Happy Birthday

Dearest Pappa,

Love you & miss you.

... of Tarkarli beach, the fresh catch and coastal cuisine

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What does the term 'Malvani Cuisine' bring to mind? To me it's rich and spicy coconut-curried fish sitting on rice, with some crisp, fried prawns by the side along with a glass of tangy 'sol-kadhi'. And what if it is accompanied by the soothing sound of waves and a mug of chilled beer on Tarkarli beach? What does one say? It's not just food... it's an experience to be savored, the complete Malvani experience.

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Sindhudurg and Tarkarli had been on my wish-list for a long time. So when the invitation to join a group of picnickers came in I readily accepted it. In a couple of hours I was in the chartered bus on an over-night journey from Bombay to Malvan.

I think it is now necessary to give my readers some geographic clarity. Sindhudurg is a district in the state of Maharashtra on the Maharashtra - Goa border. Malvan is one of it’s eight talukas (taluka : an administrative division, akin to a city). Sindhudurg, the district gets its name from Sindhudurg, the sea-fort. Tarkarli is a fishing village in Malvan with a beach so beautiful that it is locally known as the queen of beaches.

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Tarkarli Beach

Waking up to a mild, rising sun and abundant greenery is the best part of such over-night bus journeys to the countryside, especially to a concrete jungle-dweller like me. It is a cool morning with a bit of fog. The hilly, gently undulating terrain is clad with varied shades of green – paddy fields, shrubbery covered slopes, palms, banyan trees, even an occasional river.

The sign of things to come: En route to Tarkarli

It’s late in the morning when we arrive at Tarkrli. We check-in at the MTDC resort which is an okayish place. There are some lapses in cleanliness, but our cottage is adjoining the beach and with a view so heavenly, worldly things like a bit of sand on the floor, not-too-clean towels or shoddy service can sometimes be overlooked.

Our boat-shaped cottage

Sitting on the sand, staring into the waves of the sea is such a stress-buster. And with a beach like this it is as good as it can ever get - clean and uncommercialised. The Sawantwadi sea-fort at a distance, on the horizon and the casurina trees gently swaying in the resort behind. I spent a lot of my time lazing on hammocks, listening to the music of the sea.

(photo courtesy: Rajan)

Tarkarli, as I mentioned before, is primarily a fishing village. Peak fishing activity happens early in the morning, but some action is on through-out the day till the sun sets in the Arabian Sea. And some fisher folk are always at work on the beach – singing as they heave the catch out from the sea, gathering their nets together.

All in a day's work

The variety of sea-food is awesome and so is the size of the tiger prawns in the catch. The prawns are nothing short of irresistible. My dad had once told me that the way to determine the freshness of prawn is the ‘straightness’ test. I.e. Freshness is directly proportional to the straightness and the staler they are they tend to curve inwards. But here in Tarkarli, (my vegetarian readers, please excuse me!) the fish is so fresh, it jumps and also, the prawns are not exactly straight, they bend backwards!

Prawn Basket

Our 'friendly, neighborhood fisherman'

How I wished I could do a ‘Madhur Jaffery’ and cook the catch then and there on the beach. Since that wasn’t possible, we took the second best option. There are a many houses in Tarkarli village that offer home-cooked food. We arranged for our basket, with the variety of sea-food to be cooked for dinner in the characteristic Malvani style in one such place.

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That is a dinner that I can put down on my list of 'memorable' meals. Succulent prawns, crisp on the outside. Authentic Malvani- style fish curry with spice levels perfectly adjusted to our urban palate and the digestive, tasty ‘sol-kadhi’ to wash our food down. As a matter of fact this was the combination that we had for lunch and dinner during our course of stay here. Did it get repetitive or tiresome? No way. On the contrary it left us all craving for more.

Chocolate Haven in the Blue Mountains

Location: Sydney, NSW, Australia
Time: Early April

The morning has all the ingredients for a terrific excursion. Winter is setting in slowly – the air is cool and the sun is shining, nice and bright. Perfect holiday weather! We are driving down to the Blue Mountains.

Really looking forward to this walk in the Australian bush! There are various treks here. Each of them is marked with a sign indicating the difficulty level and time taken to complete it.

