Active Stocks
Thu Mar 28 2024 15:59:33
  1. Tata Steel share price
  2. 155.90 2.00%
  1. ICICI Bank share price
  2. 1,095.75 1.08%
  1. HDFC Bank share price
  2. 1,448.20 0.52%
  1. ITC share price
  2. 428.55 0.13%
  1. Power Grid Corporation Of India share price
  2. 277.05 2.21%
Business News/ Mint-lounge / Features/  First encounters and second thoughts
BackBack

First encounters and second thoughts

Things you wait for endlessly are sometimes a bit of a letdown. But not always, as a family holiday in Matheran reveals

Sukat is a Maharashtrian preparation of dried shrimps. Photo: ThinkstockPremium
Sukat is a Maharashtrian preparation of dried shrimps. Photo: Thinkstock

There was a whisper down the line—to quote from the musical Cats, based on T.S. Eliot’s collection of poems—just after an early breakfast, and through a clearing in the woods, the train made its appearance. The whisper became a great clanking as a little diesel engine hove into view, followed by little carriages, occupied, of course, by full-sized people.

Finally. After 15 years of never seeing or hearing it, I had laid eyes on the Neral-Matheran Light Railway, one of India’s last remaining narrow-gauge trains. It clattered past in less than 30 seconds, and it was gone.

There are many things in life that you never get to see. Take the wild tiger. I’ve never seen one, despite scores of visits—at dawn, dusk, night-time, noon and every hour in between—to national parks and sanctuaries. Yet sundry uncles and aunts who make their first visit to the wild end up seeing four in the space of an hour, like so many stray dogs lying around.

The little Matheran train was like that. Seeing it was not exactly on my bucket list, but you get the idea—sometimes you just want to see or do something because it’s always been just around the corner yet, somehow, unreachable. The previous day, I found out that Raj, my wife’s cousin from windy Chicago, had also not done something, although I am not sure he really wanted to. A professor in the arcane area of neurogenetics, Raj had never eaten bhakri and sukat.

What? I asked, incredulous. He and his four brothers (and their cousin, my wife) had been coming to Matheran—where their father, with great prescience, bought a bungalow decades ago—since they were children. But they did not know of Maharashtra’s coarse, immensely nutritious bread, the bhakri. They did not know of sukat, that divine toss-up of dried shrimps, sour kokum, spices and onion. While the others looked on horrified—eating out was banned apparently, to preserve the integrity of their digestive systems—I marched Raj into a little family run place in Matheran market. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the father pummelled the rice flour-based bhakri dough, while his wife cleaned the shrimps, a daughter cooked it and a son served tables. What could be cosier?

Outside, horses ambled by on the main street, garishly made-up tourists stuffed themselves on pani puris and idlis, bored-looking locals painted temporary tattoos and handed out darts and air guns to tourists—and my family tried to ignore our illegal tryst with bhakri and sukat. After poking it suspiciously, Raj took his first bite. He was hooked. He demolished his half swiftly and rolled his eyes in rapture. There is a lot to be said for unexpected first encounters, isn’t there?

Matheran is a place full of first encounters for me. It was the place I realized my hopelessly geographically challenged wife—a Mumbai girl who finds it difficult to navigate uptown anywhere—could unerringly home in on her destination after walking kilometres in the jungle darkness of Matheran. It is where I discovered my four-year-old is a canny and aggressive football player. It is where I learnt of the illustrious Lt Col Behramji Burjorji Paymaster; Matheran’s somewhat dusty but character-filled Paymaster Park is named after him. It is where I learnt, this year, that a family can create an exhilarating New Year’s party from nothing more than a few simple games and lots of enthusiasm. It is where I await, too, my first encounter with a Matheran leopard, famous for cleaning out the dogs from the lonely bungalows in the forest.

Ever since I got married, I have been coming to Matheran, the only place in India where cars are banned. It’s hard to call Matheran a town. Around 4,400 people live scattered on a densely wooded plateau, probably outnumbered by bonnet macaques (monkeys, people) and—unusually for India—fewer people are living in the town each year. With little to do except serve the weekend tourist population as horsemen, rickshaw-pullers, shopkeepers and sundry labourers, I guess many young men and women, who have had enough of seeing the stars in the clear skies above Matheran, simply leave for the plains.

Every December, we make a journey in the opposite direction, travelling up from the plains to join the great family gathering. As you might have guessed, we do not take the Neral-Matheran train. It takes 2 hours from the foot of the hill; a taxi takes less than 30 minutes.

The close encounter with bhakri and sukat was an aberration. All meals are at the family bungalow, where the wife’s aunt turns out some of the greatest food I have ever eaten. And being a son-in-law in a Sindhi family entitles me to certain privileges, such as getting mutton made in my, ahem, honour. I may exaggerate, but only just. My first encounter with her mutton was all that I had imagined—exhilarating and deeply satisfying.

I had to make it. But on second thoughts, I realized that (a) I would never come close and (b) its mystique would fade if I did.

So, I never did try to replicate the mutton. But the Matheran sukat got me thinking of my own interpretation of an old family favourite. My first encounter with sukat, sometime in my childhood, was a revelation, but Raj’s reaction made me realize that my kitchen had not encountered the strong smell and intense flavour for far too long.

I’ve dredged up my old recipe. If you’re dropping by, let me know.

Simple ‘sukat’ fry

Serves 2

Ingredients

200g sukat (dried shrimps)

2 tbsp garlic, smashed

1 tbsp oil

3 onions, chopped

1-2 tsp red chilli powder

Half tsp turmeric

3-4 pieces of kokum, torn into pieces, or 2 tbsp tamarind water

Method

Soak sukat in water for 2-3 hours before cooking. This allows it to plump up. Do remember to drain the water.

Heat some oil. Throw in some garlic. Fry the onion till translucent. Add turmeric and red chilli powder. Fry. Add sukat and toss well. Add kokum or tamarind water. These give it the all-important tang. If you want to spice it up further, add a slit green chilli. Garnish with coriander.

This is a column on easy, inventive cooking from a male perspective. Samar Halarnkar also writes the fortnightly science column Frontier Mail for Mint and is the author of the book The Married Man’s Guide To Creative Cooking And Other Dubious Adventures.

Also Read Samar’s previous Lounge columns

Unlock a world of Benefits! From insightful newsletters to real-time stock tracking, breaking news and a personalized newsfeed – it's all here, just a click away! Login Now!

Catch all the Business News, Market News, Breaking News Events and Latest News Updates on Live Mint. Download The Mint News App to get Daily Market Updates.
More Less
Published: 10 Jan 2015, 12:47 AM IST
Next Story footLogo
Recommended For You
Switch to the Mint app for fast and personalized news - Get App