Life in the City - Vada Pao for the Soul

Chapter 5 - An Ode to the Humble Vada Pao

What's life without soul food? And if you think I'm talking daal-chawal-kadhi, yawwwwn think again. Soul food for the true Mumbaikar is the food that can be easily snagged off the tapris on the road and had with a cutting of adraki chai or ginger tea for the more anglicised. 

There are days when I wake up craving a hot vada pao, that's straight out of the vendor's kadai, still dripping black viscous oil through the sieve scooping it out of the bubbling cauldron. Never venture to look into the oil vat, you might not want to touch a vada again, nor look at the huge vessel in which the potato balls are given its besan-bath.But look at those crisp, crackling vadas that are carelessly tossed into the container near the vendor and the first moment of bliss overtakes you. 


(Disclaimer: Before I go further with my foodie musings, let me at the outset say - I am no connoisseur, I have a few regular places like most Mumbaikars for my secret vices - while the true Mumbaivaasi will scream 'blasphemy' at my dubbing vada-pao hogging as a vice - I must say my health-consciousness makes me admit, it's not an eating habit to be made a staple part of the diet. Precisely why I call it soul food!)


Now, comes the pao, but before that..I must confess I am very particular about how I like my vada pao - that's the reason why I'm no Jumbo person - anyone who's been to Mumbai knows about the big yellow stalls that can be seen across most railway stations and busy areas which sell a burgerised version of the vada-pao. I normally never look that way, not even for the sake of superior hygiene. I still go to my usual man at the Andheri station, when the whim strikes. If it strikes in Lower Parel, there is a shop really close to the traffic signal as one comes down the bridge from the station. Or my third option is the man, who stands by the High Court in Fort. 


The pao is rarely stale and what remained from the stock of the days gone by that went unsold. The churn-out rate in these places is so high, that very often people are forced to wait till a fresh batch of vadas are fried. 

Now when I say fresh pao, how do I describe it to someone who has never held that sponginess between their two hands? The toasty outside has a tiny crackle and when you split it into two to dab on the chutney, the bread isn't doughy, but instead so soft that the chutney sinks into it leaving just a green trail in its wake.


The reason why I like the humble vada pao so much is the skilled carelessness with which my favourite vada paowallahs make mine, in just the finicky way I like it. I like my steaming vada to be lightly crushed on to the bed of the pao which has been soaked with green chutney. Once it has been crushed into a compact form, a generous sprinkling of the dry fiery red garlic chutney is mandatory ( I don't like that sprinkled on to the green chutney, but on to the vada). Now comes the turn of a tiny tiny dab of sweet date and imli chutney on to the upper flap of the pao. And that brings the yin and yang of taste together - a sweetness to the fire generated doused by mildly spiced potatoes of the vada. But if the fire isn't enough to get your taste buds dancing, there are the humble green chillies (deep fried in the same oil as the vadas) to create heat of varied proportions too..

The first bite is like a series of tiny fire-crackers going off inside your mouth. The tongue is on fire, the taste-buds are on an over-drive and your senses are in bliss. The first vada pao is usually finished off, often greedily, in three measured bites. And chomping with your cheeks bulging out, in the manner that Amma says is not how food is eaten politely, gives it an added 'guilty pleasure' quotient. The second comes with the guilt of extra calories. If you can shrug that off, then it is highly recommended. Wash it down with lightly sweetened( I hate sugary concoctions) adraki chai and walk away with an added spring in your step. 


The pocket is only lighter by under twenty rupees and the soul filled to the brim! The journey towards Nirmal Anand (pure joy) is half complete. 


(Images courtesy: Open, Outlook and CNNGo)


And if your heart is still not full, go ahead and read this poem by Ugich Konitari. Entertainment is tax free! :)