Arriving in Kolkata for the first time I was told that Bengalis care for only three things: food, educating their children, and food. To try and understand the city you must adopt the same Bengali mindset, tasting and savouring bite by bite everything that Kolkata has to offer, and prioritising gastronomy above all else.
Most of Kolkata eats on the street, so this is the perfect place to start. Mid morning in the roads around Dalhousie Square and the High Court, tiny stalls barely wider than a man begin to appear, their owners frying and roasting snacks for the endless stream of hungry office workers. Traffic grinds to a halt to accommodate the milling crowd who loiter to chat as they eat spiced chickpeas, freshly made samosas and patties, hakka noodles and infinite cups of sickly sweet chai. Kolkata once had an influential Chinese population and so far eastern treats make their appearance alongside the more traditional Indian fare. The rest of India may depend on its tiffin to get through the day, but here food from home does not even get a look in; why would it when such a varied, fresh and cheap display is on offer? You can have a little of whatever you most fancy whenever it best suits you.
Brunch merges unnoticed into lunch and then to teatime once again. The chai wallahs do a roaring trade, each boiling up his own secret combination of cardamom and cinnamon, pepper and nutmeg, saffron and aniseed with the tea, milk and sugar. The resulting brew, whichever stall it comes from, is satisfyingly thick, coating the lips, tongue and teeth with every sip. As if it weren’t sweet enough already, it is accompanied by sweets: bobbly, orange ladoos crumbling between your fingers, small, dense squares of pistachio barfi, round white rasgullas dripping with sugar syrup and, best of all, the deep fried swirls of jalebis, still warm inside their sticky, honey-like shell.
Shortly after four the office babus begin to pour out again onto the streets, this time heading for home. However long or short the journey it must be routed via Jagu Bazaar or New Market to ensure the freshest fish and vegetables are brought home for the evening meal. The choice of ingredients will determine the recipe the wife at home must cook; she is at the tender mercy of her husband’s gastronomic whims.
Chicken is a relatively recent introduction to Bengali cuisine; the centre of the meal is almost always fish not meat. Located at the point where the magnificent Ganges River leaps out into the Bay of Bengal, Kolkata’s menu is no doubt dictated by her place in the world, and the result is a delight to behold. Each ghat along the Hooghly River is crowded with small boats and nets. Fish and shell fish of every shape, colour and size gleam on the fishmongers’ tables; competition for the best of the fishermen’s catch is fierce. Prawns the size of a forearm compete for attention with live sardines, small jumping fish and marine beasts best measured in feet not inches. But the fish which rises above them all in the eyes of Bengal is the Hilsa, whose dense white meat is in such demand that local stocks cannot suffice; Bangladesh’s rivers must also contribute to satisfy Kolkata’s cravings. Fried with just a few simple spices the flavour of the fish must speak for itself, the infinite tiny bones the most minor distraction from the enjoyment of the Hilsa’s taste, smell and texture.
In the last few years, Oh! Calcutta has become the gastronomic gathering place for Kolkata locals and well-informed visitors alike. The chain has a number of outlets dotted across the city and serving a rainbow of delicacies, from succulent fish steamed in banana leaves to old-fashioned Railway Curry with its aroma of an Empire past. The restaurants’ sophisticated atmosphere contrasts with the low-profile chaos of the street stalls but the customers of both share two things in common: a love of their food and a desire to share their passion. Wherever you eat in Kolkata you can be sure of eating like a king.
Photos C. Tracing Tea 2008
