Fast food without the fries

The routine at Joydev's railway-station stall in Bombay goes like this. Say "ragda-kachori," and swift hands behind the food stall crush a kachori (fried-dough ball) with one hand and pour steaming ragda (spicy gravy) over it with the other. Regulars have already placed money on the counter by now - six rupees (or 13 US cents). In four to eight seconds, the entire transaction has been completed.

On the Indian subcontinent, the slogan "billions and billions served" better describes street stalls than McDonald's. And there's no faster food to be had than at Joydev's - or the thousands of other vendors that line the streets and depots of India's and Pakistan's big cities.

Indian roadside cuisine isn't only about speed and convenience. Across the subcontinent, food stalls take on the local spices and patterns of life, feeding people from every social strata. People stop at the stalls before work to catch a meal wrapped in yesterday's newspaper, hang out with friends late at night, or just enjoy an afternoon chai with a colleague.

While busy railway stalls have a smooth setup, complete with workers in khaki uniforms and Nehru caps, less trafficked stalls are usually more modest. Some are merely one-person operations using a wooden table with rickshaw wheels, basic cooking tools, and a colorful canopy.

In America, many natives of India and Pakistan remember this part of their heritage, and the more determined re-create them in their kitchens. Restaurants in the US have also begun offering some of the roadside dishes.

At his Boston bistro, Bhindi Bazaar, executive chef Samir Majmudar serves many dishes inspired by the street food he grew up with. Chaat Papri, for example - chickpeas and potatoes tossed in savory spices, yogurt, and tamarind sauce - is wildly popular on the street in India as well as at Bhindi Bazaar. It originated in Ragistan, where residents are strict vegetarians. Some of Mr. Majmudar's patrons were introduced to this dish in cities near there.

But Majmudar warns that street stalls are less sanitary than they used to be. He suggests that tourists dine instead at restaurants in India that feature street-food dishes. On a recent trip to Bombay, he attended a wedding where street food was served in what he calls the "hygienic confines of a five-star hotel."

"When street food is done properly," he says, "it's the most delicious food you can imagine."

Like many Indians living in the US, Majmudar has fond memories of street cooks who made dishes with the right proportion of spices, perfected over a lifetime. Even after 30 years in the food industry and with four successful restaurants, he is still inspired by their example.

But impossible to replicate in America are the local experiences connected with eating this food.

"People gather around street-food vendors," says Majmudar. "It's a social meeting place."

Payal Parekh, a student in Boston, remembers late nights hanging out with friends near the stalls in her grandparents' hometown. She and her friends would sip masala milk, a popular drink in the alcohol-free state of Gujarat. The lukewarm milk contains saffron, cardamom, and ground pistachio or almond.

When Ms. Parekh worked in rural India, she and her colleagues ate at the same highway stall each day before heading into villages. They drank chai and ate fafra, a mixture of chickpeas and flour shaped into long tubes, deep-fried, and served with cilantro chutney or chili peppers.

Page: 1 | 2