A Steamy Affair

To bring this topic into focus, think of a preparation called momo. Slurp.

Momo is a dumpling, usually steamed and made of flour and water dough. White flour to be precise. Adding a bit of yeast holds it all together, giving a mould form. This dish comes from East India and has found its way up north to Delhi, where I had my first taste of the 'commodity'. Delhi has a large Nepali migrant population, of which a sizeable fraction earn their living via cheap roadside stalls - that of momos being the most thriving business of all.

Our first day in Delhi and RR was already yearning to savour some momos. So I followed, curious to know more about this local fancy.

We approached the market area and RR headed straight for two guys at a stall, busy handing out paper plates with plastic forks to customers.



RR communicated the needful.

After flipping out two plates, the stocky kid uncovered his aluminium steam box with the pair of tongs. Steam whisked into the air above it. I peered inside. Chunks of modak shaped dough pieces lay around. The stall boy whipped into the plate, each of eight lumpy pieces and turned to his side to get the red sauce. Stuck a plastic fork in the plate and handed it to me. Ditto for the next plate. Only Rs. 35 each.

We dug into our portions. The best part about momos is you can still have another plate without feeling heavy. Feasting on succulent clods of chicken wrapped in a mild dough, dipped in red sauce and rolled over in your mouth is heaven. Fresh and steamed - remember that as well. We got done with our first plate fast. Another followed.

Over the past 3 months, RR & I have had our ritualistic visits to the same chap in H market. RR gobbles down the pieces - he never bothers about that mini pitchfork cutlery crap. He's onto another round when I'm finishing off my first. He loves momos. His craze for the dish amuses me at times. At one point, we'd nicknamed him Momo King, after a few instances where he skipped dinner owing to them plates. But I can very well understand his hunger pangs for King Momos. I feel them too. On our way back from work, we'd take a detour midway just to satisfy the urge. That uncontrollable want. Overpowering our anti-temptation strategies.

Nowadays we're spotted early by those Nepali boys, as we advance with our stomachs set for full capacity. They know the order size. But they can't help wait for that request.

"Bhaiya doh plate chicken momo dena."