Last year at this time, my brother and I were stuffing our faces with choley bhatoorey, samosa chat, momos and golgappe from our favorite stalls back home. We were eating in what seemed like a ‘what if we never get this food ever again’ frenzy. We would make our plans around the 9AM choley bhatoorey drive, we’d call the momo shop twice a day to check if they had our favorite ones in stock, and we’d eat atleast 5 meals a day full of sheer splendidness.
We both moved around the same time. He was really worried about having to cook for himself regularly, as was I. We made him a menu of things he could cook with minimal effort, and for months, all of our calls were dedicated to comparing recipes. We have both been eating choley bhatoorey, samosa chat, golgappe and momos in our new cities, but I doubt they will ever taste the same. Nothing ever does. Everything seems like a badly sung parody of the way things were when we were we were together, back home. I guess, that was the plan all along. Though we’s never admit it, I guess we were both eating in a ‘what if we never get this time with each other ever again’ frenzy. And we were so damn right.
I want you to cook choley bhatoorey because I absolutely hated them till my brother decided that he wanted to eat them every day and I decided to keep him company.
My experience cooking, eating and feeding Chola Batura
- Making something for the second time improves the experience a lot. I didn’t feel lost. It didn’t take me 5689 hours to cook the peas. I didn’t ardently follow a recipe and did not get any Chola on my dress!
- I realized I have cooked with the folk song playlist for long because now people sing along to these songs even though they don’t understand the language.
- R and I have a Chola Bhatura tradition in Pune. So for this one, she broke her ‘I will fast on Thursdays if we find alcohol tonight’ fast. After she ate it, she said it reminded her of our Pune chole, which is a compliment I am still trying to deserve.
The story of how Pragya and I became friends is one of perseverance. I met her at my first job. We were the opposites of each other. I was loud, in every sense of that word and she was this soft-spoken girl who wore nudes and spoke only when it was required. I decided that I wanted to be friends with her when I found out she loves Arundhati Roy. She, on the other hand, hated me, with my ‘Army Nurse’ tshirt, my loud anklets (plural), my need to continuously talk and my energetically disturbing everyone at work. I remember a time when she turned and walked away while I was still talking to her! But I stuck around and she changed her mind about me. We started living together, accompanying each other to therapy, holding hands and crying at Phil Kay’s poems. She would realize when I had been crying in the washroom, give me strength and pastries. She is my mental health ally.
I do not want you to draw any Kabir Singh, stalkery Bollywood hero sort of inspiration from this story! You may, though, want to start thinking of people as layers, some irritating and some that fit!
Recipe
https://www.indianhealthyrecipes.com/chole/#wprm-recipe-container-38744