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Talking Mexico with Scott Linquist

Deadly bullrings, pristine beaches, lush tropical forests and lively streets: Chef Scott Linquist has explored Mexico inside out. He’s seen much of what’s there to see and he has, of course, eaten all that’s there to eat. Now, in his most recent stint as a partner at XICO, a Mexican eatery that launched in September in Mumbai’s Kamala Mills, he has curated a menu that ventures beyond tacos and burritos.

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Linquist has years of experience to back his offerings. He was the executive chef at Dos Caminos, New York’s fine dine Mexican restaurant, for nine years, and is also chef and partner at Miami’s quick-service taco shop and speakeasy tequila bar chain, Coyo Taco.

In a culinary career spanning three decades, the Los-Angeles born has made countless trips to Mexico, some of them month-long and each undertaken to hunt down the best of Mexican food. He has cooked a whole pig in Yucatán, downed mezcal or ‘the mother of tequila’ in Oaxaca and gorged on sea urchin tostados in Baja California. His most cherished souvenirs over the years, then, have been the dishes he has added to his menus, inspired from the street food sampled and meals shared with Mexican in their homes.

“Mexican cuisine is very interesting. Unfortunately, it is poorly represented outside of its original location,” says Linquist, 51. Most people even in the U.S.A., he rues, have only ever seen the food eaten along the border town, which is typically roasted and grilled meats, and tortilla, cheese and beans. “I want more and more people to go beyond that and try the food that the locals there eat,” he adds. “Not the Tex-Mex version.” 

Here, he talks about his trips to Mexico and the special bond he shares with that country and especially its food.

You have been to Mexico more times than you can remember. What is the place like and what is its cuisine like?

I’ve been travelling to Mexico for over 20 years now. I go at least thrice a year, and I have been to all the regions, cities and villages that are significant from a food perspective. The food there varies according to region. In Yucatán, home to indigenous Maya people and located in south-eastern Mexico, the climate is tropical and the food has Mayan influences, while the small state of Oaxaca has Zapotec, and even a few Spanish and French influences. Oaxaca is also the culinary mecca—it is where mezcal, ‘the mother of tequila’ that’s distilled from the local agave plant, comes from. Oaxaca is also popular for its mole sauces. Every time I visit, I try to share a meal with locals in their homes—that’s where you find the best of Mexican food.

You have not only eaten on Mexico’s streets, you have also cooked there. What’s that one Mexican dish you had the most fun experimenting with?

This one was not on the streets, but I had great fun cooking cochinita pibil in the Yucatán jungle. It’s a traditional Mexican dish with Mayan roots, which involves roasting a whole pig in a hole in the ground. The meat is marinated with citrus, garlic, spices, and achiote (the orange red condiment that gives the meat its colour). The pig is then wrapped in banana leaf and laid in the ground for 12 hours beside coals. The resultant sweet and smoky dish is incredible, one of the best I’ve tasted. It’s served with hot habanero chilli and chilled serveza (beer).

When it comes to weird foods, Mexico is no China. But it does have its share of bizarre foods. What all have you tried?  

I have one food philosophy: I’ll eat almost anything at least once in my life. I’ve caught and savoured sea urchins and eaten roe. Mexicans also eat a lot of insects. In Oaxaca, for instance, they also relish chapulines. This dish is essentially grasshoppers toasted over wood fire, and then some chillies, lime and salt is tossed over it. It is eaten as a snack with mezcal, or inside tacos. I’ve also tried gusano, a fat caterpillar that’s roasted till it turns crispy. It has an oozing and gooey centre. But to be honest, I didn’t like the texture. I prefer escamoles instead. Larvae from a giant ant, they look like maggots and are cooked with chilli, garlic, and butter, and are eaten with tortillas. They’re simply delicious.

What have been some of your most memorable meals there?

There are just so many of them. But my first choice will be the tacos served at El Villamelón. Located across the street from Monumental Plaza de Toros México, one of the world’s largest bullrings, this 56-year-old restobar cooks the bull that’s slaughtered in the ring. The dish is called Taco Campechano, which has cecina (beef jerky), longaniza (sausage), and chicharrón (pork rinds), and is served on a corn tortilla. This is a heavy and flavourful meat dish, full of different layers and textures. Definitely the most delicious tacos I have ever had.

