I like to link the weather with street food. During the rains, I go in search of pakoras. When the sun melts the tar on the roads, I look out for the man who sells sherbets. When it's cold, I love my kababs and kormas. But when the weather is the way it is now – the daytime is warm and sunny, and the mornings and evenings are chilly – my heart yearns for hing ki kachori. The heady aroma of asafoetida is a signal for me that winter is round the corner. Hing, after all, gives you a nice and warm feeling.
So a few days ago I decided to visit a favourite haunt of mine. Narayan Das Halwai is one of the best known hing ki kachoriwallahs in Old Delhi. I'd written about him earlier, and wanted to see if his kachoris were still to die for. I'll give you a one-word answer to that: Yes.
The shop is at the T-junction of Naya Bans and Khari Baoli. I took the Metro and got down at the Chandni Chowk station. From the station I hopped on to an electric van, which took me to Fatehpuri. It was just before noon and I was feeling pleasantly peckish. So I decided to first eat some puris and potato and chick peas at Chaina Ram Halwai's sweet shop and then proceed towards the 70-odd-year-old shop for the kachoris.
Hing ki kachori
I ate the puris cooked in desi ghee (Rs.40 for two) and then got ready for the hing ki kachori. I started walking towards Khari Baoli, keeping to the left of the road. I passed several shops with their aromatic spices kept in colourful mounds to entice customers. Soon, I saw a crowd of some 20 people huddled outside a shop. This, I knew, was my destination – Narayan Das Halwai's tiny little shop. If you seek directions, though, it would be better to ask for hingwalley kachori, for that's what the place is widely known as.
They make just two kinds of snacks there – kachoris and samosas. Both are served with a delicious mashed potato curry. For Rs.10, you get three pieces of kachoris or samosas. The halwai puts a dollop of the potato sabzi into a dona, and then breaks the samosas or the kachoris over it. The moment he smashes them, you get this wonderful whiff of hing attacking your nostrils. I had asked for kachori, because that was going to be my lunch for the day. I carried quite a few platefuls for friends awaiting lunch.
Narayan Das Halwai's kachoris are just as good as they used to be. It's not just the wonderful aroma of hing, but also the crispiness of the kachori that makes it so very special. Once you've dipped a piece into the aloo sabzi and popped it into your mouth, you feel that life is never going to be the same again. I had my fill, and buttoned up my coat. A cold breeze had started blowing, but I was as warm as could be. A crispy hing ki kachori does that to me.
