In Italy, some time ago, I was surprised to see our very own, humble pakora make a splash at a fancy cocktail do. The event in question was a strict black tie-tuxedos-gowns kind of a sit-down in a historical building (and Italy, like India is so full of them); the kind you never have in India where after a few scotch and sodas all formality and thoughts of dinner dissolve. It was preceded by a fairly sober (by our standards) ?cocktail? evening, where wine was being sipped politely and people (apparently) stood networking over their flutes.
Standing with my own glass of crisp white, trying to look knowledgeable about India and our ?great civilisation? that invariably captures the attention of Europeans, I was slightly taken aback to find a waiter offering everyone what looked like stylish popcorn cones made of butter paper. Inside were crisp fritters, our very own pakori, vegetables like zucchini and squash batter fried till golden. As I took my first bite, I noted that the batter used to coat the fritters with was not besan or chickpea flour as we use in India, but refined flour. And yet, satisfactorily enough, the pakori came dusted with what suspiciously reminded me of chaat masala. It may have been just that.
Fried as they were, the fritters were in great demand that evening. Later, I learnt that they seem to have inexplicably become quite a hot (literally) item at cocktail dos in Europe (at least in Italy). Whether their popularity is due to the rising popularity of Indian cuisine(s) abroad or because of a similarity to the Japanese tempura (the flour used for the batter suggests that) which many more people are acquainted with, the fact that they were being served up at a stylish do with such aplomb was undoubtedly an India shining moment!
In India, of course, we would hardly think of serving something so mundane at our own parties. There was a time in the 1980s, when paneer pakoras were in great demand and great fashion. But that was when we knew no better and paneer constituted a luxury gourmet item, at least for the vegetarians. Onion and potato bhajiyas, bhajas, pakoras and pakoris as they are called in different parts of the country, on the other hand, have retained their traditional popularity with the masses ?whether or not we may dream of fancying these up and serving them in little cones to important guests. There remains something terribly satisfying and self indulgent in ordering a plateful for yourself with piping hot chai, at least during this weather.
It is not for nothing that the pakora is India?s favourite monsoonal food. It may be calorie ridden and give you unseemly pimples and zits from consuming too much oil, but surprisingly, it is also one of the safest street snacks to consume during the rains when water-borne diseases are known to hit us the hardest. That?s because frying in oil at high temperatures kills most microbes that may have contaminated the food otherwise. The ancients understood this very well. Which is why pucca khana, or ?pure food??understood as that cooked by fully immersing in hot oil ?was traditionally advocated not just during certain times of the day (night, when food was not cooked fresh in the main kitchen), religious ceremonies, weddings et al (think pooris over phulkas) but also during this season. We can trace back our tradition of consuming pakoras in the rains to this philosophy codified as Ayurveda and quoted in other early texts (though there are woefully few of them; traditions, including cooking traditions have been passed down orally in India).
Monsoonal foods have been fairly well-entrenched in the repertories of Indian regional cuisines. Apart from pucca khana, naturally sour and astringent ingredients were traditionally prescribed in diets during the rains. Ditto for germinating grains (ankurit khana) and herbs and spices like ginger and garlic (?heat inducing? and thus thought to cleanse the system), asafetida (aids digestion) and so on. On the other hand, fermented foods, yoghurt, leafy greens (which may have worms and infestations), raw vegetables and fruits and so on were to be avoided.
In this day and age, when seasonal ingredients have lost their relevance and the free market ensures that we are inundated with grapes and apples at the height of summer and tropical fruit in winters, it is but natural that we don?t need to break our heads over what to cook due to limited availability of ingredients during any particular season. But contrarily, as we celebrate this (often imported) abundance, the world around us is looking at increasingly localised and, hence, seasonal platters. The best restaurants around the world tailor their menus to make use of the best possible ingredients available locally not just in that season or that month, but often on that very day. Chefs are known to hand pick vegetables and fish from local marts and menus change daily. In such a scenario, is it wise (or even chic) for us to pass around the table, in Delhi, for instance, fresh European blueberries procured at an astounding Rs 2,000-3,000 per kg from a Khan Market vendor, instead of well, good old pakoras? That?s a question you may well ask.
?The writer is a food critic