National Geographic Traveller India July 2016

J u l y 2 0 1 6 • ` 1 5 0 • VO L . 5

4th

ISSUE 1

anniversary issue

Chettinad Nose to tail cooking

Japan

Everyday Gourmet Traditions

Plus

Pondicherry | Singapore | France | Nagaland | colombia

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th

n a t i o n a l g e o g r a p h i c t r av e l l e r i n d i a

july 2016

Anniversary issue

Contents Vol 5 Issue 1

ta s t e o f t r av e l

The frenetic pace of Tokyo, the kindness of strangers in Kyoto: Ticking Japan off the bucket list, one meal at a time

By Vidya Balachander

78 Sushi and sashimi, Japan

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Guts and Glory

A Chettinad food pilgrimage reveals the dramatic tale of a community and the truth behind its spirited cuisine

By Neha Sumitran

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From Forest to Table In the hills of Nagaland, life, land, and labour are aligned with the sourcing and consumption of food

By Aditya Raghavan

Lisovskaya Natalia / The Picture Pantry

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Unvarnished Tables

n a t i o n a l g e o g r a p h i c t r av e l l e r i n d i a

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104

112

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Table for Two

In Pondicherry, food remedies a storm-stricken family holiday and strengthens the bond between a father and a daughter

By Fabiola Monteiro

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Singapore Food Guide

From cracking crustaceans to sizzling satays, Singapore is a delicious hotspot of Southeast Asian cuisine. Here’s our list of must-try dishes and top pantry picks

By Kareena Gianani & Rumela Basu

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Under the Influence

France’s best-kept secret?

On the vine-laced hillsides of Beaujolais, drinking wine is all celebration, zero pretence Text by Bruce Schoenfeld Photographs by Susan Seubert

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Colombia in a Cup

Amid the mountains of the Sierra Nevada range, a new coffee destination bears fruit Text by Bill Fink Photographs by Francesco Lastrucci

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csp_pruden/fotosearch lbrf/dinodia (cup), Lauri Patterson/E+/getty images (pizza), owen franken/alamy/indiapicture (barrells), rachata teyparsit/shutterstock (food)

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JULY 2016 • `150 • VOL. 5

voices

4TH

ISSUE 1

ANNIVERSARY ISSUE

24 Clan Rules

Chettinad NOSE TO TAIL COOKING

Japan

EVERYDAY GOURMET TRADITIONS

26 Crew Cut

n av i g at e

Local Flavour

28

Sweeten your European itinerary with waffles in Belgium 30 In the Bengal countryside, the art of making gayna bori lives on 34 A tipsy trip to the Mexican town of Tequila 38 A fondness for Cheddar results in a journey to Seattle 42 Cocoa hits all the sweet notes in the French town of Bayonne

Plus

PONDICHERRY | SINGAPORE | FRANCE | NAGALAND | COLOMBIA

On The Cover This collage of images was created by Art Director Diviya Mehra to highlight a variety of elements from the many food stories in this anniversary issue.

48 On Foot

From Amritsar to Chennai, 12 food walks for the insatiable traveller

54 Bookshelf

Wandering around India through four scrumptious food books

56 The Souvenir

Six pantry essentials from Goa

58 Power of Place

Switzerland’s Trümmelbach Falls is a subterranean surprise

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Moscow’s diverse heritage, cuisine, and vibrant nightlife are now more affordable

66 History

What does a vegetarian do when travelling to a meat-loving land?

Making a case for theplas, one of India’s most versatile travel foods

60 48 Hours

regulars 18 Editor’s Note 20 Notebook 138 Inspire 144 Travel Quiz

The fortress of Masada in Israel rises above the lowest point on Earth

70 Family Time

Deep in the caves of Nottingham, stories are larger than life

74 My City

Volcanoes outnumber skyscrapers in Auckland, New Zealand

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xavier zimbardo/contributor/getty images (dancers), manjit singh hoonjan (gayna bori) COVER images: catherine glazkova/shutterstock (olive oil), lena vettka/shutterstock (coconut), natalia hubbert/shutterstock (shrimp, chopsticks & herbs), deep green/ shutterstock (coffee), dzujen/shutterstock (soup), cat_arch_angel/shutterstock (chillies), macrovector/shutterstock (thali), regina jershova/shutterstock (lemon), marina dormidontova/shutterstock (bay leaves), nld/shutterstock (lemon grass & tamarind), Le Panda/shutterstock (wine glass), Irina Vaneeva/shutterstock (Coffee beans), Shinkevich Maria/shutterstock (red circle), kana_hata/shutterstock (mochi), Arefyeva Victoria/shutterstock (sushi), michelle willieter/getty images (mushrooms)

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Editor’s Note |

n i lou f er ven katra m a n

CATCH ‘EM YOUNG daughter’s first trip with us was when she was just a few months old. i believe (and hope) that besides appreciation for the wonderful destinations she has visited, she has also learned that life isn’t all smooth sailing; hitches occur, plans need to be changed, you have to adapt and make do—and come out smiling. i’ve heard people remark that travel is wasted on children since they don’t remember much of where they’ve been. The problem with that approach is that it reduces travel to a list of destinations when it is so

We strongly believe that getting kids to travel when they are young has manifold advantages. For starters, they learn that the world is much wider and bigger than the one they inhabit every day

our mission

Holidaying with a ten-month-old in the Western Ghats.

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much more. Travel is rhythm and feeling and nuance, a body of experiences that serves to open the mind. maybe your child won’t remember which temples you visited, or even the name of the city you were in, but the encounters they have—big and small— will mould them. if we agree that travel is as much for the journey, of time spent together, of the changes it creates in us, as it is about the place, then the only memories that count are the ones we remember. my daughter, for instance, remembers and talks about just two things from our trip to Koh samui a few years ago. one is the awesome massages that she got while her parents indulged similarly. The second, which she loves to tell her friends when i’m within earshot, is about a glass-bottomed boat trip for snorkelling, during which her mother accidentally sat on a bunch of ripe bananas. Twice. my parents saved on other things to allow us to travel with them. i’ve done the same, and i’ve noticed that my daughter isn’t oblivious to the value of the trips she takes. That became clear when she recently asked if we’d buy her a laptop, and followed her request by saying “only if we still have money to go on holidays after you buy it.”

And finally, one of the greatest joys of taking my child travelling is a self-centred one. i find i get to see the world from a completely different angle. For instance, i’ve been forced to notice the amazing quality of the sand on a beach holiday instead of the fact that the waiters took very long to bring me my drinks. i’ve seen the behaviour of orangutans from a whole different perspective in Borneo when my daughter zeroed in and focused on an impish tiny tot, while i was busy watching the alpha male. she pointed out how the little ape was fooling around just like a human child, and i was captivated. so my recommendation is to travel with children. They don’t have to be your own, they can be nieces, nephews, or friends’ kids.

