Blind Date: Tibetan Food Proves Surprisingly Good

Blind Date Restaurant
Fancy Market (Top floor - watch for the sign from the street.)
12, NB Singh Road
+91 35 4225 5404
Darjeeling, India


Blind Date is a small, somewhat creatively decorated restaurant in Darjeeling that specializes in Himalayan food - the common cuisine ground in between Nepal, Tibet, Sikkim and Bhutan. The constants? Momos (dumplings), Thukpa (noodle soup), fried bread and fried rice, and more dairy products then are usually encountered in East Asian influenced cuisines. Most importantly: Blind Date is both dirt cheap and delicious. For your buck, it's just about the best eating experience in Darjeeling. Don't miss it.

Just be sure to use the bathroom first, since, like every restaurant in Darjeeling (just about) there's nowhere to go in the restaurant. Not a problem for men, who may exert the Indian males God-given right to piss on anything wherever he pleases at any time, but ladies may want to hold back on the beer. Watch this space for an upcoming screed about Darjeeling's discriminatory bathroom facilities, but, writing about food right now.



I believe this was Chhurpi, the Himalayas' somewhat weird but delicious variant on the West's hallowed cheese soup. (The fact I am unsure irritates me - I lost my notes somewhere, and Google is proving unhelpful). We ordered it with pork, which was the way to go. Although it's made with Himalaya-style fermented cheese - pretty much cottage cheese with a weird name, don't need to delve into it further, do we? - the taste is somewhat equivalent to cheddar. However this stuff is made, it's ideal for a foggy day at high altitude.



Ting-mo, or Tibetan bread rolls, are often served steamed (like the Chinese do) and are a rather inoffensive and basic carbohydrate. Good at high altitude to keep you hiking but not something I'd pick out of a police lineup for supper. Thankfully, deep frying turns the stuff into golden-crispy Grade-A deliciousness. Get two orders.

I don't have a picture of Blind Date's variant on the theme, but momos are just what people in the Himalayas - and at various restaurants in India - call God's Chosen Food, the dumpling. The main way you can tell them apart from East Asian variants on the classic is the shape - momos tend to be rounder. Other then that, they're filled with various kinds of things and served in a dizzying number of ways. I happen to like the variety that are pan-fried and served with a thick chili sauce the best, but I'll eat and adore pretty much anything pan fried and served in a thick chili sauce. You can never go wrong with momos in this part of the world, and thankfully, you'll never be forced to live without em'.



I should add that Blind Date has some of the best chili chicken on the subcontinent. Chili chicken is a much beloved Chindian dish (You know, the bastard love child of Chinese and Indian food) and is sort of like a spicier, harsher, variant on General Tso's chicken. This being India, the chicken is usually served bone-in and stir-fried with a not-fucking-around chili sauce, some whole chilis, and some vegetables. My friend Kiran and I are nuts for it, and this was great.



Fried rice is what Asia runs on. The world will probably run on fried rice in a hundred years. I'm cool with this. Blind Date, true to form, has excellent fried rice. They keep it in the pan long enough to get a little nutty crisp on it, which is essential, and there's plenty of stuff in it, which is also essential.



Gobi Manchurian, another beloved deep-fried and spicy Chindian dish. It's deep-fried cauliflower in a sweet and spicy sauce. Just about ubiquitous and pretty good if you, like most people, prefer your vegetable products crispy and delicious.



I've got a thing for fried greens, which most people think is kind of weird. Whatever. These were really good, and a nice mix of various local-greens varieties - not over or undercooked, nice and fresh, a simple and slightly spicy Chinese-style sauce with some vinegar.

Dinner at the Assam Bhavan

The Assam Bhavan in Delhi is Assam's official point of representation in the city - sort of like the state's official embassy within the capital. It is of interest to me primarily because it has a restaurant, specializing in Assamese specialities difficult to find outside of the homeland. Jakoi is a restaurant that has gained some popularity among the capital's foodie class. Unlike most Bhavan canteens, it's decorated in a reasonably upscale fashion, and has a rather extensive menu with some pretensions of grandeur. Most people go for the special thali, which provides a reasonably extensive overview of Assamese food for a reasonably low price.

You'll be out 350 rupees for the Paranpara special thali as pictured above, which includes fried fish, fish (hilsa) cooked in banana leaf, a choice of pigeon or duck curry, a couple of vegetable dishes, some Assamese style condiments, and a dessert. Well, in theory.

