Positively Provincial

Delhi’s state bhawans anD houses boast an exhaustive menu of regional Delicacies. Sharmistha Chaudhuri submits her appetite to this Diverse universe.

- Sharmistha Chaudhuri

People usually complain about my short-term memory. Yet, I can clearly recall my first bite of the delightful delicacy called Andhra mutton fry from nine years ago. Juicy pieces that had been slow-cooked till eternity, served alongside vegetarian offerings. There was nothing wrong with the latter—generous portions of curry, a dry sabzi, sambar, rasam, and enough rice to feed an army. But it was the mutton that made my heart flutter. The heat from the spices had caught at the back of my throat, making me splutter, and my eyes water. Yet, my hand in a deft motion went back for a second bite.

My tolerance towards spice has increased over time, the learning curve teaching me to ask for puris instead of rice if there’s work to be done after, but Andhra Pradesh Bhavan’s (1 Ashoka Road; [phone]; open for all meals) popularity hasn’t diminished one bit. Lunchtime is always full, a sea of people eagerly waiting with paper tokens for a no-frills grub. A synchronised symphony begins the moment you take a seat—first comes the steel thali with the basics, followed by a server bearing dal, vegetables and curry. Then comes the rice, and finally, puris. While pickles (the gongura is a personal favourite) and gunpowder are on the table, the trick is to ask for ghee. Rice mixed with gunpowder and ghee knows no equal, and I will be forever grateful to the colleague who introduced me to its magic on one of our umpteen visits.

The vegetarian meal is unlimited, until you shake your head: helpings continue until common sense prevails over greed. The process—averaging about 20 minutes per person—reaches its crescendo after a content burp. Coordinating a crowd that size, and managing the service so it runs smoothly takes practice, but then, they’ve been practicing for over a quarter of a century.