I had just reached Leh after a particularly dusty ride with a stomach that was growling with hunger. I stopped in front of a small restaurant even before checking into a hotel. My belly didn’t allow me to ride any further. There were a few midday customers, some locals, and some tourists – all of whom were feasting on some delicious smelling Thuppa and momos. A steaming bowl of Thuppa was placed before me, and I attacked it with all the finesse of a gorilla at feeding time in a zoo. I was just a few spoons into the bowl when in came a pompous man in a rather expensive looking three-piece suite with his equally decked up wife in tow. He shouted his order, “Butter chicken… Chandigarh style.” The young waiter politely informed him that they do not serve ‘Butter chicken Chandigarh style,’ at which our man looked completely shocked! The incredulity of it all – how can they NOT serve butter chicken, he asked. Chandigarh to Leh is a long way, and I wondered why he had to endure a long, bumpy and dusty journey to eat his favourite butter chicken high up in the Himalayas? He should have just stayed in Chandigarh. He started to create an ugly scene, and I left. A lot of people do that. Why can’t they enjoy the place, and its food too – after all, they’ve taken the trouble to travel all the way there? Of course, I’m not asking you to eat what your religion or health issues forbid you to. And nobody can force you to eat something you don’t like. But one of the enduring joys of travelling to distant lands is to taste the local food –especially since you’re not likely to come across it again in a hurry. Everyone isn’t Bear Grills – who eats cockroaches and other creepy crawly things. But, then, most places have menus that are far more comprehensive than that. And then there are the local brews. They might not be handed out in fancy bottles, but they taste wonderful. The highways in India are lined with dhabas, and they dish out some pretty wonderful food. We don’t have the highway café and diner culture. Although you will find McDonald’s and KFC outlets on certain highways, they’re a precious few in number. On a long road trip, you’ll be hard pressed to find these swanky food joints in more than a handful of places – and if you swear by only their type of food, you’re in for a very long trip with a half-filled grumbling stomach. Just as a train journey feels somewhat incomplete without the omnipresent shouts of ‘chai… chai’, a road trip is absolutely incomplete if you haven’t eaten in a dhaba. After riding over a long and rough stretch of road, it feels absolutely great to stretch out on a ‘charpoy’ under a warm winter sun as you wait for your food. The best part is that the food is all prepared fresh. You can see and smell it being cooked, and the aroma invariably kicks up the appetite. Come to think of it, that might be a ploy to get the travellers to order more food! But, then, no one is complaining. After a hard days ride through Bihar on particularly bad roads, I pulled up at a dhaba and had a sumptuous late lunch. I thought I would rest a bit before starting out again, and so I stretched out on a cot. The warm sun and a soothing breeze promptly lulled me to deep sleep. When I woke, it was late evening and I heeded the owners’ advice of not riding after sundown – as the next town was quite far away. That night I had the best chicken curry, roti, and vegetables of my life, and washed them all down with a huge glass of lassi. In the morning, I walked with the owner to his village nearby, and he gave me some sweets made of milk. Delicious would be an understatement, and I’ve never been able to find anything similar – even at some of the best sweet shops in the city. McDonald’s and KFC are all very well when in the city, but, when in rural India, never pass a chance to eat at these dhabas. Sure, not many of them have refrigerators. But, then, they don’t need them. They only make enough food to last the day – no leftovers to carry over to the next day.
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