To get over the jet lag Dawn and I opted for breakfast in bed, the only option being English or Continental. Big mistake! As they say ‘when in Rome…’ and never has this been more true.
We had a good walk around Connaught Place where our hotel is and which we know from our previous visit to Delhi. Found a great old book store which resulted in me buying 6 cook books all very different to the many I have got.
We then took a rickshaw to Delhi’s (and 1 of Indias) most favoured sweetshops ‘Bangla sweets.’ The visual displays in the glass counters were packed full of vibrant colour and all sorts of textures and flavours, shimmering with silver leaf. More than enough choice and quality to please the most fussy and selective of the sweet toothed . We opted for a half kilo box. A kilo of sweetmeats is usually the minimum – can you imagine? We chose a selection of Ladu, Halwa, Burfi, Sandesh and Rajbhog to take away and while we were there couldn’t resist a portion of their Rasmalai and Rasgulla which they are also famed for, both were toothsome and set the hunger pangs in motion ready for lunch. Pudding 1st?
This also helped to emphasise our wish to have a small sweet deli counter at The Chilli Pickle some time in the future.
Then headed on to another of Delhi’s cherished haunts ‘ Saravana Bhavan Hotel’ for a spot of South Indian lunch. I had the roasted Paper Masala Dosa which was a foot long filled with masala potato and served with chutneys and Sambhar. Dawn had the Veg Thali with puris, a tray filled with at least 10 small bowls of different curries, dal, vegetables, chutneys and a barfi to finish with. All tasted great and the puris and paper dosa were highlights as well as a fiery red pepper coconut chutney.
It was then time to move onto Chandni Chowk, a 300 year old grand market which is in the prosperous trading centre in Old Delhi for silver, metal, brass and copper ware as well as spices.
How to describe Chadni Chowk? Well once meeting Punit we had to take a bike rickshaw as cars struggle to fit through the traffic filled streets that are over flowing with sacks of dried goods, men loading up wagons that are to be pulled to their destination either by them on foot or by a push bike, customers buying fresh hot food from street vendors and people dicing with death trying to get from one side of the road to the other. There is a constant bustle of folk pushing you out of the way as they have places to be, raised voices bartering over goods, hooters constantly beeping to move other mopeds and rickshaws out of the way, a distinct aroma or street food cooking and incense burning, colours popping out from different stalls with the wide array of materials all framed by the surrounding tall, smog dirtied, crumbling buildings.
Once we had disembarked our rickety rickshaw we meandered through these crazy streets stopping to look at things that would look great in the restaurant, smelling spices and snacking on street food like simple roasted yam sprinkled with chaat masala we reached our main destination, Parathe Walli Galli. Dawn had been looking forward to this moment since she read about it in one of my food travel books a couple of years ago. We had to walk down a dark and dingy narrow side alley way with a bottle neck of people and the odd moped thrown in for good measure. At the end of the alley was a small open restaurant where the cook sat on a mat surrounded with flour, dough and fillings for their famed parathas, he would be shouted the order, make the paratha in a minute and throw it into a pan of hot oil directly in front of him, that was then cooked by a young helper. Once cooked your paratha would be given to you on a canteen tray alongside 2 veg curries and a pickle. The menu boasts up to 30 different parathas ranging from your well known potato, paneer (Dawn’s choice) to mint (my choice) and broken papad.
After some more walking around the narrow streets we were in the close vicinity of Karims and although it was certainly not enough time for our Parathas to digest we couldn’t miss this opportunity.
Karims has been around since 1913 passed on through 4 generations with apparently a bloodline connected to the chefs of the great Moghal Empire. To this day they are beloved for their great tasting Moghul cuisine and Kebabs.
We found the place to be incredibly endearing although in a strange way, the kebabs were good (but you knew the quality of meat wasn’t), the biriani was made with long grain rice which must be blasphemy to those in the know and the mint chutney and salad were both lifeless, had some excellent tandoori chicken, amazing see through romali roti (1p each?) and lime soda all round. It’s one of those places you’d recommend anyone who loves food and adventure to experience. There is a real spookiness and romance to the place. The Formica tables were packed full of locals, tourists and weathered expats, a table is emptied and instantly filled with the next party.
Outside in the alley is the open show kitchen where the tandoor master sits cross legged on his mat in his pajamas with sage like posture as he works 8 small taftoons (Afghan tandoors) with calm and precision. Behind him a young cook makes the bread in a large tandoor built into the ground. On the second floor is the main kitchen, which we asked to see but were refused (probably to benefit us both), but as you looked up you could see long skewers of half cooked meat hanging from the windows, again surrounded by the familiar black crumbling walls. Brilliant!
