Sunday, January 25, 2015

JANUARY 26 - Republic Day Story

In the occasion of Republic Day, here is a story from my Creative Writing Archives.

I wrote this story 2 years ago on the eve of Republic Day  on 25 January 2013  to be precise.

I feel it is still relevant.

Do tell me if you like it.

Wish You a Happy Republic Day 26 January 2015.

JANUARY 26
Republic Day Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE

January 26

Republic Day of India.

6:30 AM.

A cold morning.

A woman sits on a bench on the solitary platform of Girinagar Railway Station.

She looks at her watch.

Then she looks towards the Railway Track.

She has a worried expression on her face.

The Station Master comes out of his office holding two flags, one green and one red.

He sees the woman and smiles at her.

The woman gets up from the bench and asks the station master, “Is the shuttle late?”

“Yes, the shuttle has been delayed. The express train is being stopped here. The shuttle has been detained at the outer signal and will arrive here after the express train goes away.”

“Oh, My God…!!!”

“What happened?” asks the station master.

“I don’t want to be late for the Republic Day function in our school,” the woman says.

“What time is the function?”

“7:30. The normal school time.”

“Oh.”

“I hope I will reach in time,” the woman says anxiously.

“I don’t think so,” the station master says.

“Why? What happened?” the woman asks.

“Well, normally the shuttle leaves here at 6:25 and reaches the Junction at 7:10,” the station master says.

“That’s right. And it is just a 10 minute walk down to school. I’ll reach in time even if my train is a few minutes late, isn’t it?” the woman says.

The station master looks at his watch, then looks at the woman, and he says, “Well, I really can’t say. From here to the junction, it is 45 minutes running time for the shuttle train. The express is expected to arrive at 6:45 and will be detained here for about 10 minutes. By the time the shuttle arrives and leaves it will easily be 7 o’clock. Even if it makes up time, the shuttle train will not be able to reach the junction by 7:30. And then, you still have a 10 minute walk to school. I don’t think you will be able to reach your school by 7:30.”

“Oh, My God. I will be in trouble if I am late for the Republic Day function. It will be so humiliating,” the woman says in an anxious voice with nervousness written all over her face.

“You have got a first class pass, haven’t you?” the station master asks.

“Yes,” the woman says.

“Then don’t worry. You can travel by the express in the air-conditioned coach. I will tell the TTE to permit you. The express will take less than 15 minutes to reach the junction and you will be there latest by 7:10 and you can easily reach your school well before 7:30.”

“Thank you so much.”

“What ‘Thank You’? You are like my daughter. This is the least I can do for you.”

“Why is the express stopping here?” the woman asks.

“The express train is being stopped here for Colonel Ashok,” the station master says.

Suddenly the telephone rings and the station master rushes inside his office.

The woman closes her eyes and remembers the station master’s words:

“The express train is being stopped here for Colonel Ashok”

Those words slice through the woman’s heart like a knife slices through butter.

“So Ashok is a Colonel now. A big shot. Big enough to get the express train stopped for him at Girinagar where even the fast passenger does not halt,” the woman says to herself.

Then the woman is filled with hate and regret.

As the woman remembers her days with Ashok  her thoughts become bitter – and she says to herself:

“Had it not been for the scheming bitch Menaka who mesmerized Ashok with her enticing charms and stole him away from me – today I would been Mrs. Ashok  Yes, it is me who should have rightfully been Mrs. Ashok – I would have been a Colonel’s Wife – a Memsahib.”

Suddenly, the shrill whistle of the diesel engine of the express train disturbs her train of thoughts and the express train arrives on the platform.

The air-conditioned coach stops right in front of her. 

In the door of the coach stands Menaka, Ashok’s wife.

Menaka sees the woman on the platform and smiles at her.

But the woman does not return the smile. 

The woman turns her face away from Menaka.

But the woman furtively looks at the door of the air-conditioned coach with the corner of her eyes trying to catch a glimpse of Ashok.

The big show-off that he is, the woman is sure that Ashok will be all dressed up in his resplendent army uniform strutting like a peacock.

But there is no sign of Colonel Ashok.