I sat outside, braving the inevitable depredations of doubtlessly malaria-carrying mosquitos. It's nice out there. Cushions, ambient lighting, and some pleasant decorative accents.



The fried fish in tangy curry (fish tenga) was pretty good, albeit exceedingly bony. The crust was crispy and not too heavy, and it didn't seem to suffer from over-frying as some other reviewers have reported.



The fish in banana leaf with coconut milk and spices might theoretically have been good, but was so filled with tiny bones that I about a nibble or two of edible meat off the sucker. I gave in after a minor but disquieting choking incident. The duck was also a bit tough, though I liked the rich ground spice flavored gravy. Plenty of bones, as is typical with Indian curries. I happen to adore poultry bones, so no complaints from me.



I really enjoyed the pitika, or mashed vegetable, which tasted like an Assamese riff on America's bland and beloved mashed potatoes. The daal and the interesting, semi-powdered Assamese condiments were quite good. I've certainly never tasted anything like some of these Assamese chutneys, which included two variations on kahudi or mustard paste (one with sodium bicarbonate?!), a kind of grated, fermented bamboo shoot (kharisa), and mahor guri, made with powdered gram lentils and chili. Unusual little nuggets, and quite tasty. I'd like to try these again in different contexts. The fried vegetable d'jour was a kind of stir-fried Indian melon whose name escapes me, which I am very fond of. It has a delightfully squashy texture, that crunches with seeds when you bite into it.

I was a bit peeved as I did not actually receive the promised "gooseberry welcome drink" or the dessert as listed on the menu. There was an awkward moment after the main thali plate was removed where I anticipated the arrival of some exotic dessert - and got the check instead. Not so pleasing. If you list a food item on your thali, sirs, you'd best bring it out.

Verdict? Jakoi is worth a visit if you are, like myself, a commited food adventurer who is always up for sampling something entirely new to the ol' palate. However, it's a restaurant with some considerable kinks to work out vis a vis service and food prepration. According to some other online reviews, the kitchen has an unfortunate tendancy to flake out some nights and be fine and dandy on others. If I return, I might give the forgettable meat dishes a pass and go with the vegetarian thali - the kitchen seems to know their way around a legume and a bitter melon a spot better then they do a cut of innocent waterfowl or fish. And ask them point-blank to bring out the dang dessert.



Many of the state Bhavan's have canteens, specializing in foods particular to the state. Not all of them allow outsiders in, but some do. Check before you amble in. If they're amiable, you'll get a cheap and undeniably authentic meal at a very reasonable price.

You may now be asking a fairly simple question. Where in the hell is Assam? And what is it?

Assam is a state in India's Northeast, occupied mostly by the Assamese people, who have their own language and a culture distinct from that of the rest of India. It was a contested region for most of its history - occupied by the Tai people, the Moghuls (briefly) and the Burmese - until the First Bengal War of 1824 to 1826, when the Indians occupied the territory and claimed it as their own.

Like many of India's northeastern states, it's been the scene of separatist violence in recent years, as groups like the United Liberation Front of Asom attempt to secure some margin of self-determination for their land. And nice land it is. Assam's a lush and heavily forested state, with a monsoon climate, incredibly biodiversity, and one of the last remnant populations of the one horned rhinoceros. You may also have hear of Assam before because of its justifiably famous variety of tea. I had hoped to visit one of Assam's superior national parks on this trip, but it was not to be. They were closed for this year's Eternal Monsoon. And as Assam is one of the world's wetter areas, I wasn't eager to test their resolve on the matter. Not interested in swimming to see equally aquatic rhinos. Not really.

Moti Mahal: New Delhi

Moti Mahal
New Delhi, India
Daryaganj, Chandni Chowk

I had lunch at Moti Mahal. The Moti Mahal. It's an absolutely iconic restaurant, considered to be one of the pioneers of the tandoori cuisine that has so efficiently and quickly swept the entire planet. It's said that the restaurant's founder, a Peshawari by the name of Kundan Lal Gujral, actually invented both tandoori and butter chicken. (Apparently, the tandoor oven was previously reserved only for bread, instead of meats). The restaurant began in Peshawar and was moved to its current Delhi location in 1947, after the Partition - and has been plugging on with shocking success ever since, drawing the affection of Indira Gandhi, Nehru, John F. Kennedy, Richard Nixon - in other words, everyone vaguely important who was sent to India on official business has eaten here.