Another tasty or rather unique dish I tried was Lamb Barbacoa, in this small town called Zaachila, about 14 kilometres from Oaxaca. Zaachila is known for its Thursday market. Vendors from nearby villages flock to this open-air market to sell flowers, fruit, vegetables, pots and such knick-knacks. But on Sunday, if you’re there when the cooks at La Capilla restaurant remove the steaming roasted lamb, coated with avocado and enveloped in banana leaves, from the brick and dirt pit where it’s left to roast for a day—it’s a sight to behold. They chop up everything, the bones, the insides, and the meat together and you can make yourself tacos using tortillas and condiments. This is served with a consommé made of vegetables and meat juices.

 

You have led culinary tours in Mexico. How did it feel to familiarise a bunch of tourists to a cuisine you feel so passionately about?

Let me tell how it started. In 2002, when I started the Dos Caminos, we had a research and development budget. Since I was the corporate chef, I started to pick good chefs to take them with me to Mexico. We would fly down for six to 10 days and explore different regions and their specific dishes. Soon, other chefs, interested in learning about Mexican food, started to call saying they’d like to join. A year later, a culinary tour group approached me. I thought why not, and so I started taking people to restaurants and to people’s homes. Together, we’d make mole sauce, cheese and tortillas. I did it for a few years and then stopped once my workload increased. I do intend to start again, though.

The thing is Mexico has a bad reputation… because of corruption, the drug culture. But besides food, there’s still a lot to see and do there. There’s culture and history, and the people are fabulous.

Do you think culinary tours help countries pin their cuisines on the global food map?

Culinary tourism is becoming a big deal. Maybe not so much in the U.S.A. because we don’t really have a food culture but it is indeed prevalent in most European and Asian countries. Food is a really important part of the culture of most places. Not everyone wants to just see the Eiffel Tower or the Taj Mahal. Most want to get down and dirty, go into the backstreets and eat the food that locals eat. On my first visit to Mumbai, I visited this tiny stall near the Taj Mahal Hotel in Colaba and tried goat brains and kidneys. Now I’ve eaten brain before but it’s always been beef. This, though, was tastier.

The story first appeared in National Geographic Traveller, India

 

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A thali for your thoughts

Pennies are passé.

A thali filled with crispy fried fish, a thick curry the colour of the morning sky and a
colourful salad is worth a bagful of pennies. That is, if you are a Goan living in Bombay and starved of good fish.

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Tisreo Sukhe served with sol kadhi and cabbage.

On days when the craving for home food fills the mind and conjures up visions of a crunchy mussel fry, butter garlic prawns, or a vibrant mackerel stuffed with red masala, there’s only one thing to do. I go to Mahim, to the food-filled lane opposite Paradise cinema and walk into a tiny eatery called Sushegad Gomantak. There, I choose a spot among the five odd tables and settle in for a fishy feast.

But, before placing an order, there’s a system to follow. First is greeting Raju, a man with an easy smile who doubles up as cashier, waiter and delivery boy. This is followed by a discussion on fish – what’s cheap, what is good, what is special today and where did they buy it from. Once I tell him my order, he goes to the tiny kitchen at the back and relays it to his mother. 

Sushegad’s kitchen is presided over by Savita maushi, a diminutive woman of 65, under whose strict supervision passes every dish that’s served to guests. She doesn’t step out of the kitchen, greeting new customers and regulars from inside. Speak to in her native Konkani and she will reluctantly leave her post and come out and talk to you. Savita grew up in the now tourist haven of Calangute where she learned to cook
from her mother. Her favourite fish used to be pomfret, plain fried or coated with masala. Today, cooking it daily has made it lose its charm and she prefers the bangda (mackeral). Savita moved to Mumbai when she as 13 and sharpened her cooking skills by feeding a family of 10 daily. This continued after her marriage.

The eatery is small, just five tables, a board describing all the fish in India and another with the day’s menu scrawled on it.

Ordering fish here is easy – just pick the kind of fish and decide if you prefer it fried or in a curry. It is helpful to know the local names of the fish – bangda (mackeral), muddoshi (lady fish), tisreo (shellfish), makli (squid), muddoshi (lady fish), tamoshi (red snapper), mandeli, xinanio (mussels) and mori (shark). There are thali options and a few chicken dishes too but everyone comes here for the fish.

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Eating the crab masala can get quite messy. 

