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Bhaiyyaji's Dehati Chicken

A tribute to the spirit of Bhaiyyaji @ the Deloitte Top Chef competition

The Basics

• The secret ingredient of this dish – Mustard Oil
• The secret to success of this dish – A walk into the Indian Store
• The basic truth about this dish – There is nothing called a Dehati Chicken

A bit of a background because food is also about the experience

70% of India lives in the villages. In the northern part of India “Dehat” figuratively means “village”. The language is Hindi which is also the national language. But it is not the mother tongue of over 80% of the country. But we wanted a language to connect. So Hindi it had to be because it does not necessarily belong to a particular state and no one would be unhappy. The idea is not a total success but with a mix of Hindi and English you can survive in India, almost.

When an Indian wage worker comes to the cities for work he usually leaves his near and dear ones back in the country side. He works hard and once a year goes back to his “Dehat”. That’s when his wife would cook chicken for him.

Dehati Chicken is coined in honor of those million Indian who are away from their family toiling everyday, saving up to be permanently back to their home someday – a day which rarely comes.

I suggest you watch the classic Indian movie called Do Bigha Zameen (My small piece of land) which got rave reviews in Cannes Film festival in the 60s. It is about a rickshaw pullers struggling life in the bustling metropolis of Calcutta.

I first ate Dehati chicken in a small shack in Bangalore opened by one of my friend’s brother. He was from the Indian state of Bihar which is the most backward. It is the state which is home to Bodh Gaya where Gautam Buddha attained his salvation. It is the pilgrimage place to millions of Buddhists across the world.

I didn’t ask for the recipe. So my Dehati Chicken doesn’t taste like his. But the basic philosophy is the same. Cook fresh. Coarse grind spice (“masala” in Hindi) and spice it up with love and care. I added the mustard oil bit because I think mustard oil adds the pungency to food and makes it rustic and earthy.

Incidentally, mustard oil is the cooking medium for the entire eastern part of the country. I am a Bengali hailing from the Indian state of West Bengal. Our staple diet is fresh river fish and river fish has distinct taste when cooked with mustard oil. Sometime back, there was trepidation that mustard oil is not good for the heart. But research has proven that it mingles so well with fish that it actually ends up being good for the heart.

So on to the recipe. Before that only one rejoinder – I cook by the day. My dishes never taste the same. And I never measure my stuff. My nose and my mood dictate how much spices and how many spices I put. This is my first attempt to a written recipe.

Statutory warning: This dish is not meant for the weak hearted and health conscious

Ingredients that I used that day (and for this visit an Indian Store):

• Mustard Oil
• Garlic Ginger Paste
• Red Chilli Powder (preferably coarse ground)
• Cinnamon (coarse ground)
• Cardamom (coarse ground)
• Bay Leave (whole)
• Onion (not the sweet ones – I used 3 onions nicely chopped)
• Garam Masala (meaning “Hot Spice” – the secret ingredient of north Indian cooking available in any India store and is a mixture 6-7 different spices)
• A few thin slices of Ginger
• Chicken Curry Powder (I used Shan, you can use any one available in India store)
• Clarified Butter (Called “Ghee” in India)
• Tomatoes (one small one)
• Plain Yoghurt

Apart from this you will need:
Chicken (usually in an India village they will cook country chicken and with the bones). I bought it from Safeway and I bought 5 lbs.

The Process that I followed that day:
Marinate the Chicken overnight. I think this is overkill. Two hours is just enough

What to marinate with?

• Yoghurt (just enough to coat the chicken)
• Ginger Garlic Paste (just enough maybe around 2 teaspoons)
• Salt
• Shan Chicken Curry Masala (2 teaspoons)
• Mustard Oil (about 3-4 table spoons)

Add mustard oil in the pan. Heat and then add the Bay Leaf, Cinnamon, Cardamom and sliced ginger. Stir it but be careful never to overheat it at this state or else the spice gets burnt, gets killed and stops playing a part.

Next add the onion and stir it till golden brown. Add ginger garlic paste (2 teaspoons again) and 1 teaspoon of garam masala and 1 tea spoon of Shan chicken curry masala.Let it cook a bit till the oil starts bubbling out. That’s the time you know the spices are well cooked and its time for the chicken to dance into the pan.

Add chicken and stir it continuously for whatever time it takes. For me it took about 25-30 minutes. And again the oil will start bubbling out and you know it is well cooked.

Add the chopped tomatoes. Stir it up again till the tomatoes glisten. Add a teaspoon of the clarified butter. Stir it again for about a min or two and then finally add another bout (a pinch may be) of garam masala and you are ready to have a touch of the India village right into the heart of your house.

Just incase if you have read till now I am having a creeping ambition growing inside me. To open a restaurant alongside an Old Age Home – each feeding of the other.

Yosemite - Guilty Fun

I read about the Sierra Nevada mountains in Ms. Bose' geography lessons way back in 1987. Little did I know that 20 years later I would be in its lap.

Like all natural wonders the experience left me spellbound. It left me gaping at the wisdom of these granite shapes, jutting into the sky like monoliths reminding me of the futility of things.

The Giant Sequoias trees - known to be the world's largest trees in terms of volume - almost mocking human kinds' eternal quest for the nothing.

The nothing which they have achieved without nothing.



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Ice Skating

Each week has been an exploration. And this week was about Ice Skating.

Munmun is a champion roller skater so how could I be left behind when I saw an ice skating rink near the Ferry building.