Day 3 to follow next week...
We then took a rickshaw to Delhi’s (and 1 of Indias) most favoured sweetshops ‘Bangla sweets.’ The visual displays in the glass counters were packed full of vibrant colour and all sorts of textures and flavours, shimmering with silver leaf. More than enough choice and quality to please the most fussy and selective of the sweet toothed . We opted for a half kilo box. A kilo of sweetmeats is usually the minimum – can you imagine? We chose a selection of Ladu, Halwa, Burfi, Sandesh and Rajbhog to take away and while we were there couldn’t resist a portion of their Rasmalai and Rasgulla which they are also famed for, both were toothsome and set the hunger pangs in motion ready for lunch. Pudding 1st?
This also helped to emphasise our wish to have a small sweet deli counter at The Chilli Pickle some time in the future.
Then headed on to another of Delhi’s cherished haunts ‘ Saravana Bhavan Hotel’ for a spot of South Indian lunch. I had the roasted Paper Masala Dosa which was a foot long filled with masala potato and served with chutneys and Sambhar. Dawn had the Veg Thali with puris, a tray filled with at least 10 small bowls of different curries, dal, vegetables, chutneys and a barfi to finish with. All tasted great and the puris and paper dosa were highlights as well as a fiery red pepper coconut chutney.
It was then time to move onto Chandni Chowk, a 300 year old grand market which is in the prosperous trading centre in Old Delhi for silver, metal, brass and copper ware as well as spices.
How to describe Chadni Chowk? Well once meeting Punit we had to take a bike rickshaw as cars struggle to fit through the traffic filled streets that are over flowing with sacks of dried goods, men loading up wagons that are to be pulled to their destination either by them on foot or by a push bike, customers buying fresh hot food from street vendors and people dicing with death trying to get from one side of the road to the other. There is a constant bustle of folk pushing you out of the way as they have places to be, raised voices bartering over goods, hooters constantly beeping to move other mopeds and rickshaws out of the way, a distinct aroma or street food cooking and incense burning, colours popping out from different stalls with the wide array of materials all framed by the surrounding tall, smog dirtied, crumbling buildings.
Once we had disembarked our rickety rickshaw we meandered through these crazy streets stopping to look at things that would look great in the restaurant, smelling spices and snacking on street food like simple roasted yam sprinkled with chaat masala we reached our main destination, Parathe Walli Galli. Dawn had been looking forward to this moment since she read about it in one of my food travel books a couple of years ago. We had to walk down a dark and dingy narrow side alley way with a bottle neck of people and the odd moped thrown in for good measure. At the end of the alley was a small open restaurant where the cook sat on a mat surrounded with flour, dough and fillings for their famed parathas, he would be shouted the order, make the paratha in a minute and throw it into a pan of hot oil directly in front of him, that was then cooked by a young helper. Once cooked your paratha would be given to you on a canteen tray alongside 2 veg curries and a pickle. The menu boasts up to 30 different parathas ranging from your well known potato, paneer (Dawn’s choice) to mint (my choice) and broken papad.
After some more walking around the narrow streets we were in the close vicinity of Karims and although it was certainly not enough time for our Parathas to digest we couldn’t miss this opportunity.
Karims has been around since 1913 passed on through 4 generations with apparently a bloodline connected to the chefs of the great Moghal Empire. To this day they are beloved for their great tasting Moghul cuisine and Kebabs.
We found the place to be incredibly endearing although in a strange way, the kebabs were good (but you knew the quality of meat wasn’t), the biriani was made with long grain rice which must be blasphemy to those in the know and the mint chutney and salad were both lifeless, had some excellent tandoori chicken, amazing see through romali roti (1p each?) and lime soda all round. It’s one of those places you’d recommend anyone who loves food and adventure to experience. There is a real spookiness and romance to the place. The Formica tables were packed full of locals, tourists and weathered expats, a table is emptied and instantly filled with the next party.
Outside in the alley is the open show kitchen where the tandoor master sits cross legged on his mat in his pajamas with sage like posture as he works 8 small taftoons (Afghan tandoors) with calm and precision. Behind him a young cook makes the bread in a large tandoor built into the ground. On the second floor is the main kitchen, which we asked to see but were refused (probably to benefit us both), but as you looked up you could see long skewers of half cooked meat hanging from the windows, again surrounded by the familiar black crumbling walls. Brilliant!
Day 3 to follow next week...