There was no one there, which was somewhat curious. The interior of the restaurant is a bit 1960's mental hospital. But at least they have lots of fans operating on high-speed. I ordered my usual - tandoori chicken, tandoori gobi (cauliflower) and sat back. The owner of the place came over to chat, in lieu of anything better to do. "Did you know that Gordan Ramsey came and cooked here?" he asked me. No, I did not. But so The Ramsey did come to Moti Mahal. Engaged in one of those celebrity cookoff things that are so popular on food networks. Naturally, the Moti Mahal boys won hands down. The owner came over with a few photographs after I expressed interest. "That's us. When we won," he said, pointing to an image of both himself and Ramsey looking pleased with the universe.

The food was, as expected, excellent. Moti is also known for its Mughali style curries. Delhi is particularly known for curries made from mutton "variety" meats - you can order up goat brain curry here if so inclined. There are Moti Mahal outlets all over India now, although a family argument means that this Chandi Chowk branch bills itself as the One and Original Moti Mahal, Hands Down. I'm not prepared to argue.



The tandoori gobi had the interesting addition of sesame seeds up top. I think it does add a certain nutty depth to its flavor. A delicate yogurt marinade and a lot of spices, heavy on the aromatics. Really addictive stuff - and a lot of it. I couldn't finish it all.



And excellent chicken. Not too heavy on the yogurt - actually, I kinda like that. But juicy, excellent meat with a lot of complexity of flavor.



They talked me into ordering roti. However, missi roti are superb. It's a thin crunchy roti prepared with besam or gram flour, seasoned with fenugreek, ginger, nigella, chili powder, ajwain, and sesame. And brushed with an inordinate amount of butter. They are very savory, and incredibly delicious.

After lunch, I was going to go to the Red Fort. Which turned out to be closed.

So I didn't. But I did the next day.

Eating Stuff in the Car: New Delhi Edition

Hey there. Have been doing all my writing whatnot over at The Long Way to Cambodia. Since I have been traveling in Asia for the past three months. I will be mirroring all specific food related posts over here from now on.


Without further ado...


Delhi, like the rest of India, is a bastion of street food. And the number one Delhi street food is, of course, the almighty kebab. Kebab functions as a catch-all word for a dizzying array of meat products on a stick here in India, but rest assured: whatever it is, it will be incredibly tasty. India being primarily Hindu and Muslim, kebabs are almost always made with mutton or chicken - vegetarian variants with paneer (cheese), potato, and mashed vegetables do exist.

Al Kauser
Off Sarder Patel Marg, near the Assam Bhavan. (Look for the stall with smoke coming off it, and lots of hungry people sitting on their cars. You can't miss it).




Sheila insisted that we try the kakori kebab at Al Kauser one night, and I was of no inclination to defy her. (I am rarely of such an inclination). Sheila, Rajeev, and myself accordingly jumped into the car, wherein Sheila grandly asked the driver to take us to the Kebab Place, and be quick about it. "It's just a stall, of course, but they are simply the most divine kakori kebabs in town. But it's just a stall, really."

(She was looking for an accomplice, in the dark art of Eating In the Car. We both knew it. And I was happy to oblige).

Al Kauser is a bit of a kebab stall institution, beloved by an entire generation of Delhi-ites for its kakori rolls. The kakori kebab roll, for the uninitiated, is made of ultra-finely cut ground lamb, ground to a fine paste and seasoned with garlic, cinnamon, cayenne, cardamon, cumin, and some other tasty aromatics. The result is an incredibly tender kebab that quite literally melts in your mouth, creating a decadently fatty explosion of flavor in one's mouth. As kakori kebabs are delicate things, they are usually served with ultra thin and buttery roomali roti. Traditional condiments are hyperactively spicy cilantro chutney with green chili, and pickled onions. Mix these elements up together and you've got a work of art. Kakori kebab is a foodstuff entirely suited for eating in your car or while standing up - that's the other beauty of them. And did I mention that kakori kebab is cheap?



Al Kauser is best known for its kakori kebab, but they also turn out a popular mutton burra kebab (mutton on the bone with a coating of yogurt and spices). Chicken tikka is on offer for wusses who can't handle mutton, but there's no real reason to bother. (I don't know why people bother with chicken tikka in general). Watching the cooks slap the kakori paste on the table and form it into kebabs at super-human speeds is half the fun. Must not be comfortable to spend all night working in a flaming inferno of a grill stall, but I'm glad they do it. As are a lot of people.

