The Saoji and The City

Fifteen years ago, Siddarth and I were invited to the inauguration of a Shakti Temple by Harsha and Manja, two close friends from the rather large Saoji community in Bangalore. Harsha and Manja were true “city” boys, born and brought up in the maze of streets that forms Akkipet, Chikpet, Avenue Road, Nagrathpet and surrounding areas. It was through them that I was initiated into the singularity of Bangalore’s gastronomic black hole, "city". Over the course of 5 years in their company, many a weekend was spent roaming the two foot wide crevices of Balepet, in search of battered musical instruments and 12 rupee Gobi Manchurian. Gundu Pulao and Rao Militry were saved for rare Sundays that Harsha or Manja would be kind enough to pick up biryani tokens for early, using their Saoji connections of course. 

On this particular occasion, the Saoji’s, in their most earnest religiosity, had opened their doors to friends and guests to partake in a feast like none other I had ever attended. While the food was fantastic, I was more enamoured by the heightened sense of community that permeated everything that the Saojis did. Much like the Parsis in Mumbai, the Saojis took pride in their exclusivity and when they did take you in as one of them, albeit momentarily, they embraced you with all the love they had to offer. Speaking a language that was a script-lacking mish-mash of gujarati and Marathi, which didn’t sound anything like the Marathi I grew up around, they operated diverse businesses in and around BVK Iyengar Road right from alcohol to silk weaving and even lodges. For a deeply religious and sometimes superstitious community, I found it strange that alcohol and mutton found its way into their religious functions, offered as a prasadam to the presiding deity especially on Dussera, when it truly was party time if you were invited to their home. I spent many a dussera meal at Harsha and Manja’s place, belting intricate curries and offal, pulaos and rossos, khaimas and frys, happy to have been a part of something special. For the food truly is. Special.

If you have really eaten authentic saoji cuisine, and I’m sure the cuisine in the South is very different from the Nagpur Saojis, you will recognize that it is nothing short of the work of an epicurean genius. The curries, are delicate, their preparation, complex, the execution, immaculate, the taste, divine. It’s like nothing you have ever tasted and everything at the same time. Once I made the mistake of asking Manja’s mom how the Kadang was made and she rattled off over 25 different ingredients including khus, coconut, til, flak seeds before I lost her in a polao induced daze. My favourite though, the Rosso, a spicy lentil soup cooked with nibblets of goat fat served at the end of a saoji meal after the offal that normally includes blood sausage and Chakha, a curry of cartilage and liver. Not for the faint of heart, I assure you.

Siddarth died in a fatal accident when we were into our second year, an event that affected us all and soon after college, we lost a little bit of touch but it’s pretty much just like old times when we meet, even if that may be once in a few years. Manja is now in Dalian, trying to figure out if he can score some Indian mutton to get over the umaminess of his Chinese existence. So when Harsha called me over for a function at his place with the promise of a mutton party, I simply could not resist. In fact I used this opportunity to revisit some old favourites. 

Firstly, Gobi Corner, a small hole in the wall famous for one thing and one thing only. Gobi Manchurian. Served the old fashioned way, on a banana leaf with couple of slices of cucumber. I have to admit, I had very high expectations for the Gobi here and while I can’t say it was the best Gobi I’ve ever had, it was very close. The place though, is everything that an old Bangalore place should be like. The whole store reverberates with the sounds of brahminical chants while an old Iyengar uncle presides over a large kadai of Gobi Manchurian. If he drops his head any lower into the kadai, it is likely that your Gobi plate will be garnished with vibhooti. Awesome!

 

Secondly, Gundu. An evening snack not to be missed. They make a 50 rupee fried chicken dish called Chicken Khsatriya. A spicy, crispy and juicy rendition of a Chicken Kebab. Do not miss this if you can make it during their open hours (6PM to 9PM every day except Saturday and Monday, when they are closed).

 

Finally, the Saoji meal. I wish you guys were there to share some of this stuff.

Not.