One thing that is very evident about this place is the way it is kept up. Steps are provided where ever there is an especially steep gradient. Railings are positioned, albeit very unobtrusively, on narrow sections. But in spite of all these safety measures the overall foresty feel of the trail is not lost.

This place is not just a visual treat but also a treat for the lungs. Purest of pure air – oxygen therapy!

Our walk is fun. We go down a valley. The view is fabulous. We come across some crystal clear brooks on the way. There is something very typical, very uniquely “Australian” about the undergrowth of this place.

A small drive away from the trekking area is an amazing sight – the Three Sisters.

Three Sisters: a natural formation

There is a beautifully calming quality to the Blue Mountains. The kind that makes me feel like I want to build a log cabin and stay on for ever… Too much wishful thinking! “Maybe I should camp here overnight?” Good idea! I’ll do it in my next visit…Surely!

The Blue Mountains appear blue from a distance, therefore the name! There is a scientific reason behind this phenomenon. The terrain is covered with eucalyptus trees. The oil from the trees forms a misty layer in the surrounding atmosphere causing sunlight to refract and hence giving the mountains a blue tinge.

Hey, the Indian name for Eucalyptus is Nilgiri. (Sanskrit: Nil – Blue; Giri – Mountain) Just figured out why!! And there is the Nilgiri Mountain in the south of India.

We’ve walked around so much. Am I tired? Not in the least? Hungry? Yes, has anyone realized we are very close to lunch-time!?

A little further is an outfit called (chocoholics beware!) – The Chocolate Factory. What a place!! They manufacture and sell chocolates here, in this cosy dwelling nestled among mountains. Isn’t this the stuff dreams are made of!?

You see the process of making chocolate here. Needless to say, the place smells divine. Well, the olfactory and visual senses are targeted and the mind has stopped thinking. Doesn’t chocolate evoke the most primal emotions?

Well, it is from this place, in the fantastic backdrop of the Blue Mountains, that my first chili chocolate came from! This one is rich dark on the outside with a truffle centre. It has a “hand-made” look as if it’s rough and dented and rolled in cocoa.

We get the usual favourites packed – rum n’ raisin, plain dark, etc. and decide to sample the chili. At first bite it almost tastes like the regular dark and then slowly the warm spike of chili emerges on you. It is a complete explosion of flavors. Amazing!!

Hats off to the person who discovered chili chocolate! I mean cocoa is regular condiment of Mexican cuisine – like if I were to think of a parallel, akin to how Indian cuisine uses turmeric – but this is different! To most people today ‘chili chocolate’ is an outright oxymoron. To bring these diverse flavors together a person would need a mind that is OPEN. So much for philosophy!

Cheesecake at the Blue Mountains Chocolate Factory Cafe

We leave the place delighted at our discovery. We’re going to catch lunch… It’s going to be steak at a steakhouse back in Sydney – medium rare. Maybe today I’ll try it rare… surely… discuss it some other day.

P.S. A special thanks to my blogger buddy Prasan for motivating this post.

New Look for Chili Chocolate

Brad Pitt does it for almost every role. So does Aamir Khan, closer home in India. Now Chili Chocolate decides to follow suit, so cheers for a new look. Yippee!

No, the reason for changing is not so trivial – I’m not even close to suggesting that Mr Pitt or Mr Khan get a new image for frivolous reasons. Of course it’s to get under the skin of the character. – But it is not change for the sake of change!

Let’s go back to where we should – the beginning of Chili Chocolate (CC). There was a time I wrote when something really ‘inspired me’ and prompted me to put words on paper. Eventually, these articles just got lost in my bookshelf. So, when I started the blog, my intention was basically to have a place to post these pieces of writing.

“So what’s the big deal about it?” you’ll ask, “Most of the blogging community starts that way!” I know, but very soon I began to question and these questions perpetually seemed to be there at the back of my mind:

What does CC stand for?

Is it friendly?

Is it easy on the eyes or is it getting over-crowded and busy?

Please, but it doesn’t even have a welcome note!

This new look is my answer to all those questions (and exclamations).

But on the flip side, I’m still not used to this new ‘image’, if I may use the word! It feels like it’s someone else’s blog!! Guess it’ll take me some time to get accustomed.

If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies.

However, it is for you my readers and friends, to tell me if it is a butterfly or a dull moth. Your opinion matters to me… very much. Please take the poll and let me know (new readers included). I’ll be glad if you also leave a comment.