Fish at Sushegad Gomantak is prepared quite simply. The cooking style here is Goan Hindu – heavy on the spices and coconut and no beef or pork. There is the sukhe, the dry version made by pounding together ginger, garlic, chillies, turmeric and lime. The curries have a few additional ingredients – coconuts, dried chillies and black pepper (kali miri), dhania (coriander), jeera (cumin), garlic, onions, green chillies and tamarind. Then there’s my favourite type of preparation – coated with a batter of rice flour and rava coated, lightly salted and plain fried. As with the chillies, pepper and tamarind, Savita  gets her oil from Goa too – she only uses khobraya cha tel (oil removed after drying coconuts in the sun). It is the oil that gives the fried fish its distinct flavour.

My staple order is fried xinanio (Rs 250), a tangy and spicy mori curry called ambotik (literally sour-sweet) (Rs 200), the very spicy and coconut-ty tisreo (Rs 200) and the juicy and up-to- your-elbow- messy crab masala (Rs 250). The only correct way to eat here is with your hands, making a mess and calming the fire in your mouth with the tangy and bright pink sol kadhi. Sometimes, I also order a crisp prawn cutlet (Rs 150), packed with onions and juicy shrimp. 

Every fish dish is a meal itself and is served with onions, a plain cabbage salad and a simple but delicious green chutney. If I’m feeling particularly, I will order the thali. 

The reason I come here alone or bring Goan friends along is because the food is good,
authentic and homely and just as in Goa, once the food is at the table, all talking ceases and attention rightfully shifts to the food.

The true taste of a good Goan meal: I always feel like taking a good, long siesta after eating.

Sushegad Gomantak is located on Lady Jamshedji Road, opposite Crown Bakery in Mahim; open from 11am to 11pm.

Brno: Bone Season

The Moravian capital of Brno, Czech Republic’s second largest city, has much to offer those looking for a break from Prague. Their biggest attractions are down under. There is a has a thriving underground network of crypts, museums, and even a hotel, showcasing bones, Cold War mementos, and torture devices.

This is a three-part story.

Church of St. James Ossuary

It is the second-largest ossuary in Europe, after Paris. Yet, as I tour the crypt beneath the Church of St James, I’m underwhelmed. The entire place is about 100 metres in length, with just a main chamber and two side passages.  

Then, I take a closer look at the walls and the pillars. They’re made up of the remains of 50,000 people – skulls bones, tinted yellow because of lack of exposure to sunlight. They stare at me, hollow-eyed and un-moving.

In the central chamber, I come across the creepiest chapel – it has a life-size cross and pulpit and ‘walls’ made of bones; in the far corner is a small stained glass mural. Nearby are two glass coffins – one has the skeleton of a grown man, and the other, the bones of a 13-year-old child.

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The central chamber has a small chapel and brackets holding candles, which in the evening, throw light and shadows across the skulls.

There are glass cases and thin railings shielding the bones but, they’re well within reach. Around me, many are surreptitiously touching them. The thought of disturbing the tightly packed bones and have them fall on my head is enough to turn me away. At the end of one passage, is a pyramid of just skulls, some of which still have decayed teeth in them, making it seem like they’re grinning at me.

A few modern sculptures, in black, provide visual relief, including a statue of a guardian angel. The other relief is tonal – somber music composed especially for the especially for the ossuary, streams over the speakers.

The tour is self-guided. I refer to a pamphlet and elsewhere, displays in Czech and English. The sheer volume of the bones does most of the talking. The original crypt was built in the 17th century to accommodate the remains from the cemetery of the church of St James. The initial three rooms filled up quickly and had to be expanded to accommodate more bones. These were victims of the biggest serial killers of the time: plague, cholera, the Thirty Years’ War and the Swedish siege of Brno. Once the ossuary was full, it was covered up and lay in oblivion for 200 years. It was discovered in 2001 as part of a land survey. Researchers spent a decade gathering the remains, cleaning them and rearranging them back. The ossuary opened to the public in 2012. 

It’s not just all bones. Along the passages are tombstones, from the original graves. At the entrance is a mini exhibition, showing old photos of the church and cemetery.

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My tour has taken me just 20 minutes but, I’m glad to leave. As I walk out, I silently say the Latin prayer inscribed on the marble wall outside: Eternal rest grant unto them….

The ossuary is located at Jakubské náměstí; it is closed on Monday; 9.30 am to 6 pm (Tuesday to Sunday). Cost 70 Kč to 140 Kč. 

