Irish Tacos for Pooja

I went to Pune in 2017. I had been to Pune before and I went after, but that one trip was like a wild vacation.

I met all my friends and cousins. A lot of them stay in Pune. Each took me to his or her favorite spots. So I went to discos, pubs, restaurants, tapris, parks and bakeries. We danced into the night and ate like we hadn’t seen food. We went through thele wala chola bhatura, momos, burgers and pani puris. The one food I remember distinctly are Nachos at Irish House.

It was the first time I had Nachos. It was also the last time I had Nachos. I am not sure where I’ll be able to find good Nachos in Amravati. So, if someone offered to make me ANYTHING in the world, I would ask them to make Nachos.

My experience making, eating and feeding Nachos

I got carried away (is an understatement) while making Nachos. I made a Nacho ‘pick your filling’ spread because R doesn’t like beans and I am an enthu-cutlet. I was further encouraged by how colourful and promising every ingredient/sauce seemed and sounded. I made parsley-sour cream, salsa, hummus, beans, assorted and pickled vegetables from scratch. When I failed to source them, I even made my taco shells from scratch. The whole spread took me 3 days to make. I swear to never ever ever do that to myself again.
The whole batch – tacos, vegetables and sauces – were over in less than 10 minutes. Dadi, Papa, Mumma, R and I sat around the table; Dadi and Papa served everyone more than they wanted/could eat in their Marwadi ‘over-feed everyone till they are scared of you’ way. It wasn’t the kind of eating – that is done while telling a funny story from work or about that time you did that embarrassing thing- that seems as slow if not mindful as the making. It was an intense type of, breathing in of food. While mildly disappointing in the moment, it seems endearing in retrospect. Mine is not a ‘eating is a side activity’ kind of family, mine is the ‘first you eat, you can work/study/sleep/stories later’ kind. There’s a different flavor of joy to be found in those.

You know how the people who beyond-love books are called bookworms, if not the cheaper bibliophile. I am turning into a vegetable worm, vegetable-phile. I grow cherry tomatoes, basil, parsley in my balcony. I sow any roots I find in the vegetables my parents get. My lemongrass, mint and spring onions grew out that way. Now when I am driving, I slow down around vegetable markets, take a good look at what they have. If I see something unfamiliar or uncommon, I stop the car and buy it. I am sure Dadi knows a use for it. Last week I found a fruit called ‘Kavit’. Dadi made a chutney out of it. I did the same with spring onions, tur beans, ‘karvand’ some sort of sour berries over the last few months. What a joy!