There is something delightful about devouring kakori kebab in the back of a car with a grand dame, dripping cilantro sauce and bits of roomali roti all over the upholstery. Since that is part of the sacred ritual of eating kakori kebab. It must not be abrogated. "God, I do love these!" Sheila commented after we polished off the last batch. She handed me a paper napkin. We both delicately and in a highly lady-like fashion wiped the mutton grease off our mouths. "You have to eat them in the car, darling," she said, as we pulled away. "It can't be done any other way."

Well, I'd concur.



We ended our casual-style dinner at a nearby shopping center, for bhel puri. Sheila has a bhel puri guy there she likes, and the three of us ordered up plates of the good stuff.



A lovely rendition. Plenty of fresh mango and onion, plenty of chutneys. A pleasant overdose of sev and seasonings. Not too dry, not too moist. Crunchier then most. Christ, I love bhel puri.



We adjourned to Haldiram's - one representative of India's ginormous Bengali fast-food chain - to sip on Diet Cokes and watch the locals sink their faces into thalis, samosas, and chaats. Sheila vacillated with the idea of getting some kulfi or some barfi, something like that, but talked herself out of it. "Too fatty," she sighed. "You know that Delhi is in the throes of an obesity epidemic."

Which it is. And we know why.

A Field Guide to The Tandoor

The Indian subcontinent is ruled by the tandoor oven, a big clay device in which meat and bread and other things are cooked. Tandoor ovens, super heated and long burning, are encountered all across central America, turning out delicous and spiced food from Kabul to Kerala. The ovens date to almost before time, far as anyone can tell: India's very-first Harappa people used them to make their suppers, and even the Akkadian Epic of Gilgamesh sees fit to give the tandoor oven a brief if atmospheric cameo. Tandoor-workers (themselves shriveled up and gently roasted as the food) perform many tasks: they spike meat onto kebabs, fish out leg-of-lamb and chicken parts from the seething charcoals, and slap rotis and naan onto the oven's clay walls. These heat-impervious men are among the world's great culinary heros and should be properly honored some day, as they create plate after plate of succulent meats and vegetables - but I digress. The cooked tandoor food will be served to business men and kids on motorbikes and people on packaged tours, and many more then I can possibly name.

There are far too many kinds of tandoor delicacies and new ones seem to be invented all the time- but here, we have prepared a list or a field guide, which can be clipped out and put in your pocket and stained with grease and juices.



Tandoori chicken is the cover girl of the tandoor-oven pantheon, the Salma Hayek of the lineup, the Taste Which Everyone Knows. Tandoori chicken has ambled across continents and across nations, findings its way into African fast food, Japanese pizza pies, Cincinnati instant-microwave-meals and British submarine sandwiches. This is because it very, very, delicious. Skinless chicken is marinated with spices (and a bit of red food coloring) and cooked til' just right, spices seeping all the way through the meat and reaching the red-stained bone. There is a lot of heinous tandoori chicken out there, especially in the USA, but a really good version will make you spit at the concept of vegetarianism. Tender, juicy meat beneath a crisp and slightly fatty skinless crust, perhaps accented with lemon juice and cilantro yogurt sauce and onion: too perfect:



Chicken tikka is, simply enough, marinated chunks of chicken (usually white meat) charred up a bit in a tandoor oven. They function as one of India's favorite Men Drinking Beer snacks, in hot contention with chili chicken. It can be encountered in various incarnations, from spicier to garlicky and so on and so forth but are a dependable (and boneless) snacky.


(Photo jacked from, oddly enough, a Milanese Indian restaurant.)

Boti kebabs are tender chunks of lamb muscle meat, marinated yogurt and spices and cooked until falling apart. They have a rich, decadent buttery texture in their best incarnations and are absolutely irrestible. They are especially popular in Mumbai and are eaten on pretty much any decent pretext for snacking. I especially liked the tender little nibbles served up by deeply suspicious Muslim kebab-makers from the neighborhood stands near the Taj hotel, perhaps eaten with a side of tandoori gobi or chili-sauce drizzled bhindi masala. They are not particularly difficult to make in the oven and I really advise every sane carnivore to eat them at least once or twice or a zillion times.




The Galouti Kebab is made of mutton that has been ground to just about nothing then made into a patty and cooked and cooked and cooked. They have a fine and gentle consistency and can be eaten by just about anyone, even those too lazy to chew or someone who has just undergone invasive dental surgery. Shah Jahan used to eat small portions of them while looking across the water from his prison at the Taj Mahal, in his imprisoned dotage, though they may easily be enjoyed in happier times then that.



