Popular in Bengaluru, Mumbai and Pune, the appeal of food pop-ups is trying to find room in the brick-and-mortar tradition of Delhi-NCR. They might not stick to one place for long, but the culture is here to stay, a logical corollary of the shrinking spaces and high rentals in metros. Sakshi Virmani and Sharad Kohli report on an eating-out trend that’s hosted at the chef’s home, making the experience much more personal.
“I find pop-ups are personal — strangers turn into friends after one pop-up itself,” Sneha Saikia says with a laugh.
For people in search of food with a backstory and atmosphere, or sometimes nostalgia, pop-ups have become must-save dates in the calendar. “Customers are looking for an experience in an intimate space,” says Osama Jalali, food historian and home chef. “They’re also looking for authenticity, which fine-dining cannot always bring.”
Through pop-ups, he adds, one can appreciate the full range and delights of India’s food heritage. “Many Assamese pop-ups are coming up, for example, because people want to go beyond the regular fare.”
In Delhi-NCR, the concept hasn’t gained as much acceptance as it has elsewhere, believes Srikant Vijaykar, one half of a duo that’s on a journey of introducing the lesser-known but delicious Pathare Prabhu cuisine. Still, whether the venue is a Mumbai flat or a sprawling Delhi ‘kothi’, the pop-up is bringing on a platter the country’s culinary diversity.
On a plate, with love
For long, food pop-ups have been part of India’s streetscape, in the form of makeshift stalls around which hungry folks would gather. Now, cuisines from regions across the land are being curated by home chefs, who are digging through old recipes and older ingredients to present local gastronomic cultures to an eager audience.
When Sunetra and Srikant Vijaykar moved to Gurgaon from Mumbai in 2016, they knew little of how unique their cuisine was. “The Vijaykars are a very small community from Maharashtra, the Pathare Prabhu community — worldwide, we number over 6,000, even smaller than the Parsis,” says Sunetra.
In fact, there is, as Srikant points out, more Gujarati and Rajasthani influence in their cuisine than there is Maharashtrian.
The couple’s pop-ups, organised every three months at their Gurgaon pad, usually accommodate around 15 people. Each time, the response is phenomenal. Little wonder, considering the mouthwatering preparations that are served up. “Some of our popular dishes are Paplet Bhujane, a white pomfret curry; Chimboree che Khadkhadle, crabs cooked in Pathare Prabhu sambar masala and lots of garlic; Gode Mutton, a mutton curry made with sambar masala; and Karandiche Lonache, shrimps in homemade pickle masala,” says Sunetra.
Before every pop-up, the Vijaykars fly in fresh food from Mumbai, where their events are more regular and attract the crowds. Srikant reasons it might have something to do with the palate, since Pathare Prabhu cuisine boasts more flavours than spice. A marketing professional, he is currently translating ‘Gruhini-Mitra’, one of the earliest known Indian cookbooks in which are chronicled old Pathare Prabhu dishes.
This table busts myths
At her CR Park home, Sneha Saikia serves dollops of Bhut Jolokia chutney, steamed squash, black-sesame baby potatoes and Manxo (mutton) curry, with rice on the side, on a fresh banana leaf and Kansa plate. Her ‘Table for 6’ acquaints north Indians with the delectable food of the northeast.
Five years ago, Saikia noticed disparaging remarks online about food from the region. “When I joined food groups on social media, I used to see foul comments about the cuisine. A lot of people still think we eat insects, that our food is visually unattractive to north Indians. I thought, let me invite people over and show them what we cook,” says Saikia, who also makes Bodo and Khasi food.
She recalls an incident where a college girl booked the table for the birthday of a friend, who was Assamese. “The birthday boy was so happy, he was almost in tears; he described it as the best gift ever. People from almost all ethnicities have come and enjoyed this food,” Saikia adds.
Then there’s Anchal Bhatia, who runs Tastesutra, a quaint cooking studio in Lajpat Nagar. She also holds pop-ups, including one she called Hidden Culinary Gems, in which guests were served regional preparations that have become rare, among them Bel Sherbet (with nolen gur and amaranth seeds), Kathal ke Kabab, Chicken Ghee Roast (with ragi appam), and Hyderabadi Baghaar-e-Baingan. Bhatia’s labour of love is India on a Thali.
