<p>Mention ‘party’ in Bengaluru and ‘Congress’ comes to mind. No, not the grand old party, but the humble peanut — spiced, salted — and a weakness of the average Bengalurean.</p>.<p>Nothing spices up the party like the little split nut. The crunchy nugget, garnished with finely chopped onions, green chillies and a squeeze of lime, won’t remain on the sidelines for long. Once the revellers pop one nut into their mouths, there’s no stopping. They’ll find themselves reaching for the munchable mixture over and over again, between sips, licking their fingers each time.</p>.<p>And it’s not just at bashes that the Congress is relished. Commuters at bus stops kill time chewing on the red nut as they wait for the ever-elusive BMTC bus; citizens at government offices empty nuts from the paper cones filled by the vendor, as they wait for the clerk to return from his extended lunch break; family and friends watching a tense IPL match initially pick up solitary nuts from the bowl at a leisurely pace, but as the asking rate begins to mount, fingers reach out for the container at increased frequency and grab handfuls, punctuated by “oohs” and “aahs”, reacting to the falling and dropping — of wickets, catches and peanuts.</p>.<p>On the subject of cricket, “<span class="italic">kadlekai</span> (peanut) umpire” is a popular tennis ball cricket term in Bengaluru. It refers to the person officiating a match and is caught napping as a bowler appeals for an LBW as he is too busy relishing the Congress peanuts hid in his pockets to notice anything on the field.</p>.<p>And for the homesick Bengaluru techie, the Super Bowl (probably the US substitute for the IPL) is not complete without a bowl of the Congress peanuts, which he stocks up periodically during his visits to Bengaluru from the famous condiment outlets around the city.</p>.<p>And coming back to the topic of ‘parties’, ‘Operation Lotus’ may have lured many a Congressman to switch sides, but the hardcore Bengalurean will swear by his favourite Congress.</p>.<p>As Modi swept the Lok Sabha elections, a popular forward going around on WhatsApp was that the only place one could find Congress was at bakeries in the city. There were also rumours going around that the spicy nut will no longer be called ‘Congress’ but will henceforth be known as ‘BJP’. Of course, Bengalureans didn’t bite it. There is no clue on how the nut came to be called ‘Congress’. One theory is that the nut split like the grand old party. Whatever the origin of the name or no matter which party occupies the seat of power in the state, ‘Congress’ rules the hearts of the true Bengalurean.</p>.<p>(<span class="italic">A fortnightly look at some food fetishes and secrets from a city of gastronomes and beyond.</span>)</p>
<p>Mention ‘party’ in Bengaluru and ‘Congress’ comes to mind. No, not the grand old party, but the humble peanut — spiced, salted — and a weakness of the average Bengalurean.</p>.<p>Nothing spices up the party like the little split nut. The crunchy nugget, garnished with finely chopped onions, green chillies and a squeeze of lime, won’t remain on the sidelines for long. Once the revellers pop one nut into their mouths, there’s no stopping. They’ll find themselves reaching for the munchable mixture over and over again, between sips, licking their fingers each time.</p>.<p>And it’s not just at bashes that the Congress is relished. Commuters at bus stops kill time chewing on the red nut as they wait for the ever-elusive BMTC bus; citizens at government offices empty nuts from the paper cones filled by the vendor, as they wait for the clerk to return from his extended lunch break; family and friends watching a tense IPL match initially pick up solitary nuts from the bowl at a leisurely pace, but as the asking rate begins to mount, fingers reach out for the container at increased frequency and grab handfuls, punctuated by “oohs” and “aahs”, reacting to the falling and dropping — of wickets, catches and peanuts.</p>.<p>On the subject of cricket, “<span class="italic">kadlekai</span> (peanut) umpire” is a popular tennis ball cricket term in Bengaluru. It refers to the person officiating a match and is caught napping as a bowler appeals for an LBW as he is too busy relishing the Congress peanuts hid in his pockets to notice anything on the field.</p>.<p>And for the homesick Bengaluru techie, the Super Bowl (probably the US substitute for the IPL) is not complete without a bowl of the Congress peanuts, which he stocks up periodically during his visits to Bengaluru from the famous condiment outlets around the city.</p>.<p>And coming back to the topic of ‘parties’, ‘Operation Lotus’ may have lured many a Congressman to switch sides, but the hardcore Bengalurean will swear by his favourite Congress.</p>.<p>As Modi swept the Lok Sabha elections, a popular forward going around on WhatsApp was that the only place one could find Congress was at bakeries in the city. There were also rumours going around that the spicy nut will no longer be called ‘Congress’ but will henceforth be known as ‘BJP’. Of course, Bengalureans didn’t bite it. There is no clue on how the nut came to be called ‘Congress’. One theory is that the nut split like the grand old party. Whatever the origin of the name or no matter which party occupies the seat of power in the state, ‘Congress’ rules the hearts of the true Bengalurean.</p>.<p>(<span class="italic">A fortnightly look at some food fetishes and secrets from a city of gastronomes and beyond.</span>)</p>