<p>Despite the spread of Biharis across the country, and across the continents (Mauritius, the West Indies and Fiji), there is no popular recognition of Bihar’s cuisine. <br /><br />We do not have restaurants announcing in big and bold letters that they serve authentic Bihari dishes. You don’t hear of Bihari food festivals in five-star hotels. Not even does the friendly neighbourhood restaurant announce: ‘Specialist in Chinese, Moghlai, Punjabi and Bihari fare’. A pity that Bihar’s cuisine has failed to grab the headlines. Or is it that the Biharis have failed to position their cuisine as something unique? I understand that there is Gujarati thali, Bangal ranna and Kashmiri waazwaan. But, alas, no Bihari special meal! <br /><br />We Biharis are to be blamed. When asked about our favourite meal, we mumble daal-bhaat-chokha. Or sometimes even maad-bhaat-chokha. I am in love with the aforementioned stuff.<br /><br />Daal is something which every Indian eats regularly, albeit with varying differences. But the Bihari daal is unique. It is made with arhar dal, just watered down so, with a heavenly chhaunk of panch-phoran. And chokha is satisfying mashed potato with a liberal touch of mustard oil and a sprinkling of salt. Some would also add to it a burnt and mashed red chilli to impart an exotic taste. Bhaat is not merely mundane rice. We experiment with various types of rice: usina chaawal (parboiled rice) or arwaa chawal (long-grained rice) — each with a flavour of its own. Either variety of rice is cooked to varying degrees of consistency, depending upon family traditions. <br /><br />A cousin of daal-bhaat-chokha is maad-bhaat-chokha. Maad, the starchy fluid drained out of the pan (tasla) during an intermediate stage of cooking rice, is used as a substitute to daal. This is sometimes relished even without the chokha — with just pickle. Nimki, or sour lemon pickle, made from large lemons, is a favourite. There is sure to be a quantity of maad left behind on your plate, so just lift the cheepa or chhipli (plate in Bhojpuri) to your lips and quaff the residual elixir!<br /><br />If you find the above combos too cumbersome, fret not. You can always feast on khichdi, the ultimate comfort food. Suffice it to say that should you wish to have the khichdi, do not forget its traditional accompaniments. Remember the ditty: Khichdi ke chaar yaar/ dahi, papad, ghee, achaar?<br /><br />If you aren’t to keen on rice, try janera ke khichdi or khichdi made with corn.<br />Roti and paratha are too ordinary to tempt the palate. Perhaps you should try some varieties of makuni. Makuni is what people from Punjab would call bharwaan paratha. The filling can have either mashed potatoes, phool-gobhi (cauliflower), or murai (radish). What sets the makuni apart from the plethora of parathas is the unique combination of Bihari spices, especially the two jewels — ajwain (carom seeds) and mangarial (onion seeds or kalonji). <br /><br />The cuisine of Bihar is not limited to chawal and roti. You should seek out the vegetables that the Biharis eat. Lauki (bottlegourd), konhda (white pumpkin), nenua (snake gourd), jheenga (ridge gourd) etc. The king of all Bihar vegetables would be parwal (pointed gourd). <br /><br />Parwal is rather unique to Bihar and to some other parts of the East. The Bengalis call it patal. If you happen to come to our local market and see a throng of men and women around the rare shop that sells parwal, you can be sure that the customers are nearly all Biharis or Bengalis. Each one in the crowd is sure to be pressing this little yellow-speckled green sabzi between his or her fingertips and evaluating if the parwal is fresh or boodha (over-ripe). <br /><br />Some would even break this tender vegetable between their fingers. If it gave way with a smart, crisp snap, then it’s fresh (and by extension the entire lot is equally good). If it gave way reluctantly and ended up as a squishy mass, then it was boodha!<br /><br />Why lavish such attention on parwal, a vegetable which the rest of the country does not even bother to consider in the scheme of culinary activities? The simple answer is that others are completely unaware of the magic they can work with the imperial parwal.<br /><br />It can be made into a bhunjiya (not to be confused with Haldiram, Bikaneri or generally speaking, the Rajasthani bhujiya — those are made with plain or spiced besan); sautéed with potato, or relished on its own. What a delight it is to crunch crisp parwal seeds! It can be turned into a gravy or a subzi, either in glorious isolation or combined with aloo. You can halve each parwal and stuff it with a mix of spices. This is kaluanji or bharwaan parwal. You could mash some boiled parwal, throw in a few tablespoons of mustard oil and spices, salt to taste and you get parwal ka chokha. You can even prepare a totally delightful mithai with it. Instead of filling it with spices, stuff it with khowa and dry fruits and you have parwal ki mithai.<br /><br />The bajkaa or pakoda is another hot favourite. And so is rinkwachch or fresh, green leaves wrapped in a batter of besan and fried. Called patra in Gujarati, this is one of those famous starters of a Gujarati thali. <br /><br />If you really do want to avoid vegetables, worry not, because Bihar’s cuisine has khandera or cuboids of fried besan cooked in a spicy gravy. It is best relished with chaawal. The sattu, of course, is the star of this cuisine. More on it soon.</p>