Machi tikka kebabs are made of fish and especially enjoyed by the people of Goa and other Southern countries, who couldn't find lamb to save their lives anyway. Insofar as I can tell, tuna is most often used, and marinated in yogurt and spices for a nice healthy time and charred to tender perfection in an oven. They are best in Mumbai and other coastal towns, but can be procured pretty much anywhere - especially delicious with cilantro-yogurt sauce, eaten when cream-infused lamb curries are beginning to grate on the pysche and the digestive tract.



India is a vegetarian-supportive nation, and it stands to reason that vegetables are given the tandoori treatment: and how delicious they become. Cauliflower, India's seeming vegetable of choice, attains bizarrely transcedent levels of flavor when soaked in yogurt and turmeric and charred a bit: the innocent sprouts take on a rich, creamy, slightly perfumed taste, a million trillion miles removed from the sickly cauliflower-cheese casseroles of American larders. I survived on a diet of roughly 40% tandoori gobi in India and was incredibly healthy all the time. This means something.



Ground meat or Sheekh kebabs, packed around metal skewers and cooked in a tandoor oven, are extremely common and always delicious. They are usually made out of lamb or mutton, mixed with aromatic spices and served with the usual pickled onion and lemon. Some varieties are made of ground, tender chicken - I tried one tasty variety (the name of which escapes me) comprised of spicy chicken rolled around tomato. The picture above shows a special and expensive variety of sheekh kebab made of mutton wrapped around chicken and everyone knows two tasty animals are better then one.




Tandoori lamb chops combine fatty and gamy lamb meat and rich Indian spices, coupled with a skilled and delicate char: it is hard to imagine them not being delicious. They generally only are found on the menu of rather upscale places but are absolutely worth the expense. I advise doing like most Indians do in the presence of really fine meat projects and eschewing your knife and fork, since everything really does taste better on the bone.

One of the world's minor miracles is that these delicious lamb chops can be replicated at home: Food and Wine's Tandoori lamb chop recipe is one of my go-to's and has provoked intensely positive reactions from everyone I've fed them to. Make them as soon as humanly possible.




Pomfret is a small and curiously flat fish that is very popular in India and basically unknown in the USA. I developed a taste for it extremely quickly: the flat little suckers have sweet and delicately flaky fish, which is served extremely well by the tandoor oven treatment. Whole fish are usually scored, rubbed with spices, and cooked head-and-all - the delicate, nearly translucent little spines can easily be lifted out. As I have mentioned in the past, I derive a curious and perverse sort of pleasure from eating an entire animal and thus enjoy these very much. Be vigilant and careful to ensure you are getting a decently sized pomfret for your supper: I have occasionally been served two bite fish and been hungry for the rest of the evening.

Those are some of the more commonly encountered taste-treats: I'll post more as I dig up photos. You should probably try them all as a scientific endeavor.

Mumbai and Twitter Article

Wrote this article for Newcomb-Tulane and decided to put it up here on a lark.

The recent Mumbai terrorist attacks left India’s most dynamic and complex city shaken to its core. The world watched in astonishment as heavily armed Islamic terrorists murdered nearly 200 people over the course of two bloody days, holding a violent standoff with police forces and the Indian military. The terroists held hostages in the luxury Taj and Oberoi hotels, shot up a popular tourist café, laid waste to a women’s and children’s hospital, and attacked the city’s Nariman Jewish center. Terrifyingly well organized, the attacks fostered tremendous fear and uncertainty in the city’s population, uncertain of what was going on or how they should best respond.

I spent the spring of 2008 exploring India, freelance writing for a few local publications, but mainly soaking up the various pleasures of the subcontinent. I have fond memories of the couple of weeks I spent in Mumbai’s Colaba district – the area where the vast majority of the terrorist attacks took place. I remember hanging out at the Leopold Café far into the night, and I also remember walking through the blissfully air conditioned Taj hotel upwards of five times a day, wishing for the day when I would be able to afford a room. Colaba was an exciting, if often frustrating place, and I enjoyed exploring the city’s back alleys, tropical parks, and street markets, under the gentle guidance of my local friends. Indeed, I had been planning a return to Mumbai this summer when the horrible news came over the wires. I managed to contact my friends in Mumbai and was vastly relieved to find out that they were okay. I spent the Thanksgiving holidays glued to my computer screen and the news websites: it was terribly surreal to watch such brutal violence play out in a place I knew and loved.