Yet, it’s not just in homes that the phenomenon of the pop-up is playing out. Hotels and restaurants, too, have embraced the concept, as have spaces like clubs in high-end condominiums. “It’s likely that chefs in hotels might not be conversant with a certain cuisine, so hotels can host pop-ups by a chef who would specialise in a certain regional cuisine,” informs Jalali.
The economics behind pop-ups is pretty straightforward, for what drives the home chefs is not profit but a passion to create a memorable experience around food. They spend on the ingredients, while the guests pay for the experience. Alternately, the organiser of a pop-up at a restaurant or hotel gets paid by the establishment in question.
Further, if it’s happening in town, you would get to know about it through word of mouth, and your circle of fellow foodies. Or, of course, through the ubiquitous social media.
Making memories over food
At the end of the day, nothing beats the informality of strangers coming together to break bread at a table. Or, more traditionally, sitting on the floor, among carpets and bolsters and around a dastarkhwan, bonding over a daawat. “It allows people the opportunity to sit down to a meal with a Muslim family, and it gives us the chance to host them,” conveys Jalali, of a very personal experience.
Besides, where else can you learn about ingredients like bitter brinjal, Burmese coriander or single clove garlic? These are difficult to procure in Delhi, so Saikia began growing them here (or, asking anyone visiting from Assam to bring some along). “In our Assamese platter, you will find all the flavours — Khar is alkaline, for spice we have Bhut Jolokia chutney, for a little tangy flavour we have Masor Tenga (tomato fish curry), and steamed vegetables to balance the hotness,” she explains.
“In winters, at one of the pop-ups, I introduced silkworms and red ant eggs that my cousin had sent me from Assam. Everybody was apprehensive at first but when they tried, they loved it.” Indeed, food can make misapprehensions disappear and bring communities closer.
So, the age-old Indian tradition of hospitality is alive. Meanwhile, at Saikia’s pop-ups, every scrumptious meal ends with a steaming brew of comfort. “We have retained the British tea culture for community interaction in the afternoon,” she says.
“I find pop-ups are personal — strangers turn into friends after one pop-up itself,” Sneha Saikia says with a laugh.
For people in search of food with a backstory and atmosphere, or sometimes nostalgia, pop-ups have become must-save dates in the calendar. “Customers are looking for an experience in an intimate space,” says Osama Jalali, food historian and home chef. “They’re also looking for authenticity, which fine-dining cannot always bring.”
Through pop-ups, he adds, one can appreciate the full range and delights of India’s food heritage. “Many Assamese pop-ups are coming up, for example, because people want to go beyond the regular fare.”
In Delhi-NCR, the concept hasn’t gained as much acceptance as it has elsewhere, believes Srikant Vijaykar, one half of a duo that’s on a journey of introducing the lesser-known but delicious Pathare Prabhu cuisine. Still, whether the venue is a Mumbai flat or a sprawling Delhi ‘kothi’, the pop-up is bringing on a platter the country’s culinary diversity.
On a plate, with love
For long, food pop-ups have been part of India’s streetscape, in the form of makeshift stalls around which hungry folks would gather. Now, cuisines from regions across the land are being curated by home chefs, who are digging through old recipes and older ingredients to present local gastronomic cultures to an eager audience.
When Sunetra and Srikant Vijaykar moved to Gurgaon from Mumbai in 2016, they knew little of how unique their cuisine was. “The Vijaykars are a very small community from Maharashtra, the Pathare Prabhu community — worldwide, we number over 6,000, even smaller than the Parsis,” says Sunetra.
In fact, there is, as Srikant points out, more Gujarati and Rajasthani influence in their cuisine than there is Maharashtrian.
The couple’s pop-ups, organised every three months at their Gurgaon pad, usually accommodate around 15 people. Each time, the response is phenomenal. Little wonder, considering the mouthwatering preparations that are served up. “Some of our popular dishes are Paplet Bhujane, a white pomfret curry; Chimboree che Khadkhadle, crabs cooked in Pathare Prabhu sambar masala and lots of garlic; Gode Mutton, a mutton curry made with sambar masala; and Karandiche Lonache, shrimps in homemade pickle masala,” says Sunetra.
