an hour ensconced in the heavily fortified subterranean structure. All this, as protesters rallied outside the executive mansion, resorting to everything from lobbing stones at the world’s most famous residence to destroying police barricades.  
But Trump is not alone. From tech billionaires and celebrities to other world leaders and corporate czars, all have one thing in common—plush underground bunkers equipped with all the mod cons. Safe havens to seek refuge in, in case of nuclear warfare, civil unrest and…yes, raging pandemics too!
If there is one place in the world that gives a whole other meaning to the term ‘bunker lifestyle’, with its abundance of repurposed bunkers, then that would have to be the Balkan country of Bulgaria.

Basement ‘bar’gains
Both the country’s capital of Sofia and Plovdiv, its economic hub have plenty of subterranean marvels to sink your cultural teeth into. From the former’s recently unearthed Roman city of Serdika to the latter’s resurrected grand Roman stadium, a relic from the time when Plovdiv was known as Philippopolis. However, it was the country’s communist era bunkers and erstwhile bomb shelters that fascinated me the most on my trip to Bulgaria last summer.
In Sofia, I found myself getting down on my knees to buy everything from chewing gum to local sweet treats like the fig jam-smeared mekitsi fried dough from the rather strange looking pavement-level ‘klek’ shops. With their name borrowed from the Bulgarian word for kneel (klek), these squat shops have an interesting history. During the cold war, the Soviets repurposed basements of apartments throughout Sofia to serve as bomb shelters, with designated separate spaces for each family to seek refuge in.
After the fall of communism in Bulgaria in 1989, residents of the apartments converted these basement shelters into an assortment of commercial spaces like shoe repair shops and haberdasheries to bakeries and mini convenience stores. Shops that could serve just one kneeling customer at a time though small sliding windows, with the shopkeeper’s head at the level of the customer’s feet. Rendering them perfect for current social distancing requirements amidst the pandemic.
However, there are only a handful of these klek shops left in Sofia today. In a sort of third wave of conversion, new life is being infused into the shops with several being transformed into diminutive art galleries, basement cafés and even a few two-person only speakeasy-style cocktail bars.     

Going with the flow!
I soon learn that Bulgaria’s
subterranean wonders are not just limited to remnants of the country’s Roman and communist eras. And once again, Sofia is a notable example of this. With over 30 mineral hot springs that can be found within the city and its surroundings, hydrogeology is something that is taken very seriously here. In fact, the city’s ancient coat of arms even has a figure depicting the Greek god Apollo bathing at one such mineral spring.
Speaking of bathing, the Regional History Museum behind the grand Banya Bashi Mosque in the heart of downtown Sofia was once the old Turkish public mineral bath house, functional till 1986. Adjacent to the museum, at a red and white-bricked water fountain, is where one can find several people partaking in the city’s mineral-rich water bounty by filling up huge bottles and jerrycans with the free, slightly salty-tasting warm water that flows from rows of ornate brass taps that don’t even freeze in Sofia’s sub-zero winters.
‘What lies beneath’ truly takes on a whole other meaning in Bulgaria, it seems.

(This column first appeared in the 30th August 2020 issue of The Hindu newspaper's Sunday Magazine section on page 7 https://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/travel/notes-from-bulgaria/article32462731.ece)

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

Hotel Review: Dhara Dhevi In Chiang Mai, Thailand

 

This article was first published online on 25th August 2020 in Luxury Lifestyle Magazine, UK https://www.luxurylifestylemag.co.uk/travel/hotel-review-dhara-dhevi-in-chiang-mai-thailand/


Saturday, August 15, 2020

Today’s ‘Wrap’ Star

Every 15th of August, Goa celebrates both the nation’s Independence Day as well as the Catholic feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary by indulging in the patoleo—a medicinal, festive treat that is so much more than a mere sweet    


By Raul Dias

Like most Indian micro communities, we, the inhabitants of the tiny state of Goa have our very own set of peculiarities. Chief among these is our all-consuming fixation with hypochondria, where running to the doctor at the slightest hint of a malady is almost a state pastime. A close second is our unbridled love for feasts of all kind. This could take the form of village feasts, religious feasts or agriculture-based ones that pivot around sowing/harvesting seasons. 

Interestingly, this truism is augmented by the fact that in Goa, every feast day and almost every ailment has its own ‘patron’ sweet treat. One that helps celebrate, and the other that helps cure, or so is the belief. The humble patoleo has the distinction of holding sway over both ‘portfolios’…and then, some more!      

