The trip was jinxed to begin with – but ended happily. It was one of those would-be rainy days, with hovering dark clouds just waiting to drench the city. But I was feeling particularly brave, and yearning for a hot kachori. The rains do that to me. So, ignoring the ominous clouds, I set out for Old Delhi, in search of a Sardarji who I was told sold delicious kachoris.
I realised it was not my day when I parked my car at Mahavir Vatika in Daryaganj. Don't ever do so in the afternoon, for that's when children come rushing out of the four schools in the neighbourhood, clearly very happy that the school bell's rung for the day. I don't grudge them their happiness, but what they do to the traffic is indescribable. And to make matters worse, a huge truck was going in the wrong direction.
I parked my car, picked up my umbrella — because, of course, by then it had started raining heavily — and hailed a passing rickshaw. I asked him if he knew Sardarji's kachori shop. Of course, he said, and took me instead to someone called Sharma.
I didn't want to hurt Sharmaji's sentiments, so I bought some samosas from him, and then started asking passersby if they knew of a Sardarji who sold kachoris. And, of course, everybody (barring my rickshaw man) did. I was told I'd find him under a mango tree. I found the mango tree, and Sardarji's small shop right there.
Let me give you directions. From Golcha, cross the road towards Ansari Road. You'll hit a T-junction. Turn right from there. You'll find Sardarji some 300 yards down the road on your right.
The kachoris were delicious. He sells one kachori for Rs 10 — which is steep in the neighbourhood. But they are so well cooked that you know why the price is high. The kachoris had a nice filling of a lentil paste that had been cooked with a few spices and some hing (asafoetida). It was oily, but I wasn't there on a health trip, so I had no problems with that. What was nice was the fact that the kachori was crisp and tasty.
It came with a delightful curry of diced potatoes, chholey and little vadis. The vadi, flavoured with hing, gave a lovely burst of its strong flavour the moment you bit into it. The curry had been cooked with methi and other masalas, giving it a flavourful taste, without making it too hot or spicy. I ate some later in the evening too, and though by then the kachoris were no longer crisp, they were still delectable, and went especially well with a cup of hot tea.
Sardarji sells puris and chholey aloo too, but he starts at 8.30 in the morning and gets over with that by 12.30. I shall go back there on another day to have his puri chholey. But only on a day when schools are shut.
