Home Cooking, Mumbai Style
Four years ago, I landed in Mumbai on a trip for work. It was my first time traveling outside of the U.S. or Western Europe, and I experienced extreme culture shock. The touts, the sheer number of people, cars zooming around the the bicycles, cows, camels, and elephants that crowd the streets, huge slums, deformed children tapping on my taxi window begging for change, unfamiliar food that made me sick . . . . It was overwhelming.
Fast forward to a few days ago. Skyler and I rolled into Mumbai Central railway station in the early morning, well rested from our trip on the overnight Radjhani Express from Delhi. We sat down to a chai (essential both to waking up and allowing the army of touts to dissipate) and then hopped into a black and yellow taxi to our hotel, commenting on how cosmopolitan Mumbai was compared to the other parts of India we’ve seen. It was a breeze. What a difference four years (and lots of travel) makes!
We brought the monsoon with us. Our second day in Mumbai saw 98mm of rain, the rainiest start to the monsoon (India’s summertime rainy season) in over 20 years. Luckily, we weren’t here to sightsee, we were here to relax and catch up with old friends before our flight out to Africa.
On our first night, we had dinner with my good friend and former coworker, Komal, and her parents. They hosted us in their colorful modern flat, her mom serving us homemade samosas and egg rolls to start, before a dinner of mint paneer (a fresh soft cheese), kofta curry (veg patties in a rich sauce), dal makhani (whole black lentils), rice, parathas (layered flatbreads), and hot chapattis (simple griddled flatbreads). For dessert, we had rasgulla and gulab jamun (like sweet, syrupy donut holes). After months on the road, a home-cooked meal! We ate and ate. Komal’s mom spoiled us shamelessly, pressing second and third helpings on us, giving us a little parting gift, and making sly comments about returning to Mumbai next time “with a little baby.” Such a Mom!
In the cab on the way home, we talked about the similarities between the Bhatias and the Smiths (Skyler’s family). Both sets of parents have two career-driven daughters living far from home, a rarity in the US and even rarer in India. Both dads really miss their daughters, but shine with pride when speaking about their successes. Mr. Bhatia even reminded me a lot of Skyler’s dad — opinionated, a little gruff and intimidating at first, but a total softie for his girls. Two families from opposite sides of the globe, yet so similar!
The next day we had lunch with another former coworker of mine, Srikanth, along with his parents, wife, and two adorable sons. They live just across the lake from our hotel in a high-rise flat in the modern suburb of Powai. Srikanth’s mom cooked us another feast: ghobi masala (curried cauliflower), aloo mutter (potatoes and green peas), fried veggies with mint/coriander chutney and mango pickles, rice pilaf, raita (yogurt), and a fresh salad of cucumbers and tomatoes. We especially loved dessert, a simple purée of super-fresh, super-ripe local mangoes. When mangoes are this good, they have the complex flavor of fine wine. We don’t get mangoes like this at home!
When Srikanth’s parents heard that we’d been craving good coffee, they knowingly nodded their heads and bemoaned how North Indians may love their tea, but they just don’t do good coffee like South Indians (like their family) do good coffee. Before we could blink, Srikanth’s mom had whipped up some sweet, strong, delicious coffee for us to sip as we played with Srikanth’s kids, reminisced about old times, and traded travel tales until it was time for a Sunday post-lunch nap. Some things are necessary the world over.
The food was great — without hesitation our best meals in India — but the gracious hospitality and lively conversation we had over each meal was even better. There is something really special about sitting down to a home cooked meal with a family, something that made us homesick for our own families and our own mothers’ cooking. We come from such a different world, but for a few days, we were treated like family.