These wonderful photos are courtesy Michal Růžička, TIC Brno

Still life in Prague

It isn’t often that I see naked men on the street. These two stand proud in the courtyard of the museum dedicated to Franz Kafka. The tourists milling about aren’t interested in learning about the life of the tortured genius. Their voyeurism is basic. They watch in delight as the men move their bronze penises to spell out quotes from famous city residents. On moving closer, I realise the men are urinating into a puddle shaped like the map of the Czech Republic.

‘The Piss’ is one of the more whimsical works of contemporary and controversial artist, David Černý. When it was created in 2004, many said he was showing his displeasure at his country joining the European Union. Others said it was a reference to the many invaders in Czech history. I soon learn that the artist, like his mechanical figures, enjoys pissing people off.

Černý’s art is a social commentary and the city of his birth, Prague, is his playground.

The Czech capital is rich in historic imagery, from the Baroque statues that line Charles Bridge to the horse-riding monument at Wenceslas Square. The public art at Prague’s squares, parks and streets is alternative and experimental, amusing and irreverent, playful and provocative.

A troubled past

On a narrow alleyway near the Old Town Square, a glance upward reveals the figure of a man about to commit suicide. This is the ‘Man Hanging Out’, or what the locals call ‘Hanging Man’. Another Černý special, it has a bearded Sigmund Freud hanging by his right hand, at the end of a beam. This sculpture hints at the hopelessness of the psychoanalyst’s life and his phobia of dying. The other meaning is more symbolic. Černy called Freud “the intellectual face of the 20th century” and perhaps, this is the artist’s way of pondering the role of intellectuals in this century.

Hanging man

The Hanging Man is such a lifelike figure that when it was first put up, local police got a lot of calls about a man committing suicide.

I leave Freud hanging and head out in search of another troubled genius. Self-doubt and depression had plagued Kafka all his life. Černý represents this through an 11-m, 45-tonne stainless-steel kinetic bust of the writer. The ‘Head of Franz Kafka’ rests near the office where he was a clerk. The head consists of 42 motorised layers that move independently, metamorphosing into the writer’s face only for a split second.

Another strange tribute to Kafka lies in the old Jewish Quarter, in the neighbourhood where he lived, worked and wrote. In it, sculptor Jaroslav Róna has a mini version of the writer riding on the shoulders of an empty suit, a reference to a passage in Kafka’s short story, Description of a Struggle. It’s a surreal tribute, slightly ruined by tourists touching the statue’s feet and sitting on each other’s shoulders, mimicking the pose. I wonder if it would depress Kafka to see this base devaluation of art.

Kafka monument

“I leapt onto the shoulders of my acquaintance, and by digging my fists into his back I urged him into a trot..”

In the streets of Mala Strana or Lesser Quarter is a monument that truly does depress. At the base of Petřín Hill, I climb the stairs to find six naked figures. Unlike the gleeful naked men in ‘The Piss’, these men are zombie-like, their faces a mask of pain and despair. This is Czech sculptor Olbram Zoubek’s ‘Memorial to the Victims of Communism’. The six figures, in different stages of disintegration, descend a flight of stairs. A bronze strip tells us of the losses — 205,486 arrested; 170,938 forced into exile; 4,500 dead in prisons; 327 shot while trying to flee and 248 executed. Only one figure is whole; the rest are missing body parts, and the last one has just limbs. For a monument that’s a sombre reminder of the perils of despotism, the setting couldn’t be more picturesque — the surrounding garden and paths are blooming with colour.

Local legends

The most scenic view is at Prague’s oldest bridge, the Charles Bridge. I weave my way through street musicians, artists and selfie-sticks to admire the 30 Baroque statues lining its balustrade. I’m searching for a legend, which I find at the feet of the statue of St John of Nepomuk. John was a priest in Prague, under King Wenceslas IV. He was thrown into the river for refusing to divulge the queen’s confessions to the king, who suspected her of having an affair. It is believed that touching the plaque commemorating his martyrdom brings good luck. The brass portion I run my hand over is smooth, and gleams bright against the blackened surroundings. Nearby is a plaque of a dog, whose shining body indicates that it also receives attention.

St John statue

Locals dismiss this legend associated with the statue putting it down to a tourists phenomenon.

My favourite legend in the city involves a statue of a ghost. This creepy cloaked figure sits outside the Estates Theater in the Old Town, where composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart conducted the première of his opera Don Giovanni in 1787. The creation of Austrian artist Anna Chromy, it is said to represent the opera’s character, Il Commendatore, who appears as a ghost.

