Adhi Potoba

Our convent school was never really equipped for taking large number or students on trips and whenever an attempt was made it was an utter disaster that made for some really great memories. One of the great features of these overnight trips was that the food would be prepared by the students themselves. A great idea in theory. But not when the cooks in question have barely mastered long division. Never a great selling point, but looking back the trips were fun. The destination was always a small sea side village or one of Shivaji's many forts. Or in some cases both. When I was in high school, we went on one such trip to Sindhudurg . Sindhudurg was Shivaji's invincible fort in the Arabian Sea a couple of miles from land. We set camp on the beach right opposite the fort. We attempted to cook on kerosene stoves , but it was a disaster. The chapatis were rock hard, the fish was burnt and everything has a strong aroma of kerosene. Eating this food was mandatory or you'd face th

There's no story to this dish. This is just a delicious dish my mom used to make. I just happened to make it the other day and thought I'd share. Ingredients 2 medium Potatoes cubed 2 large Brinjals (Eggplants) cubed 1 large Onion finely chopped 1 large Tomato finely chopped 1/2 cup Peanuts crushed 1 tsp Chili Powder 1 tsp Garam Masala 1 tsp Turmeric 1 tsp crushed Garlic 1/2 tsp Ginger paste 1/4 cup Olive Oil Salt to taste Method Heat oil in a pot and add garlic, ginger and onion. Sauté till onions are translucent and brown on the edges Add tomato and stir till it becomes a homogenous paste Add garam masala, turmeric, chili and stir Add potatoes and 1cup water Allow to boil till potatoes are cooked Add eggplant and boil till most of the water evapourates leaving a pasty sauce Add ground peanuts and keep stirring for 5 min Garnish with chopped cilantro Serve with Rice Bhakari or Naan This recipe is for Nupur's RCI June: Maharashtrian Cuisine!

Before pizza became a mainstream food in Pune, there were only a handful of places that made pizza. The place that was most famous for it's pizza in the pre-chain restaurant era was Supreme Pizza opposite Sambhaji Park on J.M. Road. Supreme's pizza was pretty much a slightly thicker version of Masala Papad that could scrape the roof of your mouth raw. The sauce was slightly modified Kissan ketchup and the cheese was Amul. For those of you who might not know, Amul is to cheese what Tofurkey is to Thanksgiving. The pizza was baked by arranging it in a small tawa like utensil and then shoved into this contraption that was pretty much like a Weber Grill, but not quite. But for whatever reason the Supreme pizza was delicious and one couldn't find parking for blocks around the small shack. I think Supreme is still around, but since the arrival of Pizza Hut, Domino's and some other Indian Pizza chains, the small family owned Supreme has lost the 'Supremacy'. Now, they

If there's any milkshake that's capable of bringing all your boys to the yard, it's probably the Good Night. Unfortunately, it will also put them to sleep as soon as they arrive at said yard. One of my favourite restaurants in Pune that I must've mentioned a million times here is Darshan. The juice and milkshake menu at Darshan went filled an entire section of the menu. The king of the shakes however was the Good Night. A dieters nightmare, this milkshake was so heavy that it would put you in a food coma within the hour. Hence the name. It was a mixture of whole milk, cream, chickoo, figs, dried fruit and nuts. Served in a tall beer mug and topped with homemade ice-cream and some shopped nuts for good measure. My other favourite part about the Darshan menu was a disclaimer on the first page which I am sure annoyed the waiters a lot. It simple stated "The person serving you is a needy student. Do not lower his morale by offering him a tip. Calling him brother or 

In the last 20 years, my family has had more weddings at Hotel Shreeyas than I care to remember. Coz' when one thinks of a nice romantic wedding, clearly the first thing that comes to mind is Shreeyas. My first memories of Shreeyas were going to have Thali there. 6 Rupees for a plateful of 12 odd items, 9 of which you'd would never touch. The unenthusiastic waiters would occasionally visit you to replenish your plates with food that could be described as tolerable at best. Still, Shreeyas never kept running out of loyal customers. My father was one of them. He took us there every so often and I would keep praying that they'd have the two things I could push down my gullet. Actually, the two things I did like at Shreeyas were the yellow potato bhaji and one delicious vegetable dish in a coconut sauce. I think it was Goan vegetable curry with a 'brahmini' twist. And I loved it. It made the trip to Shreeyas bearable. Ingredients 4 cups assorted vegetables chopped. (Bro

After I passed out of Abhinav Kala Mahavidyalaya in 96 and my visits to Bajirao Rd were limited to the telephone exchange. There are a number of things I miss about my old college neighbourhood. Places like Saras Baug, Hindustan Bakery and most of all Wadeshwar. On Bajirao Road right opposite the telephone exchange there is a small place called that sells the most delicious idlis you'll ever eat. You wouldn't come across it unless you knew of it as the actual place is on the first floor, almost 10 metres above the footpath. 90% of Wadeshwar's business comes from Idli-Sambar. Two hot idlis in a bowl with a generous helping of Sambar that came out of a tap. And back then it was all at a very reasonable price or 2 Rupees making it a highly sought after destination for cheap bastards like yours truly. It was also a great place to sketch as some really interesting, senior gentry from the ‘old city’ frequented the place. Really the sketching wasn't as interesting as watchi

I grew up on Prabhat Road and our park was Kamla Nehru Park or KNP, as the college kids that order their chai "one by two" called it. My fondest memories bhel are outside the large iron gate of KNP. Bhola bhel was our "bhelwala". No real reason, that's just the guy my mother would take us to. A balding man on the wrong side of fifty with a pushcart and a permanent burnt umber complexion from making bhel under the scorching Indian sun. His pushcart had a hand painted board that advertised Bhola Bhel next to an anatomically questionable picture of Shankar . The glass containers that contained the papri and rice puffs were adorned with fading pictures of Bollywood stars whose star had faded decades ago. He cut onion really fine with a speed that would put the finest Waring chopper to shame. With a thick handle bar mustache and a cheery disposition he never failed to make serious small talk, even with his youngest customers. And for 70 Paise (in 1978) he would