HAVE you ever heard the expression, vedi Napoli, e poi muori (see Naples, and die)? The Lahorites have the equivalent in, ‘unless you have seen Lahore, you aren’t born.’ Countering Descartes, ‘I think therefore I am,’ (cogito ergo sum) I can safely say, I have seen Lahore, therefore I am. And what of the Food Street of Gowalmandi! Well, eating is a passion in Lahore. People munch, chew and gnaw wherever and whenever they get a chance to do so. I, too, ingest but am careful of what I gobble up. With the passage of time, I have become fussy about the issue. Some go farther and put me down as a connoisseur of sorts. Being modest, I wouldn’t go for such fancy terms. Having eaten solids for over half a century here and there, and I have eaten some real weird stuff in lands afar, I guess I can stake a claim to comment and a half on quality of bits and crumbs in the culinary field. First of all, after that much of experience, I don’t eat out and if I have to, I take care to pick only the broast, barbecued or fried things.
Curry is off-limits; no soup with suspicious looking bits afloat or sunk. Salads and dressings too, do not agree with me. As a chaser, bottled fluids of any kind, any colour would do.
On our recent visit to Lahore, we decided to taste the latest delights the city had to offer at the Food Street. It was an experience. The whole street was closed to vehicular traffic. Food shops were on both sides and the buildings were painted in vibrant colours to give the street a festive look. Tables were laid out right in the middle of the road. The entire area was well lit.
First we took a stroll around to look from close quarters, to have the feel of the area. I saw at least two diners helping themselves from their hip flasks. So, the Lahorites were loosening up a bit. There were some foreigners shopping for dinner. Some policemen were also sauntering around, making the place safe for family outings. The only flaw was that there were no washrooms around. I had been wanting to avoid the call of nature, but the pressure was really building up. When the table was laid out with wet plastic plates, I took off much to the surprise of the assorted company of gents and ladies. I found a chemist shop at a distance and after getting my prescription filled, I asked where the bathroom was and was allowed to visit the place. When I returned, dishes had been served. I handed out my latest purchase to the company; the alcohol swabs to scrub the plates, cutlery and hands to attend to the business at hand.
We started with fried chicken and naan. It was a delight. Almost no oil and low on spices. A Karachi chicken is easy to handle; it comes apart on a touch. In Lahore, it takes a while for you to come to grips with it. It is a jaw-job but is tastier than its counterpart in Karachi. May be the difference is in the breed, feed, climate, or plain politics. Who knows? Lamb chops and chapli kebabs followed. All very well done. I had eaten the tastiest chapli kebabs in winter in Swat, but I couldn’t hold them for long. Ribs were a treat for the palate. The last item served was the fish done in Lebanese style. It was steam-cooked in tandoor with spices sprinkled on it as an afterthought. It is next best thing to a smoked salmon. I have forked and knifed fish at swanky joints in Karachi and had a near-death experience, if you know what I mean. Usually, I am indifferent to aquatic life form unless it is my catch or personally bought at the fish harbour. I like fish but do not hazard my craw. There are two criteria for a dinner taken outdoors. First, it should be tasty; second, food like a ticking-bomb has a delayed-action effect, but nothing happens the next day. So, khana at the Food Street was excellent, titillating to the taste buds and safe.
Don’t forget the alcohol-swabs. If you are looking for ambience and airs, this is not the place for you. However, if you want to experience a whiff of hoi polloi and have tasty grub in a local city street, right in the maws of Lahore, this is it. Don’t drink water hours before you plan to visit the Food Street in the evening. Else you sure are to go into a tizzy looking for a deserted corner. Use only bottled water. If you have something stronger with you, go ahead but be discreet. Avoid raita, whipped, water-diluted yogurt with spices and herbs thrown in for good measure. The bill of fare is astonishingly low. A dozen of you can eat for less than a thousand.
I heard a lot about, Phajjay kay paaiy, (trotters of goat or calf); available, behind the Shahi mosque to the accompaniment of music, dance and songs. For some it would be beyond the pale. I have no qualms about that. If Iqbal Hussain can live and paint there, I can eat there. But we were short on time. Next time, may be.
