Delhi’s Ghevar
Several delicacies are linked inseparably with the monsoon, and among them is that big disc of sugary, rich goodness called the ghevar. A traditional Rajasthani sweet with origins in Jaipur, ghevar is popular during the Teej festival. During Raksha Bandhan, brothers are expected to carry ghevar to their sister’s house and the sister feeds him a big chunk of it after tying the rakhi and applying the tika.
The recipe calls for fried discs made from a batter of milk, oil, flour and an impressive amount of ghee, and soaked in sugar syrup. The ghevar is enjoyed across not just Rajasthan, but also Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh and Delhi. Of course, like any other great Indian dessert, it comes in many different varieties, including the very temptingly-named mawa ghevar and malai ghevar. Whichever ghevar you choose, chances are you’ll be served your portion with a sprinkle of almonds, pistachios or cardamom powder. These condiments add layers to the taste and also help cut the overwhelming sweetness of the dessert. Sometimes, a hole is carved in the centre of the ghevar disc and filled with cream, fruits or nuts.
Hyderabad’s Mirchi Bajjis
Nothing complements the weather better than a steaming mirchi bajji. Mostly considered an evening snack in Hyderabad, these bajjis are most sought-after finger food when the sky is overcast and the temperature drops with a few spells of rain. They are popular as vegetarian starters at weddings, get-togethers, meetings or just as an evening snack.
Mirchi bajjis are usually made by dunking non-pungent big chilli, locally called mirapakaya, in batter and then deep-frying it. The same variety of green chilli is used in the mirchi ka salan, which is served with Hyderabadi biryani. The batter to be fried is a thick gram flour paste with salt.
Depending on the area and how it is preferred by the vendor’s regular customers, the bajji has two main ingredients for stuffing – the most common, and favourite, being a semi-thick tamarind paste. Another variant is a masaledar mashed potato stuffed into the chilli.
The tamarind paste, if used, is just enough to give that tangy feel to the palate. After the mirchi is stuffed, it is dipped into the batter and deep-fried for a couple of minutes in hot oil until brown and crispy.
Sometimes, the mirchi is cut and sprinkled with a handful of chopped onions and good dusting of chaat masala.
Bangalore’s Maddur Vade
The monsoon season is made for snacking, and, in Karnataka, especially in the southern regions of the State, the Maddur Vade is a hot favourite evening tiffin, along with a steaming cup of coffee. Who can say no to this fried golden-brown delight of a disc, laced with succulent fried onions, offset by crunchy rava? And no, it’s nothing like the pakoda.
The vade derives its name from the town of Maddur, almost midway between Bangalore and Mysore, and is a “must have” for travellers on the highway between the two cities.
The dish has attained almost legendary status, thanks to the oft-quoted story of how it was “accidentally” made by a vendor at the Maddur Railway Station as a quick fix instead of his standard pakoda, when a train arrived early.
Most homes have variations of a standard recipe — made with (or without) jeera, curry leaves, green chillies, and cashewnuts — and no one can agree on the exact ingredients.
The crux of the vade lies in getting its thickness and texture right; it cannot be hard, cannot be soft, mustn’t crumble and the dainty onion bits shouldn’t burn. It needs to be just the right amount of crispy and melt-in-the-mouth.
The secret to its perfection lies in the ratio of rava, maida, and rice flour used, and how it’s fried. It must be eaten hot to savour the burst of flavours, and tastes best with kai (coconut) chutney.
Chennai’s Boli
On gloomy, rainy evenings, as you head back home, it seems like the perfect weather for bajji or masala paal (milk). Those are Chennai staples in the monsoon, and something that’s universally enjoyed. But, if you want something different, then the boli is your best bet.
When you pass by any boli stall, the aroma of ghee beckons. And no matter what you’re in the mood for, sweet or savoury, there’s an option for you.
It is usually made of a maida-based dough, with a filling of Bengal gram flour, jaggery and coconut; it can also be stuffed with masala. Pressed flat with a ghee-greased plantain leaf, it is then placed on a spitting hot griddle, and cooked on both sides. It’s best eaten hot: so, at the various stalls that specialise in boli, you will see several patrons wielding umbrellas with one hand as they tuck into their favourite version of the snack.
With inputs from Swati Daftuar, Bhumika K., Prabalika Borah M, Susanna Myrtle Lazarus