 

Leafing Through

Loathe as we are to call it a mere ‘steamed dumpling’—even though the patoleo is made with just three main ingredients viz. red, parboiled local Goan rice called ukda tandul, dark palm jaggery called madachem god in Konkani, and fresh coconut scrapings—it is anything but simple to us Goenkars. Even its full name is a tongue-twisting haldikolyanche patoleo, with the first part referring to the all-important haldi or turmeric leaf that the sweet is ensconced in before steaming. For it is this crucial catalyst that gives the patoleo its gingery, almost floral fragrance and taste when steamed in a traditional copper vessel with an airtight lid. Known either as a komfro or chondro, depending on which part of Goa—Bardez up north or Salcete in the south—one comes from.

But what brings the patoleo into focus is the fact that it is today, the 15th of August, that we Catholics observes the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. A big feast day celebrated all over Goa, usually with street processions and dances, and always with plates overflowing with the hallowed patoleo. This is also the time of the year when churches across Goa celebrate the harvest festival—again with patoleo—that is multifariously known as the Festa de Novidades, Novem or the Konnsachem Fest, symbolising the holy day of thanksgiving and gratitude to God. 

Now, coming to the medicinal properties of patoleo, it is said to be a great antidote to whooping cough among children thanks to the antiseptic, Ayurvedic properties imbued in the turmeric leaves. With early August, in particular, seeing a profusion of turmeric plants shoot up all over Goa and India’s other western coastal regions, there truly is no better time of the year than now to celebrate the patoleo. 

Community Spread

But it would be very remiss of me to shamelessly co-opt the patoleo into being a Catholic Goan sweet only. For, in Goa, it is also prepared by the Hindu Goan community to celebrate the festivals of Naag Panchmi and Ganesh Chathurti. In fact, the Hindus celebrate the aforementioned harvest festival on the second day of the Ganesh Chathurti festival. In neighbouring Karnataka, a salt-bereft version of the patoleo that is called haldi panna pathali is even offered to Goddess Parvati, who, according to legend, used to crave the preparation during her pregnancy.

While researching her book—The Culinary Odyssey of Goa—that she’s currently working on, author and Goan food historian, Odette Mascarenhas dug up some interesting patoleo factoids. The most surprising of all being the possible origin of the sweet in far Bengal. “The patoleo is quite similar to the preparation called pitha in Bengal which is also a rice batter and coconut-jaggery stuffed steamed dumpling made in January for the seasonal harvest of rice there. I believe that migration—particularly after the 1009-1026 AD invasions of Bengal by Mahmud of Gazni, when families fled to the Konkan coast—brought it to Goa,” she opines.

This is probably true, for the patoleo can even be found among Mumbai’s East Indian Catholic community where it is called pan mori and patoley by the Mangalurean Catholics.   

Different Strokes

While the ground rice and salt paste smeared onto the turmeric leaf is the base for all patoleo, each family makes a few minor tweaks to their recipe, mainly in the coconut-jaggery filling called chun that sits in the center of the leaf. “The inherent diversity of each household in Goa brings uniqueness to the precision with which the dessert is prepared, as a curative snack or as a prized festive dessert. Every home has its own unique patoleo recipe,” says Jerson Fernandes, executive chef at the Novotel Goa Dona Sylvia Resort Hotel, who has researched the sweet and come up with versions that use everything from ghee-fried charoli or chironji seeds (buchanania lanzan) to cardamom flvaoured chun iterations. He claims to have even come across a highly non-traditional patoleo version that is steamed in a cup-like parcel fashioned out of jackfruit leaves.

And speaking of interpretations, the Mumbai-based modern Goan restaurant O Pedro recently took things more than a few step further when their pastry chef Heena Punwani sent out her jazzed up version of the warm patoleo. She teamed it with a light palm jaggery caramel, poha granola and a vanilla bean ice-cream on the side.       

Deliciously blasphemous enough to send any patoleo-loving, hypochondriac Goenkar scurrying to the nearest doctor, I would say!  

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(recipe)

Patoleo

INGREDIENTS:

1 cup parboiled Goan red rice (ukda tandul) 

¼ tsp salt

1 cup fresh coconut (scraped) 

100 gm dark jaggery (madachem god)

10-12 turmeric leaves

METHOD:

1. Soak the rice in water overnight.

2. The next day, after draining the rice, grind it in a food processor along with the salt till the mixture resembles a smooth, but thick slurry. Use a little water, if needed. Let the mixture sit for 1-2 hours.

