Adhi Potoba

After growing up in a land where every menu includes Chicken Manchurian, Sweet Corn-Chicken soup and Chopsuey, the Chinese food here in the US was a little bit of a let down. Sitting in my sad little student apartment in Syracuse, I could only dream about having a piping hot bowl of sweet corn chicken at the Pune University fountain or a spicy plate of Chicken Manchurian at the Oriental Room on Karve Road. I did find some relief in form of Chinese food in the most unlikely of places, the Carousel Mall . A seven-floored eyesore with a footprint of a ceiling fan that contained pretty much every store that could ever come from America’s flyover zones. You could buy a Macbook, a Midor Saw and some sexy lingerie, all under one roof. The food court stood on second floor of the mall with an gigantic old carousel, thus the name. The food court included all of America’s greatest names in generic mall food. Not to mention that fine family restaurant of silicone fitted spandex dolls, Hooters . On

Besides vacation, summer in Pune meant the mushrooming of Mango stalls pretty much everywhere there was space available. If one had a sky view, the entire city would look like it had a case of saffron coloured chicken pox with the abundance of mangoes everywhere. The Alphonso mango is the greatest fruit on the surface of this planet and the naysayers who pooh-pooh the notion just haven’t had one from Ratnagiri. Mango, the Alphonso Mango, especially remains by far my favourite food and I have tried to come up with recipes that use mango, even where it is not needed. We have recently embarked on a heart-friendly diet trying to cut a lot of the fat and sodium from our diet leaving me to find new ways of make food interesting and edible. The mango never fails to come to the rescue of such ambition and I have managed to forge a couple of good heart-friendly recipes. Here's one such triumph. Ingredients : For Rice 3 cups cooked Brown Rice 3 tbsp Rice Vinegar 2 tsp sugar Pinch of salt Nor

At the intersection of BMCC Road and Fergusson College Road stands Hotel Rangoli. A place that in all respects is pretty low key, tries too hard to be cool and for the most part, would not be missed if it ceased to exist. This is one of the third tier hotels in terms of places you want to be. If Vaishali is closed and Roopali is too crowded and you really want to eat, then Rangoli is a semi-decent option. It is also a great option if a young man has befriended a young woman whose entire family hangs out at Vaishali and the two lovebirds want to have a date, but not have the young man beaten to a pulp and at the same time have the illusion that they can express their love in public freely.... you get the idea. Rangoli's food, although pretty decent, tries to hard to be everything to everyone, but really doesn't do justice to any of it. I did spend a decent amount of time there in the days when Vaishali was undergoing reconstruction and the parathas there weren't bad. Howeve

In Pune, there are two seasons; the one where you need rain gear and one where you don’t. Sure there are temperature variations throughout the year, but this is pretty much the only difference. Summer clothes are not that different than winter clothes, with the exception of a light sweater and I really don’t recollect there being a spring in Pune. It’s pretty much either hot or wet and the only seasonal touch to your wardrobe comes from a worn out jacket or sweater. Even after a decade here in New York, I am still not really used to the four specific seasons. Especially summer, which is so short here in the city. And even though we’re soon approaching the end of the fall season, I am still enjoying my summer salads. Ingredients 2 Beets peeled and pressure cooked and cooled 1 Apple 1 Orange 1 Mango 4 Figs cut into quarters Zest of one Orange 1 tsp Mint chopped 2 tbsp Orange Juice 3 tsp chopped Pecans Method Cut the Beets, Apples and Mango into cubes and place in a bowl Peel the orange,

In 1998 when Pizza Hut came to Pune it was greeted with the same kind of fanfare normally reserved by the Congress junta for Sharad Pawar ’s motorcade. Residing on Jangli Maharaj road in a new construction built on the grave of a typical Puneri corner bungalow; Pizza Hut projected itself as an example of American fine dining. The Puneris ate it with a spoon, or by the slice to be precise. During the first few weeks, the line to get in was around the block. There was a host table outside the restaurant taking reservations. At the time the host had the same attitude as Sachin Tendulkar ’s public relation’s manager. Everyone was apparently wasting his time and no one really seemed good enough to have a Pizza Hut slice. I, along with a few friends managed to get a table without waiting, as we knew “people”. Even at this low level of government, corruption did butt its ugly head. Once inside we were greeted with interior decoration that was trying too hard to be cool, arrogant waiters and

Here's wishing you and yours a very happy Diwali and a prosperous New Year.

