With an eye on food

In every other metro, it’s not until winter that one can justify guilt-free gorging on spicy, sizzling snacks, writes Vijayasimha V

Bengaluru’s elevation gives it the best climate, which in turn blesses its citizens with another privilege. That of year-long snacking. In every other metro, it’s not until winter that one can justify guilt-free gorging on hot pakodas and samosas while evenings in Bengaluru present the best settings for a spicy, sizzling snack.

As the sun begins to slither away behind the Savandurga hill on the western horizon, the nip in the air tells the Bengalurean that it’s time for some titillation.

With his city positioned to receive both the Southwest and Northeast monsoons, the Bengalurean has the sanction to slurp every single day of the year.

And he is never short of avenues to satiate his cravings.

People can be seen turning their backs on the world as they mill around carts and counters, impatiently checking the progress of their orders.

At one street corner, they gape on as the bajji maker swishes his sieved ladle in the cauldron of boiling oil, to get the assortment of fries like dal vadas, alu bondas and chilli bajjis acquire the right tan.

Elsewhere, another group takes evasive action as ash and embers from a charcoal fire fly up as the corn seller goads the flame on with his cane fan to get the golden cob to roast amid the rising blue smoke and the sound of popping kernels.

His customers can't help salivating as he smears the roasted corn with Bengaluru's patented green chilli paste with an improvised brush made of the corn husk.

There's a hiss as he drops the corn back on to the embers for a final roast. He then picks it up, wraps it in the husk and hands it over to the eager customer who begins to strip the cob of its kernels, row after row, till it is absolutely bare and continues to savour the experience by licking the remnants of the chilli paste off the lips and extricate bits of the kernels from the gaps in the teeth.

And sometimes, the motive for munching comes from hundreds of kilometres away. The odd cyclone that Chennai exports periodically, is a bonus for Bengalureans, as it brings overcast skies and an incessant drizzle, the perfect cocktail for capitulation.

The foul weather may leave the tolerant Bengalurean grumpy, but it takes little to cheer him up. A paper cone full of the Congress, Bengaluru’s famous spiced peanuts or boiled groundnuts are enough to perk him up again.

(This column looks at some food fetishes and secrets from a city of gastronomes and beyond.)