The cloaked figure has no face and is empty inside, possibly an allusion to the emptiness of Don Giovanni’s soul. Local legend has it that pictures taken without a flash reveal the image of a face inside the empty cloak. My photos reveal nothing but a black hole but I revel in the possibility of a spectre haunting this ghostly figure.

Il Commendatore

The artist created a similar Cloak of Peace (Pieta) in Salzburg.

 

It’s what makes Prague a fascinating city. Every statue has a story to tell, even if some are more believable than others.

Snowflakes: a feel of Goa in Mumbai

In a neighbourhood rich in historic value, from the Art Deco building that is now Metro Multiplex to the ministry of sounds that is Furtados, you only discover Snowflake by accident. It is one of those places that time forgot.

On a visit to Kyani Restaurant down the road, I followed a line of cats sunning themselves on the road to find the entrance of what looked like someone’s home. As I would when faced with an open door back home in Goa, I entered and immediately felt as if I had stepped back in time. There’s a sense of calm and sepia-tinted nostalgia that envelope the place. The atmosphere is very laid back; staying too long can have soporific effects. Just ask the cats lazing around the doorstep.

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There are always cats hanging around the restaurant. Photos: Yoshita Sengupta

The fans creak slowly. The chairs and tables are similar to what you would find at an Irani café: sturdy black wood and marble tops. There are half-empty showcases plastered with posters, old photos, plate souvenirs and other odds and ends. In one corner a blackboard states the menu; a white board has the day’s specials. Snowflake may appear rundown, but it has character. Everything has a sense of quiet pride to it.

This is a place that has seen better days. Once upon a time, I learn, Snowflake attracted a huge crowd. Mrs Vaz, one of the members of the Rebeiro family that runs the place, is my source for this information. The family is generally reluctant to talk, which is why it is rare to find information anywhere about Snowflake’s history. It started out as a bakery, selling cakes, snacks and ice cream to the many Goans in the area. The customers may have moved on to other parts of the city or abroad, but Snowflake is adamant that the menu will remain unchanged.

The food is simple, like the kind you will find in every Goan home. There are the staple pork dishes, beef (they had removed it from the menu for a brief period after the statewide beef ban before bringing it back), fish curries, pulao and cutlets. I have tasted it all. The sorpotel is my favourite. Tiny pieces of pork, fat, liver, skin and various other parts of the pig, jostle for space on the plate. The gravy is neither too thick nor too thin, and no, unlike in Goa, they don’t use pork blood when cooking it.

Another underrated fish dish is the ambotik, that sour and spicy curry that bursts into song in your mouth. The ambotik here is a lightly spiced, thin gravy made with shark (mori). Mix it with steamed rice and it is fish-curry-rice heaven. The Sausage pulao is pungent and packed with flavour, the vindaloo has chinks of soft pork pieces and fat, and the xacuti is redolent with the taste of coconut.

Thanks to the regulars, if you go to Snowflake too late in the afternoon or evening, you are likely to find some dishes sold out. Like the fish cutlets. These delicious morsels are flat, oval shaped and thin and come packed with minced fish coated in a rawa batter. I’ve eaten six at a go.

The food here won’t leave a dent in your wallet – all the dishes are priced below Rs. 200. Snowflake may not be making profits, but they don’t seem too bothered by it. As with the Parsi establishments in the city, they have their fixed ways – they will shut at 9:55 p.m. every night irrespective of whether you are still eating, and the food is cooked in limited portions, no matter the demand. I try to visit whenever I am in the area, have taken all my friends there, and even told a few city chefs about it. It is my little way of giving back to a place that has given so many wonderful meals that taste like home.

Snowflake is located at 18, Ribeiro Building, Ground Floor, 1st Dhobi Talao Lane, Mumbai 400 002; call 22014252. 

Note: This story was first published in The City Story

Pussies galore: Cat Café in Budapest

Why would someone who isn’t fond of cats enter a café dedicated to them? Curiosity, I say, and it didn’t harm me or the cats.

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cat blog

Budapest has a Cat Café, and a Cat Pub (by the same owners) which surprised me considering all I saw, everywhere, on my visit there were dogs. The café is home to a dozen fluffy felines, who will wander about aimlessly, tails brushing against you and just out of reach hands itching to pet them. The café rules, handed over with the menu, are simple: you don’t bother the cats unless they come to you. The menu also comes with detailed information about the cats present there. You can admire them from afar, or with special permission, feed them treats (you’ve to order them off the menu). 