When I was still a youngster back in India, we learned everything there was to know about American culture from those American Culture for Dummies books a.k.a Archie Comics . I first learnt of Halloween in Archie Comics as a holiday, which involved costumes, and hitting the neighbours for cheap candy like it was a right. Archie Comics in all their PG-ness never really mentioned two really important aspects of Halloween (or what Archie and Veronica really did at Lover’s Lane). They never really covered the part where it is the one day where girls can dress in their skimpiest, something the male junta does not seem to mind. I for one encourage freedom of expression. The other aspect of this dentist’s dream holiday that remained unexplained was the pumpkin connection wherein pumpkin based recipes are dumped on the general public during this period, never to be heard of for the rest of the year. Recently my wife cooked me a delicious soup with a recipe inspired by Souvlaki for the Soul .

On my visit back to Pune, I noticed that Main Street in Camp looks nothing like the one I used to remember. Of course, when I still lived there, it bore no resemblance to the Main Street of when I was a little kid. There were a couple of stores I remember vividly. Toy Center, one would think, as the name suggests would be a Toy Shop. However pestonji logic dictated that the store be half pharmacy, a quarter electrical appliance store with some toys behind the counter. Thus the name. There were the usual Marzorin, Budhani, Wonderland and other Camp staples. One place, however, where they still don’t seem to get with the fact that it is 2008, is Monafood. The weirdly designed restaurant was divided into 3 levels from the street. The outermost served Softee ice cream. The next level in was the juice bar. And the third level in from the street was the actual restaurant. Complete with discoloured Formica tables and waiters who bring you your water in steel glasses with their fingers in it.

Whenever we had guests visiting us from out of town they had things they needed to do, places they had to visit and certain things they absolutely had to take back. One of these that came under all three categories was a visit to the Kayani Bakery on East Street in Camp. If you are a visitor to Pune and you return home without a bag containing a Kayani cake, a box of Shrewsbury biscuits and a bag of wine biscuits, it is safe to say you’d be in the doghouse for at least a week. The Kayani bakery has been a Pune landmark since it was established by brothers Hormuz and Khodayar Irani in 1955. The Shrewsbury biscuit, which is Kayani’s flagship product, is quite possibly the most delicious biscuit you will ever eat. Just opening the pink box to reveal the line of biscuits embossed with the KB logo is a near orgasmic experience. But dipping it in tea and eating is like an orgy in your mouth that will definitely take you there. A Kayani product will never fail to put you in a great mood. Aft

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. In Pune, however, breakfast almost seems to be a second thought. It’s something you do between getting dressed for work or school and leaving the house. I for one have been brought up on a steady breakfast of Carbury’s drinking chocolate (the one that came in the blue tin) and Britannia Nice biscuits . (Hello diabetes!) Shoving the biscuits in my mouth and washing it down with chocolate milk hot enough to take the top layer off your gullet. All this mostly while the school bus would stand outside honking the horn and my mother, trying in vain, to ask the driver to wait just one more minute till her son got his shit together. Unfortunately, no matter how old you get or where you go in the world, breakfasts might change, but the chaotic morning scene remains the same. On the weekends however, we try to bring back some sanity to our lives and what better way to start than with a healthy, hearty sit-down breakfast. Ingredients 3 cu

The Osho commune is the brainchild of "Rajneesh" Chandra Mohan Jain and self-proclaimed “Bhagwan”. The spectacular commune looks more like a spa or resort than a religious center complete with waterfalls, exotic flora and fauna and bold architecture. And the beautifully landscaped Osho Park created out of a swamp is just breathtaking. Bhagwan Rajneesh was infamous for his teachings as they encouraged communal sexual indulgence. Here’s a man who took the bumper sticker “Make love, not war” a bit too seriously and turned it into a religion. I for one totally support such thinking. Osho ashram has brought a lot of good things to Koregaon Park. The best thing to happen to Koregaon Park as a result of the ashram, however, is the German Bakery. Situated right on the entrance to Koregaon Park, it looks like a beach shack situated on a main road. Although from the name, you’d think they serve German snacks, it is still Pune city, and the menu is a mish-mash of anything goes. On m

