15, but you can order the larger size for Rs. Consequently, most people prefer to find a spot outside, be it the doorstep of a neighbouring house, the window ledge on an unsuspecting wall, or the seats of a parked scooter… Despite my induced gustatory amnesia of the whole event, I am certain the nihari must have been good, because in minutes both Vinayan and I had used the soft, piping hot khameeri rotis to mop up our extra-large plates of nihari to the point of sparkling… Price: The usual helpings of nihari are for Rs. Its proximity to the tandoor means that in this weather, sitting inside the shop makes Dante’s Inferno sound like a nursery rhyme. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Kallu’s shop is even more modest than Haji Noora’s in Bara Hindu Rao, with just a small tiled area serving as a place to sit on the floor and eat. … even before we could see the shop itself, a reassuring throng of customers came into view. Here are some relevant excerpts from that post: I would hazard this is how Hirak first chanced upon our little blog. If you happen to do a Google search for “Kallu nihari”, it so happens that the EOiD blog post I wrote on Septemcomes up as the top hit. The usual helpings of nihari are for Rs 15, but you can order the larger size for Rs 25. But what I do remember is the sight of two shiny plates after having mopped spotless with soft, piping hot khameeri rotis. The heat and taste had driven both of us in a tizzy and we hardly remember the act of eating the nihari. Its close proximity to the tandoor forced the people to spread themselves around the shop be it the doorstep of a neighbouring house, the parapet of a broken wall, or the seats of a parked scooter. After a waiting period of exactly 10 minutes, what came into view was a small tiled area serving as a place to sit on the floor and eat. Our first stop was the famous Kallu’s Nihari take-out in Jama Masjid, but the shop itself was drowned in a sea of customers. As I walked weaving through the crowd and dingy streets, it made me understand that Delhi is a potpourri of people, and many of them sell food for a living.Īs we eagerly track our friend Hirak in his journey across Delhi’s gastronomic delights, we will follow the convention of quoting him in olive green, with excerpts from the EOiD blog figuring in a navy blue. One muggy afternoon we headed straight to the Walled City for what turned out to be a complete gastronomic delight. The whirlwind visit to Delhi’s Khomchawalas with my cousin, who is an aspiring chef, was a real eye opener. It has been 10 minutes on the treadmill and I am already regretting my last seven days of rampage. Scanned images of the original pages are available here and here. Without further ado, I present to you the entire text of the article, along with excerpts from previous posts on this blog, and commentary. The August 2009 issue of SpiceRoute, SpiceJet airline’s inflight magazine carries a two page, 938 word article titled “What’s in Your Khomcha?” by Hirak Gautam, on pages 42 & 43.
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