Pakodis in the land of laal maas

A nondescript stall in Jaipur’s Badi Chaupar serves fresh dal pakodis to die for

It is almost noon and Jaipur’s Badi Chaupar is as busy as it gets. Two-wheelers, autos, buses, cars, rickshaws and e-rickshaws are at loggerheads with each other; pedestrians and cyclists jostle for space. Shops overflow with fabric, garments, shoes, bangles, utensils and, of course, shoppers. In short, there is chaos all over.

But somewhere in this chaos exists a tiny island of calm – an unnamed pushcart selling modest dal pakodis. The cart appears every morning at the junction, and feeds everyone who passes by. From indifferent locals to excited tourists, from hungry students to famished housewives – no one can resist the charm of its piping hot pakodis.

To the world, Jaipur may be famous for its

laal maas and

mirchi vada , but for the locals, Jaipur is synonymous with

dal pakodi s. These

pakodi s, or the deep fried dumplings, are made with ground

moong dal and seasoned with coriander seeds, green chilies, coriander leaves, onions and salt. The homemade mixture rests in a large pan and is beaten vigorously before being dunked into smoking hot oil. Each batch consisting hundreds of pakodis lasts barely a few minutes.

“If you come here on Sunday, you will see buses full of villagers alighting at the crossing and reaching straight for these

pakodi s. One plate keeps them going for the entire day”, says a resident of Jaipur, also a regular at the stall. “The thela happens to be my first stop in the market, too.”

The aroma tells me a fresh batch has just been fried and I promptly ask for a portion. It is handed over to me on a piece of newspaper, garnished with tangy and spicy green chutney. The pakodi s are small, crisp, and piping hot. It is impossible to eat one without burning your fingers of scalding your palate. But I cannot wait and decide to give it a go anyway.

Because the

pakodi is small, it does not really burn the palate, but instead causes an explosion of flavours and textures in the mouth. There’s heat of the chili, crunch of the onion, strength of asafetida, tang of dry mango, softness of the dal, bite of coriander seeds — all at the same time. In a matter of seconds I have forgotten about the heat, dust, crowds and noise. As I reach out for another portion, I know why tiny

dal pakodi s rule the roost in the Pink City.