"Panchang, menu, arogya, dnyana,   Upayukta sahitya pratyeka paana." The radio ad for Kalanirnay promised more crap than 16 years in school can throw at you. Kalanirnay is a calendar that most Indian housewives cannot live without. It is published in 13 different languages and contains just as much useless information on the calendar side as it does on the back pages. The 3 sq inch space for each day includes information on solar and lunar cycles, any insignificant holiday that might fall on this day (complete with obscure illustrations) and most importantly for the three people who understand what it is, concise information on ‘Rahukal’. The backside of the month’s page is where the real fun stuff is. Redundant information relating to the month, including medical advice, puzzles, religious information, recipes and lessons in arts and crafts etc. printed in 7 point, blue type are what make up the backside. I have never visited a house in Pune without a Kalanirnay on the kitc

Before the ‘spectacular’ express highway, the cheapest and most convenient way to make a Bombay-Pune journey was with a ride on the Deccan Queen . A 180 km journey that took anywhere between 3½ - 4 hours on a good day. The journey would actually begin way before the day of actual travel by a trip to a little place known as the booking office. A small self-standing structure in the middle of nowhere, where you were served by indifferent civil servants from behind rusty windows. Some of the things you were never served, however, were proper information, prompt service or, heaven forbid, a smile. The chances of you actually getting a reservation instead of being wait-listed were pretty slim. Even as you enter Pune Station through parking, it looks like a haphazard mess. As you arrive inside you see that the rails and platforms thrown together by some eager engineer who made the mistake of believing himself. 6:30 a.m. is probably the most bearable time to be there, as people who fell asl

When I was in junior college, Pirangut (which is now almost in city limits) used to be a destination for day trips. En route, one could drive for miles of lush paddy fields and open land on both sides of the road, the monotony broken only by a lake, a river or the occasional small body of water. You would have to slow down sometimes as herds of sheep walked alongside the road, blocking most of it. Village folk sat under the shade of tamarind trees waiting for the greatest form of rural transportation—the S.T. bus, known to most of the junta as the Laal Dabba (red tin can). The road took you straight to the village of Mulshi, where the Mulshi dam is located. There is a village on the way named Disli. In Marathi, Disli means “I see it.” The reason it is so named is that as you take a turn to enter the limits of Disli, you can see the walls of the massive dam for the first time. Just before the village of Disli is the village of Pirangut and also the home of one my favourite joints, Bunin

As a little boy growing up in Pune, I became aware of the fact that the raw green mango (kairi) and the deliciously sweet, ripe mango in spite of being the same fruit are completely different animals. I also understood that a mango stolen from someone else’s yard tastes infinitely better than a store bought mango. It is popular knowledge that the best green mangoes inevitably come from the trees that are in the yards of the meanest people in the neighbourhood. These trees are usually guarded by some of the house’s senior gentry, who will come after you with sticks—making stealing mangoes from the neighbourhood one of my favourite summer sports. After the annual examinations in April one quickly discovers that two months of summer vacation is in fact really boring. During our vacation, the area kids would gather to pass their afternoons with a game of cricket, carrom or cards. A good afternoon’s cricket is really incomplete without a good snack and the raw mangoes that were in peak sea

This is the story of how yours truly was involved in an incident that almost closed down Residency Club. In the summer of 93 I started what was my first job, an internship at an industrial design firm in our building. One of the assignments I was working on was to build a permanent Mandap for Residency Club. Back then; Residency club was a newer, cheaper alternative to Poona Club and the Royal Connaught Boat Club . Mr. Tanna, the owner of Residency Club had solicited the help of Blueprint Design to build a permanent Mandap over a courtyard that was surrounded by rooms for club guests, so that he could rent the courtyard for functions even during monsoons. Blueprint design had delivered a highly futuristic concept for a Mandap using a tensile structure . Tensile structures are made of strong sheets of synthetic fibers stretched and held together with tension wires. Blueprint design had come up with a design that worked really well in theory. If all went well, this would cover an area o

In 1996 the owner of Hotel Vaishali , Jagannath B.Shetty, decided it was time to renovate. This was mostly to tackle the problem of vagabonds that occupied tables for long periods of time by ordering just coffee or tea and spent that time ogling at the honeys from nearby colleges. The brilliant solution to this problem was creating a small smoking section where the lallygagging, leering, permanent fixture like customers would be reassigned. Actual paying customers could then use the rest of the busy hotel. As a result, Mr. Shetty closed Vaishali for 3 months. People like myself and the rest of the collegiate crowd found themselves completely lost and had to find a place to park themselves for those meaningful hours between breakfast and lunch. Or what is known in college as the first four classes. Anyone who has gone to college in India knows that while it is essential to be enrolled in a top-notch college, attending classes is for losers. In desperation we turned to the few accepta

