Sometime in the 1990s, on a weary summer afternoon, we disembarked from the Delhi-Pune train, faint with hunger. What revived us at a relative’s home were fluffy groundnut-studded sabudana khichdi with coconut shavings and crunchy sabudana vadas, redolent of potato and coriander.
That day, the humble sago irrevocably carved a place for itself in my heart.
I travelled back in time to that flavourful memory when I stepped into Meena Tai’s, Alwarpet. I walked past the understated waiting area and into a warmly-lit dining space, only to be greeted by, what else but, four plump sabudana vadas, begging to be tasted. Joining them were a delectable mattha (spiced buttermilk), sol kadhi (kokum and spice-infused coconut milk) and the tangy kairichi dal, a tango of raw mango and Bengal gram garnished with crushed mor milagai.
The accompaniments to any self-respecting Maharashtrian meal — pungent lasoon chutney, ghee, and thecha, where pounded chillis and groundnut set your tongue on fire — are served in generously-filled bowls. I stick to the vegetarian fare, but the restaurant’s non-vegetarian offerings have been much-appreciated too.
A string of dishes reaches the table — fragrant kothimbir vadi (fried coriander and chickpea discs), sublime orange-red tomato saar served with an aromatic tondli masale bhaat (rice cooked with ivy gourd/kovaikai), poli and the multi-grain bread thalipeeth eaten with a delicious kelphulachi bhaji (mildly-spiced tender banana flowers cooked with toor dal). My picks, however, would be the creamy, ghee-rich aambaadichi bhaji, a khichdi-like dish made with rice, dal and sorrel leaves (gongura) and the bharli vaangi, a dish the gods thought of. I rate a restaurant by the care it accords to the uncelebrated vegetables. Brinjal is not everyone’s hot favourite; even in places where it is, it is either mashed beyond recognition, overcooked to colourlessness, or too full of seeds to count. Here, it is celebrated, and how! Tender baby brinjals that are still a blushing purple decorate a sweet-spicy groundnut-rich gravy.
As you take in your meal, do look around. A lot of thought has gone into the yellow-tinged décor. Numerous jars hold spices and pulses used in Maharashtrian cooking, and the wall is full of bric-a-brac, especially beautifully carved nutcrackers and coconut graters. A blue chandelier bathes you in mellow light, and a framed vibrant blue Paithani sari with shots of red and green buttas enlivens a wall.
By the time you’re done with the seeing, dessert comes in. They serve chirote, a flaky fried dessert dusted with sugar. It’s time to set aside the fork and spoon; this demands you break it with your fingers and get messy. Next up is piyush. You might want to bow to the great mind that thought of taking the creamy, decadent shrikhand and lightening it with swirls of yoghurt. One mouthful and you know, heaven is right there.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Rarely does restaurant food taste like it came out of the kitchen managed by an elder sister (Tai).
MEAL FOR TWO: Rs. 1,500
LOCATION: 40, Maharaja Surya Road, Venus Colony, Alwarpet (82205 55447)
