Namasté
 You
can learn a lot from onions. Studying
in South India during Indira Gandhi’s
first run as prime minister, I
visited each day with the local
“paan-wallah,” a vendor of cigarettes
and newspapers as well as the
infamous betel nut snack, paan.
Because he kept similar shrines
to Krishna and Mrs. Gandhi, I
asked why he revered the politician
like a god. His answer was humbling
enough to change my attitude about
food and life.
“We eat onions now. Before Indiraji,
I never had onions,” he replied
smiling like a lottery winner.
After that, onions tasted better
to me in South India than they
ever have elsewhere. I’ve wondered
if that was due to Dravidian recipes
or just the heightened sensitivity
a traveler feels. In Iowa, as
in most of the world, Indian restaurants
almost invariably serve North
Indian cuisine. In fact, Namasté
is Central Iowa’s first ever South
Indian grocery store and kitchen.
Des Moines shoppers can finally
find variety in things like idli
and ponni rices, green corianders,
chicory coffees and rainbow lentils.
Namasté offers a selection
of pickles that would entice a
Korean gourmet. They stock herbs
used in Ayurvedic medicine, like
spikenard and moosli powder, a
substitute for both Viagra and
arthritis treatments.
I could go on, but the kitchen
is more exciting for Iowans who
do not regularly prepare South
Indian meals at home. It’s run
by Hyderabadis, natives of a place
legendary in culinary lore. Biryani
was invented there and it’s Hyderabad’s
steak de burgo — every good restaurant
serves one and no two are the
same. Namasté makes vegetarian
and chicken versions of basmati
rice’s most glorious application
— they look extravagant even on
Styrofoam. Other rice dishes include
lentils, curds and tamarind treatments,
plus Pongal, a nutty legend in
its own rite, originally served
only at a famous Tamil winter
harvest festival.
Appetizers have mixed southern
and northern influences. A fabulous
chili chicken was gorgeously coated
in a crimson masala and sautéed
with caramelized curry leaves
and chilies. Idli (rice cakes),
bel puri (puffed rice squares)
and vada (gram flour donuts) starred
with more familiar things like
pakora (tempura) and samosa (pasties).
Breads dramatically differed from
North Indian: pooris (wheat flour
inflated by frying) were divine,
without the greasiness they often
take on; Chole batura was even
less oily, though also fried;
baked roti and parata were less
doughy than North Indian naans.
Three different curries represented
the richest, heaviest style of
vegetarian cooking. Ghee and oil
were both featured as were pastes
made of nuts, ginger, garlic and
exotics. For dessert I stuck to
the lighter rasmalai, which is
similar to the stuffing in a cannoli.
The superstar of the kitchen
is the dosa. It’s a crispy crepe
(made out of fermented idli rice-lentil
flour batter) formed in the shape
of a mailing tube. Namasté
offers 14 varieties that differ
by thickness, method of grilling
and accompaniments. Namasté
also offers four uthappams, which
amount to extra thick dosas. I
tried dosas stuffed with potato
curry and with cheese, as well
as un-stuffed and grilled in ghee,
in butter and in vegetable oil.
All were crisp, light and marvelously
accompanied by “wet” chutneys
of ginger and coconut. Some came
with small bowls of curry, others
with soup.
The piece de resistance was
the pesarattu uppma dosa, a dish
that was featured on the Sunday
brunch of the finest hotel in
Hyderabad when I lived there.
It’s a complicated recipe that
looks like a cross between a thin
calzone and an omelet, coated
with green lentil paste and stuffed
with something that resembles
semolina risotto. It was topped
with chopped onions capable of
reminding one that life is good.
Food skinny
Downtown Farmers Market vendor
Mohamed Ghobashi is hoping to
open his Kebab House (6737 University
Ave., Windsor Heights) before
Christmas. CV
By Jim Duncan CVFDude@aol.com
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