But I couldn’t help but notice another dimension to the tragedy: the prominence of new media and citizen journalism in the ensuing coverage of the attacks. I am a habitual blogger, and I watched with interest as Twitter, blogs, and the internet stepped up to fill the spaces traditional media could not for the people of Mumbai. Mumbaikers utilized Twitter, personal blogs, and even text-messaging to keep each other informed as the attacks played out. These efforts occurred at a level umatched in history: according to many, the Mumbai attacks have done nothing more then bring the social media revolution to a climatic new peak.

Twitter, a new “micro-blogging” service garnered the most recognition as a potent citizen-journalism tool, as the blogosphere breathlessly discussed its power to report in absolute real time. “Tweets," 140-word posts shared via txt from cell phone or from a computer web browser, allowed Mumbai’s populace to write near-constant updates, posting information, theories, and advice at a rate of 50 to 100 posts a minute – a veritable barrage of on the spot information. Twitter’s #Mumbai channel drew the most posts: people tweeted as they watched the attacks play out, reporting on details and observations major media outlets couldn’t cover. And Twitter users also discussed the aftermath: the anguish they felt after the attacks, about the revenge they wished they could exact on the attackers, and on ways they could help the victims.

Within minutes of the attacks, the blogosphere had also stepped up to the plate, delivering incisive and passionate analysis of the terrifying events happening outside. Arun Shanbhag (http://arunshanbhag.com/) kept up a passionate and running commentary on the attacks from his home disquietingly close to the Taj. Mumbai Metblogs (http://mumbai.metblogs.com/), produced by city residents, produced (and is still producing) fascinating photo blogs from residents of the city. DesiCritics (http://desicritics.org/index.php), a South Asian based blog, has posted hundreds of compelling accounts from Indian citizens. Hundreds, if not thousands of other blogs have also covered the attacks in detail: the attacks are a red hot topic on the Internet right now, and interest shows no sign of waning.

Cellphones also played a pivotal role in the conflict: those held hostage inside the hotels were able to text the outside world about their situation, sending out messages as they cowered in barricaded hotel rooms or lay on the floor as terrorist hostages. Many used cellphones to stay in continuous contact with family members and even news agencies – “embedded” reporting as it has never been seen before. One entrapped couple texted Indian commandos a “safe” word, ensuring they would not open the door to the hotel’s attackers. Another man, tragically killed in the conflict, was able to text his family members up to the time of his death. With the power of new technology, even victims have found a surprising new voice.

However, the role of social media as an essential tool in times of disaster has raised many critical eyebrows. Most common is the assertion that information shared via social networks in crisis situations is not necessarily correct or even useful. Speculations and conspiracy theories flew around Twitter throughout the 72-hour attack and afterward, ranging from accusations laying blame on everyone from George W. Bush to space aliens. Although citizen accounts of the events helped many stay abreast of the situation, the Indian authorities implored citizens not to use Twitter, as a (still unsubstantiated) rumor had got out that the terrorists were using it to stay one step ahead of the police. Furthermore, a recent article in the Australian Courier Mail indicates that the shooters used Blackberries, GPS navigators, and difficult-to track cell phones to both coordinate the attacks and to closely monitor world reaction to their violent actions. (http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,24726093-954,00.html). Today, even terrorists are concerned about their profile on the Internet, and are eminently capable of following international sentiment in real time. It seems we are all becoming self-referential.

Ultimately, the coordinated attack on Mumbai has brought into focus the real-world application of Internet tools – both for good and destructive purposes. Citizen journalists, on the scene and on the street, have gained unprecedented importance influence in a time where old-school media simply can’t move quickly enough.

Leopold reopens!

The Leopold Cafe is up and running again. The sayings are true - you can't stop Mumbai. You can barely arrest it in its tracks. I am certain the terrorist groups fervently checking their Blackberries are just thrilled to hear this news.

Jai Hind, long live India.


Mumbai's Leopold Cafe reopens - Sydney Morning Herald

Leopold's cafe, the first target of the Islamist attacks that killed almost 200 people in Mumbai, became the first to reopen on Sunday as its defiant owner said he "would never let terrorists win".

On the dot of midday Farzad Jehani and his brother Farhang pulled up the shutters of the 137-year-old cafe, where 10 people died on Wednesday when Islamist extremists launched attacks that shook India's commercial capital to its core.

As customers and media poured into the cafe, on one of Mumbai's main shopping thoroughfares, staff wearing red polo shirts burst into applause and one man led a cheer of "God bless India".


