Of all of India?s regional cuisines, Rajasthani is perhaps one of the better exposed. Of course, to call it Rajasthani is a mistake?as it is to believe that geographical boundaries must necessarily encompass a single type of cuisine. In the state itself, the cuisine of the Marwari community and the royal Rajputs dominate palates and thanks to trading and tourism, the two pillars of desert commerce, these two cuisines have reached out to a large number of Indians not to mention foreigners. And yet, our acquaintance with them is not beyond a couple of clich?s.
Dal-batti-churma, pure-veg Marwari thalis with gatte, best found in dhabas, ghewar, the quintessential monsoon sweet, now popularised pan-India by chains such as Haldiram?s, and lal maans, mutton curry cooked with red chillies, immediately come to mind whenever someone utters Rajasthani food.
In fact, during all my excursions to various cities in the state, I have gorged on various kachoris, mirchi vadas, thalis and notably Nero?s (an old restaurant in Jaipur; I would one day like to discover the origin of its name) laal maans to contentment, but always had a lingering feeling that much like the spruced up haveli-hotels, this is a slice of cuisine that is essentially touristy and over exposed.
Over the years, even these goodies are fast vanishing from restaurant menus at tourist hot spots in the state. Last year, on a holiday in Jodhpur, I had to look hard to find an authentic Marwari thali in a town that should have been brimming with these. Restaurants recommended by waiters, service staff, bazaar passers-by and locals almost inevitably led one to tikkas and beer or dubious ?Continental? and ?Chinese? fare that has taken over local cuisines everywhere in the country particularly in towns favoured by foreign visitors.
In Jodhpur, the seat of Marwar, local families may still eat traditionally as they perhaps do in smaller Indian towns, but it is astonishingly difficulty to find their fare commercially. So, it was with some enthusiasm that I ventured into the Ranbanka Palace Hotel in Jodhpur last week, having been told of some heritage and local dishes?recipes from the erstwhile royal family that owns this hotel.
Overlooking the spectacular Mehrangarh fort, a magnet for royalty seekers visiting India, including the Clintons, the now separated Liz Hurley-Arun Nayyar and Prince Charles (who visited the fort recently during the Commonwealth Games), Ranbanka is a much quieter place than its famous cousin. Owned by a branch of the Gaj Singh family, the highlight are not just the private quarters of the erstwhile royals (complete with hunting memorabilia from older times, including furniture made from an entire elephant shot in Africa), but the food.
While the regular menu may deceive you with its sprinkling of the same commercial north-Indian/Punjabi, Indian-Continental and Chinese fare, ask the chef for Rajasthani, or better still, the family?s specials and he will truly surprise you. The highlight was an inventive gulab jamun ki subzi that arrived as part of the vegetarian main course?a dish that supposedly originated in the bazaars of Marwar. Small gulab jamuns, instead of being dunked in syrup, are put in a garlic gravy (sans onions) and are a fun twist to malai koftas.
There was also the chatte ki subzi, that I found quite novel, essentially a variation of the more famous gatte. This one uses whole wheat flour?steamed and curried. It is lighter than the besan version. There is also a simple haldi ki subzi, made from fresh turmeric during winter (which is supposed to be therapeutic if included as a small side dish with each meal) reminiscent of the fact that traditional Indian cuisines always looked at food as medicine and not mere indulgence.
But one royal recipe that I came back with and am sure to recreate at future dinner is the jungle murg. The restaurantised name is somewhat predictable and the recipe, no doubt, used game meat instead of chicken in earlier days. But it is startingly simple, given its origin as a recipe used to cook meat outdoors at the conclusion of a hunt. The essential ingredients apart from the meat are ghee, whole spices and red mathania chillies, grown close to Jodhpur in the region. (They are distinguished by a none too pungent taste, indeed there is no after taste at all). All these are slow-cooked together to give you a splendid dish. The chef de-seeds the chillies and makes a fine paste out of them, but you are free to go the original way and use whole red chillies instead for a more robust creation.
Doongar is a technique of smoking (mainly meats, but you can try it with lentils or even raita) that is also quintessentially Rajput. Any spice like clove, cardamom or even sandalwood is used. A piece of live charcoal is first put on a cabbage leaf in the middle of the cooked dish; some ghee poured on it and then the spice. The dish is then covered for several minutes to let the aroma of the spice seep into it. The famous maans ke sooley?the original Indian tikkas, if you like, are smoked like this. Effective.
For a desert state with few green vegetables and cooking ingredients, ghee plays a major role in cooking. But I didn?t realise quite how much until I learnt from the chef the process of making ghewar from scratch! The good thing, of course, is that ghee along with butter have now been reinstated as the new health foods much better than the refined stuff that we use, of course in moderation. So this is one feast you can indulge in, at least, while on a holiday!
?The writer is a food critic