Reema: Irani Chai
Brown is a special colour. It envelopes many things of beauty – soil that nurtures life, our skin that, despite lingering colonial hangovers, continues to protect us, and, on the same plane, chai, in all its shades of brown.
The potency of a cup of chai is often determined by the depth of its colour. My mother, who routinely makes chai, claims that this colour is achieved by intuition, rather than a recipe that takes the fun out of the process.
There might be as many types of chai as there are street corners in India, but there is one that warms me unlike any other, one that requires a smidge more patience and care than others. Irani chai – named after Iranian immigrants, or Zoroastrians, who opened traditional Irani cafes in Hyderabad in the 19th and 20th centuries.
It is made by brewing a strong, concentrated black tea using a steam-sealing method. Full-fat milk is then reduced separately with cardamom and condensed milk until it reaches a thick and creamy consistency. Both are combined only when served. The deep golden chai is then served with ‘bun maska’, a buttery bread that makes for the perfect accoutrement.
This duo makes chai time in India extra sweet, because regardless of how chaotic it gets, a cup of Irani chai slows everything down.
Sakti: Vegetarian Fish Curry
Is it still fish curry if it contains no fish? That’s a conundrum for someone with a lot of time on their hands, but for me it represents a dish that is close to my heart – and stomach. When I flew back from my semester exchange programme in the United States, my family asked me where we should go for a meal to celebrate my return.
I simply replied: “I just want Amma’s vegetarian fish curry.” Tangy and creamy with none of the hassle of picking out fish bones, served alongside steamed Thai jasmine rice (because that’s how we roll in my household) and raita that has been chilled overnight so the onions and cucumbers are perfectly pickled and crisp.
As the water poured down from Changi Airport’s Jewel Rain Vortex, I sat on a bench and used my luggage as a makeshift table to spread the tupperwares of food my late mother had lovingly packed for me. That first bite of curry and rice reminded me that I was back home, truly.
Ezekiel: Vawk Lu Bawl
During festive seasons in my home state of Mizoram in India, Christmas or New Year’s, the townspeople living around major churches come together to make the feast. The community contributes right from cutting vegetables, hunting, and butchering meats to serving dishes to anyone who comes by. These feasts have at least 15 dishes depending on the size of the community. A dish that is usually in the line-up is Vawk lu bawl.
It is a traditional dish made from pig’s head meat, roasted perilla seeds, onion, garlic and ginger. Usually eaten with sticky rice, the fattiness and cartilage of the head always warm me up on even the coldest days on the hills, especially when eaten with ground fresh chillies. It’s a true testament to tribal traditions of not wasting any part of the animal. Even though the dish is more commonly found in feasts, my grandmother always makes a small batch for me so that I can have it for one extra meal.