Once upon a time Pune was a small town with cute little houses. The traffic was manageable. The air was breathable air. And roads had no dividers. Fergusson college road was a beautiful street lined with Banyan trees and pretty much everything else was hunky dory. Much unlike the awful shit storm that FC Road has become today. A few things however have remained unchanged there. One of them, much to my delight, is a restaurant called Amrapli. As far back as I can remember, Amrapali was the place to go to for vegetarian fare. It is located off Fergusson College Road at the end of an access road right behind Hotel Roopali. It is very easy to miss as the only indication is a beaten up cantilevered neon sign, which must’ve worked at some point in time. A bicycle repair shop on one side and a scooter garage on the other guard the entrance to the access road. The entrance also featured a Lambretta , which I guess no one had claimed for decades, rusted and sunk half way into the ground. The le

Recently, I visited one of my favourite Thai restaurants, Pongsri , in New York. One of our mutual friends found two items on the menu that looked exactly the same with similar ingredients. The only difference was that one was sautéed and the other one was stir-fried. She asked me what the difference was and it was something I had never thought about. Does anyone know?

Appa is a word for father in many Indian languages. But for a true Punekar, there is only one ‘Appa’ and he owns the canteen that is part of the Deccan Gymnkhana, nestled snugly in a tiny lane between the cricket ground and the tennis courts, at the Eastern end of the long billiards hall. Appa’s canteen needs no introduction as it has been in the same spot since days of the Raj. A humble place made up of one small room divided into two tiny sections, the dining area and the kitchen. There is usually a machine making some sort of batter in the door between the kitchen and dining area. The dining area seats 8 people at a time. As a result most of Appa’s goodies are consumed out on the street on the back seat of a scooter or car. Appa’s canteen boasts a minimal menu of 3-4 dishes a day and menu items are set by the day of the week. Only a true Puneri can recite the menu by what day it is. If it’s Sunday, this must be idli-sambar. Some of the most famous items on this menu are idli sambar

On returning to New York as a married couple, our ‘gruha pravesh’ involved pushing huge suitcases packed to the maximum allowable baggage allowance across the threshold. The only way a true desi travels and something I just can’t explain to my wife. I’m still on a high from all the pampering a prodigal son gets on his brief, infrequent visits home. The trick however is the leave before the novelty wears off. Now back in my apartment, as I was having my Sunday morning chai, I looked at my Nice biscuits (my favourite biscuits), which has turned limp from moisture as they were pretty old. Quite a contrast to the Sunday mornings back home. When I lived in Pune, the family of one of the boys that worked for us lived in Tulsibaug. Although he lived with us all week, he would visit his family every weekend, leaving on Friday evening and returning early morning on Sunday. One of his most important duties (at least according to me) was to go to Hindustan Bakery on the way back and pick up a Kg

So my girlfriend and I finally tied the knot with a small ceremony in Pune last week and flew straight to Jaipur for our honeymoon. My wife wanted to live in a small place with lots of character so anything with the name Taj, Oberoi or Sheraton was out. We found this small hotel, Hotel Palms that must’ve been someone’s residence at one point. It was one of those hotels where the owners lost interest in running it just as soon as they acquired it, giving it the right amount of character and ample scope for comic relief that we were looking for. It came with notable amenities such as mosquitoes, an internet café that was open only between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m., a utilities shop that never opened the entire time that I was there and more staff than there were rooms none of whom were of any real help. On my first morning there, I woke up and ordered some tea. The tea came in a stained thermos with a jar of sugar cubes. The jar of sugar cubes had ants crawling all over the sugar. When I pointe

After my lackluster performance in my SSC exams I thought I had sealed my fate of getting into the prestigious science stream or even get in to a good junior college such as Fergusson. Of course, anyone from India knows that merit has absolutely nothing to do with what college you get into or pretty much anything you do in life. So through "family connections" I was granted a seat at Fergusson College in the science stream. In fact my parents went one up and secured me a seat in division D of the science stream. In Fergusson, divisions C and D were reserved for the smartest students. You know those really annoying, snooty kids whose lives revolve around books, coaching classes and HSC merit lists? All of my friends however, were placed in division F—the class that every teacher feared, the class that is made entirely out of students who have come there by all means except merit. Even the girls were a force to be reckoned with. As the FYJC year progressed, my misery in a class