The feline wonderland had 14 gorgeous creatures, curled up on cushions, on plush beds and scratching posts and shelves. The cafe has huge rooms, one of which serves as the cats’ playground, so the animals have plenty of places to hide. Don’t be surprised if one, Pongo, jumps at you when you enter the bathroom. He loves the sinks in there, and will sneak up behind you to drink water when you open the tap.  

 

It’s a good place to go and take a paws. Sip on their selection of coffee (it comes decorated with cat paws) and munch on their cakes, served on cat-themed plates, while trying to ignore the hungry eyes that follow your every move. 

Note: The staff is unfriendly but the cats are adorable. The place is not recommended for people who have fur allergies, and hate cats.   

Cat Café Budapest is located on Révay utca 3 (closest landmark is St Stephen’s Cathedral); it is open from 10am to 9 pm; log on to catcafebudapest.hu/.

O’ Tenga: Assamese food, home-delivered

The first time I had Assamese food, it was at Gitika Saikia’s home. I relished the sour tenga, burned my tongue on a bhut jolokia pickle and watched, fascinated, as she cooked chicken in bamboo shoots. It was an afternoon, and meal, to remember. 

Recently, I had another such meal, courtesy the two month-old O’ Tenga. The newest delivery space dedicated to just Assamese food is run by by friends Priyangi Borthakur and Joyee Mahanta, out of the latter’s Andheri kitchen. “Ever since we moved here, we’ve always complained about the lack of Assamese restaurants, and how much we missed home food. A few months back, we decided to stop complaining and start something ourselves,” says Mahanta.

Team O' Tenga

Priyangi Borthakur and Joyee Mahanta

Their menu has it all. There’s khar – made by filtering water through the ashes of sun-dried banana peels; xaak bhaji – lightly seasoned green, leafy vegetables; dail – lentils; tenga – a light and tangy curry; pitika – mashed potatoes; besides fish, chicken and mutton dishes. “We’ve been experimenting with recipes for the last five months, trying out recipes from our mothers, grandmothers and aunts. Sometimes, we’ve tried out five different recipes for one dish before settling on what we liked best,” says Mahanta.

This attention to detail reflects in the food. On placing the order, am advised to start with the khar – it is alkaline and so settles the stomach, and end with the acidic/ tangy tenga. The Omita Khar (Rs 180) is like a warm, thick soup with a faint hit of ginger. Kosu Xaak Jalukia (Rs 125), on the other hand, is a light curry made with colocasia leaves and black pepper.

The Koldil Bhaji (Rs 200) is made with banana flower – something I haven’t eaten before – and is a crunchy and dry preparation, with grated coconut adding in extra texture and depth. Dal gets a delicious upgrade in the Thekera Diya Mixed Dail (Rs 150), with mangosteen adding in lovely sour-sweet notes.

The duo sources many of the ingredients from home; they’ve even identified a woman who makes the water that is used in khar. “Besides elephant apple, we get lime, kajinemu (long green lemons), guti aloo (baby potatoes), jaggery, bamboo shoot, bhut jolokia and rice from home,” shares Mahanta.

O' Tenga Til diya Murgi Mangso

Til Diya Murgi Mangxo

These dishes all lead up to my find for the meal, the Til Diya Murgi Mangxo – tender chicken cooked in a comforting black sesame paste. The Pura Maas Pitika (Rs 120) was a tasty mash of grilled fish, potatoes, onions, coriander and chilli – soft, crunchy and smoky. The Aloo Pitika (Rs 50), meanwhile, had the slightest hint of mustard. I ate both these plain, but they are actually meant to be eaten with the Poita Bhaat (Rs 120), a fermented rice mixture with mustard oil and green chilli. 

O' Tenga Fish Meal with Payox

Ou-Tenga Bilhai Tenga with fish, Aloo Pitika and Payox. Photo credit: O’ Tenga

The meal ends with a surprise. The traditional Assamese rice pudding Payox was light on the sweetness, and had the added flavour from camphor. O’ Tenga may have just started but people are already jamming their phone lines for deliveries. With food this good, it’s no surprise.

Call 9833962210 (24 hours prior notice needed); Delivery restricted to Andheri (West); check O’ Tenga for more details