I remember those red polo shirts! All my best to the cafe's owners for showing such a delightful unwillingness to bow to the demands of the world's batshit insane contingent. May they have many more years of serving beer to stoned tourists. They deserve it.

Mumbai residents try to return to routines - Los Angeles Times

"Farzad Jehani, the cafe's owner, sat down for a chat between cellphone calls and a steady stream of greetings.

"The support people have given us, we never expected such an outpouring. It's really unbelievable," said Jehani, who lost two staff members in the hail of bullets. "Our city will come back. But when are we going to put our foot down? We've seen attacks in 1993, 2006 and now 2008."

In the neighborhood around the Jewish center, where six hostages died, including an American rabbi and his wife, food vendors were back in place, most of the small costume jewelry and clothing shops had reopened and foot traffic was picking up. There were also tourists in droves."



Flowers for the Taj - NYTimes - Anosh Irani

"On Saturday, when the siege ended, I stepped outside our gates and took a taxi to the Taj. The driver let me off nearby at the Regal Cinema and I walked toward the Leopold Cafe. The smell of disinfectant was overpowering. The cafe was closed, but through the shutters I noticed that two ceiling fans were on. There was a flier on the outside wall with “Good News” written on it, an advertisement for plumbing and carpentry.

The makeshift stores selling old gramophones were empty. A store called R. Dadavji’s Ladies and Gents Under Garments was open. Florists also were open because a tragedy like this always means business. But everything else was closed. I came in view of the Taj’s entrance and the spot where my grandfather’s black Fiat was always parked. There was a police barricade flanked by fire engines. The hotel’s windows had been smashed, like teeth that had suddenly gone missing. Above, crows circled.

I thought of all the weekends when I would come to the Taj bookstore with my grandfather. I thought of how for so many years he bejeweled the hotel’s rooms with flowers. Today, I thought, his store would be closed. The last thing he would have wanted would be to use his flowers to decorate the dead."

Beautiful editorial. Go read it.

Trishna Mumbai

Trishna Mumbai



Trishna is my favorite restaurant in Mumbai.

This is because they specialize in crab. If you know me at all, you know that my favorite food is chili crab. I believe this is because 1. they take forever to eat and require lots of digging and scraping and fiddling-with, which I adore and 2. they are incredibly delicious. I will take crab over lobster any day. Crab is delicious in almost any format, but I believe it reaches its absolute apogee in chili crab form, stir-fried in a spicy, tomatoey sauce and served as hot as it gets, allowing you to make a completely heinous mess all over the nice white table cloth.


One entirely excellent vegetable jalifrezi.

I ended up returning to Trishna three times in about 10 days, which is pretty impressive since 1. I am poor and 2. It is not cheap. I went twice with my friend Aneesa, where we happily ate until we felt kinda sick and regretted not a moment of it.

I made the last visit the day before I left. I was under the impression I was leaving India for good. (This proved not to be the case, but that's a story for another time.) I decided that a last meal at Trishna was the way to go, and ambled down there all by my lonesome for a leisurely lunch. I ended up ordering my two favoritest things: an entire tandoori crab and a plate of bhindi masala, costing over 1000 rupees, or about 30 bucks. This was the most I had spent in my life on a meal for myself, and it made me feel curiously independent and awesome: here I was in an absolutely foreign city, all by myself, ordering fancy and delicious meals. I had perhaps arrived, or at least come within spitting distance of the door.

I ate the entire crab (and all the bhindi), impressing the waiters who were under the impression I could not hork down that entire delicious spread. Hah! It is now a very happy memory.

Trishna is pretty well known in Mumbai, and seems to come up with regularity on every tourist guide and dining manual put out. It's an old school, rather fancy place: the waiters wear jackets and are delightfully snobby, and elderly couples come out in fancy outfits to eat lots of seafood and gossip about each other. The speciality is crab, but you can get tasty rawas (Indian salmon), fish, prawn, and other dishes as well, including meat for you non fish eating pussies. The place is located down a tiny and rather hard to find alley: make damn certain your cabbie knows what you are talking about.

leopold's refuses to die, terrorists using the internet like everybody else (uh oh)

A few more posts for today. First time Sacramento has NOT been overcast this week, but I certainly appreciated a little bit of blue sky. Fall is sort of vaguely occuring in New Orleans but has arrived in full force in Northern California: the first time I've walked through a pile of dried up crunchy leaves thus far this year. I am eminently thankful that I am NOT in Great Barrington where it is currently 23 degrees out with a high chance of snow. So very thankful.