Children absorb a variety of lessons when they travel. A sense of direction is surely one, as is self-confidence, and the sensitivity to different peoples and cultures—but just as important are the lessons we learn when we travel with them.

national Geographic traveller india is about immersive travel and authentic storytelling, inspiring readers to create their own journeys and return with amazing stories. our distinctive yellow rectangle is a window into a world of unparalleled discovery.

national GeoGraphic traveller inDia | july 2016

july 2016 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA

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Andre morris

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er nose was burnt crisp. Her feet ached from being in hiking boots six hours a day for two weeks. But there was a gleam in her eye. And even though i’m her mother, i felt she was a little more grown up now than when she had left on a Himalayan trek 15 days ago. my ten-year-old daughter accompanied her father on a 15-day trip into the mountains this summer, as she has several times before, and each time i can see she learns something new. This time, she learned that you can push yourself and go beyond what you think you’re capable of. it’s not a lesson i have been able to teach her myself though heaven knows how many nagging statements i have made to that effect. it’s not something she’s gathered from her formal schooling either. This is a lesson from the outdoors, and the reason why i think we owe it to our kids to take them travelling everywhere, anywhere, if we have the means.

We’re a family that travels for work and for leisure. And we strongly believe that getting kids to travel when they are young has manifold advantages. For starters, they learn that the world is much wider and bigger than the one they inhabit every day. my

Notebook |

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The Find

FOOD MATTERS

Book Nook

Served Fresh

I discovered this little 3.7x3-inch book in the Swiss National Museum in Zurich. Illustrated by Alois Carigiet, A Bell for Ursli is a Swiss classic about a brave little boy from the Engadin.

Carigiet’s drawings made little Ursli and his pointy hat a household favourite. One of the most popular children’s books in Switzerland, it was even made into a film. When I visited, there was a retrospective of Carigiet’s

works on. Girls and boys played dress-up, picking their outfits from the special play areas dedicated to A Bell for Ursli. Scenes from the film were projected on a screen and little Urslis in their pointy hats sat watching the story unfold. I could hardly have left the place without buying my own copy and this miniature edition seemed the perfect keepsake.

—Senior Associate Editor, Diya Kohli

THE BACKSTORY

PICTURE POSTCARD

Capturing a Crowd

Spanish Sun

“People had gathered in the village to pose for photos prior to the Fête des Conscrits parade,” says photographer Susan Seubert, who clicked the pictures for the story, “Under the Influence,” in Beaujolais, France (page 120). “Villagers were singing, laughing, and taking off their hats. There were professional photographers who had been hired to shoot the event, so I was treading on their toes. To avoid being in the way, I got a chair from a restaurant and stood above everyone else. I could get clear shots, yet not be in the way of others attending the event. Be aware of your surroundings and look for places to stand that would be other than eye level. Or, make yourself part of the scene by trying to participate.”

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Ibiza, in my head, is synonymous with trippy clubs and sandy shores, mostly thanks to the Vengaboys. So when my colleague (and work bestie), Kamakshi, went on a holiday to that party island, I knew I wanted something from there. She came back with goodies galore—including this lovely wooden postcard. Although she says she didn’t see any of these old-style Volkswagen camper vans there, the images were plastered over a lot of the souvenirs for sale and the vehicles are available on rent. I can imagine sitting in a vintage bus like this driving around Ibiza. As for the beaches, Kamakshi wrote, “They demand that only Baywatch-level bodies sunbathe there. And, the water changes colour like a disco floor.”

—Online Features Writer, Fabiola Monteiro

T. W. Collins/Moment/getty images (food)

Even the humblest of meals has the power to connect people. How we source our food offers keen insight into our lives.

National Geographic’s food blog, The Plate, whips up sumptuous cultural stories about what we eat and why. It uses food to delve deeper into science and history, and also looks at how our meals impact the environment. Ever wondered about how food waste could turn into a fashion statement, the rise of miniature food, or how food travels across the world? All answers are now served on The Plate.

Check out www.nationalgeographic.com/ people-and-culture/food/the-plate.

natgeotraveller.in

All New Website

A New Leaf National Geographic Traveller India’s website turned a new leaf with the first monsoon showers.

Our new website is leaner, cleaner, and packed with stories, trip ideas, and photoessays celebrating our breathtaking planet and its inhabitants. We’ve got inspiring tales of hiking in the Himalayas, bar-hopping in sunny Seville in Spain, and wildlife safaris from Kanha to the Kalahari Desert.

But we also have ideas for smaller trips, quick breaks from the city to rejuvenate the soul and shake off the monotony of daily routines.

Dive in, and tell us what you think by writing to web.editor@ natgeotraveller.in. We’d love to hear your feedback, and notes from your travels too.

w w w . n at g eotra v e l l er . i n

TRIP IDEAS

Browse by interests like Food + Drink, Culture, and Spirituality; by landscapes like Cities, Mountains, and Ocean; or by the kind of break you’re looking for: perhaps a Road Trip or Family Time.

EDITOR’S PICKS

MOST POPULAR

GETAWAYS

Dragance137/shutterstock (tablet), Brian Skerry (shark)

Our Getaways section is divided into Hotels, ideal for quick breaks, Epic Journeys, dedicated to life-changing travels, and Inspire Me, which includes thoughtful lists to spark ideas for your next holiday.

TRAVEL TALK

Stay clued in with the News section of Travel Talk, browse through our selection of Columns, or make the most of the travel hacks and advice From the Experts.

The Summer Of Sharks: Swimming with Tigers in the Bahamas Rain Check: Off-Season Hotel Deals When Humpback Whales Fall in Love

PHOTOS AND MORE

Our new Photo Stories section is filled with breathtaking images (plus an all new gallery), and we also have sections dedicated to Illustrated tales, Videos, and Podcasts.

Bengaluru Getaways: Weekend Trips to Escape the City

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navigate 30

local flavour The art of making gayna bori lives on in the Bengal countryside

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on foot From Amritsar to Chennai, 12 food walks for the insatiable traveller

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my city Volcanoes outnumber skyscrapers in Auckland, New Zealand

Batter Up in Belgium Sweeten your european itinerary with a trip to waffle country BY jennifer billock Brussels the Brussels waffle, which debuted at the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair, is the forefather of the popular Belgian waffle. But they aren’t the same—the Belgium capital’s is more of a snack, often covered in strawberries and whipped cream or chocolate. the yeast version (the one we usually get is yeast free) is available at any waffle stand but is best fresh off the iron at 187-year-old Maison Dandoy on rue au Beurre—Butter Street (www. maisondandoy.com).

delight called the “liège waffle.” the recipe, also yeast-based, is infused with pearl sugar that forms a crispy caramelized coating in the waffle

liège east of Brussels, in Belgium’s southern, French-speaking Wallonia region, waffles lose the square shape to become an amorphous pressed-dough

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iron. pollux, a café off the place de la cathédrale, melts a chocolate bar right into the batter, but the plain sugar option is just as tasty (Place de la Cathédrale 2; +32-4223-6781).

