The roll that rocks!

Somebody was talking about Karim’s, a popular and old Delhi restaurant, and my mind went floating back to the days when I learned to eat something that fast became a passion. It was when I worked for a publishing house based in the centre of the city and was taught more about food as it is available out of table-cloth-style restaurants than in them. While a late night visit to Karim’s rang no culinary bells for me, since I was more worried what was under the soles of my delicate spike-heeled sandals than what was going into my stomach, another eatery did its thing so well that even today, so many miles away from the capital of my country, I crave its offerings.

This particular dining place – it had fine food, but it was a far cry from fine dining – was called Nizam’s. To my delight and, I must admit, wonder, it had a website, from which my friend and colleague read out menu listings that he insisted I choose from. Of course, being from Mumbai and being rather protected on my own turf, especially where food was concerned, I listened in wide-eyed and open-mouthed wonder and then opted for what was tried and tested rather than what sounded exotic and exciting. And forevermore, whenever aforementioned friend suggested getting something to eat from outside our own home-made dabbas, I would clamour for Nizam’s and it’s justifiably famous kathi roll.

A kathi roll, I learned, was a thick and slightly flaky paratha that wrapped itself around egg, meat, onions and a spicy sauce. You could have double-egg-double-chicken (since I preferred that to any other meat) or single-egg-double-chicken or double-egg-single-chicken…well, you get the point, I presume. It was, essentially, the equivalent of the Mumbai Frankie, with the meat in chunks rather than shredded. Deconstructed, it was a paratha, on which was spread beaten egg, gently cooked, then layered with meat, raw red onions (I think they are marinated, since they do not have that characteristic sharpness of the completely raw onion) and a liquid chutney that was tangy, spicy, delicious and addictive. It left your lips tingling and burned fire down into your stomach if you were injudicious about its use, but in delicate applications, it worked wonders for the appetite and its aftermath.

People tell me that the Nizam’s kathi roll is not as good as the one that Karim’s serves up. I have tried to be unbiased about that, but it is not easy. After all, the ones that I think of so fondly were made even more delicious by the circumstances, the friendship and the hunger that I felt during the cold Delhi winter that seemed to have no end and no stimulation to warm me up with. Since then, I have eaten my way through various avatars of the roll, from the prettily wrapped version from a multi-star hotel deli to a more street-style concept at a fair, but my opinion on this cannot be changed that easily. I have my preference and just talking about it has my mind and tummy demanding more.