3. For the filling, melt the jaggery in a pan and add the fresh, scraped coconut, mixing well. Turn off heat and allow to cool down to room temperature.

4. Clean and wipe the turmeric leaves with a damp cloth.

5. With wet fingers, gently spread the rice paste along the surface of the leaf, making sure to not tear the leaf and to leave a little space along the edges of the leaf.

6. In the center of the leaf, place a tablespoon of the coconut filling, spreading it outwards (make sure to not overstuff the leaf as the filling will ooze out when steaming).

7. Fold each leaf in half lengthwise, pressing gently with the palm of your hand to seal the edges.

8. Without overcrowding (you can make them in batches), steam the patoleo for 15-20 in a covered, pre-heated, water-based steamer till the leaves turn a dark green.

9. Serve warm.   

(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 15th August 2020 issue of The Hindu Business Line newspaper's BLink section on page 22 https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/cover/a-goan-sweet-for-august-15/article32350189.ece)

Friday, August 14, 2020

Idli do good

With a menu full of yummy, highly affordable idli iterations and other South Indian snacks, this new, vegetarian takeaway joint makes for a fun ‘tiffin’ time!     


 

By Raul Dias

If there is one quotidian tradition we sorely miss about our earlier work stint in Chennai, then that would have to be the yummy, twice-daily repast called ‘tiffin’ in the local parlance. A short, mid-morning and teatime snack that is punctuated by strong filter coffee (but, of course!) and a smorgasbord of scrumptious treats. Often highlighted by a mindboggling variety of our favourite South Indian snack—the idli. 

While there is no dearth of Udupi restaurants in Mumbai that try their best to satiate those basic idli cravings, it is the sheer lack of more local and regional idli iterations like the Kanchipuram and thatte idli that gets to us. The newly opened, all-veg Idli Didli Doo seeks to remedy that. And it does so with aplomb, offering over a dozen versions of the steamed rice cake—some traditional and a few that cheekily defy convention.

The menu here is so extensive that we feel the need to try it out on two separate occasions. We pick up the first order ourselves from the tiny Shivaji Park outlet. While the other, we call in a few days later via a food delivery service provider. 

We start off with the thatte idli (Rs 65) that is a fluffy, quarter plate sized single idli that, just like all the other idli varieties on offer, is accompanied by a delicious, drumstick- and brinjal-redolent sambar and two fresh-tasting chutneys (coconut and tomato-chilly). The mustard seed and curry leaf-speckled Kanchipuram idli and the red-tinted ragi idli (both, Rs 65 for two), are equally scrumptious. 

The bite sized mini rasam idli (Rs 65 for five), with the thin, lemony rasam, putting an interesting spin on the dish is perfect for a particularly rainy day along with a steaming shot of filter coffee (Rs 15 for a half cup). Seeing the rarely-found-in-Mumbai paniyaram (Rs 80 for six) on the menu, we could not help ordering a portion of the ball-shaped dumplings, that are also known as paddu in Karnataka, and made from idli batter in a specially indented griddle pan. The neer moru (Rs 40) is a refreshing, South Indian take on traditional chaas and a cooling antidote to the fiery tomato-chilly chutney that we dunk our crisp medu vada (Rs 55) into.

Wanting to go a little ‘off-piste’, we try the rather wacky Italian idli fry (Rs 105) that sees chopped up bits of regular idli tossed in a hot pan with a squirt of olive oil and served with a sprinkling of herbs like oregano and shavings of cheese. Carrying the experimental leitmotif a bit further, we try the chocolate idli waffle (Rs 155) that almost tastes like a sour buttermilk waffle, thanks to the tangy idli batter it is made with.

We end our eating marathon with a ghee-enriched bowl of the utterly satisfying kesari (Rs 55) also known as sheera to us Mumbaikars. This one is all good things a sweet send-off should be—memorable and more-ish. Just like our twin ‘tiffin’ sessions have been.             

AT: Idli Didli Doo, Devkunj Bldg., Shivaji Park, Dadar (W).

TIME: 8am to 9pm

CALL: 9372463949         


 (An edited version of this review appeared in the 14th August 2020 issue of the Mid-Day newspaper, India on page 17 https://m.mid-day.com/articles/time-for-tiffin/22934215)