Around the World in 80 Dinners - Bill Jamison [75]
Both of us regret what happens next as much as anything on the whole trip. As we leave Crawford, a guy tries to sell us a big, full carton of pomegranates. It’s far more than the two of us can consume, and any kind of purchase seems likely to attract other sellers and beggars. As we refuse the offer and turn away, he pursues us with increasing desperation, almost hanging on to the car when Sebastian pulls out of the lot. Even as we write about this months later, we feel sorry about not responding to his pleas and buying the fruit to give to someone else. India isn’t easy.
Sebastian heads next to the Jain Temple in the affluent Malabar Hills district. Although evidence of poverty abounds in Mumbai, as in all Indian cities, so do pockets of wealth derived from local industries, including the Bollywood movie business here. The Jain community practices a rigorously ascetic ethic prohibiting violence to any life-form—avoiding for that reason meat, wine, honey, and any fruits or roots that might harbor a living organism—but members contribute generously to the construction of beautifully elaborate houses of worship. This temple, usually regarded as the most impressive in the city, reflects the ideal with a vibrant and intricately detailed interior.
From the sacred to the profane, Sebastian brings us down from the heights to Chowpatty Beach. More of a park and fair than a spot for swimming or sunning, it spreads along the broad, sweeping Back Bay facing the Arabian Sea. Virtually empty during the day, Chowpatty comes alive in the evening, when hundreds of families gather to gab, gobble, and play. Musicians, trained monkeys, and contortionists, among others, provide entertainment, while kids chase after balloons and one another when they’re not riding toy jeeps or merry-go-rounds. A couple of dozen chatt (snack) vendors sell popular street foods such as dosas (fried flatbreads) with various fillings, kulfi (Indian ice cream), and most famously, bhelpuri (crispy puffed rice, fried noodles, vegetables, and chutney scooped up with puri bread). The treats look good, but we’re too wary to try them without good local guidance.
On the way back to the hotel, Sebastian drives us slowly along Marine Drive, which runs for several miles down the Back Bay shore from Chowpatty Beach to the upscale high-rise towers of Nariman Point. Nicknamed the “Queen’s Necklace” for the way it’s lit at night, the sidewalk promenade on the avenue attracts crowds of strollers, many of them young couples seeking a quiet, romantic spot to be alone in the city, probably as difficult in Mumbai as anyplace in the world.
Our choice of a dinner restaurant, after considering several respected places in the downtown area, is the Taj Mahal’s Masala Kraft, highly recommended according to our research by Mumbai food authority Rashmi Uday Singh. It immediately looks like a good pick, filled on this holiday evening with multiple generations of local families dining together, as Americans might the day after Christmas.
The menu features dishes grounded in Indian traditions from around the country but prepared with contemporary urban flair. Cheryl starts with tandoori salmon marinated in a spice paste moistened with sugar cane vinegar and served with cilantro chutney. The crusty surface over the succulent interior carries a hint of smoke from the superhot, wood-burning clay oven. Bill opts for a cheese appetizer, cubes of simple, white paneer with pickled tiny whole purple onions in a sauce enlivened with freshly ground spices. “This idea works almost as well as sag paneer,” he tells Cheryl, referring to a combination of the cheese with spinach that’s our most beloved Indian dish at home.
For a main course, Cheryl gets griddle-cooked shrimp with toasted ground coriander seeds and Kashmiri chiles, served with a rich bell pepper sauce. Pomegranate seeds garnish the plate. It’s a delight tonight but could have