Belgium-wide Small, buttery waffle cookies are known by a few names depending on the region: lukken, good luck cookies, or nieuwjaarswafeltjes, new year’s cookies. recipes are passed down through family, and the treat is traditionally served on new year’s. they look like their larger cousins on the surface but are thin and crunchy and, if two are put together, hold fillings like caramel, chocolate, ice cream, or almond paste.

JESSE WARREN/GETTY IMAGES (WAFFLE), SHUTTERSTOCK/ANNA CHELNOKOVA (WAFFLE stAck)

Topping overload near the Grand Place in brussels; A stack of waffle cookies, sometimes referred to in belgium as lukken, meaning luck (bottom).

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On Foot

Taste Trails Eating through India on 12 diverse food walks By Diya Kohli

Jalebis in Varanasi.

VARANASI

Holy Kachori Religion dominates the ghats of Varanasi, but in its streets, food reigns supreme. On a walk through the city’s ancient streets, feast on the famous tamatar chaat and sip cold thandai near the temples. Queue up to grab one of the hundreds of plates of crispy kachoris being doled out every minute. Chase it down with sweets like the delectable malai chhenna roll. Winter brings the exquisite seasonal delicacy of malaiyo, crafted from milk foam and dewdrops. (www. indiacitywalks.com; duration 3 hr; tours only on booking; `3,500 per person; book a spot two days in advance.)

Vaishnav thattu idli

CHENNAI

Muruku Twist This early evening food trail is full of stories. Winding through the street food market in Sowcarpet, one of Chennai’s oldest neighbourhoods, it includes secret recipes and encounters with people in the business.

Sample chaat from different parts of India and traditional foods with modern tweaks, like the flavourful muruku sandwich. (www.storytrails.in; duration 2 hr; tours at 4 p.m.; `1,500 per person; schedule on website.)

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bmd images/alamy/indiapicture (jalebis), Photo Courtesy: story trails chennai (idli)

I

n the bylanes of India’s sprawling cities, tantalizing aromas emanate from street kiosks, markets are a world unto themselves, and recipes are passed down through the generations. Discover the food history and culinary secrets of these metropolises through some toothsome tours.

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On Foot

HYDERABAD

Biryanis and Bakes

KOLKATA

Street Joys

Slices of thenang kuruttu (inner bark of a coconut tree).

MADURAI

Sweet Juggernaut Madurai's food culture combines the richness of Chettinad cuisine with eclectic street food. The city of temples is famous for its range of sweets and meaty specialities like kothu parottas, a delicious dish of pieces of parotta with meat, egg, and a spicy sauce. Foodies Day Out’s walks also include the city’s unique drink, the jil jil jigarthanda, made with milk, ice cream, and sarsaparilla syrup. (www.foodiesdayout.com; duration 3-3.5 hr; tours at 5.30 p.m. daily; `2,000 per person; book one week in advance.)

Kolkata’s cuisine is a hybrid of foreign influences and local flavours. And nowhere is this more apparent than on its streets.

Calcutta Walks leads the New Market and Around walk featuring an assortment of cuisines, and includes historic eateries of this central Kolkata neighbourhood.

Participants get to sample a variety of foods from sweet treats at a Jewish bakery to kobiraji cutlets from the Raj era, kormas from the old-world Mughlai cabins, and kathi rolls. (www.calcuttawalks. com; duration 3 hr; schedule on website; from `2,000 per person.)

Biryani

MYSORE

Pak a Punch

Banta soda

AMRITSAR

Lassi Town

The historic city of Amritsar is a great place to savour Punjab’s produce and magnificent flavours. Since the best food is found in little hole-in-thewall eateries, it helps to have a guide. Food Trails India’s tour winds its way through the lanes of the Old City and offers samplings of the creamiest lassis, flakiest kulchas, and the most mouthwatering Fish Amritsari and kebabs.

It also includes a langar at the Golden Temple. (www.foodtrailsindia.com; duration 3 hr; tours at 7 a.m., 11 a.m., and 5 p.m., `1,200-1,500 per person; reservations required at least one day in advance.)

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Mysore has lent its name to various dishes and this food walk traces a path to eponymous favourites like the Mysore masala dosa at Hotel Mylari, tangy Mysore churumuri at Chaat Street along Krishna Vilas Road, and the inimitable Mysore pak in the sweet shops along Sayyaji Rao Road. Along the way, it takes in the markets, local milk bars, and legendary tiffin rooms of the city. (royalmysorewalks. com; duration 2-2.5 hr; tours at 6.30 p.m. daily; `1,500 per person; book one day Mysore pak in advance.)

Photo Courtesy: foodies day out (people), Photo Courtesy: Iftekhar Ahsan - ifte@calcuttawalks.com (street stall), Photo Courtesy: Food Trails India (bottles), CSP_Mbahuguna/fotosearch lbrf/dinodia (biryani), Shutterstock (sweet)

Street food in Kolkata.

Hyderabad is synonymous with its Nizami cuisine.

Visitors usually sample its fragrant biryanis, buttery fruit biscuits from Karachi bakery, rich nihari stews, and steaming Irani tea. The Old City Food Walk offered by Detours takes visitors on a ramble through old markets, traditional bakeries, and local food stalls, tasting some of the best bits along the way. (www. detoursindia.com; duration 3 hr; tours at 7.30 a.m. and 5.30 p.m. daily; `2,500 per person; book one day in advance; transportation costs extra.)

MUMBAI

Gulab jamuns

Market Day in Matunga

BENGALURU

Buttery Flats

Tandoori chicken

LUCKNOW

Kebabs and Kulfis The tale of the onearmed kebabchi and his melt-in-the-mouth meaty creations is among the many stories that surround food in Lucknow.

This lore is integral to experiencing the city’s Awadhi cuisine.

Embark on a culinary walk through the bustling Chowk area with Tornos. Taste the famous Tundey Mian's delectable kebabs, the divine pasanda and sheermal from Mubeen’s, creamy fruit kulfi, and Lucknowi paan. (www. tornosindia.com; duration 2 hr; tours at 7.30 p.m. Mon-Wed, Fri-Sat; `1,500 per person; book by 3 p.m. on day of the walk.)

There are food walks ranging from a “spare parts” or offal tour around Shivaji Nagar’s smoky eateries to one that scours the halwas and sweets of Pettah.