Before every pop-up, the Vijaykars fly in fresh food from Mumbai, where their events are more regular and attract the crowds. Srikant reasons it might have something to do with the palate, since Pathare Prabhu cuisine boasts more flavours than spice. A marketing professional, he is currently translating ‘Gruhini-Mitra’, one of the earliest known Indian cookbooks in which are chronicled old Pathare Prabhu dishes.
This table busts myths
At her CR Park home, Sneha Saikia serves dollops of Bhut Jolokia chutney, steamed squash, black-sesame baby potatoes and Manxo (mutton) curry, with rice on the side, on a fresh banana leaf and Kansa plate. Her ‘Table for 6’ acquaints north Indians with the delectable food of the northeast.
Five years ago, Saikia noticed disparaging remarks online about food from the region. “When I joined food groups on social media, I used to see foul comments about the cuisine. A lot of people still think we eat insects, that our food is visually unattractive to north Indians. I thought, let me invite people over and show them what we cook,” says Saikia, who also makes Bodo and Khasi food.
She recalls an incident where a college girl booked the table for the birthday of a friend, who was Assamese. “The birthday boy was so happy, he was almost in tears; he described it as the best gift ever. People from almost all ethnicities have come and enjoyed this food,” Saikia adds.
Then there’s Anchal Bhatia, who runs Tastesutra, a quaint cooking studio in Lajpat Nagar. She also holds pop-ups, including one she called Hidden Culinary Gems, in which guests were served regional preparations that have become rare, among them Bel Sherbet (with nolen gur and amaranth seeds), Kathal ke Kabab, Chicken Ghee Roast (with ragi appam), and Hyderabadi Baghaar-e-Baingan. Bhatia’s labour of love is India on a Thali.
Yet, it’s not just in homes that the phenomenon of the pop-up is playing out. Hotels and restaurants, too, have embraced the concept, as have spaces like clubs in high-end condominiums. “It’s likely that chefs in hotels might not be conversant with a certain cuisine, so hotels can host pop-ups by a chef who would specialise in a certain regional cuisine,” informs Jalali.
The economics behind pop-ups is pretty straightforward, for what drives the home chefs is not profit but a passion to create a memorable experience around food. They spend on the ingredients, while the guests pay for the experience. Alternately, the organiser of a pop-up at a restaurant or hotel gets paid by the establishment in question.
Further, if it’s happening in town, you would get to know about it through word of mouth, and your circle of fellow foodies. Or, of course, through the ubiquitous social media.
Making memories over food
At the end of the day, nothing beats the informality of strangers coming together to break bread at a table. Or, more traditionally, sitting on the floor, among carpets and bolsters and around a dastarkhwan, bonding over a daawat. “It allows people the opportunity to sit down to a meal with a Muslim family, and it gives us the chance to host them,” conveys Jalali, of a very personal experience.
Besides, where else can you learn about ingredients like bitter brinjal, Burmese coriander or single clove garlic? These are difficult to procure in Delhi, so Saikia began growing them here (or, asking anyone visiting from Assam to bring some along). “In our Assamese platter, you will find all the flavours — Khar is alkaline, for spice we have Bhut Jolokia chutney, for a little tangy flavour we have Masor Tenga (tomato fish curry), and steamed vegetables to balance the hotness,” she explains.
“In winters, at one of the pop-ups, I introduced silkworms and red ant eggs that my cousin had sent me from Assam. Everybody was apprehensive at first but when they tried, they loved it.” Indeed, food can make misapprehensions disappear and bring communities closer.
So, the age-old Indian tradition of hospitality is alive. Meanwhile, at Saikia’s pop-ups, every scrumptious meal ends with a steaming brew of comfort. “We have retained the British tea culture for community interaction in the afternoon,” she says.
source https://cvrnewsdirect.com/new-good-food-destination-chefs-home-gurgaon-news/
No comments:
Post a Comment