Instead she sees a young officer in army uniform getting down from the train with Menaka.

Then both of them  Menaka and the young army officer  start walking together towards the end of the train.

“Come on, get in fast,” the station master motions her towards the door of the air-conditioned coach. 

The Station Master says something to the TTE.

The TTE tells the woman to go inside and sit on Seat No. 30.

She sits on Seat No. 30.

A family – a man, a woman and a small boy sit on the seats around her.

There is a jerk, the tug of the engine, and the train starts moving and picks up speed.

The woman looks at her watch.

6:50.

She heaves a sigh of relief.

She will be well on time for the Republic Day function.

The TTE arrives to check her pass.

The woman asks the TTE: “Why did the train stop here?”

“To detach the refrigerated van at the end of the train,” the TTE says.

“Refrigerated van?” the woman asks.

“The refrigerated van was carrying the body of an army officer who died in action and sacrificed his life for the nation. The dead army officer’s widowed wife was sitting right here on Seat No. 30 – the same seat where you are now sitting,” the TTE says.

“Army Officer? Dead?” the woman asks.

“His name was Colonel Ashok,” the man sitting in front says.

“Ashok? Colonel Ashok?” the woman asks with disbelief.

“Yes. The brave martyr’s name was Colonel Ashok. And hat’s off to the courage of the Colonel’s wife. Despite losing her husband the courageous lady was so poised and calm. It is because of the supreme sacrifice of such brave army officers and their families that we can celebrate Republic Day … ”

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:
This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)
     
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
 

This Story is a Revised Version of My Story Earlier 

Friday, January 23, 2015

EATING OUT IN PUNE - LAVANG LATA and BENGALI SWEETS

Long back, almost 9 years ago, in the year 2006/2007, when I lived near Aundh Camp in Pune, in the evenings I often used go for a walk on Aundh Road from Bremen Chowk towards the railway line at Khadki. 

It is one of the best places to walk in Pune, a wide road with plenty of greenery and foliage on both sides.  

On my way back, I would take a “Technical Halt” at an unpretentious sweet shop called Babu Moshai Bengali Sweets  to replenish myself with a delicious Lavang Lata (also called Lavang Latika).

This evening, I happened to be in the area, and I could not resist going to my favourite Babu Moshai for a Lavang Lata and some delectable Bengali Sweets like Roshogulla, Sandesh etc. 

While relishing the lip smacking Lavang Lata, I remembered a foodie story I had written 9 years ago, in 2006, after my evening food-walk when I had first discovered Pune’s most Lavang Lata.

This article on Lavang Lata was a part of my Heritage Cuisine Series comprising more than 30 of my Foodie Adventures (published online in 2006) and my Foodie Book APPETITE FOR A STROLL (published in the year 2008).

So, for old times’ sake, here is my Foodie story on EATING LAVANG LATA IN PUNE once more for you to relish...

LAVANG LATA IN PUNE
Mouthwatering Memories
By
VIKRAM KARVE

Whenever we alumni meet we reminisce about our Banaras days - how can we ever forget mothwatering foodie memories of our all time favourite sweet - the delicious Lavang Lata we relished at Pehelwan in Lanka followed by hot Milk (in winter) or cold Lassi (in summer) 

So here I repost my Heritage Cuisine Foodie Blog (written in the years 2006) on searching for Lavang Lata in Pune...


“Heritage Cuisine” – sounds good isn’t it?

You may presume that this pompous term refers to pretentious traditional high-brow cuisine which adorns the tables of the classes!

In my vocabulary “heritage cuisine” is high-falutin gobbledygook for simple staple down-to-earth local street-food relished by the masses. Like Vada Pav (Mumbai’s “Heritage Burger”), or Puneri Misal, or Kulcha Chole, Katchi Dabeli, Bhel, Kathi Kababs, Baida Roti, Malpua – the list is endless.

There is a delicious sweetmeat called “Lavang Lata” which I tasted for the first time and relished piping hot at Pehelwan’s at the end of Lanka near BHU in Varanasi in the seventies. 

A cool Lassi (in winter) or Piping Hot Milk (in summer) – both with dollops of Rabdi added, topped up the gastronomic experience.