The Basavanagudi Breakfast Walk is a great way to understand the state's traditional breakfast foods. Starting at Vidyarthi Bhavan in Gandhi Bazaar, this purely vegetarian walk features local treats like spongy set dosas, Davangere benne or butter dosa, and filter coffee. (www. bengalurubyfoot.com; vegetarian; duration 3 hr; tour at 7.30 a.m; `600 per person; minimum four people; book two days in advance.)

Dosa

JAIPUR

The Rich and the Red Jaipur’s culinary offerings are a reflection of the produce of this desert area. Some are easy chaats, others are elaborate preparations based on recipes from royal kitchens. On a tour through the Old City with Virasat Experiences, try dahi kachori, ker sangri, a local bean and tart berry preparation, and spicy laal maas, a mutton curry. Ease flaming taste buds with sweet, rich ghewar, a deep fried flour disc soaked in sugar syrup. (virasatexperiences.com; duration 3-3.5 hr; tours at noon and 5 p.m.; veg `2,000 per person, non-veg `2,500 per person; minimum two people; book one day in advance.)

Ramzan food stall, Jama Masjid.

DELHI

Old Favourites The walled city of Shahjahanabad or Old Delhi is a warren of lanes that reflect the multicultural nature of the city’s inhabitants. India City Walks’ daytime food tour features a breakfast of champions, with slow-cooked nihari or meat and bone marrow stew, or a rich and delicious bedmi puri with aloo sabzi. On the night tour, visitors partake of Jama Masjid’s many meaty delights while vegetarians can try parathas with different fillings at Paranthewali Galli. (www.indiacitywalks.com; duration 3 hr; `2,000 per person; schedule on website; book one day in advance.)

Note: Check websites for updated schedules of walks. Most companies organise private or customised walks for a small additional charge. july 2016 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA

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Photo Courtesy: mumbai magic (coffee), Photo Courtesy: virasat tours (gulab jamun), christophe boisvieux/age fotostock/dinodia (chicken), ip-zero 03/indiapicture (man), Photo Courtesy: Bengaluru by Foot (dosa)

Take your shopping bag along on this walk to stock up on new ingredients and flavours. Many Tamilian Brahmin Coffee beans and Jain families have made Matunga their home, and this is reflected in the fresh produce and ingredients available here. Stop at popular food stores in the neighbourhood, redolent with the aromas of freshly ground spices and coffee beans. Finish off with tiffin and coffee at one of Matunga’s many famous South Indian restaurants. (www.mumbaimagic.com; duration 2 hr; tours at 10.30 a.m. and 5 p.m. Tues-Sun; from `1,000 per head, varies depending on group size.)

Navigate |

T he Souven i r

Gifts from the Goan Corner Six pantry essentials from the sunshine state By Fabiola Monteiro

Bebinca

Feni

Chorizo

Loaded with egg yolks, coconut milk, and sugar, it’s easy to identify this decadent Portuguese-inspired dessert because of its layers. A bebinca can have from seven to 17 (or more) layers—depending on the time and ingredients at hand. Because it’s baked a layer at a time, it can take up to eight hours to make. While the basic ingredients stay the same, there are slight variations in flavour across Goa. Simonia’s bakery in Porvorim makes great bebinca and a block costs around `150.

This potent local brew comes with a pungent aroma and its very own Geographical Indication (GI) tag. Feni is distilled from either coconut or cashew.

Though cashew was introduced to the region by the Portuguese from its colonies in Brazil, feni is distinctly Goan. The 90-proof liquor is best consumed on the rocks or with soda, with a dash of lime and salt. Prices vary by brand and can go as low as `65 a litre; Cazulo at `450 for 750 ml is a good premium option.

Reminiscent of rosaries, Goan chorizo are plump beads of spicy pork strung together in a chain. Chorizo-pao (hot buns stuffed with the pungent sausage) disappears from local bakery counters quicker than you can say “Hail Mary.” A hearty Sunday lunch in a typical Goan home often comprises chorizo cooked with hunks of potato and onion, and served with pao or pulao. It is best to buy them from the local women at Mapusa, Madgaon, or Panjim markets. Prices vary, starting at `150 for 200 gm.

Pao

Solam

Recheado Masala

The poders or breadmakers of Goa sell their freshly baked bread from giant baskets attached to their bicycles. There’s a lot to choose from—the scissor-like katreancho-pao, the bangle-shaped kankonn, and my favourite, the flat and thick bran poyie. Stock up on about a dozen of these and store them in a freezer back home. Pop a few in the microwave for a short warm-up, and your quiet morning with coffee and fried eggs may as well be in Goa. Prices start from `2 per pao.

Derived from the dried peels of seasonal fruits like kokum or mango, solam (pronounced sola) packs a tart punch.

The fruit peels are soaked in the fruit’s juice, salted, and dried in the sun. Solkadi, a cooling drink served at the end of Malvani meals combines kokum solam with coconut milk, green chillies, salt, and mustard seeds. In Goa, mango solam adds a distinct flavour to fish curries. Available at neighbourhood grocers for around `30 per 100 gm.

The star ingredient of the Goan-style stuffed fried mackerel is recheado masala.

Recheio translates to filling in both Portuguese and Konkani, and the fish is slathered with the bright red spice mix before frying. The masala is a finely ground paste of dried chillies, garlic, ginger, turmeric, pepper, cloves, cinnamon, cumin, salt, and sugar with a generous splash of vinegar. While locals swear by their homemade masala, Karma’s is a good brand to look out for. A 200 gm packet costs `65.

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Chirodeep Chaudhuri (Chorizo, solam, Recheado masala), janhavi welinkar (bebinca), greg elms/lonely planet images/getty images (Feni), Siddharth Sumitran (pao)

Goa’s culinary scene holds more than the divine promise of platefuls of the freshest catch from the sea.

Sure, get your fill of fish-curry-rice from roadside eateries and local brews in buzzing little tavernas, but also stop by a grocery store to stock up on the state’s best souvenirs—of the edible kind.

in focus 96

nagaland The synergy of food and daily life in the mountains

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pondicherry Food remedies a storm-stricken family holiday

ky cho/shutterstock

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tamil nadu A Chettinad food pilgrimage reveals the truth behind its spirited cuisine

78 Maruyama Park in Kyoto, Japan.

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â– japan

Lanterns line the entrance to a temple in Kyoto’s Nishiki Market, where food devotees flock for a different kind of pilgrimage.

Facing page: Even the simplest of meals in Japan are prepared with care and presented beautifully.

