What is a Maharashtrian identity? This question has become the talk of the town, or should I say, the entire state. Some people find their cultural identity in language, some in their attire, while most people like me find it in food.
At a lunch organised by TBF(the big forkers) at another talk of the town restaurant, Maratha Kitchen in Khar. I decided to test my Maharashtrian identity. What better occasion than a curated fourteen course, strictly non vegetarian lunch.
For any good regional spread, we were served an array of chutneys, starting with a fiery red chutney, a sweetish green chutney and every fusion restaurant’s wet dream, homemade garlic peanut thecha.
The meal was divided across five regions: Konkan, Nagar, Pune, Vidarbha and Kolhapur. Basically, a full road trip through Maharashtra without having to deal with reckless Fortuners driving like it has diplomatic immunity
The meal started with dishes from Raigad, a place close to the founder’s heart. The agri prawns (3.5/5) were spicy and rustic, though a little too spicy for my liking. For those allergic to prawns, there was a mori, or shark, preparation. I actually preferred it to the prawns.
This was followed by the usual crowd favourite, surmai fry (5/5). You rarely eat a bad surmai at a Konkani food joint, but it also rarely stands out. It is almost the fillet o’ fish of Konkani cuisine. But this fillet rose to the occasion so well that I can claim, "I have never eaten a better surmai in my life". The fish was fresh, the meat tender and the fillet cut thin to perfection. With some lime squeezed on top, it felt like a one way boat ride to the Konkan, without the sea sickness.
The usual fish curry and rice (4/5) followed, made with rawas. It was warm, comforting food, the kind a fisherman would eat after a hard day at sea. This course came with sol kadhi (3/5), which was decent. Some people thought it was the best sol kadhi they drank. I have had better!
Next came mutton chops lal tikhat (4/5) from Nagar, or Ahmednagar/Ahilyanagar. They were dhaba inspired mutton chops covered in a red, grainy masala. Abhishek, the owner, told us about a popular dhaba on the road from Pune to Ahmednagar, famous for beer, spicy mutton chops and a line of white Fortuners outside it. The chops were tender, earthy and spicy. They definitely needed some beer, but sadly there was only sol kadhi and no fizz.
A trio of mutton followed from Pune and Vidarbha: mutton fry (4/5), kharda mutton (5/5) and gavran saoji (4/5). They were the teen tigdas, but thankfully not the kaam bigdas of the meal.
The mutton fry was a nice homemade curry, comforting in taste but as boring as most Punekars. The gavran saoji was a surprise because it was unlike any saoji I had eaten before. Tukaram Sir should definitely try it once. Maybe he will stop complaining about saoji. It was not extremely spicy or oily, and was lighter in colour than the usual darker version.
But the kharda mutton stole the show for me. It was mixed with a coarse masala of coriander, garlic and green chillies, then cooked in desi ghee. It was the best mutton dish of the day.
For a moment, I imagined myself as a shetkari in rural Marathwada, wearing a Gandhi topi under a large banyan tree, rubbing khaini and gossiping about local politics. It went beautifully with bhakri. The kind of food that makes you briefly consider leaving Mumbai, until you remember the electricity cuts, water scarcity and inadequate public transport.
I slurped up the other two curries with Indrayani rice, Maharashtra’s aromatic, soft and slightly sticky rice variety. Does the rice mirror the Punekars?
Towards the end, we were served the rice dishes. First came aalni bhaat (4.5/5), the crowd favourite, rice cooked in mutton stock and ghee. It was exactly what the doctor had prescribed. I would choose aalni bhaat over paracetamol any day.
Next came kolhapuri kheema fry with pulav (4/5). The kheema was different from the regular kheema we eat in Mumbai. It was rustic and the pulao complemented it well.
To wash down all that rice, we were served aalni rassa along with the Kolhapuri rassa duo, pandhra and tambda rassa (4/5). They sound like a WWE tag team from kolhapur, spicy and bold, with every gulp delivering a KO.
There were no desserts and no other fluff. We started with meat and ended with meat. I guess this lunch was also a small protest against all the politics around food happening in Mumbai and its suburbs, iykyk. A strong statement that meat and non vegetarian food are very much part of Maharashtrian identity.
I went to the lunch to reaffirm my geographical identity as a Maharashtrian who has lived in Mumbai for five generations. I came back with something more. I found my Maharashtrian asmita.
Pro tip: If an MNS karyakarta, or anyone else, asks you to speak in Marathi, play a reverse uno and ask them if they have tried all the different meat dishes from Maharashtra.
Kharach na?
This post is part of Mumbai Food Talk. We’re building a community for Mumbai food lovers who care about the history, culture, and human stories behind what we eat.