Later, in the 1980’s, I came across  slightly different versions of Lavang Lata at various eateries, most notably Nathu at Bengali market in New Delhi (A Smaller Version of Lavang Lata was sometimes called Lavang Latika).

But these versions of the Lavang Lata were nowhere close to Pehelwan’s Banarasi Lavang Lata.

Just imagine my surprise, when, during my walk last evening, I chanced upon a delectable Lavang Lata in an out-of-the-way unpretentious sweet shop called “Babu Moshai Bengali Sweets tucked away almost in obscurity, way off the beaten track, on Aundh Road, on the way to Khadki in Pune.

Actually I was in search of Rasgullas. (Roshogollas, if you want it spelt that way). 

Having relocated from a “happening place like Churchgate in the heart of Mumbai to an obscure “back of the beyond” desolate place somewhere in the jungles on the banks of Mula river between Aundh and Sangvi, craving and wandering desperately in my search for ‘heritage food’, I hit the Aundh road past Spicer College towards Khadki, enjoying a refreshing walk between the expanse of the verdant Botanical Gardens and the foliage of Pune University, when in the first building I encountered on my left, I saw a nondescript signboard “Babu Moshai Bengali Sweets” (maybe the spelling ought to be ‘Babumoshai’) atop a deserted lackluster sweetshop.



There was no one in the shop and the lifeless atmosphere and uninspiring display almost put me off.

But having come so far, I decided to give it a try and looked at the sweets on display in trays behind a glass counter - Rasgullas, Sandesh, Rajbhog, Gulab Jamuns, Malai Sandwiches - the ubiquitous ‘Bengali Sweets’; and suddenly a man came out carrying a tray of piping hot Lavang Latas, the very sight of which made my mouth water so much that I ordered one immediately.

I walked outside the shop, stood in the cool evening air, took a small bite of the Lavang Lata, rolled the syrupy hot piece on my eager salivated tongue and closed my eyes in order to enhance my gustatory experience.

I pressed the Lavang Lata upwards with my tongue against the palate, the roof of my mouth  and slowly it disintegrated releasing its heavenly flavour of nutmeg and cardamom. 

That’s the way you should enjoy Bengali sweetmeats. 

Never Bite – Yes, never bite, or swallow, and devour these delicacies in a hurry  unless you want to ruin the eating experience.

Don’t use your teeth 
– but slowly, very slowly, just roll the Lavang Lata on your tongue and lightly press on the roof of your mouth till the delicacy melts releasing its luxurious flavour and divine fragrance into your gustatory and olfactory systems.

And remember, keep your eyes closed, shut yourself to the outside world, focus on your tongue, internalize the experience and transcend to a state of delightful ecstasy, till you feel you are in seventh heaven. That’s the art of eating.

The Lavang Lata is perfect. Not sickly sweet, but tantalizingly tasty, with the subtle essence of its ingredients and seasoning coming through. 

The rabri and khoya, the raisins and dry fruits, the crispy sweet crust, the spices and most importantly, the exotic fortifying and stimulating taste of clove. 

It’s sheer bliss.

The invigorating taste lingers on my tongue for a long long time, as if for eternity.

Just writing this is making my mouth water.

And I am going to “Babu Moshai” this weekend – this time to sample the Rasgullas, maybe the Sandesh – and I’ll tell you all about it right here.

And I’ll keep writing about all my experiences with “Heritage Cuisine” and the Art of Eating.

As I said, I wrote this Heritage Cuisine Series 9 years ago in 2006 – but, for your perusal, I shall post some delicious stories from this series in my blog from time to time.

Happy Eating.


A Sample from Babu Moshai Sweet Shop – Lavang Lata, Rosogulla, Sandesh, Cutlet

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:
All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)
     
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
 


Humor in Uniform - THE WAR OF THE MESSES

HUMOUR IN UNIFORM

THE WAR OF THE MESSES
A Spoof
By
VIKRAM KARVE

Various Wars have been documented, studied, discussed and analyzed – and relevant literature is readily available online and offline for all those interested in the subject.

But have you heard of the “War of the Messes”?