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arthur greenberg/alamy/indiapicture

In Focus | Tast e o f Travel

â– japan

Unvarnished Tables

narin nonthamand/shutterstock

The frenetic pace of Tokyo, the kindness of strangers in Kyoto: Ticking Japan off the bucket list, one meal at a time

By Vidya Balachander

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In Focus | Tast e o f Travel

ventured out in search of nourishment. The warmth of a red Preoccupied with his mother’s ill health, Iyer begged off the relantern hanging outside an izakaya, the Japanese version of a quest but wished me the best for my trip. “I’m so glad you’re going casual gastropub, invited us in. Sitting on rickety stools around to Kyoto” he wrote, “and in the same radiant season when I first a small table, surrounded by university students, courting discovered Japan and met my wife.” Having spent my early adultcouples and salarymen sloughing off the day with cheap tipple, hood using Iyer’s words to imagine worlds I’d never seen, I treasit began to slowly sink in that ured this reply like a talisman. after a decade of dreaming, Guided by his writing, I had years of plotting and a sudden, a sketch of Japan drawn in my impulsive decision, we were imagination; as I began my jouractually in Tokyo. As we popped ney, little daubs of colour began hot, steamed edamame beans— to bring this picture to life. On silken, with a touch of salt—into the 80-kilometre train comour mouths, followed by big mute from Narita International swigs of sake, I felt my disbelief Airport to Tokyo city, I carefully slip away into something headier. filed away the vistas that flew past Japan had been on my bucket our window. We passed sloped list long before I had a clear roof homes, with the washing idea of what it meant to have laid out in backyards. This slice one. The country floated into of suburbia gave way to bucolic my imagination when I was fields lined with trees whose an undergraduate student in leaves were beginning to turn Mumbai, thanks to The Lady crimson with the colours of fall. and the Monk: Four Seasons in The landscapes were unique, yet Kyoto, Iyer’s memoir of the two not unfamiliar. years he spent in Japan in the If the calm of the countryside late 1980s, which cemented his and the soundless efficiency of lifelong relationship with the the high-speed train had lulled country. As much a paean to the us into a sort of stupor, we were changing seasons in Kyoto, the shaken awake by the sensory excity he has since called home, as plosion of Tokyo. The exacting it is the tender tale of how he met efficiency of the city’s subway sysand fell in love with his wife, The tem seemed to spill over onto its Lady and the Monk immediately streets, where everyone walked drew me into its lyrical yet with the double quick pace of the insightful depths. purposeful. Skyscrapers loomed Like all of Iyer’s work, this book above us, their glass windows too is grounded in philosophy. glinting in the afternoon sun.

His exploration of Kyoto was Even though we were, at first, beguided by the Zen maxim of living wildered tourists navigating one in the moment. The vivid imagery of the most populous metropobrought to life the quiet streets lises of the world, we soon felt Derived from okonomi which means “all you like” in Japanese, of Kyoto; fashionable young buoyed by its brazen energy. okonomiyaki (bottom) is a pancake that features a smattering mothers taking their tidy wards Later that evening, when of vegetables, meat, and seafood; When served on chopsticks to school and cherry blossoms our exhaustion had ebbed, we (top), it is called hashimaki.

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alexey kopytko/moment/ getty images (skewers), stephen smith/moment/getty images (pancakes)

A few months ago, shortly before my husband Vishnu and I embarked on our first trip to Japan, I woke up one morning, checked my email and felt my heart skip a few beats. A day earlier, I had written to the travel writer Pico Iyer, who has made Japan his home for nearly three decades now, asking if I could interview him during my visit. I had not expected a personal and warmly worded reply from the man himself.

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falling softly to the ground in spring. “Above me, lights danced across the hill like fireflies,” wrote Iyer, and I imagined a hillside aflame with the tiny, flickering lights of thousands of paper lanterns during Obon, the Japanese festival of the dead. The book shifted something within me. At the time, I had never travelled abroad, and only had the foggiest idea of what I wanted to do with my life, but I felt the first prickling of thirst for new places.

In Tokyo, our days were dictated by its rhythms. The city seemed to be perennially switched on. At the neighbourhood café that became our breakfast joint, there was rarely a seat free, even in the early morning hours. Office goers claimed the booths discreetly tucked away at the back, chasing their coffees with flaky croissants filled with sesame paste. Late into the night, when the last of the university students were drunkenly staggering home, Cafe Cotton Club, a cheerful and eccentrically-named restaurant near our apartment, would still be dishing out hot, thin-crust pizzas, served unfailingly with smiles.

As a visitor, I felt a keen appreciation for the thoughtfulness that elevated even the most routine experiences. Everyone bowed deeply, like they meant it, for every question asked or service rendered. Most restaurants had a glass showcase filled with plastic replicas of dishes, so you were never at a loss when it was time to order. And even inexpensive earrings from a subway shop were wrapped with care, in the packaging of your choice, with a bow on top for good measure. Twenty years later,

Iyer’s observations from The Lady and the Monk still rang true.

“Even the poor here... could feel like dignitaries, each purchase wrapped for them like priceless treasure.”

While it was easy to be seduced by Tokyo’s briskness, it was perhaps a measure of how time and travel had changed me that I longed not for the thrill of keeping up, but for the luxury of slowing down. While I may have once courted adventure, all I really sought now was stillness. As much as I enjoyed the electric crackle in Tokyo’s air, I was looking forward to the change of pace that I knew Kyoto would bring.

There may be no better place for quiet introspection than this ancient birthplace of Zen Buddhism. But unlike Iyer, who sought to find meaning in monasteries and temples—a theme that courses through the book—I knew that my wanderings would be in the pursuit of other pleasures.

I discovered my idea of slow living in Nishiki Market, a narrow warren of mainly food stores spread across a whole street in Kyoto. On either side of the covered market, there were stalls selling all manner of culinary delights: from coveted chef knives with sharp blades and heavy, wooden handles; to an extravaganza of funky-smelling kimchi; to fresh, warm rice crackers coated with feisty Japanese shishito pepper; to ground spice mixes presented as prettily as a paint palette.

Time slowed down to a delicious crawl as we walked, pausing to explore a store dedicated solely to sesame products. Our july 2016 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA

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Osaka’s Shinsekai area is well known for restaurants serving kushi-katsu or deep-fried vegetables and meat on skewers, and fugu or the poisonous blowfish.

In Focus | Tast e o f Travel

A Chettinad food pilgrimage reveals the dramatic tale of a community and the truth behind its spirited cuisine

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aleynikov pavel/shutterstock (architectural detail), great stock!/stockfood/dinodia (food) Facing page: AYAN GHOSH (statue)

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Madurai’s towering temples are feats of the imagination, filled with deities and demons draped in jewellery, armed with weapons, and often, bearing more limbs than usual.

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My hankering for the peppery flavours of Chettinad food dates back to my schooling in Madras. Thanks to generous neighbours, classmates’ dabbas, and a mother who is both curious and a wonderful cook, I am well acquainted with the powers of traditional Tamil cooking. I know, for instance, that a good rasam delivers not just potency but also clarity of thought.

That there is no better way to start the day than with a tumbler of filter coffee, and no better way to end it than with a steel plate of sambhar, rice, and ghee, preferably with pappadums.