Long ago, a wise sage once said “If nothing changes, nothing changes”…

The Philadelphia Post

This was my first time to the city of Philadelphia. The usual research that I had done before going to there spoke about the role of the city in shaping American History. Sites like the Liberty Bell and the Independence Hall topping the ‘things to see’ list! And then there were the museums, the Betsy Ross house and of course, the Eastern State Penitentiary (refer to previous post).

Independence Hall

Philadelphia City Hall

And... its mirror image

Statue of William Penn atop the City Hall

There is always so much more to a city, any city than the regular things to do or see lists, isn't it?

In the case of Philadelphia, it is nicknamed ‘The city of Brotherly Love’ (Greek: philos – love; adelphos – brother). Many Asian countries believe in the effects that one’s name can have on an individual. The holder of the name, it is said, imbibes its qualities. I may dismiss it generally, but it couldn’t be truer where this place is concerned. Because Philly, in my experience, is one friendly city!

Friendship Arch in Chinatown, a gift to the city of Philadelphia, crafted by artisans of Tianjin, China (A sister city)

The city is very global with people of so many different races and nationalities living here… people, who are warm, sociable, accommodating and smile easily. This, in my opinion is one of the prime things that makes a vacation worth being taken.

We walked a lot in Philly. The air was cool and it would drizzle of and on, so it made venturing out on foot so much fun! Pritam and I stayed at a friend’s which is in a residential neighborhood about 15-minutes walking distance from the Independence Hall. There is something very distinctive about the residential architecture here. Homes are typically quaint row houses, mostly with red-brick façades. A lot of them have windows bordered with pretty, flowering plants.

Apart from its historical significance, one aspect that strikes me about this city is its murals. Wonderful, eye-catching pieces of art that cover walls of buildings! They give Philly a unique, artistic identity. They depict various themes and some of them are really huge.

Philly, as I understand, has an extensive mural arts program. It was started with a view to counter the huge graffiti problem that the city faced. As part of the program graffiti vandals gained guidance from professional artists thereby helping them channel their creativity.

Today, there are over 2,500 murals in the city and more are created regularly, giving Philly its uniquely artistic identity!

Another characteristic of this city is its parks and squares

I have come to the last day of my vacation. We’ve been indulging in diverse cuisines – Turkish, French, Japanese… but have yet to try the Philly cheesesteak. “No Worries!” Our host and dost (Hindi: dost – friend) Ravi takes us to Pat’s at the Italian Market. Philly cheesesteaks are available all over the city but here is where we get the real McCoy. No other meal of the day being feasible, it’s got to be breakfast. So, we head for ‘Pat’s – King of Steaks’.

The time is about 11 a.m. There is a queue of four or five people before us. “This place is packed at night. Come here after midnight and you’ll have to wait for ages” Ravi says. And if I remember correctly, Pat's is open 24-hours.

Across the road is Geno’s, another cheesesteak spot and competition to Pat’s. Both places are supposed to have some really die-hard patrons!

The cheesesteak is divine. I’m not one for hearty breakfasts but can’t resist something so good! It is a plump bread roll stuffed with strips of steak and crunchy fried onions. Loaded with cheese - melting and gooey! If only there was a can of chilled Budweiser to go with it! Heard of champagne brunches (haven’t tried yet!) but beer breakfast… ahem!

I eat it all and feel very guilty later. Why are all good things in life illegal, immoral or fattening? Never mind…

Beer reminds me of an apt proverb I’d read flipping through a book of Ben Franklin proverbs at the Franklin Institute. ‘Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.’ Couldn’t agree more!

Statue of Benjamin Franklin at the Franklin Institute

Eastern State Penitentiary: the prison for repentance?

pen·i·tence – (noun) the state of being penitent; regret for one's wrongdoing or sinning; contrition; repentance

It is a cloudy morning in Philly, the second of my four-day sojourn. It has been drizzling intermittently but it has stopped raining now as we step out. Perfect weather to visit the Eastern state penitentiary - dry enough to walk around and grey enough for that aura of mystery!

Penitentiary, to put it simply, is a jail with a fundamental difference. The idea is not to punish but to invoke in the confined individual, a sense of atonement or “penitence”. It is not operational prison any longer but it’s a historical site, open for public viewing.