Do you know that this “War of the Messes” took place in 1982 on the “battlefield” of New Delhi?

This was a unique “war”.

In conventional wars – junior officers and men do the fighting – while Generals and Admirals watch on.

The “War of the Messes” was “fought” by Generals and Admirals – while junior officers watched on.

This is what happened.

Till 1981, Army and Navy had two common Officers’ Messes in New Delhi – a brand new mess at SP Marg and a rather antediluvian mess at Kota House.

Young Army and Navy Bachelor Officers lived together in these Officers’ Messes in great harmony with a spirit of camaraderie.

Of course, the Air Force, which always believes in keeping a safe distance from the “pongos” and the “sea dogs”, had its iconic Central Vista (CV) Air Force Officers’ Mess on Janpath.

If you were a young bachelor – you could choose your mess.

The ageing Kota House Mess was conveniently located in the heart of New Delhi and was preferred by the slightly “elder” bachelors.

The younger officers preferred the modern SP Marg Mess located at faraway Dhaula Kuan.

(35 years ago Dhaula Kuan was considered a “distant” place on the “outskirts” of New Delhi).

SP Marg Officers’ Mess was a lively place with a laissez faire atmosphere.

I spent some of the best days of my life in SP Marg Officers’ Mess – and even today – as I hark back to my Navy Days – I fondly cherish my glorious days at SP Marg Officers’ Mess.

Relations between us Naval Officers and our Army Messmates were excellent.

We made a lot of Army friends.

In fact, it was at SP Marg Officers Mess that I first made close friendships with fellow Army Officers – lasting friendships which endure even till today.

We young bachelor officers lived happily together in SP Marg Officers Mess and there was an atmosphere of bonhomie in the evenings when we all sat together on the lawns or in the bar enjoying our drinks.

If you wanted to see an example of authentic “jointmanship” and genuine “inter-service camaraderie” – SP Marg Officers” Mess was a shining example.

I am sure it was the same happy spirit at Kota House too.

Everyone was living happily – but, sadly, it was not going to be a case of “happily ever after” – because suddenly the “War of the Messes” erupted.

Most of us junior officers did not even know that a “war” had broken out.

As I said earlier – this was a unique “war”.

This “war of the messes” was not fought on the “battlefield” of SP Marg and Kota House Messes.

Conventional military tactics and weapons were not used in this “war”.

This “war” was “fought” in air-conditioned offices by Generals and Admirals using the far more potent bureaucratic weapon – paper.

The “war of the messes” was not a physical war – it was a “paper war”.

By the time “cease fire” was declared, the Generals seemed to be on the brink of victory – and the Admirals appeared to be on the verge of defeat.

The “spoils of war” were divided.

The “victorious” Army won the coveted modern SP Marg Officers’ Mess.

The “vanquished” Navy was banished to the ancient decrepit Kota House Officers’ Mess.

To commemorate their “victory” over the Admirals in the “war of the messes” – the Generals renamed the SP Marg Officers Mess as “Battle Honours Mess”.

In order to “celebrate” their “victory” in the “war of the messes” – the Generals evicted Naval Officers from the SP Marg Officers’ Mess.

In a retaliatory gesture of “jointmanship” – the Admirals evicted Army Officers from the Kota House Officers’ Mess.

It was quite sad to see friendly messmates who were living together as buddies being wrenched apart and separated as per the colour of their uniform just to suit the whims and fancies of a few Generals and Admirals.

The scene was reminiscent of partition days – when friends who were living amicably together had to leave their homes and go to another land just because of the decisions of a few politicians.

Metaphorically, junior officers were like happy children who had to separate due to the “divorce” of their parents – one parent getting “custody” of one child, and the other parent of the other child.

While the senior officers fought the “war of the messes” with each other – it was the junior officers who suffered as a result of these internecine turf wars, ego battles and personality clashes.

The biggest irony was that none of the Generals or Admirals actually lived in these two Officers’ Messes which were primarily a home for young bachelor officers.

Another amusing paradox was that many of the officers involved in “fighting” this “war of the messes” with each other were products of the famous “joint training institution” – the National Defence Academy (NDA).