But my most treasured food memories of Madras are dinners at Chettinad restaurants. Decades later, recollections of that feisty mutton pepper fry flecked with curry leaves and glistening with pure coconut oil, still make me quiver.

Geographically, Chettinad is part of the districts of Sivaganga and Pudukkottai in Tamil Nadu, spread over some 1,500-odd kilometres of arid scrubland. Today, the region is known for its cotton saris, heritage hotels, and antique markets. But before India became independent, and even before the British colonised our ports, spices, and princely states, Chettinad was part of the ancient Tamil Pandyan Kingdom. Its capital was Madurai.

The one thing that has remained constant from the 13th century is the city’s blistering weather. Our auto weaves past rickety cycle rickshaws, ambassador cars, and ladies on mopeds, hair neatly plaited and gleaming with oil. We’re headed to Amma Mess, one the city’s most popular restaurants, known for its delicious, inexpensive fare. Within minutes of scoring a table, we’re faced with seven shiny steel plates piled with food: rabbit roast, pepper quail, dosa layered with keema and eggs, parotta mashed with mutton, a neat mound of pigeon biryani, fish curry, and an omelette stuffed with bone marrow.

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battle, a waiter appears. “Madam” he says, smiling. “Ghee?”

Later that day, we meet Praveena and Mukunthan, a chatty couple who conduct food trails, introducing travellers to Madurai’s markets and lesser-known culinary gems. Within minutes, we see the merits of walking with a local. Madurai’s Old Town seems like a warren of rickety lanes, but Praveena tells us it’s actually remarkably well planned. The streets are laid out in concentric squares around the Meenakshi temple. Each has a different focus: jewellery, flowers, spices, saris, kitchenware. The layout instantly becomes easier to grasp.

It’s past 9 p.m. but the market buzzes like a Mumbai railway station at peak hour. It’s warm and terribly crowded and yet, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. The scent of jasmine, the snatches of Tamil, the roly-poly script on store-fronts, like a queue of plump ladies waiting for a bus: Like an incantation, these sights and sounds invoke long-forgotten memories. It’s strange, the things our brains choose to save. With every recollection, the dust clears a little more, my confidence is boosted, and soon I tentatively ask for a bottle of water—in Tamil.

As we eat our way through the market, we learn about Madurai’s earliest association with food. Madurai is named after maduram, which means nectar in Tamil, and according to Hindu scriptures, the city was birthed when a drop of ambrosia fell to Earth from Shiva’s dreadlocks. This is why “God and food are Madurai’s favourite pastimes,” Praveena says grinning. Egged on by our charming and enthusiastic guides, we devour ungodly amounts of meat: chicken parottas, goat’s trotters, uttappam and mutton keema, idli and fish curry.

And yet, it’s the vegetarian flavours that have me scribbling in my food diary. From street carts we have slices of tender coconut tree bark, cottonseed and jaggery payasam, and adirasam,

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There are two reasons people visit Madurai: Meenakshi and mutton.

Meenakshi is Madurai’s feared and revered temple deity, the threebreasted consort of Shiva, who presides over the scorching city from the cool, stone sanctum of the Meenakshi Amman kovil. The temple is an arresting sight, its gopuram crowded with candycoloured angels and demons that seem crafted from fondant. Like a gaudy, tiered confection of mythical proportions. But I am more interested in the mutton. Madurai’s no-nonsense Chettinad messes, I am told, serve every part of the goat—brain, intestine, liver, lung, tongue, hooves, and head—and I intend on sampling each one.

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a decadent cross between a doughnut and a puff pastry that’s deep-fried in ghee. The cottonseed payasam, Mukunthan says, helps curb respiratory disorders and was traditionally consumed by workers in Madurai’s cotton mills.

Every plate of food we eat is memorable (pigeon incidentally, tastes like gamier chicken) but it’s not authentic Chettinad food, our hosts inform us. Like the many migrant communities that moved to Madurai for work, regional cuisines too adapt to survive, especially when they’re served in restaurants. Recipes are tweaked for local palates—a little more oil, a little less cooking time, maybe a dash of colour—and before long they barely resemble the original. “You’ll have to go to Karaikudi for the real thing,” emphasizes Mukunthan.

We round off our night with Tirunelveli halwa, a gooey, meltin-the-mouth dessert made from wheat, just the right amount of sugar, and far too much ghee. Served warm, on a dried peepul leaf, it is the closest thing to maduram I have tasted. *** Oddly enough for a community that loves meat, the Chettiars were originally vegetarians from Kanchipuram in northern Tamil Nadu. They lived there for thousands of years before moving to a place called Kaveripoompattinam, a small thriving Chola port town in the marshy Kaveri delta. Here, they began trading in plump Kaveri rice and salt from the Coromandel Coast but before long, they were travelling with fleets to Malacca, Sumatra, and Java. Their zeal for commerce grew, and with it, their appetite for the Southeast Asian food they encountered on their voyages. Seafood entered the Chettiar kitchen, and soon pots of crab rasam were gently simmering in their handsome homes.

We get to sample these delicate flavours at The Bangala, a boutique heritage hotel in Karaikudi. The elegant stay is run

by Mrs. Meenakshi Meyyappan, the author of the gorgeous Chettinad cookbook, The Bangala Table, and a member of the family that owns the property. She shuffles around its tiled corridors in crisp cotton saris, straightening photo frames, picking dried leaves from plants, and whispering orders to staff.

Hospitality at The Bangala is superlative, surpassed only by its food. Our first meal here includes a delicate prawn biryani, green pepper chutney, crab rasam, and almond halwa served with filter-coffee ice cream. But there is also a spinach stir-fry, beetroot raita, and a tart-sweet pumpkin curry.

Bangala’s kitchen is run by two men: Sixty-something Karuppiah, the semi-retired head cook, who spends most of his time sipping filter coffee and tying and untying his mundu, and middle-aged Pandey who does most of the cooking. I introduce myself after lunch, explaining that I am here to learn about Chettinad food. They seem amused, and I cannot tell if it’s because of my wonky Tamil or my request to cook with them.

Nevertheless, Pandey graciously offers to teach me to make pepper quail later in the day, a classic dish that he insists is remarkably simple to prepare.

Once the afternoon heat tempers down, we explore Karaikudi’s mishmash of old and new. Along its main road, we see sari shops, stalls with brass coffee filters anointed with vibhuti and kumkum, and garages with Hayabusa bikes on their signboards and only mopeds to fix. Like many towns in India, the residents of Karaikudi have a healthy love for colour: homes are blue, pink, and orange, just like the figures on the Meenakshi temple in Madurai. We stop by the Monday market selling dried fish, live chickens, and local white chillies. “Romba kaaram,” very spicy, the lady warns me when I buy a bag. In no time, it’s 6 p.m.: time to go back for my first cooking class. july 2016 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA

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The market of Madurai’s Old Town stays open till the wee hours of the morning, when it’s aarti time.

