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| Wazwan Thali |
If food could transport me to places I only dream of, this was the closest I could get. The evening of the twin food festival launch at Hyatt Regency, Chennai began colourfully with a dance by two lollipop Gods from Taiwan. They looked fierce, but turned out to be harmless, friendly and willing to pose for as many photographs as necessary. But only after the mandatory offer of a lollipop.
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| The Lollipop Gods with Madhav Sehgal and Simran Batra Sehgal |
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| Charles and Esther Li with the Lollipop Gods |
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| Simran, Ameeta and Aully with the Lollipop Gods |
Charles Li, Director General of Taipei Economic and Cultural Center, Chennai, sounded the gong and declaring the festival open.
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| Parijat, Aully and me: all smiles |
Did I try the Taiwanese food? No. Because, on the other side of the atrium had a little bit of Kashmir waiting for me, with a graceful ‘Bhumro’ performance to set the pace. Nawabzada Mohammed Asif Ali, Dewan to the Prince of Arcot rang the gong after a small speech, where he explained how Kashmir and the Nawabs shared history, hence food.
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| Bhumaro performance straight from the Kashmir valley |
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| Nawabzada Mohammed Asif Ali introduces Waza Bashir |
‘When the Mughals came to India, one branch went to Kashmir and the other to the South, explaining why our food is very similar to the food in Kashmir.' He said.
As soon as we were settled in our seats at Spice Haat, the food flowed in a steady stream to our table, starting with some delicious, crisp, tender slow cooked and deep fried Tabak Maaz. It has to be dipped in the bland yet delicious walnut chutney to enhance the taste.
Waza Bashir has brought over 400 kilos of ingredients from Kashmir, so each dish arriving at our table is as close to the land as it can get.
‘When I pass on, the recipes will go with me.’ He says. His chin is jutting out. He eyes: expressionless. Sad? Maybe. Stubborn? Not really. He is resigned to the fact that because he has no sons this hereditary craft will not survive after him.
I’m wondering if a daughter secretly watches what he does from a hole in the wall or from behind the curtains, and memorizes every step, will she be allowed to be a Wazini?
That thought disappears as I bite into the impeccable tawa-fried Anjir Walnut Tikki. Tiny little crunches of the fig seeds break in my mouth, as the slight sweetness mixes with the strength of the walnut.
Everybody else at the table is busy tucking into the large Lamb Shammi, but I find it a little on the bland side, and frankly, it does nothing to my taste buds. Not even with the green chutney.
What is more interesting is the conversation we are having, while Parijat is multi-tasking. Her nimble fingers are flying on her phone as she tweets and posts on Facebook.
Madhav Sehgal – General Manager Hyatt Regency and his wife, Simran Batra Sehgal are great company. They set the pace by putting us all at our ease. The food knowledge here is fantastic. Asif Ali and I are busy making our individual notes, which we promise to share, but do not. His rating of each dish is on 10. I’m not rating, just writing away.
These tastes, textures and fragrances are new to my senses, and I'm not willing to miss out on anything.
Asif writes with his left hand. He says you just need to make the shapes with your right and the left will do the job. I manage to write my name, albeit shaky, but straight, in cursive script, proving that the mind can do anything the brain commands it to.
Kashmiri Pulav lands on my new plate. I just need to bend and absorb the fragrances, hints of taste but no veggies or meat to mar its simple sophistication.
Simran and I, neighbours at the table, share the Rista as we cement a new rishta (relationship) over food. I’m amazed at the porousness of the meat. It looks like a brownish-pinkish rasogulla and tastes delicious. Reminding me of nothing else on earth. I absorb it, eyes closed, loving every moment it stays in my mouth.
Suddenly, Seema Ahmed and Reema notice my neatly organized plate and asks me how I did it. My secret: I shared the food from Simran’s plate.
A large ball in gravy arrives at our table, and all attention is on it. Curious – as always – I ask what it’s called. Goshtaba. Or Gushtaba. It means minced meat prepared in curds. Asif cuts it skilfully into pieces for us all. I find it tender enough to melt in the mouth. And reflects the expertise of generations with its subtle flavours. Wazwan food does not couch itself in pungency. Instead it is bold in the use of spices, yet subtle enough to let each of those tastes shine through. I’m please to say that carried forward into the Kashmiri Halwa and Kahwa. Both sweet enough to be noticed, and flavourful enough to be enjoyed. In total.
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| After the meal. From left: Parijat, Simran, Fowzi, Waza Bashir, Madhav Sehgal, Nawabzada Mohammed Asif Ali, Seema Ahmed, Reema Ahmed |
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