We walk from the bus stop to the penitentiary. Nearby houses are pretty with well-decorated doorways painted in vibrant colors – mauve, maroon, red, bottle green, yellow, even a shade close to electric blue!

The enormous wall and guard towers of the Eastern state penitentiary tower among the town houses. The structure is visible from a distance. It seems silently stony and forbidding, almost ominous and brings to my mind what I read on the internet – some cells of the penitentiary are haunted! My heart begins to race. There are hundreds of thousands of little wild flowers surrounding the wall that I notice on getting a little closer. They help bring about a diversion in mood, a bit of courage and a lot of cheer.

Once inside, an I-pod of sorts with headphones serves as our electronic tour guide. The narrative apart from regular commentary actually has the ex-staff – some assistants, cooks, jailors and other officials along with some ex-prisoners giving an account of life within these walls.

It is a weekday and there aren’t many visitors. I am secretly thankful for some human company in the guise of other visitors and the uniformed penitentiary staff around me, off and on in this damp and humungous place!

Eastern State was built in the nineteenth century outside the city of Philadelphia, today stands in the heart of the city. The structure of the place is such that there are long corridors (basically cellblocks) with individual cells that connect to a centre giving it an asterix-like or wagon-wheel shape.

The historical account playing on the head-phone is complete with music and sound effects for that extra zing, “In the initial ‘penitentiary’ system, each cell was designed for a single inmate. The cells were centrally-heated, had running water and a flush toilet. All this in an age when the president of the United States had no running water and the White House was heated with coal stoves!

However, there was to be minimal almost zero contact with another person, including officials on duty till the term of the sentence was completed. Except a Bible, no books or writing material was allowed. All that one heard there was the sound of silence. This environment was created in order to make the prisoner spiritually reflect on his life, change and thereby invoke penitence.

It may seem ideal, but this Eastern state system was not without drawbacks. It is supposed to have given rise to mental illnesses among inmates, driven some men mad! The notable novelist Charles Dickens, who paid a visit to the penitentiary, denounced it strongly. Then in early twentieth century, this system was abandoned and Eastern state became a regular prison"

Rather ironical I feel was the erection of the “death row” at Eastern state sometime in the 1950s. The dreaded, final sentence at the place called the ‘penitentiary’. I must admit I am relieved to leave this ill-omened section.

There used to be a family of stray cats that made this place their home when it was abandoned and fell into ruins. Walking along the dimly lit corridors today, there are white sculptures of these cats that can be found hiding in the unlikeliest of places. So unlikely that spotting them can actually get pretty exciting! Are they called ghost cats? I think so!

Talking of cats, Eastern state has seen a very unusual inmate. The governor of Philadelphia gave a life sentence to a dog named ‘Pep’ for allegedly murdering his wife’s cat. A photograph with a soulful expression on his face and a prison inmate number round his neck hangs in a cell. Of course the imprisonment of this “cat-murdering” dog was much debated at that time!

Al “Scarface” Capone was one of the prison’s notoriously infamous inmates. His cell has been maintained the way it was when he used it – with luxuries like a carpet, a four poster bed, a polished desk, paintings on walls with suffused lighting and strains of a waltz playing in the background!

This is an unpredictable tour, thrilling and edgy. Scary at times making me feel foolish, stepping out in broad daylight. Towards the end of this self-guided, electronically assisted tour, I finally gather some courage and step inside one of the cells which is supposed to be haunted. It is empty and doesn’t seem any different from the other cells. However, a chill runs down my spine and I constantly look over my shoulder. Why? I do not know but I don’t want to find out…

http://www.easternstate.org/

My li'l red friend: a short story

This is a short story I wrote for a seven year old friend, Arushi... 

  A little red birdie spoke to me and gave me a message – This earth belongs to us all – plants, insects, animals, and birds… not only to humans. Our talk, which was interrupted, will go on… soon, I’m sure!

 

Starts here…

It happened last Saturday… I woke up early in the morning and went to the park. The park is right next to my house. Usually some of my friends play football but none seemed to be around today. So I thought I’ll take a little walk and go back home.