In Focus | Tast e o f Travel

From Forest to Table In Nagaland, life, land, and labour are aligned with the consumption of food

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A young Yimchunger tribesman in traditional attire at the Hornbill Festival.

Facing page: Naga cuisine features an eclectic blend of meat, insects, seasonal greens, and fermented berries and roots.

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Rob Horsefield (man), Facing page: Aditya Raghavan (worms & berries), Piran Elavia (honeycomb & beans)

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In Focus | Tast e o f Travel

The nearly 700-year-old green village of Khonoma is a thriving example of a community conservation project.

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traces of smoking alder wood scent the cool morning air, I look at the terraced fields that have sustained the village of Khonoma for the past five centuries. Like the smooth curves of a harp, the terraces hug the slopes, creating a threedimensional contour map of the terrain. Khonoma in Nagaland is famous for having fended off various historical invaders; most notably, it fiercely resisted the British for many years in the 1800s. Standing on a gravelly path around the village, which is perched on a rise, I can see the hills towering above me to the southwest, and the circuitous route due east to Kohima.

Khonoma’s cleverly tucked-away location has shaped its history, and that of the members of the Angami tribe who live here. The terraced fields to the west of the village are a reminder that geography has also played a big part in the diet and food culture of the people here—indeed throughout the valleys of Nagaland.

The unfamiliar regional cuisines—to say nothing of crumbling roads, complicated dialects, and rudimentary accommodations—can make the Northeast a challenging destination for most travellers. Luckily, my friend Piran Elavia, a city boy with years of experience in these parts, is the perfect guide. Through his company Kipepeo, Piran bridges the cultural gaps on his socially conscious tours, ensuring that tourists don’t become invaders either. Over the next two days, I’ll visit two tribes, the Angami in Khonoma, and the Chakhesang in the village of Chizami, to learn about their history and, inevitably, their food.

It is February, and the fields lie in repose, a mostly dry mosaic of brown, with the occasional dab of green. Their custodians meanwhile are engaged in all kinds of off-season activities, from drying and preserving grains, to preparing new slopes for shifting cultivation.

Khonoma village is a series of horizontal streets on a slope, separated by steep staircases. We head back to our rickety homestay, a recently repurposed two-storey house with low ceilings, uneven steps, and a sweeping view of the rugged village, whose architecture also fits the contours of the land.

Our friendly helper Rovizono has almost finished preparing breakfast. Fresh out of college, her youthfulness is apparent

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How food remedied a storm-stricken holiday in Pondicherry

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side, we found Appachi, a Chettinad restaurant with few frills but generous helpings of coconut in every dish. Together, we relished the mutton sukka and Chettinad-style chicken gravy.

It was a hearty meal, the kind that uplifts the cloudiest of days.

M

y dad and I, we don’t talk a lot. I think of us as quiet people. Observers. At home, though it’s just the two of us, the Venn diagrams of our lives only intersect at familial, kitchen, or house affairs. But when we travel together, the world opens up. Whether it’s on thrilling rollercoaster rides in Hong Kong’s Ocean Park or while scouring for knick-knacks in Singapore’s local markets, there’s an enthusiastic buzz that drives our days out of town together. In those moments, it doesn’t matter that he has forty years on me.

Of late, I’ve noticed that it is food that excites us the most, and packs a solid punch to my memories of travelling with my father.

On the second day of our trip, bolstered by the success of the previous afternoon, Dad and I had walked out into the drizzle to explore. The rain pitter-pattered on my windcheater and sloshed against my feet. It brought out the yellow ochres, burnt reds, and deep blues of the colonial homes we passed. Water dripped from their louvred shutters. On the promenade that hugs the city’s Coromandel Coast, and becomes pedestrian-only every evening, I watched waves crash against the rocks. Dad spotted a gelateria by the bay that looked promising, and we made a mental note to stop by later.

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could hear the downpour outside as we tucked into spicy, yellow meen kuzhambu (fish curry), grilled fish flavoured with garlic and fennel, and a colourful coconut-flecked preparation of sautéed vegetables called poriyal. The dishes were accompanied by heaps of coconut rice, and finished off with creamy homemade coconut ice cream. My dad and I were having lunch at Maison Perumal, a fine heritage hotel whose restaurant was recommended by Bala, the host of our cosy guesthouse in Pondicherry’s French Quarter. The restaurant, which serves up Tamil and Continental fare, occupies the ground floor around a well-lit courtyard, sheltered from the rain, and lined with potted palms. The fronds swayed in the wind as we ate. The thrum outside quietened to a drizzle. Things were finally looking up.

It had been raining nearly non-stop ever since we got to Pondicherry two days earlier. We had big plans for our holiday.

Dad and I had discussed picnicking under coconut trees on Paradise Beach, having cheesy thin-crust pizzas in Auroville, and exploring ancient Roman ruins in Arikamedu, four kilometres outside the city. I’d even convinced him to go on a cycle tour of the city though it’s been years since he sat on a bicycle. But with the rain playing spoilsport, my mood had been as dark as the overcast sky.

Then, during a small break in the rain the previous day, Dad and I—our stomachs rumbling—decided to step out.

Pondicherry is easy to navigate even for a newcomer, because of the grid-like layout that defines its design. On the Tamil

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People-watching is best at the promenade (top), where the Bay of Bengal meets the French Quarter; One side of the Eglise de Notre Dame des Anges church (bottom left) looks over the city, while the other opens out to a garden by the sea dedicated to Joan of Arc; Rooms at the Hotel de l’Orient (bottom right) were once in shambles, but now, like other restoration projects in the city, are in top-notch condition.

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Pondicherry is one of few Indian cities that make you feel like you’ve entered a time machine. On the French side of town, roads with names like Dumas Street and Goubert Avenue are reminders of colonial rule. Even redeveloped buildings are designed to recall their erstwhile French-style architectural facades. On the Tamil side, open verandas, wooden posts, colourful floor tiles, and roomy inner courtyards bring to mind the rich architecture of the not-so-far-off Chettinad region. We had made our way to the Tamil Quarter—or Heritage Town—for our memorable lunch at Maison Perumal. After a meal like that, there’s no room for a glum mood.

