I’m getting bolder in my culinary adventures. (Indian
cheesecake anyone? Hahaha!) Those I typically eat with tend to order food for
me so that I can try new things, or they will prevent me from eating something
they do not think will suit me well. The later can sometimes be frustrating,
but I take it as a display of kindness and their caring nature.
Last night I was cautiously presented with a new opportunity
to take it a step further: street food. Not only was it street food, but it was
street food that allegedly can topple the native Indian’s digestive system.
Yes, we went right for the big guns. Meha, Kriti and I had planned to wander Gandhi Road in search of gifts and running errands as well as experiencing
“true India.” As we checked each thing off the list, Meha grew more and more
excited about THE ITEM: "Introduce Emily to pani puri." This was the item on the list that would have been circled, underlined, bolded and maybe
even clouded for good measure.
Both girls were excitedly dubious about this task, as they knew the
risks and voiced their concern if I fell ill. In the end they decided I would
be allowed to enjoy one (and only one) pani puri from the street vendor and would then have to
experience more from a “hygienic” establishment. You see, the street vendor
serves a morsel that no hygienic place can match. I NEEDED to have a street
pani puri.
Looking back on this, I feel it was cruel. Not because they
were knowingly risking my well-being, but because they only allowed me to eat
one, solitary street pani puri. It was worth the hype that Meha and Kriti gave
it. Later that evening, I was able to satiate my craving for more with a stop a
“hygienic” restaurant for more traditional Northern Indian foods including: pav
bhaji and chana samosa.
The photos will provide more details, but I will try to
describe the pani puri. Each bite is about the size of a cream puff and serves
as the “vehicle” for an epic potatoe and chickpea filling. The “puff” is made
of thin, crispy pastry-like bread and is broken open with the thumb to receive
a scoop of the filling. Then the whole thing is dipped into a broth (which is
where the “unhygienic” part comes in) that is tart, salty, and wholesome. After it is dipped, the entire pani puri is to be placed in the mouth and
consumed; a greater challenge then you think. The taste is mildly salty and
reminiscent of limes and cilantro. The texture is simultaneously crunchy, soft,
and creamy. It is a little explosion of culinary delight pocketed in a small
little puff of magic. That is all. And I survived the street food; all the
better for trying it as well.
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