For army or fauji kids, few dishes inspire as much nostalgia as tipsy pudding. Served at formal dinners and celebrations in army messes, it is a classic example of making do with what you have. The rich trifle-like dessert continues to enjoy a loyal fan following, with generations of fauji families recreating it in their own kitchens as a lesson in creativity and resourcefulness.
My father served in the Indian Army, so moving cities every few years was part of growing up. Amidst all the change, eating at the Officers’ Mess remained constant. It was where families gathered, friendships were forged, and every posting began and ended around a shared meal.
THE TABLE IS SET
“Shrimaan, bhojan prastat hai”—a uniformed havaldar would march into the room and announce that dinner was served. Whether we were posted in Gaya, Nagpur or Roorkee through the 1990s, this remains one of my strongest memories of dining at an Army Officers’ Mess.
The dinners had a rhythm of their own. A hot bowl of mulligatawny or cream of chicken soup arrived before the main course, but only after trays of veg and non-veg snacks had made several rounds of the room, sometimes in silver platters, but mostly in plain white plates with the unit’s emblem. I waited for the fish fingers and vegetable cutlets the most. And once everyone had their fill of the thick rajma, chicken curry and pulao, it was time for the fruit custard and bread-butter pudding. Across stations, chicken tikka, spring rolls, peanut masala, kebabs, paneer bhurji and idli-sambhar were also common.
There was some form of continental food as well, remembers chef Rahul Kaushik of Food Link Catering in Mumbai, who grew up in naval bases across the country between 1990-2000. “The Sunday roast is something I miss. We'd sit sit next to our fathers in whites, with our hair combed and shoes polished. More than anything else, it was the aroma of the roast, rosemary and garlic, fresh out of the oven at 11am that made it memorable,” he says.
For Sidecar co-founder Minakshi Singh, 41, whose father was a Squadron Leader, childhood memories of the Officers’ Mess from Chennai, Bhubaneshwar and Sirsa, are associated with evening snacks after swimming or a game of tennis. She remembers the classic club fare, which usually included sandwiches, French fries and cheese-cherry-pineapple skewers. But it’s the desserts that instantly take her back. “The custard and jelly, and the bread-and-butter pudding were my favourites,” she says.
“Defence messes ran on the same operating system across stations. That’s why mess food felt the same everywhere, even when the state changed,” says Kaushik.
“Ration sabzi” was a regular placeholder on the mess menus, referring to the fresh seasonal vegetables supplied to each mess as part of its weekly rations. The dish would change depending on what was available that week.
Region-specific dishes also found their way on to the menus. “My father’s unit was 1 Mech (formerly 1st Madras), where Sunday breakfast always meant dosa,” shares actor Gul Panag, 47. “And then, of course, there was my absolute favourite—tipsy pudding.”
Many also talk about messes being at par with restaurants of today, where service mattered as much as the food. Delhi-based restaurateur Zorawar Kalra points out the quality produce, and the finesse and precision with which meals were executed during his grandfather’s postings in the 1950s.
ALL ABOUT PUDDING
The original English “tipsy cake” was a sponge cake soaked in sherry or brandy and layered with cold custard, much like a trifle. As the recipe travelled with the British military messes to India, the boozy dessert acquired a character of its own. Layers of plain or vanilla sponge cake doused in brandy or rum, topped with custard, whipped cream and cocktail fruits like apples, pineapple and grapes, became part of the version generations of fauji families relished at army messes.
The recipe enjoys several iterations, and makes use of local, seasonal fruits or tinned pineapple or orange juice often mixed with whatever alcohol was at hand. “It made sense as purchase was quarterly, rations came in bulk, and wastage was tracked like ammunition,” says Kaushik.
The pudding is also something Colonel Ankush Sharma, 49, looked forward to during his days as a cadet at the National Defence Academy. “It would typically be served once a week, after an overnight run, or a long day out in the sun, and as cadets we used to just gulp it down,” he says. His association with the army mess from his father’s time and as a serving officer in the army remains the same. “My first meal as a commissioned officer was chicken curry and rice. It tasted exactly like the food I had grown up eating in the mess.”
For many, the mess was also where dining etiquette became second nature. No one formally taught these rules. You simply picked them up by watching those around you.
“We learnt how to use the different knives, forks and spoons, the salad fork, butter knife and dessert spoon, as well as which glass was meant for what,” adds Panag.
THE SCENE TODAY
Although times have changed and tastes have evolved, the menus remain untouched. Indian food is still enjoyed as much as shepherd’s pie and chilli chicken. “Tikkas, fish fingers and spring rolls remain fixtures. The biggest differences are although dictated by geography. High-altitude postings, for example, serve more hot drinks and calorie-dense non-vegetarian meals,” shares Col. Sharma.
Today, army chefs and stewards continue to be trained at the Army Service Corps Centre in Bengaluru, where they learn everything from cooking fundamentals to specialised Indian, continental and Chinese food. A committee of three to four officers oversees the day-to-day functioning of the mess, with the mess secretary responsible for planning the menus. The head chef, known as the chef special in army parlance, executes them with the help of a masalchee, who handles the mise en place.
This summer, Singh recreated the custard and jelly she grew up eating at the mess, adding fresh mangoes for her son. The recipe may have changed, but the memory has not. Perhaps that’s why generations of fauji kids still recognise these dishes, and not because they were extraordinary, but because they remind them of an entire way of growing up.
Tanu Ganguly is a Gurugram-based journalist and writes about food, dining and culture.
