When I first heard about the Phoenix Mall, I thought, with smug superiority, that I would have no need for an upscale mall replete with Western-brand stores and a Walmart-style supermarket in the basement. I would be shopping at Indian stores.
However, when Brianna was invited for a play date in the Phoenix Mall vicinity, I found myself back for the second time in three days and the fourth time in three weeks. The mall boasts an abundance of women’s boutiques, each with an array of stunningly elegant dresses that Indian women seem to wear for everyday, and I welcomed the chance to browse with no husband or child on their own agenda.
For lunch I sought out the Vasanta Bhavan of “a dhosa a day” (see previous Food, Glorious Food post). We had tried to eat there once before on a Saturday and found the line prohibitively long. However, on a Monday at noon (early for Indian lunch), I was one of the first to arrive.
Again I questioned whether a woman dining along would be considered, at best, eccentric. But while I ate, at least three other single female diners came in, as well as a group of three young women.
After querying my server on types of dhosas and descriptions of optional sides, I ordered a plain dhosa with raita (yogurt with chopped onions and cilantro). One of the condiments I had inquired about was “poori,” but after being told that it was quite spicy, I intended to dismiss it. This must have been lost in translation, because the poori arrived with my dhosa, and I soon had reason to be thankful.
Poori is a powdered mixture of one or more kinds of dahl (lentils) and spices, mixed with oil or ghee (clarified butter). It was a bit crunchy, only mildly spicy, and delicious. It reminds me a bit of dukkah, a Middle Eastern blend of spices and sesame seeds combined with olive oil and eaten with bread.
Thinking I detected a hint of nuts in the poori, I asked my server, who brought the sous chef to my table. He explained that the spices were mixed with sesame oil. The chef, Mohanram, then insisted on bringing a “small” bit of rava dhosa for me to sample. A rava dhosa, he explained, has semolina (a form of wheat, I think) flour added to the rice batter, along with some spices—in this case peppercorns and cumin, as well as bits of carrot.
I have seen dhosa mix in the store, but Mohanram assured me that Vasanta Bhavan dhosas are made in the traditional manner. For more about dhosas see, the next post, “A Dhosa a Day.”
Mohanram told me he is the head chef at this particular Vasanta Bhavan, one of perhaps a dozen around Chennai. He recently returned from two years in Canada, where he worked at Red Robin and on a British cruise line.
Even without all this special service, I would have given the restaurant high marks for cleanliness, cheery ambiance, courteous staff, and delicious food. As a foreigner who is easily overwhelmed by a multitude of options, I also appreciated the simple but fully adequate menu, complete with kids’ items.
As soon as I had paid for my lunch—just under $2—I made straight for the Big Bazaar department store in the basement, where I asked for, and found, “idli poori.” The ingredients read: “gramdahl, black gramdahl, sesame seeds, chili, salt, garlic, compounded asoefotida (edible gum, maida, hing, mustard oil) [this will be the subject of a later post], curry leaf, refined ground nut oil.” Hmm, is that peanut? I decided to hold out for a different concoction, just in case. In any case, I’m looking forward to trying poori at home.