bread, butter, books | an essay for papercuts

plump pierogi fried in goose fat, krakow

my essay on 'bread, butter, books' was published in volume 17 of papercuts magazine with the theme 'appetite'. it is about first tastes and travel and about how real and imagined foods coincide in experience. papercuts is a biannual literary magazine established by desi writers' lounge. desi writers' lounge provides a platform for aspiring south asian writers. volume 17 of the magazine explores 'appetite' and is guest edited by novelist and playwright anita nair. this is an excerpt - 

"the discovery of fictitious worlds and meals coincided with an awareness of how my family was different. my maternal grandparents, who have polish and kashmiri origins with english leanings, met in london at university and spent the first decade of their marriage in wales. i realised that there were stories and memories associated with the things that i ate. it was our kitchen table that gave colour and substance to my mixed heritage. my school day breakfasts of a soft boiled egg cradled in an egg cup to be eaten with buttered toast or pancakes drenched in orange juice and dusted with sugar were very different from the ‘fried anda and paratha’ of my classmates. my school lunch of soft white buttered bread with crimson strawberry jam contrasted with the meaty whiff of their shami kebab sandwiches."

read the full essay along with visuals of my food memories in volume 17, papercuts

vulcan the smoker + burger night

a full view of vulcan

in roman mythology vulcan is the god of fire. at number five in bani gala he has been reincarnated as a barbecue grill/smoker. his body is fashioned from a large steel barrel supported by a rectangular frame. his fire is contained in a little hatch fed by coal or wood. his name brandished in metal is proudly displayed on the lip of the curve of his upper body. in a jar beside him are tools that are capable of withstanding his wrath. they are used to retrieve large hunks of meat and poultry after they have been smoked or grilled. 

vulcan was inspired by a combination of arizona living and the pakistani love for grilling. the yusuf family’s adventurous appetites led us to try mexican and american meats and we fell in love with long slow smoked brisket and ribs. barbecue in the land of red, white and blue is an extended affair. the southern states are famous for cooking tough cuts of meat over indirect heat usually a wood fire for a long while. in pakistan meat is generally grilled after being marinated which essentially helps tenderise the meat. it absorbs some of the smokiness of the grill but it is nowhere near the deep almost tobacco like smokiness of american barbecue. i have fond memories of baba’s barbecues on trips to murree. back then he used a rectangular grill with a mesh of diamond shapes as a platform for grilling chicken tikka and bite-sized pieces of beef.

pizza vom

my parents now live in bani gala, an extended suburb of islamabad near rawal lake. there is a little market a short distance from our house (which i call the bg high street) that sports necessities such as a general store, a pharmacy, a butcher, a tea and juice stall, a grocer and a tailor. amidst all these is a small pizzeria strangely named ‘pizza vom’ – hot as hell.

pizza is one of those foods that has universal appeal that allows itself to be appropriated by the tastes of the country in question. pakistani pizza’s come in all shapes and sizes. most people here prefer a thicker, greasy crust but you can get thin ones too at the likes of luna capresse and al forno. they are usually topped with generous amounts of melted cheese, are heavy on spice and some meat. pizza vom happened to be surprisingly good. a thin slightly crispy crust that was not over burdened with its toppings (what i mean to say is that the pizza didn’t collapse under the weight of them) – there was capsicum, chicken, sausages and black olives and quite a lot of spice. a very local version of an italian staple!

i must confess. i do so love a pakistani pizza once in a while.

shop 4| mughal plaza| main road bani gala

khaas art gallery cafe

mum and i lunched at khaas today. this is an art gallery-cum-cafe, one which i had frequented in the days when i lived in islamabad. often friday lunch breaks found me at khaas with colleagues or family. khaas has always stood for good food and really good coffee. it’s menu is chalked onto a blackboard and i often found ordering a little discomfiting, since if you happen to be standing and trying to make up your mind it can be distracting for those dining near the menu.

often deciding what to eat can be difficult as the entrees and salads are all tempting. i recall how the flavourful the japanese beef was and the burgers too. today, i was in the mood for thai and settled on red curry. mum and i usually share an entree so that we can split guilt (that is dessert in our speak). the red chicken curry is served with steamed rice and vegetables sautéed in a light soy sauce flecked with sesame seeds. the bowls are arranged on a thali. i love the attention to presentation at khaas. the rice is garnished with some chilli chips which are a deep fiery orange. the entree is preceded by brown and white bread accompanied by a shallow dish of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. the curry is quite mild but rich with coconut milk and a hint of chilli. the vegetables are crunchy and taste really good. i’ve always found the rice to be boiled a little too dry.

although we deliberate over dessert, our choice of chocolate mousse is very predictable. khaas’ mousse holds pride of place even in comparison to abroad. it’s decadent and dark with a hint of bitterness in the end. and most importantly the flavour of the chocolate isn’t diluted by cream. it’s texture is dense and feathery at the same time. mum of course had a cafetiere of coffee.   

house one| street two| f-6/3| islamabad

roti & naans

i love roti, in all its shapes and forms - the laal mandari which is round, quite thick and made of wholemeal flour (strangely termed ‘laal atta’ which literally translated means red flour). then there is pateeri roti made of slightly fermented dough and is slightly thinner. roti’s white flour cousins are called naans - roghni is a round patterned one, sprinkled with sesame seeds and brushed with clarified butter as soon as it emerges from the tandoor. afghani naans tear away in long strips as they are long and linear hemmed in by a thick and very soft crust. stuffed naans are a meal unto themselves and are best enjoyed with yoghurt, plain or minted, the best is keema naan (minced meat). on my last visit to the tandoor mum and i stood in the sweltering heat and while we waited for our order of roti and naans to be prepared we couldn’t resist the temptation of a fresh roghni naan. fingers and tongues slightly scalded we tore bits and peices and ate, all the while grumbling about mid-meal snacking. to me roti from the tandoor is what warm bread is from the oven to europeans - or as euphorium bakers say, it is the simplest pleasure in life.

t at sara's

my (self appointed) god mother organized a tea for me post my marital-engagement. there were two kinds of open faced sandwiches; a thick layer of pesto with a garnish of tomato & basil, mozzarella and tomato. and chicken baked in a soothingly mild manner. of course there is a signature seasonal fruit salad and auntie s’ infamous crepes stuffed with peaches and cream that o has developed a penchant for. with it was tea, the perfect cup of it. brewed to a strong perfection and whitened with full cream milk.