Of course, now - each service has its own separate Officers’ Mess in New Delhi – so that the Generals, Admirals and Air Marshals can have their own separate fiefdoms.

On many occasions, I have heard Senior Officers lecturing and pontificating about the need for “jointmanship” in the Indian Armed Forces.

But tell me one thing.

What so-called “jointmanship” are you talking about when you can’t even have a “Joint Officers’ Mess” where Officers of the Army, Navy and Air Force can live together, drink together and eat together with camaraderie and build lifelong friendships?

I think the first step towards achieving genuine jointmanship is to convert all Officers’ Messes in New Delhi into tri-service combined officers’ messes for officers of all three services.

Then, this “tri-service officers’ mess” concept can be implemented in other stations where the services co-exist.

On the one hand – we talk of “integrating” our three defence services.

On the other hand – each service wants to build its own separate “empire”.

I feel that the first step in “fighting together” is learning to “live together”.

Do you agree?

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:
1. This story is a spoof, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.
2. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)
     
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
 

Thursday, January 22, 2015

HOW TO COOK CHICKEN DO PYAZA - Easy Recipe

HOW TO COOK CHICKEN DO PYAZA (Also Spelt Pyaaza or Piaza)
Easy Recipe
By
VIKRAM KARVE

In these days of Butter Chicken Kadhai Chicken and Handi Chicken it is very rare to get an authentic Chicken Do Piaza”.

Last evening, we decided to order food from a neighbourhood eatery called Mother’s Kitchen in Wakad Pune.

I was happy to find Chicken Do Piaza on the Menu.

To my pleasant surprise, it was quite a tasty Do Piaza (also spelt Do Pyaza or Do Pyaaza - but I will use the spelling DO PIAZA).

Eating this Do Piaza brought back nostalgic mouthwatering memories of the Do Piaza I used to cook for my friends many years ago during my navy days (my pure vegetarian wife would cook the veg food and I would cook the non-veg dish).

So, let me delve deep into my Foodie Writing Archives and pull out this piece on Do Piaza which I wrote more than 15 years ago and also features in my Foodie Adventures Book APPETITE FOR A STROLL

Happy Cooking and Happy Eating

CHICKEN (MUTTON) DO PIAZA MADE SIMPLE
An Easy Recipe for the ultimate Mughlai Dish  
By 
VIKRAM KARVE 
 
From my Foodie Writing Archives:

One of my favourite Recipes  Chicken Do Piaza  my favourite Chicken Curry. 

It is easy to cook and tastes delicious.

If you prefer mutton, then mutton do piaza can be cooked the same way. 

Only thing, before you marinate mutton, rubbing a bit of raw papaya paste makes it a bit tender.

Sadly, very few restaurants in Pune feature Do Piaza on their menu, since most Indian Non-Veg Cuisine (in restaurants out here in Pune) is either Kolhapuri or Punjabi. 

Even the minuscule few eateries that have Do Piaza on their menus, and serve this dish, do such a terrible job of cooking it  they almost “murder” this Mughlai Delicacy. 

So it is best to cook this wonderful dish at home. 
 

THE STORY OF DO PIAZA – Why This Dish is called Do Piaza
 
If you want a first impression of the authenticity of a “Mughlai” Restaurant  the first dish you must order and taste is a “Do Piaza” and it will give you an idea of the standard and authenticity of Mughlai Cuisine you can expect there.

Indeed the “Do Piaza” may be considered the culinary benchmark to judge and evaluate a Mughlai Restaurant.

And if Mutton or Chicken Do Piaza does not figure on the menu  you better order Chinese or Continental, or stick to the ubiquitous Punjabi  Butter Chicken-Naan routine...!
 
Do Piaza” means “two onions” or rather “double onions”.

Now how did this dish get its name?

Maybe it’s apocryphal  but legend has it that this delicious dish was invented by Mullah Do-Piaza, a renowned and celebrated cook at the Mughal Emperor Akbar’s court, who was one of the Navaratnas (nine jewels) at Akbar's Court.

It is said he could conjure up culinary delights using only two onions, and a Mughlai Dish cooked in that particular style is called a “Do Piaza”.
 