During the rest of our rain-spattered days there, this became our routine. We headed out each day to stroll through the city, staying clear of the rain by ducking into cafés for pick-me-up coffees and sweet hot chocolates. On our walks in Pondicherry, we visited colonial churches, bookstores, and boutiques. In the newly renovated seaside Eglise de Notre Dame des Anges church (Church of Our Lady of Angels)—which stands out thanks to its bright, almost gaudy, shade of pink paint—I said a quiet prayer for leagues of travels like this. At a pop-up book sale, I scored a book of Pondicherry folktales and a pocket Tamil-toEnglish dictionary. Another time, at La Boutique d’Auroville, Dad purchased sticks of Ayurvedic incense, while I spotted a summery pair of striped orange culottes. We collected numerous souvenirs, but the stops we made to consider ordinary items like wooden cutlery and ceramic kitchenware were the ones that gave me pause. I realised that even the remotest mention of food makes our heads turn.

One evening, we stumbled upon a little café-cum-boutique,

a street away from our homestay. Their racks held kitschy clothing that made us shudder, but the makeshift café in the back stocked organic chocolate. Flavours ranged from peanut butter and sea salt to the more adventurous chilli-cinnamon and coconut milk. It was a tough choice—one we didn’t bother trying to make. “One of each?” I asked. Dad nodded. Besides, I reasoned to myself, it is fair trade chocolate from a farm in Tamil Nadu. Even if the flavours didn’t live up to our hopes, the purchases would be for a worthy cause. Later, as we nibbled on the chocolate, it was clear that there was no need to worry. The coconut milk bar took me back to the rejuvenating coconut oil head massages of my childhood, while Dad preferred the experimental chilli-cinnamon bar. My favourite, hands down, was the sea salt dark chocolate—each time I think of it, I want to whip up a batch of sea salt chocolate cookies.

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ravel seems to come easy to my father. He’s spent a lot of his life up in the air, working as crew for Air India.

Jet-setting between destinations around the world, home was his only constant layover. I remember curling up in his suitcase as a tiny tot. Some mornings, I’d know just where he’d flown back from based on the goodies on the dining table. Croissants laid out for breakfast meant he had returned from Paris. Giant packets of frozen fish fingers meant a flight from London. I’d look forward to enormous boxes of sweet madeleines and tubs of Boursin garlic cheese. Not surprisingly, when we went on trips together later, food continued to make for the best memories. july 2016 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA

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claude renault/Moment/ getty images (Cyclist) Facing page: Vaibhav Mehta (promenade), frederic soltan/corbis documentary/getty images (city), alvaro leiva/age fotostock/dinodia (room)

Pondicherry is a tiny, bicycle-friendly city. Sita Cultural Center, off Mission Street, conducts regular cycling tours for travellers.

In Focus | taste o f travel

Singapore

Food

Guide Must-Try Dishes & top pantry picks

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In Focus | taste o f travel

Chicken Rice No Singapore hawker centre (food court) is complete without a stall (or a dozen) selling chicken rice, Singapore’s no-frills national dish. In the traditional Hainanese recipe, which dates to the 1850s, the chicken is boiled and then immersed in cold water to smoothen the skin and gelatinize the fat. It is served

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with rice cooked in chicken broth after the grains have been fried with garlic, sesame, and chicken fat. It is a recipe that Wee Nam Kee Chicken Rice in central Singapore follows steadfastly, earning a badge of authenticity among locals. (+65-62556396; 101 Thomson Road, 1-08 United Square; open 10.30a.m.-10.30p.m. daily; SGD4.80/`230.)

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Singapore’s cuisine has been shaped by its multi-ethnic immigrants. The city-state is a smorgasbord of Southeast Asian cuisine—a sensory hotpot of Chinese, Indonesian, Malay, Peranakan, and Indian food. Here’s our list of the best dishes in the city and where to get them.

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Chilli Crab Eating chilli crab is a hands-on experience. Crack the crustacean, scoop out the moist, tender meat, and quickly pop it in your mouth before the brown, flavourful juice seeps out. Use bread to mop up what’s left of the spicy sauce made with hot sambal, tomato, onion, and egg. Matchbox-sized Mattar Road Seafood Barbecue takes an hour to serve this legendary dish, but it’s worth the wait. The owner claims his recipe dates back to the 1950s, and he devotes two days each week to preparing his sambal and letting it rest. The result is an addictive balance of sweet, spicy, and sour. (+65-6447 2798; 1-63, 51 Old Airport Road Food Centre; open 3-11 p.m., Thu-Mon; SGD40/`1,925 for a 1-kg crab.)

Beyond the glass walls of the kitchen at Din Tai Fung, cooks and servers wearing face masks gingerly place dim sums in bamboo baskets before wheeling them over to patrons. The restaurant chain is known for their xiao long bao ( juicy pork dumplings), steamed buns, and unagi (eel).

The pork and truffle dim sums are exquisitely crafted: silky dough is stuffed with filling, pleated with at least 18 folds, and steamed lightly. Every dim sum is filled with broth, warmth, and goodness. (+65-68368336; B1-03 Paragon shopping centre, 290 Orchard Rd; www.dintaifung.com.sg; open 11a.m.-9.30p.m. daily; meal for two SGD60/`2,900 approx.)

Satay Every evening, Lau Pa Sat hawker centre thrums with the voices of satay vendors hawking their barbecued delights.

Plastic chairs and tables are set up outside stalls, and the air is heady with the smoky aroma of chicken, beef, and prawn sizzling on skewers. Some patrons take their barbecue party inside the centre, sitting under Lau Pa Sat’s high 19th-century arches, amid Victorian columns with fine, filigree ironwork. The grilled meat is served with sweetand-spicy peanut sauce, and best enjoyed with chilled beer, which is the second-most popular buy in Lau Pa Sat. (18, Raffles Quay; open 24 hours; satay 70 cents/`34 per stick.) july 2016 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA

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bonchan/shutterstock (Chilli Crab), Studio Paggy/getty images (Dim Sums), dolphfyn/shutterstock (Satay)

Dim Sum

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Net he r l a n ds

united kingdom germany netherlands france

CuliAir Hot Air Balloon Restaurant

Morocco

Algeria

Tunisia

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Netherlands

When the weather in the Netherlands is good, master chef Angélique Schmeinck fires up the stove and the burner of a cheery hot-air balloon, ready to serve up Dutch specialities while floating through the air. The CuliAir Hot Air Balloon Restaurant is niftily fitted out with space for Schmeinck’s mini kitchen and a dining area that accommodates up to 14 guests. Visitors sip champagne and enjoy a leisurely ride over sloping valleys and rugged snow-capped mountains, while Schmeinck preps and plates fresh meals. Like the balloon’s route, the menu is dictated by the season. It features culinary treats crafted from fresh, local produce, like scallops with wine and mushrooms and a white chocolate and passion fruit mousse.

The primary ballooning season is from April to September though there are trips in autumn and winter as well. Guests can choose a champagne breakfast at sunrise or multi-course dinner extending over four to five hours (www.culiair.nl; from €415/`31,300 per person).

—Rumela Basu

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photo courtesy: CuliAir Hot Air Balloon Restaurant

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