It had rained all night. The sun was just beginning to rise in the eastern, orange sky. The plants and trees looked greener than usual. The grass - bright and glistening in the early morning light… There were such pretty flowers in different colors all around. Red roses with a lovely scent, lilies, sunflowers and so many more…

A little further near a delicate, purple flower sat a tiny red bird with a thin, black beak. So cute! Cautiously, I took a step forward… and then another… and another. My eyes on the bird!

“What are you looking at?” asked a high-pitched voice.

I turned around. No one! Who spoke? There’s nobody around.

“Yes, I’m talking to you!” Was it the little red bird speaking? Impossible… or are my ears ringing? “You humans don’t think we birds are too smart, do you? What is it you call people who aren’t smart? Bird-brained?” And it laughed – a shrill high-pitched laugh. “You’ll be shocked if you hear the names we call you humans.”

I was shocked! One doesn’t hear birds speaking everyday! I’d once heard a talking parrot, but this is different.

“We birds have been learning your language for quite a while. We’re considered smart if we know a foreign language, you know.”

Slowly, I was getting used to this. “So… you guys… I mean, you birds… do this… I mean, talk to people… eh... often?” I managed to stutter.

“Sometimes, to little ones like you… when nobody’s looking. But only to the nice ones who are well-behaved and kind. I was sitting on a branch of the almond tree, yesterday afternoon, when you fed milk and bread to the little kitten. I’m not fond of kittens, they grow up and chase us birds, but I admit, what you did was very touching. And my friends, the sparrow and the bulbul visit your balcony, where you keep fresh water everyday for us birds to drink. The sparrow wanted to talk to you and thank you but was afraid a grown-up would overhear.”

“Thanks.” I said, blushing. Such rich compliments! No one had praised me for this behavior before. Last month a group of boys from my class were throwing stones at a dog. I told them to stop… tried to explain that it’s cruel to hit animals. But they called me a sissy. It’s OK, they can call me names but I don’t think it is brave to throw stones or scare away animals.

“All of us birds want to be friends with you… With you and all those who think that this earth belongs to us as well…”

Just then I heard voices. I turned around. “Hey, let’s play football.” It was my friends.

“See you later.” I heard my new red-feathered friend. I looked just in time to see him fly.

Sure enough, I see him and so many different birds in my balcony. Very soon, I am going to continue my conversation, I’m sure.

An Ode to Fusion Food

Two home-cooked dinners on two consecutive days..
One Italian, one Thai and the common ingredient – Marinara sauce!

Marinara sauce is one of the popular sauces used in Italian cooking. It has the tang of tomatoes, and the fragrance of fresh basil. Of course in case fresh basil is unavailable (it happens with me quite often) and one just has to, has to make it then the dry herb could be an option. But in my opinion it’s a very poor second.

So I made a batch one evening when I got some nice, fresh basil in the market. With the necessary ingredients -garlic, onion, plenty of tomatoes sautéed and nicely simmered in olive oil… Flavored with dry oregano, parsley and of course my favorite – fresh basil…

What we had that night was a true blue Italian Dinner. For sides, we had chicken breasts marinated in beer (which gives the most amazingly tender, juicy and flavorsome meat) seasoned with salt, pepper and dry herbs, glazed with oil and grilled to perfection. The main course being spaghetti, cooked al dente, to go with the Marinara sauce topped with freshly grated parmesan cheese. I love food and I love eating out, but home cooked food made with imagination, and those key ingredients being present, tops any day!

“Variety is the spice of life.” I think it’s very relevant, (Don’t you?) especially after one smart dude discovered diminishing marginal utility and when food is concerned. I mean, however great a dinner, the thought of eating the same thing for two nights in succession is just not happening.

So what does one do with a whole lot of the Marinara sauce and a grilled chicken breast? Innovate. Yep, and that’s where “fusion food” comes in handy!

So next evening, I gingerly start my culinary proceedings. I am working at an unprecedented dish which of course has no recipe and worse still no name. The only solace is the fact that hubby dear eats anything with legs or gills, barring tables or chairs, of course. And last night’s chicken is going to redeem me!