Ate at Zen Sushi downtown tonight: pretty good. I especially liked the grilled smelts. Little smelly fish are something I can always get behind. Back to NOLA tomorrow for less then two weeks to knock out finals, then I'm back in Sacramento for a month for the holidays.

Some more updates on Mumbai...

Terrorists Turn Technology into weapon of war in Mumbai - The Courier-Mail, Australia

"However amid the arsenal of military hardware, it was the use of humble mobile phones and internet technology that proved a key weapon – one which caught the anti-terrorist forces by surprise.

The use of BlackBerrys by the terrorists to monitor international reaction to the atrocities, and to check on the police response via the internet, provided further evidence of the highly organised and sophisticated nature of the attacks.

The gunmen were able to trawl the internet for information after cable television feeds to the two luxury hotels and office block were cut by the authorities.

The men looked beyond the instant updates of the Indian media to find worldwide reaction to the events in Mumbai, and to keep abreast of the movements of the soldiers sent to stop them."


Another game-changing development. Terrorists are no longer content with delayed reaction to their violent and splashy actions: they want to know right now how people are responding. This behavior is in no way different from the behavior everyone else displays when they post a photo on Facebook or put up a blog post: we want a reaction now and furthermore, bigger is always better.

The fact that the terrorists used their Blackberries and the internet to monitor military and police actions is disquieting but, I believe, inevitable. The genie has been let out of the box in regards to monitoring what private individuals report on. Reporters and the private media can be controlled and monitored, but private individuals cannot be.

We hear a lot of positive things about total freedom of the press, but we rarely hear about the bad things. This is, unfortunately, an absolute case in point. An awkward question is (as I've previously mentioned) presented: if citizen reporting is dangerous, how do we control it? Should we control it? What could it mean if governments and other entities decide to begin to control it?




Looking at Twitter as A News Source - InformationWeek


"The issue with Twitter as a news source is that it's not organized to handle news reporting. Frankly it's a complete mess. Twitter users are tagging way too many messages which only adds to the noise. This noise makes allowing potential "real news" to get through nearly impossible. To see this in action, check out the Mumbai search on Twitter. The majority of posts are commentary and reposts of mainstream news (i.e. CNN said...).

If Twitter wants to be taken as a serious news source, they need to work on how the information is shared. Although Twitter should probably first focus on how they plan to generate revenue to maintain a going concern. Perhaps there's an opportunity for a new quick messaging tool that's for serious news only. There's definitely room in the market and if the tool can stay away from general commentary and personal messaging, it could redefine how news is reported into the major news outlets. Naturally the tool should support multiple media types (e.g. text, audio, video). If the information submitted to this new news reporting tool can be verified and noted as such, that could make the tool even more powerful."

I definitely see the logic here. As it stands, combing through Twitter posts is a giant pain in the ass, (though I liked one bloggers tactic of randomly searching to arrive at some form of consensus.) I also think the idea of a Twitter-like service primarily for "real" news is a good one, although I am also certain random douchewaffles would decide to use it report on alien moon-landings and the return of the Great Lord Xenu. But hopefully less then one might anticipate. Social media is definitely in its absolute infancy: we're going to have to sort out the kinks.

For the love of Leopold's Cafe - The Economic Times

"The establishment refuses to be cowed down by the dastardly attack and has decided that it will reopen its doors to the public tomorrow. And this despite the fact that a grenade hurled towards the bar has left a hole in the stone floor. The three stone pillars, partly responsible for shielding a number of visitors from the bullets, have also been peppered with shots.

Dehmiri though brushes aside the extent of damage and the money that repair work will cost and tells us that within the next couple of days a carpenter will begin to fix the place. As for security, he said he would continue with his current arrangement — a lone guard at the door.

Dehmiri and his staff are not alone in their determination to put Leo’s back on its feet. A global effort of sorts has been mounted via the internet to show solidarity with a cafe of which people of many nationalities have fond memories. The Twitter community has called for a vigil at 4 pm on Sunday outside Leopold’s Cafe in remembrance of those killed in the terror attacks across the city."

To use a cliche, bloodied but unbowed. All the Indians I've spoken to have said that Mumbai's greatest strength is its resiliency, its ability to pick itself up, dust itself off, and keep on moving onwards into the future. Leopold's Cafe is proving itself entirely representative. God bless em'. I hope to have some tandoori chicken and a snort of whiskey there very soon.