So I put on the boots and hopped in. And what an experience. I slipped, I rolled, falling again and again and finally getting swept off my feet by two graceful Germans. They made people like us look wooden footed.

Thats Andrea and Svenja helping me out.

Thanks to them finally I knew the technique which my wife verifies is the right piece of advice. And the second day I had my boot tied up by the wife of an elderly professor. She taught me the secret - tighten your boots right up to your ankles. So I did and it changed everything. Suddenly I felt balanced and the weight was no more on my feet.

Though not as graceful I wasnt too bad for someone only in his second day in the rink. And I promise I will keep on going till I feel at home. Find out yourself.

Ghetuchi Mumbai

Ghetu's post provoked me...

I can identify with what Ghetu is going through right now. Each time I go to a new city I try to own it up. Making myself feel positive about it. I am convinced thats the best way to go. Sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn't.

I have been lucky till now. My experience with every city where I have spent some time has been mostly positive.

Calcutta, Mumbai, Delhi, Indore, Bangalore, Pune, copenhagen, San Francisco (and I really wish the list goes on and on) have all been great for me. If ever someone were to ask me to make a choice it would be damn difficult.

But this was about Ghetu's Mumbai and I apologise for digressing.

Mumbai has been my second big city experience outside Kolkata. In 1999, munmun and me, still unmarried then, saved some 5 grand from our meagre incomes and decided to hop on to a train to Mumbai. We wanted to see how life was there, to explore if we could make the city our own.

I had heard of Opu, her brother and his big shot wife, Guddi who worked for MTV. And that got me excited as I wanted to make a career like that developing content which could reach the mass. However I didnt know how it would work out. I didnt know them and here I was going to stay with them, invading the privacy of Mumbaikars.

They were at the station, Opu with his usual reticent first impressions and Guddi reaching out almost immediately. A weight lifted off my shoulder. I felt at home the moment I reached their house. I am sure from that day on, Munmun must have started dreaming of a similar life. I dont blame her. Is she still dreaming??

I was amazed by Mumbai, so different from Kolkata. Those flyovers, the pace of life, the beautiful sea, the activity, the clockwork timing. Kolkata seemed so sleepy in comparison. There were almost no ambassadors on the roads. The local trains packed some nice good looking girls and some nice prim professionals.

The BEST buses didnt allow us to board from the front door. And I remember the A1 ride - my first public air conditioned bus for Rs. 25. I remember Opu drawing money out from an ATM. I didnt even have a bank account then. Their gated lifestyle in Tarapore garden. I never visited a gated community before except in Mandeville Gardens.

It was also the time when Opu told me about email. kausik99@hotmail.com was opened. He told me that you dont need to go places to look for a job. You can do it online. He told me about "internet". He shaped my idioitc CV.

The Lokhandwala market, Linking road, Powai, Hiranandani Garden. I was spellbound. Almost dared to think I could survive there. And I didnt even venture to Colaba - the heart of Mumbai for me.

Since then I have been back so many times. Many times for work meeting Subhash Ghai or the folks at ICICI Bank, or DCB in Jogeshwari or even visiting the royal sea-facing office of HLL, going through the roads of Crawford market with sales agent of HLL who was visiting the Gujrati kirana stores.

I have visited Mumbai many a times over the weekend while I was in Pune. Starting with a hot shower, rolling around with Ayush in his make believe world, going to the shopping malls of Mumbai. Riding down the highway, going to the Juhu beach. So most of my Mumbai memories has been sweet and salty.

I love Mumbai because I have always gone there when I had nothing to lose. When I had a nice cosy place to stay. When I had warm water running down the showers cleaning my sweat stenched body. I have been in Mumbai When I had company money in my pocket which helped me to take a cab and not make it to an appointment in a train. At most times I had Opu and Guddi taking me around and spending for me.

I quite liked Mumbai's representation in Shantaram - ignore the patronizing texts for while. The book was one of the reasons that I came through Mumbai while on my way to SF. And anyways with Guddi around Mumbai is so very warm for me to go and feel comfortable.

But the part that I hate about Mumbai is the folks who are not true Mumbaikars. People who want to be owned up. They suck. Big time. They are vain. Insecure that somehow they have their head above the water but they can sink any time. Clinging on.

Every city has layers and shades. They refuse to acknowledge that. Acknowledge that travelling sucks in Mumbai. They refuse to acknowledge commuting during monsoon in Mumbai can be an ordeal. The traffic sucks. The "get on with your job bhai" temperament of some is so pathetic.

They refuse to acknowledge that every city has heart and character. That every city has some innate qualities that make them different from each other. That Mumbai is not the only city where people have a spirit.

Frankly Mumbai scares me as place to live and work. I just feel the city is going to gobble me and my personal life. But I think after spending time in so many cities of India I am slowly marinating to a stint in the city.

I agree with Ghetu, the best thing about Mumbai is the service oriented mindset. And its way ahead of any city in India. It runs like a clock.

Nothing epitomises it more than the Dabbawallahs. Or for that matter the ringing bell at exactly the same time for your daily milk and newspapers. Order for a kilo of potatoes and you will have it delivered. Having stayed in Kolkata, Hyderabad and Bangalore I know what happens when you dont have that kind of service oriented attitude.

And finally I love the Mumbai smell, thick with the air of the sea, almost sour if you open your mouth. You can close my eyes and take me to there and I will know its Mumbai. Just like I will know when its Durga Puja time in Kolkata.

I twice came close within sniffing distance of that smell, to make Mumbai my home. Maybe someday, maybe next time.