The achar culture

KARACHI’S incredibly cosmopolitan nature can be gauged from the number of cuisines that are on offer across its vast sprawl. Suffice to say, the city is a food lover’s delight, and its cuisine has been influenced by the many different cultural and ethnic groups that have settled here over the years.

Within its innumerable localities can be found food for all tastes and all income brackets. Many of the city’s neighbourhoods contain renowned haunts where foodies can satiate their appetites with delights rarely found in other areas. One of these is Hyderabad Colony’s Achar Gali.

The fist thing that hits you as you enter Achar Gali – located in a sleepy lane hidden away from the incessant madness of city life near, of all places, the Karachi Central Prison – is the pungent aroma of achar. As you get closer, you notice that there is not one, not two, but rows upon rows of the tangy, tasty pickled stuff waiting for you. For this lane – barely a kilometre long – is the general headquarters of traditional achar and other snacks from Hyderabad Deccan.

Achar Gali transports one to another world. Apart from the many food items that abound in its shops, the air here is heavy with the scent of old world tradition. And one of the most delightful aspects of visiting the Gali is the distinctive Hyderabadi dialect of Urdu. Though perhaps not as pronounced as in Hyderabad itself, for the ear attuned to the nuances of language, it definitely stands out. Still, it is the food that sets apart Achar Gali from Karachi’s other quaint neighbourhoods.

A clutch of about half a dozen shops, bursting at the seams with countless colourful jars of achar, is the star attraction here. I walk up to one with an impressive array of pickled produce, which also has a set-up for hot snacks. As it’s lunchtime, a group of young office workers are huddled around a table, wolfing down what principally appear to be pakoras and samosas, washing it down with cold drinks. I approach the chap behind the till to enlighten me about the finer points of achar and Hyderabadi cuisine in general.

“Look, if you want to write on food and drink, go visit some food street. Achar is not a food item; it is a saqafat (culture),” comes the reply.

Slightly stunned, I meekly proceed to gather some more facts on the history of Achar Gali, this time treading more carefully lest I offend any more gastronomic sensibilities.

The shopkeeper tells me he isn’t very good with dates and other details, but from what he remembers, immigrants that came from Hyderabad Deccan after Partition settled in three localities of the city: Bahadurabad, New Karachi and Hyderabad Colony. Though not aware of the lane’s proper name, he tells me all and sundry simply refer to it by its popular name: Achar Gali.

“We stock over 25 different kinds of achar. All the recipes are my grandmother’s. She started off on a much smaller scale. Mine is the third generation that has been involved in making achar,” he says, as containers of the tangy stuff surround him.

One of varieties tasted by this writer was mixed achar, which, along with the usual suspects, also contained sliced lemons. One must say it was a lot more pungent than the brand-name stuff available in the market, but a jarful at home is a welcome addition to kichri, parathas or a plateful of hot daal. Adrak (ginger) achar was also tried; suffice to say, it is an acquired taste, but as I was informed, it’s supposed to be darned good for health. However, this is only the tip of the iceberg; quite frankly, this writer did not have the stomach (pun intended) to try the other 23 varieties in one go. There’s always next time.

“Hyderabadi achar is distinct from Hindustani and Shikarpuri achar. It is tangier, while bhagar and pukka oil is used during the preparation,” the shopkeeper informs me with a hint of pride. Aside from achar, other food items of repute available at the Gali include Hyderabadi Dahi Baray, which I am told resemble kari, along with the luscious luqmi.

This is a square version of the samosa, and I, for one, am convinced that it deserves special mention. With a filling of savoury minced meat enwrapped within flaky dough, the stuff just melts in your mouth. Ketchup, raita or your favourite chutney just add to the experience.

However, a piece on Achar Gali would be incomplete without mentioning its delicious deserts. Leading the pack is the calorie-laden, heaven-sent double ka meetha, along with the equally divine khobani (apricot) ka meetha. The locals tell me kaddu (pumpkin) kheer is not to be missed either.

A friend who used to frequent the Gali says the number of food shops has decreased over the years. It would be a shame if this cultural asset was to disappear to make way for a gaudy shopping mall, or worse still, a multinational fast-food franchise.