Pasta meets Masala in Mayur Vihar Market
For better or worse, the Tescofication of India is still some years away but I have no doubt it will occur. In the meanwhile several domestic supermarket chains (Big Bazaar, Reliance Fresh, D-Mart and Spencers) have sprung up all across urban India.
Often quirky, these superstores have loud announcements, piles of goods and BOGOs (Buy One Get One offers) at every aisle-end. A friend tells me they did extensive market research and found that the 'middle' middle class which they want to capture feels more at-home in this bazaar-type atmosphere albeit in an air-conditioned, enclosed setting.
These superstores are mushrooming around towns as city-dwellers get used to sashaying down the aisles with their trolleys. Alas, the fruit and vegetable markets such as the Monday Bazaar in Mayur Vihar Phase1 (a part of east Delhi I have grudgingly come to accept as the 'new family home') may soon become a thing of the past. Is it just me who thinks that cities across India will be culturally poorer even as my generation delights in the unarguable convenience that a well-organised superstore offers?
A few weeks ago I compared my visit to this local Monday bazaar with the sanitised weekend shop at Tesco/ Sainsbury/ Marks and Spencer or Waitrose in London.
It's not just the piles of fresh vegetables and the vivid colours that appeal to my rustic sense (or to the firang in me as my desi friends would say teasingly.).
It's the people, the setting and the pleasant evening breeze (in spring at least) that make it memorable. The buyers haggle a bit, chide the seller for throwing in manky beans when they weren't looking and negotiate some free coriander to make up for it. The vendors joke at each others' expense, showing an easy camaraderie and playful competition.
On this visit, the vendor next to the wooden casket in the photo said to me: "Madam- dekho yeh kitna badiya aloo hai. Khao to jaano!"
[Madam- look at these lovely potato. When you eat them you will know!]
Typically this will be followed by the recital of delicious dishes you could make with them. [Madam- kya aloo parantha banega iska! ]
I compare this exchange with the machine at Tesco Express where I have to select the type of potato I'm buying and bag it myself, not forgetting to scan the Clubcard of course.
We head to buy some fruits next. At the apple-cart, the vendor suddenly bursts out in laughter. We look at him in surprise. He points to an old, well-dressed gentleman who is walking away- his pockets bulging. The vendor laughs again and says in Hindi - "He just pilfered some of these apples madam. Look he's doing the same with the bananas at my friend's cart. I would have given them for free if he had asked." We all shake our heads, exchange some wise words on the vagaries of life, decide there must be a compelling reason for the old man to pocket the fruits and proceed to haggle for some guavas from the adjoining cart.
As India gets enamored with international cuisine, the vendors are improvising too. Even the carts in the tiny alleys adjoining Pratap Nagar are selling red pepper, mushroom, sweet corn and not just broccoli (that was years ago) but tender-stem broccoli! This love of food is nothing new. India's rich, diverse cuisine has evolved over many millenia- helped by trade, conquests and of course centuries of local innovation. At the risk of sounding like a stuck record, there is more to Indian food than 'curry' - an awful generic term that means nothing to anyone in India!
Finally, yes, I will mention pasta. Not because Nestlé (and presumably others) have been selling masala-flavoured pasta successfully across India for several years now. That was predictable. Less predictable was the stall below that I encountered at the Monday bazaar.
This local vendor clearly has a middle class clientele that wants fresh ground turmeric, coriander powder, red chilli powder and also half a kilo of penne pasta!
Often quirky, these superstores have loud announcements, piles of goods and BOGOs (Buy One Get One offers) at every aisle-end. A friend tells me they did extensive market research and found that the 'middle' middle class which they want to capture feels more at-home in this bazaar-type atmosphere albeit in an air-conditioned, enclosed setting.
These superstores are mushrooming around towns as city-dwellers get used to sashaying down the aisles with their trolleys. Alas, the fruit and vegetable markets such as the Monday Bazaar in Mayur Vihar Phase1 (a part of east Delhi I have grudgingly come to accept as the 'new family home') may soon become a thing of the past. Is it just me who thinks that cities across India will be culturally poorer even as my generation delights in the unarguable convenience that a well-organised superstore offers?
A few weeks ago I compared my visit to this local Monday bazaar with the sanitised weekend shop at Tesco/ Sainsbury/ Marks and Spencer or Waitrose in London.
It's not just the piles of fresh vegetables and the vivid colours that appeal to my rustic sense (or to the firang in me as my desi friends would say teasingly.).
It's the people, the setting and the pleasant evening breeze (in spring at least) that make it memorable. The buyers haggle a bit, chide the seller for throwing in manky beans when they weren't looking and negotiate some free coriander to make up for it. The vendors joke at each others' expense, showing an easy camaraderie and playful competition.
On this visit, the vendor next to the wooden casket in the photo said to me: "Madam- dekho yeh kitna badiya aloo hai. Khao to jaano!"
[Madam- look at these lovely potato. When you eat them you will know!]
Typically this will be followed by the recital of delicious dishes you could make with them. [Madam- kya aloo parantha banega iska! ]
I compare this exchange with the machine at Tesco Express where I have to select the type of potato I'm buying and bag it myself, not forgetting to scan the Clubcard of course.
We head to buy some fruits next. At the apple-cart, the vendor suddenly bursts out in laughter. We look at him in surprise. He points to an old, well-dressed gentleman who is walking away- his pockets bulging. The vendor laughs again and says in Hindi - "He just pilfered some of these apples madam. Look he's doing the same with the bananas at my friend's cart. I would have given them for free if he had asked." We all shake our heads, exchange some wise words on the vagaries of life, decide there must be a compelling reason for the old man to pocket the fruits and proceed to haggle for some guavas from the adjoining cart.
As India gets enamored with international cuisine, the vendors are improvising too. Even the carts in the tiny alleys adjoining Pratap Nagar are selling red pepper, mushroom, sweet corn and not just broccoli (that was years ago) but tender-stem broccoli! This love of food is nothing new. India's rich, diverse cuisine has evolved over many millenia- helped by trade, conquests and of course centuries of local innovation. At the risk of sounding like a stuck record, there is more to Indian food than 'curry' - an awful generic term that means nothing to anyone in India!
Finally, yes, I will mention pasta. Not because Nestlé (and presumably others) have been selling masala-flavoured pasta successfully across India for several years now. That was predictable. Less predictable was the stall below that I encountered at the Monday bazaar.
This local vendor clearly has a middle class clientele that wants fresh ground turmeric, coriander powder, red chilli powder and also half a kilo of penne pasta!
So pasta is here to stay in India. No doubt it will evolve across the country. Here's my prediction of some future Indo-Italian pasta-fusions:
In the north- Dal makhani pasta, Gaajar-matar pasta
In the south - Pasta thoran, Pasta sambhar
In the east- Ghuguni aloo dum pasta, Kancha kadali pasta
In the west - Sev puri pasta, Kadhi pasta
Centuries from now someone will be arguing where it all came from. Which reminds me, my dear Greek buddies: halva is Indian. The vedas mention it as an essential prayer food. No, Alexander didn't get it to India. Probably the other way round. We will have to agree to disagree on this one forever :D
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