Saturday, July 16, 2005

Ode to the Hearsch Bakery Burger

Inspired by my previous post, I would like to share the moments of bliss I have spent devouring veggie burgers (made Indian style) from a little known place called Hearsch Bakery.

In the land of the original hamburger - where a vegetarian like me goes on a treasure hunt every time he searches through an American menu looking for an obscure reference to anything remotely vegetarian - a veggie burger (also known as garden burgers) is almost always bland, tasteless and more expensive than the ones with meat.

Often, when I pay anywhere from $5 to $10 for a veggie burger, I make a mental calculation as to how many Hearsch bakery burgers I could be eating at the same price. This number which varies between 7.33 to 14.66 (Rs30 per Hearsch burger) invariably makes me really sad. I could be eating hearsch burgers for a whole week for that sum of money!

Hidden at a blink-and-you-miss location between St. Stanislaus High School and Cafe Mocha in Bandra, most Bombayites have passed through the area without noticing this bakery and have missed out on its delicacies. The place itself is really small with a serving area the size of two office cubicles most of which is taken up by two display counters organized at right angles. There are usually three people behind these counters who are always really busy taking orders from regular Catholic patrons ('how are you, men. My wife is aksing [sic] for a chicken lollipop, men'), hordes of college students from the numerous colleges in the neighbourhood and people who just discovered this place (it's their lucky day). The place is always crawling with people and you often have to wait outside the bakery for enough people to leave so you can get in. If you are in a group, a bakra is usually chosen to go in and get the food while you wait outside. For such a small place the bakery has an enormously large parking area which often makes me wonder why they couldn't expand. Couples on motorbikes usually sit on their bikes and eat. Families sit in their cars. Others lean against the cars. Nobody minds or notices anyone else, everyone is busy eating.

The kitchen is directly behind the serving area and is mysteriously hidden from public view. You can sneak a peek through the 1' by 2' window through which the chefs hand out food to the counter. All you see is their hands stretched out to pass the food. I would like to know the chefs. I would like to make them my friends. I guess, everyone would which is a good reason to keep them hidden.

As the counter staff is really busy you have to dance around the crowd to strategically locate yourself in front of their faces and try and grab their attention. Timing has to be better than Tendulkar's. You have to catch them in the few milliseconds after they have delivered an order and make sure your order is placed next. Sometimes I flash an apologetic smile in the direction of the person I just beat to an order. Sometimes I gloat.

The burger is delivered in a perfectly designed brown cube box and contains the burger and some potato chips. You do away with the chips first. They are least important. The burger is a good sized handful. Large enough to make the eating process messy but manageable enough so you don't drop anything. The essense of this burger is the patty. It is like a vegetable cutlet. Except, it is the best tasting cutlet I have ever had. It is a mix of a combination of vegetables blended together so well that you cannot identify the vegetables when you are eating the burger. Therein, lies the mystery of the Hearsch bakery burger. It's a conjurer's trick and the secret will remain safe. There are no vegetable cuts to go with the patty. No tomato or lettuce slices to spoil the fun of the burger itself. Its just the bun, the patty and the mayonnaise. Yes, I know the mayonnaise has egg. I am a vegetarian not a Jain or vegan masochist. I drink milk and I eat eggs.

Now that I have patiently waited through the process of order and delivery and finally have this piece of heaven in my hands, I open my mouth wide and sink my teeth into the burger for a large sized mouthful. As my canines pierce through the soft bun and reach the patty, the taste explodes in my mouth and I close my eyes and savour the moment of reckoning. This is bliss as we know it. I stop chewing and just enjoy the taste for a few moments. The blend of the bun, mayonnaise and the patty offer a rich contrast in taste thats like a wonderful complex music composition. The burger soon disappears but wait there's the second one. I always order two. The first one satisfies your hunger. The second one makes it a meal. I will not eat anything the rest of the day. I don't want to. Not after that.

A perfect evening would be to drive to Hearsch Bakery with your friends or loved one, grab your burgers and drive ahead to Bandra Bandstand which is quite close. You can then enjoy your burgers while you watch the sun set over the sea. As you drive back you could drop by at Cafe Mocha for some coffee or try the Natural's icecream parlor next door.

A few months back I had a nostalgic conversation with my friend about Hearsch Bakery. I was to leave for India soon and he asked me I could bring back a couple of burgers for him. At first, I thought he was just kidding. But I quickly realised that he was really serious about his request. This was a favor that would be a true test of friendship. We discussed at length whether the burger would last the journey across the seven seas in my backpack. I could buy the burger at the last minute just before taking my flight back to the US. Heck, a stale Hearsch burger is better than a veggie burger here any day.

On that visit to India, as on every visit, my sister greeted me at home with a Hearsch burger. It's her way of telling me she loves me. She will never say that to me coz its corny. But on the first day of my visit to India, I don't fight with my sister. I will fight with her every day except that day. That day we enjoy the burgers and catch up.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Ode to the Vada-Pav

Here is a particularly mouth-watering excerpt from the book. The eatery in question is a place called Borkar's somewhere in Dadar. It is supposed to be the best place for a vada-pav. It's a pity I have never been to this place. Definitely on my to-do list when I visit Bombay next.

"Borkar sits on his stall, frying up a fresh batch. An old board says:

Vadapav 4 Rs
vada 3 Rs
single pav 1 Re
Prop: Borkar

I wait for him to finish frying; the dozens of people around me do the same. I am tense, with my money at the ready. As soon as the ladle emerges from the vat of boiling oil full of the vadas, conjoined with wisps of yellow batter, the frenzy begins. People are thrusting their money forward, mostly ten-rupee notes; in front of the assistant is a thali full of two-rupee coins. Nobody seems to be ordering just one. Not everybody will get their vadapav from this batch; the timid will have to keep waiting. The assistant serves the women first. The stacks of pav have been sprinkled with chutney - the top half of the inside of the bun is bathed in green chutney, the bottom with red garlic chutney - and the assistant reaches out with one hand, in one continuous arc of his arm opening the pav, scooping up two of the vadas, one in each nest of the pav, and delivering it to the hungry customer. I walk away from the stall and crush the vada by pressing down on it with the pav; little cracks appear in the crispy surface, and the vada oozes out its potato and pea mixture. I eat. The crispy batter, the mouthful of sweet-soft pav tempering the heat of the chutney, the spices of the vada mixture - dark with garam masala and studded with whole cloves of garlic that look like cashews - get masticated into a good mouthful, a good mouth-feel. My stomach is getting filled, and I feel I am eating something nourishing after a long spell of sobbing. Borkar has done his dharma"


God, I miss vada-pav!!!