Advertisement
Published: January 2nd 2010
Food is one of the delights of India. Colour, smell, flavour, eating is an experience for all the senses. In Junagadh, we found two wildly different favourites.
The Jay Ambe Juice Centre was a welcome retreat, a place to rest and watch India from a distance. Great for a fresh juice or a delicious milkshake - chikku, (sapodilla), valiyari (aniseed), kesar (safron), badam (almond) - we tried several. Three oblong tables fill one side of the shop. Long benches line either side of each table. If it's busy people sit wherever they can. It's a clean, breezy place with a front open to the street - a great place to sit and watch the world go by. But Indians do not linger. We sit, and sit, and stay some more. They order, drink, and go. A blue counter, stocked with glasses, and topped with fruit - pineapples bookending a pyramid of carrots sliced through the middle, and rows of oranges and pomegranates - runs the length of the shop. The young waiter, small and skinny, looking for all the world like a schoolboy - except for the fact that he sports a moustache - leans against it at slack moments.
Vihar's.
Atmosphere and food a plenty!At right angles to this counter, a display with an impressive row of blenders entices people into the shop. Garlands of oranges strung in nets hang from the frontage, and fresh pineapples dangle in between these streamers - alternative Christmas decorations! A mouse nibbles a crumb under the counter, and fans whir. The waiter clatters stainless steel jugs and glasses and wipes his hands on his short brown apron. The milkshake maker sits on a stool staring into the distance. They rarely speak to each other, each seemingly locked into his own private world.
There was nothing private about the Vihar Restaurant on the Kalwa Chowk. A packed streetside restaurant, everything was way out in the open, even the kitchen spilled out onto the pavement. Huge round pans, blackened with use, dotted the area outside the shop. The chapati maker, constantly pressed and kneaded dough, rolled it out, and tossed it to the man cooking them on a griddle - a never ending supply of piping hot, fresh bread - needed to supply the non-stop stream of men eating, for here, places were filled as soon as they were vacated - a whirl of bustle, noise, activity. An army of waiters, most of whom seemed to be well into their eighties, shuffled about, dolloping curry and dal into small round dishes. This was a thali joint, a 'one size fits all/what you see is what you get' kind of restaurant, but supply was limitless. We pointed to what our neighbour was eating, the waiter took pains to tell us it cost Rs. 35 and once they were assured this was OK, a huge condiment pot was plonked on the formica table - great tubs of raw onions, lime and pickle. Next our thali arrived, a big stainless steel tray with little individual bowls filled with curry, vegetable, dal, rice, two chapati and one papadam. We were given spoons, everyone else ate with their fingers. The food was a bit spicy, (like a flame thrower tickling your tonsils) but delicious, and Vihar's had atmosphere by the bucket load. The owner, an old man with a blue shirt, and very kindly face, kept an eye on us and came over to tell us to spoon the dal into the rice - the two were supposed to be eaten together. I tried to tell him it was just too hot for me to eat. He seemed worried that we were not eating enough, kept trying to press more food on us, - 'masala chapati - good, good' said one of the elderly waiters, holding one out in front of us. Jim took one to satisfy them, I couldn't eat more. I watched the chapati maker, the waiter taking a breather, trailing his fingers through the massive bowl of rice waiting to be ladled out to future punters, and men eating, rolling rice and curry into small balls with their right hand and popping food into their mouths. We were offered more food constantly, the man in the blue shirt even bringing me a bowl of different dal - 'sweet' - he said, proffering it. He seemed to feel it was his responsibility to fill us up, it was a bit like eating at a favourite aunts, who won't take no for an answer! At the end of the meal, they lead us over to the tap in the corner, so we could wash our hands. Our table was already being wiped down with a giant rag for the next customer. Well satisfied, we paid our bill, (approx. Euro 1) and walked back to the guesthouse.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.259s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 19; qc: 77; dbt: 0.1682s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Nick Bale
non-member comment
Thali
We really enjoyed the vivid desciptions of your experiences. I was lucky to have lunch in a Thali restaurant a few times many years ago when I worked in Oman. The staff I worked with were Indian, most of them vegetarian and I was invited to join them at their favorite Thali shop a few times for lunch. I was lucky as I could follow their guidance on what went with what. Whilst the food was cheap, they were very discerning about the dishes and a long time was spent discussing the contents of each of the little bowls. It was clear that the shop would be in a dire situation if it let its standards drop. Maybe Europeans are the same discussing what they are eating at Macdonalds, but I doubt it!! Nick