<p>Despite the spread of Biharis across the country, and across the continents (Mauritius, the West Indies and Fiji), there is no popular recognition of Bihar’s cuisine. <br /><br />We do not have restaurants announcing in big and bold letters that they serve authentic Bihari dishes. You don’t hear of Bihari food festivals in five-star hotels. Not even does the friendly neighbourhood restaurant announce: ‘Specialist in Chinese, Moghlai, Punjabi and Bihari fare’. A pity that Bihar’s cuisine has failed to grab the headlines. Or is it that the Biharis have failed to position their cuisine as something unique? I understand that there is Gujarati thali, Bangal ranna and Kashmiri waazwaan. But, alas, no Bihari special meal! <br /><br />We Biharis are to be blamed. When asked about our favourite meal, we mumble daal-bhaat-chokha. Or sometimes even maad-bhaat-chokha. I am in love with the aforementioned stuff.<br /><br />Daal is something which every Indian eats regularly, albeit with varying differences. But the Bihari daal is unique. It is made with arhar dal, just watered down so, with a heavenly chhaunk of panch-phoran. And chokha is satisfying mashed potato with a liberal touch of mustard oil and a sprinkling of salt. Some would also add to it a burnt and mashed red chilli to impart an exotic taste. Bhaat is not merely mundane rice. We experiment with various types of rice: usina chaawal (parboiled rice) or arwaa chawal (long-grained rice) — each with a flavour of its own. Either variety of rice is cooked to varying degrees of consistency, depending upon family traditions. <br /><br />A cousin of daal-bhaat-chokha is maad-bhaat-chokha. Maad, the starchy fluid drained out of the pan (tasla) during an intermediate stage of cooking rice, is used as a substitute to daal. This is sometimes relished even without the chokha — with just pickle. Nimki, or sour lemon pickle, made from large lemons, is a favourite. There is sure to be a quantity of maad left behind on your plate, so just lift the cheepa or chhipli (plate in Bhojpuri) to your lips and quaff the residual elixir!<br /><br />If you find the above combos too cumbersome, fret not. You can always feast on khichdi, the ultimate comfort food. Suffice it to say that should you wish to have the khichdi, do not forget its traditional accompaniments. Remember the ditty: Khichdi ke chaar yaar/ dahi, papad, ghee, achaar?<br /><br />If you aren’t to keen on rice, try janera ke khichdi or khichdi made with corn.<br />Roti and paratha are too ordinary to tempt the palate. Perhaps you should try some varieties of makuni. Makuni is what people from Punjab would call bharwaan paratha. The filling can have either mashed potatoes, phool-gobhi (cauliflower), or murai (radish). What sets the makuni apart from the plethora of parathas is the unique combination of Bihari spices, especially the two jewels — ajwain (carom seeds) and mangarial (onion seeds or kalonji). <br /><br />The cuisine of Bihar is not limited to chawal and roti. You should seek out the vegetables that the Biharis eat. Lauki (bottlegourd), konhda (white pumpkin), nenua (snake gourd), jheenga (ridge gourd) etc. The king of all Bihar vegetables would be parwal (pointed gourd). <br /><br />Parwal is rather unique to Bihar and to some other parts of the East. The Bengalis call it patal. If you happen to come to our local market and see a throng of men and women around the rare shop that sells parwal, you can be sure that the customers are nearly all Biharis or Bengalis. Each one in the crowd is sure to be pressing this little yellow-speckled green sabzi between his or her fingertips and evaluating if the parwal is fresh or boodha (over-ripe). <br /><br />Some would even break this tender vegetable between their fingers. If it gave way with a smart, crisp snap, then it’s fresh (and by extension the entire lot is equally good). If it gave way reluctantly and ended up as a squishy mass, then it was boodha!<br /><br />Why lavish such attention on parwal, a vegetable which the rest of the country does not even bother to consider in the scheme of culinary activities? The simple answer is that others are completely unaware of the magic they can work with the imperial parwal.<br /><br />It can be made into a bhunjiya (not to be confused with Haldiram, Bikaneri or generally speaking, the Rajasthani bhujiya — those are made with plain or spiced besan); sautéed with potato, or relished on its own. What a delight it is to crunch crisp parwal seeds! It can be turned into a gravy or a subzi, either in glorious isolation or combined with aloo. You can halve each parwal and stuff it with a mix of spices. This is kaluanji or bharwaan parwal. You could mash some boiled parwal, throw in a few tablespoons of mustard oil and spices, salt to taste and you get parwal ka chokha. You can even prepare a totally delightful mithai with it. Instead of filling it with spices, stuff it with khowa and dry fruits and you have parwal ki mithai.<br /><br />The bajkaa or pakoda is another hot favourite. And so is rinkwachch or fresh, green leaves wrapped in a batter of besan and fried. Called patra in Gujarati, this is one of those famous starters of a Gujarati thali. <br /><br />If you really do want to avoid vegetables, worry not, because Bihar’s cuisine has khandera or cuboids of fried besan cooked in a spicy gravy. It is best relished with chaawal. The sattu, of course, is the star of this cuisine. More on it soon.</p>
