Durga Puja

Finally, the mother has gone home, we can return to our own home also...Durga puja is finally over.
The colour, the smell, the sound of drums are still ringing in my ears. This like always is a haven for photographers, every angle there is a frame lurking , waiting to be captured. But, every photographer has to march or click on a full stomach...there were food available on every corners, their aroma hitting my nose, making me hold on the shutter button. Well, I have to wait for another year before I can practise the art of doing both...and offcourse smell-o-rama....:)

Ramzan in Delhi...shoot or eat

This is a time where it is a photographer's delight and a gourmet's...fortunately being a photog, I cann escape to this world ...and after a session of photography, one needs to reinvigorate the creative cells in the brain, ah the street foods during iftar , the aroma wafting through the air...suddenly you feel like jettisoning your camera and reach for the plate...no fork,no knife, it is finger licking good !
Now I am working on smell-o-vision for the web, till then you have to take my word for it.

Durga Puja

Durga Puja is almost here...shorot kaal...as they say in bengali, wispy white clouds floating in blue sky...I can almost hear the drums beating ....Sameer Mandal is busy giving the finishing touches to the Durga idol.

Nam food in Delhi

Any body who has never been too fond of history should never have any problem regarding the word "Vietnam"...it has been used ad naseum in Hollywood flicks and now coined an almost new form...adj...nammed !!
Now I am not talking about any geopolitical scenario...it is food....something which tugs at my heart and my paunch seems to affirm the love for anything edible.
A lazy sunday morning...the morning newspaper, a restaurant review, not the AA Gill type one encounters on the page of Sunday Times, a more local version of a mainstream newspaper, critiqued by a rotund person, known to swing mass opinion and also the mass of her opinion changes on the basis of the gratitude shown by the restauranteurs. An eatery, with a wow name Blanco...almost a five star michelin (if there was ever one)...offering vietnamese food...suddenly I could hear the birds cooing, the sun was just right and the pollution of Delhi seemed to have disappeared !
One late evening, I waltzed in to the restaurant, a stark white minimalist decor, wonder why ? Not that it was not looking nice....but that was the first warning which my buzzing brain refused to entertain. Then came the second warning, the menu placed in front of me offered cuisine from just all over the world...okay let 's give them a chance...!
Ordered with a brave heart, the starter was nice...a generous portion of crispy vegetable in saigon sauce...served on a bed of fried rice noodles...the dish was surprisingly nice and fresh, the guard comes down a few notches in my brain, relax and now lets wait for the main course.
The main course, Grilled fish with herbs, Saigon style and Vietnamese curry...the disaster starts to unfold, plate by plate...the fish albeit very fresh was overpowered by the generous use of herbs, and cherry tomatoes...do they have cherry tomatoes in Vietnam ? The Vietnamese curry was a mongrel...a cross between a Thai curry, anything with coconut milk becomes one here in Delhi, and any other oriental country you can think of...I couldn't !
The chef was duly summoned, just maybe there was a switch at the kitchen end...possible...the chef insisted there were no mistakes, this is the Vietnamese curry we make...and if we made it authentic, nobody will ever eat.
Delhi caters to a palate which cannot accept anything authentic unless you pay a visit (with gloves to do the dishes) at any of the many overpriced specialty outlets in the swanky hotels.
This was a lesson learned, sanity took a backseat, hoping to savour the taste of something mild, aromatic Vietnamese food, maybe it was their attempt at a nouvelle cuisine, a fusion between God knows what and Punjabi cuisine to attract the locals....WHY ?