I only have one central idea. My Italian Marinara sauce has tang and is flavored with basil - the two prime requisites of Thai cuisine, at least the commonly accepted category are present. I build on that foundation. First I sauté some chopped onion and capsicum and when it’s almost done in go some button mushrooms. I then add finely chopped spring onions (one of the vital ingredients, of this dish) reserving some for garnish. Now is the time for my Marinara sauce and sliced grilled chicken from last night’s Italian meal to go in. “Not bad. It’s shaping up quite well.” I think to my self adding chili powder for the proverbial Thai spice. One little simmer, some soy sauce and ample fish sauce later we are almost done. The conversion of Italian to Thai, the transition from Europe to SE Asia is complete. (The smelly, salty fish sauce is the most vital thing in any Thai dish worth its salt. It’s amazing how some genuinely smelly things can mix with food and make it heavenly delicious.)

We have it with steamed white rice, garnished with burnt garlic and spring onions. “How’s it?” I ask smugly. “Fantastic.” says Hubby dearest.

A fusion of Italian and Thai, made in India - now that is what I call truly being a world citizen!

'Note'bly Yours,

I like to think of myself as a bit of a gypsy and a bit of a traveling bard at heart. I find traveling and moving from one place to another most exciting. My ideal is a world without borders and boundaries.

My hometown is Bombay (I like to call it that!) and it gives me a nice warm feeling to think of myself as a Bombayite. Especially while walking around Shivaji Park or the Oval Maidan, eating bhel at chowpaty, gazing into the sea at the Gateway of India, driving down Marine Drive or Haaji Ali. The list is endless. And for its people - not into-your-face friendly but accommodating, helpful and cosmopolitan. The people maketh the city, any city. The common man, who is always in a rush, epitomizes the spirit of the city. At peace with his Mumbai, against all odds. Would appreciate his own city getting better - cleaner, safer - without confirming to the politician's dream of making it another Shanghai!

I don’t live by too many rules. But I'm very rigid about one thing i.e. NOT being rigid.

I love animals and I believe that the earth belongs to us all - not just to humans. To put it in one line - we humans are endowed with a superior brain it is our responsibility to protect them and reverse the existing damage done to the environment.

The Crystal Caves of Bermuda

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Over a hundred years ago one afternoon in Bermuda, a group of boys were playing cricket. One of them whacked the ball so hard that it went away flying and disappeared in a hollow in the ground. One of them tried to retrieve the ball but fell into the chasm. He didn’t find the ball but discovered a cavern with dripstone and flowstone instead. This was later named as the Crystal caves.

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Pictures capture its beauty... not completely

I had set off on an excursion to the Crystal caves with the basic information that it’s a cavern covered with stalactites and stalagmites – just a phenomenon that I had studied at school. No big deal! I came out of the cave marveling at Mother Nature’s creation.

It is a guided tour and one enters the narrow entrance in a group headed by a guide. We leave daylight behind as we climb down inside the dimly lit cavern. A large drop of water falls right on my face. I gasp, startled. “You’re gonna have a happy day!” says the guide. The number of drops falling on a person will be equal the number of happy days, he elaborates. Wow, I’m waiting for some more drops to fall.

An amazing sight awaits us as we climb down the steps - a tranquil pool of crystal clear water roofed by icicle-shaped stalactites. They are thin and long inverted cones, a few almost touching the surface of the water. A glow seems to emanate from them, almost making them look like they are made of like mother-of-pearl.

Stalagmites rise up from beneath the water. They are a stubbier version of the stalactites. Our guide points to a column – a structure formed when a stalactite meets a stalagmite. The process of formation is ongoing and we are cautioned against touching these structures. Human touch can hamper the growth which is very slow – just about an inch in a hundred years.

I walk down the wooden pathway in a bit of a daze. This is like nothing I’ve ever seen – every inch of it pristine and precious and has taken the earth millions of years to make. There is an intrinsic silence ingrained into this place. The kind that makes us keep our voices low.

We reach the end of the walkway and come to a sort of vantage point. The scene makes me feel like I am in some other ethereal world. “Hey, that looks like a dragon!” I exclaim. More play of light and shadows creates an illusion of a graveyard. That’s spooky! It would be really scary being alone in here! A little further stands the Manhattan skyline. Much better!

The underground tour has come to a close. I blink as I step into the real world. There is exhilaration in my heart. Is this how Alibaba felt when he came out of the cave of the forty thieves? That was fantasy. But I admit, after seeing what I just saw, the line dividing fact and fiction just got thinner.

http://www.bermuda4u.com/

http://www.bermudatourism.com/index.aspx