Water is not used at all when cooking a Do Piaza.

Onions (Piaz or Pyaaz) are used twice – hence the name “Do” (“Two”) Piaza, or Pyaza, or Pyaaza  spell it whichever way you like.  
 
The Urdu or Hindi word "Do" refers to the number 2 (Two)

So we have the first Piaza and the second Piaza  making it Do Piaza...!
 
Come Dear Reader and fellow Foodie. 

Let us together cook a Chicken Do Piaza

It takes time, but it’s easy.


RECIPE FOR CHICKEN DO PIAZA
 

THE FIRST PIAZA
 
First cut a generous number of onions into rings  yes  round separate onion rings.

The more the onions rings  the sweeter the gravy. 

Now, in a large cooking vessel, put in the chicken pieces.

Add a liberal amount of curds and mix well with the chicken pieces. 

Copiously layer the chicken-curd mixture with the onion rings.

Cover with a tight lid and set aside to marinate for at least an hour.

Remember, do not vigorously mix in the onion rings - just liberally layer the chicken-curd mélange with the onion rings.

After marinating the chicken-curd-onion ring mixture for an hour or more – place the vessel with the marinated chicken on a slow fire with the lid on.

Let the chicken cook slowly in its own juices and the juices released by the onion rings.

Cook on slow fire with lid covered till the onion rings are reduced to a pulp.

Soon the the liquid will almost dry up. 

Shut the flame. 

The first Piaza is ready.

Yes, this is the First “Piaza”!
 

THE SECOND PIAZA
 
In another pan  pour in and heat pure ghee.

When the ghee is hot put in sliced onions (the “second” piaza).

(Please Note – the first Piaza has Round Onions Rings and the second Piaza has Sliced Onions)

Fry the sliced onions till crisp brown.

Add finely chopped ginger and garlic, bay leaf, slit green chillies, cardamoms, cinnamon, cloves, peppercorns and fry for some time till the spices release their flavour.

Then add an adequate amount of chopped tomatoes.

Stir the gravy gently and fry on slow fire.


DO PIAZA (Adding the First Piaza to the Second Piaza)

When the ghee separates from the gravy  add the “First Piaza” which you have already cooked. 

Yes  add the dry cooked chicken [cooked in curds and onion rings] from the first pot to the hot gravy simmering in the second pot.

Increase the flame.

Stir fry till well browned and the gravy becomes nice and thick.

I do not like to add garam masala, turmeric, red chilli powder, or any other spice powders  but if you like it  go ahead.

Add salt to taste and give a stir.

I always find it best to taste the gravy and add the minimal amount of salt as necessary almost at the end of the cooking process.

When the gravy is nicely browned and ready, garnish with fresh green coriander and take off the flame.

Remember, DO NOT ADD WATER AT ANY STAGE OF THE COOKING or you will ruin the dish.

“Do Piaza” cooks in its own juices – both during the first “piaza” and second “piaza”
 

EATING THE “DO PIAZA”
 
Place in a serving dish, squeeze a lemon, garnish with fresh green chopped coriander and your Chicken Do Piaza is ready to eat.

But first let’s “visually” savour the Do Piaza in our mind’s eye.

The good Do Piaza looks appetizing – nicely browned generous pieces of succulent chicken, in translucent juicy onion rings in scrumptious gravy.

It smells good too – heavenly mouth-watering aroma wafts towards you making you smack your lips and salivate in anticipation of the gastronomic treat that awaits you.

It tastes marvellous – absolutely delicious. 

A Do Piaza is tasty – but not spicy hot like most Indian Curries. 

A good Do Piaza is mild and flavoursome – and the unique sweet zest of onions is discernible. 

As you savour a Do Piaza  the heavenly medley of flavours and fragrances synergizes inside you  and you feel a sense of supreme satisfaction.

You must eat this dish hot and fresh.

Relish the Chicken Do Piaza with hot chapatis,  phulkas, naan, roti, kulcha or even a piece of soft fluffy bun, pav or fresh bread  and you will experience sheer bliss.

Happy Cooking and Happy Eating Chicken Do Piaza. 

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:
All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)
     
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.