For many Puneites or Maharashtrians, a Poha Program is a running joke and for some a pretty hair- raising experience. For the non-Maharashtrians, a poha program is when a boy of marriageable age goes to a girl's house for the purpose of an arranged marriage with the decision makers of his family. Decision maker in this case may or may not include the two parties actually getting hitched. The meeting usually takes place in the evening hours. Somewhere around tea time, but much before dinner time. The most popular dish that is served at this time is Kanda Pohe. Very quick and easy to make, and really hard to screw up. And no matter who makes the Poha, it is always passed off as a shining example of the bride-to-be's many special talents. As for those of you guys who fell in love without first testing the poha-power of your bride to be, you can still fix a decent plate for yourselves. Here's how: Ingredients: 3 cups Thick Poha 1 large White Onion finely chopped 1 Potato cut in

While the streets of London are paved with gold, the streets of Pune are lined with numerous non-descript halwais. Pretty much anything that is not a Chitale Bandhu Mithaiwale, Karachi Sweet Mart or Kaka Halwai is a non-descript halwai. The one thing I like about these halwais is the layout of their stores. Barring the odd one that goes against the grain, pretty much all stores are rectangular with the shorter side serving as the storefront. All goods are behind a counter to one side of the store and the other half serving as ‘browsing area for the patrons. As you enter the store a mildly enthusiastic man imitating one of Henry Moore’s reclining sculptures greets you. He is usually the owner or at least the one in charge of the cash. Chances are, you’ll also be greeted with an insincere offer for some tea or coffee. You’re best advised not to accept, as it is quite an inconvenience for all parties concerned. Nod gracefully and move on. As you make your way into the store through the o

Saras Baug is quite possibly the biggest garden in Pune City. Together with the temple, the sad excuse for a zoo that is Peshwe Park and the open ground that is used for firework sales as well as India’s biggest classical music festival Savai Gandharva , Saras Baug could have it’s own pin code. My favourite part of Saras Baug is the Ganesh temple part. Situated on a small hillock and surrounded by an artificial moat it houses the beautiful Saras Baug temple at the summit. The moat is surrounded by hundreds of acres of lush green lawns and unimpressive yet charming topiary. When I used to go to Saras Baug for Chaturthi with my mother, I would notice many young couples taking care of business behind the trees. I guess it’s hard to ‘get a room’ when you’re living as a joint family in a tiny one bedroom flat. It was pretty amazing how everyone pretty much ignored the cuddling and fondling couples. The couples returned the favour by pretending no one else existed. Especially giggling, un

Back in the 1970s in Pune, Borawke’s KuKu Ch Koo was the god of all things tandoori. It is still by far the tastiest tandoori chicken I have tasted in Pune. The first KuKu Ch Koo, and the only one I have ever been to, is situated on the Deccan end of JM Road. Nestled cozily between two sugarcane juice bars and directly opposite the P.M.T. bus depot it is at a prime location for the Deccan junta. The restaurant is very basic in design. It consists of two structures. A solitary concrete room is the management office. A shed opposite to it, open on all sides, houses the tandoor ovens. The rest of the restaurant is open to sky with seating consisting of cracked granite squares placed on cinder blocks for tables and plastic chairs around it. Hey, why waste on décor if they keep returning? The only way to tell the waiters from the general customer was the indifferent attitude, as they didn’t really have any uniform. Actually, KuKu Ch Koo was always self-service but there were always a number

Mutton Rassa (Maharashtrian lamb curry) was probably the first food I knew I couldn't live without. Especially the way my mother makes it. My grandmother, my mother and all my aunts would make their own garam masala. Although my grandma has passed away, her memory still lives on every time I cook something as my garam masala still comes from home. I have had Mutton Rassa all over Pune, but only the Parsi restaurants do real justice to the Rassa part of it. Although it has been 10 long years since I've been to Cafe Good Luck on Fergusson College Rd, I still remember the L shaped restaurant where time seems to have stood still. It has withstood many a communal riot that required reconstruction for other Parsi establishments. The entrance of Good Luck, the apex of the L, is at the corner of Bhandarkar Rd and Fergusson College Rd. One wing of the L extends into the dining area, the other is only for tea & pastry consumption. I remember the slightly bent old man who used to si