This food tour in India requires a leap of faith
I entrusted my belly to the stallholders of Old Delhi – and a knowledgeable guide – and lived to tell the tale.
As a full-volume, kaleidoscopic, sensory-overloaded introduction to India, the maelstrom of Old Delhi hits the spot. The most historic part of the Indian capital, Old Delhi sprawls across more than 900sq km, a warren of tightly packed buildings filled with just as tightly packed humans. Its soundtrack is one of relentless honking horns, revving engines and voluble vendors. Its perfume is a pungent melange of spices, petrol fumes, piping hot ghee and, occasionally, what can only be pee. But it’s vibrant and fascinating and I love it. My head swivels like a sideshow alley clown, mouth suitably agape, as I take it all in while navigating the obstacle course that the pavement presents.
I’m following in the assured footsteps of guide Rajeev Goyal as he leads our party on a scrumptious urban food safari through the quarter. The old walled city was established when Mughal ruler Shah Jahan, who conceived the extraordinary Taj Mahal, moved the capital from Agra in 1648. Wander down an alleyway and it looks like some of those original buildings are still standing. Heavy wooden doors are set within Arabic-style pointed arches and flanked by ornate stone carvings. Filigree balconies perch above, while ancient timbers protrude from faded walls. There are other echoes of the past. Tradesmen loll on the footpath, advertising their skills in time-honoured tradition by displaying a tool of their particular trade – paintbrush, chisel, saw. I see one man pressing business shirts with a heavy iron filled with hot coals. Pedal-powered rickshaws haul impossibly huge loads. But despite the old-world vibes, time has moved on, as evidenced by the mobile phone shops and electricity cables strung chaotically from walls and power poles.
The fear of Delhi belly is a serious concern for visitors to India. Raj has supplied us with antiseptic wipes and gel, but he assures us that nothing we eat on this three-hour outing will upset our delicate Western constitutions. And we are taking him at his word. Would I normally eat a snack of watermelon, pomegranate, chickpea and spices from a hole-in-the-wall stall? Absolutely not. But when Raj passes around a plate, I take a leap of faith. It’s a sweet-savoury taste sensation.
Raj has set the ground rules early on our tour, warning that he will be “bossy”, but he proves an entertaining and endearing host. A chef and restaurateur with a background in marketing, he spent much of his childhood in his mother’s kitchen. It fuelled a curiosity about our palates and why certain foods produce certain flavours. So when we are presented with a table laden with small bowls of curry, bread and pickle, he directs our tasting like a science experiment. We take spoonfuls of curry at 10-second intervals and it’s a revelation to discern clove, then cinnamon, then pepper with each mouthful.
We are introduced to ayurvedic principles at a tiny eatery that does a roaring trade in just one dish, a sandwich of paneer (cheese), slices of mango, butter and saffron and almond jam. It is designed to be a hydrating meal that doesn’t raise or lower the body’s temperature. In Delhi, where water is a precious commodity and summers are scorching, we should “eat our water and drink our food”, Raj says. He explains that this means choosing foods that are high in water quantity and ensuring they are chewed thoroughly.
There’s history on the menu, too. We learn that the Portuguese introduced potatoes to India in the 1600s, and at a roadside shop that has been in business for 120 years, I eat the best “chips” of my life. The vegetables have been roasted in hot sand to retain their starch levels, fried in ghee until golden and crispy, then salted. We’re shown daal vadi – sun-dried lentil dumplings that are light as a feather; the ideal fuel for on-the-move Mughal armies. Raj tells us how the subcontinent’s first Mughal ruler, Babur (1483-1539), missed the fruits of his homeland (modern-day Uzbekistan). His cravings resulted in the invention of kulfi, a dense ice cream that was originally created using ice wrapped in cloth, and transported all the way from the Himalayas by cart. We take refuge from the heat in a shop that has been making this sweet concoction since 1906 and swoon over slices of a creamy frozen orange version.
We try fried breads made with fermented dough, mango lassi, salty-sour pickles, a Pakistani chickpea curry that is packed with flavour despite the absence of oil, onion, garlic or tomato. A rasgulla dumpling in syrup delivers a sugar hit that surely sends our blood-glucose levels soaring. With every dish, Raj serves a side helping of anecdote and insight.
Cautiously crossing one thrumming intersection, we come across a grey-haired gentleman manning a cart laden with a makeshift metal oven of hot coals and ash. Neatly arranged in a huge bowl are nankhatai, a simple shortbread made with sugar, flour, ghee and cardamom. They’re light and mildly sweet, and would be the perfect accompaniment to a cup of chai. Raj tells us the man has been making this biscuit for 60 years. Some things in Old Delhi never change.
In the know
Rajeev Goyal’s Old Delhi food tour includes rickshaw rides and up to 17 dishes from about eight vendors; from 4000 rupees ($74) a person. The tour is part of Luxury Gold’s nine-day Essence of India itinerary; from $6526 a person, twin-share.
Penny Hunter was a guest of Luxury Gold.
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