Just as you can’t take the half-Maharashtrian out of the boy, you can’t take the boy out of the Maharashtrian quarter.
I hope that posting past the deadline does not violate the HOCC (Hungry Onion Code of Conduct).
In any case, simple VataNa pohé (called poha elsewhere) for an afternoon snack. 3 fistfuls of beaten rice, lightly soaked and squeezed, added to a pan where mustard seeds have popped, curry leaves sizzled and shallots and green chillies added. A sprinkling of turmeric and salt, a vigorous stir, a handful of green peas (the VataNa) added then finished with chopped cilantro and fresh (fresh-frozen in my case) coconut.
Having said that, my distant memory of how we ate in my youth was that we used our fingers for every major meal (lunch, dinner), but often had tea-time food – pohé is an example – with spoons. I can even make a post-facto case for spoons over fingers in the case of pohé. Part of pohé’s appeal is that the rice flakes are loose and not stuck together (hence the care that must be exercised to avoid over-soaking). the flakes stay loose on a spoon but are inevitably squeezed together by your fingers.
Interesting: we rinse in a colander and leave the poha to absorb the residual water, vs. soaking (I do recall soaking being a method when I was little, but never squeezing lest the flakes break up)
Also the type of poha makes a big difference to the outcome: always the fat/big kind for this, not the smaller/thinner kind (which has a high risk of crumbling and lumping up in the pan).
(Except, I’ve tried the thin version several times, and if you can get everything right, you do get a wonderfully delicate outcome --but it’s very easy to not get things right and end up with glue.)
And, yes, I do use a colander in what I perhaps mistakenly called “soaking” above, but I also squeeze – gently. You need the flakes hydrated, but not soggy. We all have our methods.
These are not classically “Maharashtrian” foods (and what’s “classical” anyway in a region that has embraced those relative newbies --the potato, the tomato, and the green chile), but they were/are eaten there in a limited way, especially in Bombay. These “pattice” (a corruption of “pattie”?) were puff-pastry enclosed concoctions of a creamy, black-peppery chicken, or a more robust “mutton” (goat).
These pastries were pioneered by the Ratan Tata Institute, a minor subsidiary of the vast Tata Group conglomerate. They were available at the mothership on Hughes Road – pronounced “hugess” by us locals – but also elsewhere, especially at a kiosk at what was then our only airport, Santa Cruz (now unfortunately renamed after a mountain rat). My father’s peculiarly prominent position (see somewhere above) involved hosting a weird range of guests in the late 1960s and early 1970s – from African freedom fighters to the Archbishop of Canterbury – and I’d always volunteer to be the person who met them at the airport, simply to eat the pattice.
Perhaps “pioneered:” is a strong word, but when I was growing up these particular savory puff pastries were only available at RTI and their associates.
ETA: I don’t mean the general way the word “pattice” was used back then (and now), as in “ragda pattice” etc., just its usage in these puff pastry enclosures .
Pattice were originally found at Irani cafes in Bombay like the iconic Kyani’s and Bastani’s (rip).
They likely traveled over with the British (of course). This article tries to trace possible antecedents (but the original chicken version was just puff pastry stuffed with white-sauced, cubed chicken, similar to a vol-au-vent, so there are plenty of origin stories that could work).
Later – and still – easily available at most bakeries that produce puff pastry products and also places like clubs and gymkhanas.
You’re right on the wider availability of pattice in Bombay. Apart from one night in 2011, I last spent a significant chunk of time there in 1998, and my memory is playing tricks on me. (WE were big RTI fans, but, yes, you could get pattice elsewhere.)
We are also big RTI fans (other than our club it used to be the only consistent nearby source of chicken pattice, which is one of my secret vices — there are a couple stocked at all times in the fridge for me when I’m home… too bad they’re not health food).
That said, RTI sourcing was and is incredibly finicky given their overall timings and when they run out of popular items like the pattice.
However my introduction to pattice was from the Irani cafes, which were a favorite of my parents (going way back to when they were courting) and my grandparents before them.
My mother, after lecturing once every week on philosophy at one of the University of Bombay locations would bring back several cones (rolled in newspaper sheets) at my absolute insistence. No peanuts, no philosophy was my teenage cry
They were perfect: salty, exquisitely crunchy (and, if my mother’s timing was right on the 123 bus home, still warm).
We have lingering gray skies on this windy, cool day. A comfort food day. I decided to make this kichidi recipe in part because I have a stash of black masala now, but also because I had potato on my mind from the potato thread. I deviated from the directions by giving the green moong dal and potatoes a 20 minute head start from the rest of the dal and rice. Then I let everything rest for about 20 minutes when done on the stovetop. I think I would add a touch more water next time, but the flavors in this are great! And, it’s going to be breakfast or lunch for the rest of the week.
