Pakora(fritter) on my mind!

Finally!!We met.After the long sessions of whatsapp conference,everybody found some time to meet.How quickly we decided the place!!Boler Mountain it is then,everybody agreed and finally those all long hour discussions came to an end.On the chilly morning of december,we started our journey for skiing a whole day.We met at the common point;Downtown London, when our bus filled with aromas of Tim Horton.Going through the pictureous scenery ,calm & pleasant atomsphere we couldn’t keep a track of time.And there we were..mountains covered with snow welcoming us.Like the little children of your gracious guest,two woody cottages were peeping from behind the snow mountain.We were among the firsts anxious people who reached there early.

I was excited to try skiing for first time in my life.As I am a that kind of person who voluntarily apply for extras in any sport I didn’t have any high hopes in this sport too.But I was most concerned about the snacks we can get there.However,I could managed to ski for two hours.Others were skiing for almost four hours.Talking about the food there..they had french fries,burgers,toasts and poutine of course.It was not enough for the Indian stomachs who were skiing for a long time in cold weather.So we decided to visit Indian restaurant.In a search of mouthwatering spicy scrumptious food we ordered veg kolhapuri,garlic naan,dal tadka and pakora(or bhaji as we called it in marathi) which was the only thing left us with satisfaction.Onions flavored with chilli powder,cumin powder,coriander powder,carrom seeds,fresh cillantro and pefect amount of salt to bring out all the flavours and fried after addition of gram flour batter..delicious!

That crunchy crispy fried fritters paired with mint chutney made me walk through my memory lane.Pakoras made by mom are world’s great ones.Shaped the way it should be..vertical thin sections of flavoured onions tangled with each other holding crispy golden batter.My mom likes to serve it with green chilli..fried over a little oil with a sprinkle of salt.Ahh!!Because of it’s shape..hands and legs(onions) coming out of a body sometimes,it is called as a khekda bhaji(crab fritters).I know what are you thinking..”seriously??” Yes,seriously.I learnt to make pakoras in my early age.Because of my mom’s tasty pakoras and because my pakoras turned out well,I never went out specially to eat pakoras.Except for one place.

As always there is an exception.A little shop near railway station in my hometown..Jaysingpur.Having an old wooden furniture,a small counter in the corner of the entrance and a big kadhai(wok) for frying fritters just outside the shop.What is so special about it?It run on a railway timetable serving Jaysingpur for more than 50 years.They serve a unique type of fritters which are not available anywhere in the world..pressed fritters.We call it proudly as our chapati bhaji.Served in a torn newspaper with pieces of bread,onions and green chillies.The only sad thing about it is closes around 7:30.After that you will find it closed.Ingredients which goes into these fritters are nearly same but it is the method of frying, form of the ingredients,and fritter itself which changes it’s taste significantly.

Ohh..Yes.How can I forget the caterer’s lesson on this subject matter! Sometime back I with my friends, attended a family function of one of my friends.Sudden increase in the number of guests caused a little delay in lunch.So we decided to help caterers as there were only two ladies trying hard to achieve the timeline. In Maharashtra onion fritters are the necessity of a meal in any function.As it is served hot,one of the ladies was making the batter for fritters as their last dish of the day.She put green chillies,curry leaves and alongwith gram flour she added corn flour to it and very little water to combine it all.You know the end result of this..tasty! And as we were helping her in the kitchen, those hot,crispy fritters were our prize.Thanks to one of my friends who suggested us to help the caterers. We enjoyed our wok to plate fritters.


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