Bread Pakora, a ticket back home?

I couldn't conjure a plane to take my in-laws home but I could bring a piece of Mumbai to them.

I catch my mother-in-law wiping a tear of frustration off the side of her eye as she hears Jacinda Ardern, our Prime Minister in 2020, announcing that the lockdown is extended. Again.

I try to ignore the feeling of dread that’s spreading from my legs into my chest. Instead, I focus on grinding my peanut chutney. The smell of raw garlic fills the air as my father-in-law argues with the call centre employee from Malaysian Airlines on the phone.

Why does deep-fried food taste so good?

What do they mean that the flight notification is wrong? How can there be not a single plane flying out of Auckland? No, a ticket refund will not do. “I will take you to court”, he shouts, his face red, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose in anger.

My husband Rushad - the only one allowed to leave home daily as he’s an “essential” worker - doesn’t understand their need to return to India. The pandemic is raging there. Of course, we have to stay in bubbles, and everything fun is closed. But we’re healthy, surrounded by nature, and walk daily.

I recognise their emotions, though.

Stuck in what feels like an endless moment in time. Trapped. Homesick. Frozen. 

On the surface, my mother-in-law, Mom as I call her, looks happy. Shopping online, bingeing Netflix, doing yoga, and playing hide and seek with her grandchildren between hour-long Peppa Pig sessions. But inside, she’s pining. For her routine in her home. 

The stuffing for Bread Pakora is very simple. Boiled potatoes, turmeric, cumin and mustard seeds.

Missing the annoying fish vendor who brings mackerel, prawns and kingfish to her door with whom she bargains once a week. I see her staring out the window when the cold rain pours down. Her disappointment at being unable to eat hot, freshly fried potato and chilli bhaji from the Vada Pav lady who has a makeshift trestle table stall across from her home in Mumbai is palpable.

No amount of tender, juicy steak, crusty sourdough, and soft, perfectly ripe avocado can make up for home.

I felt the exact same way when I was living in Mumbai those last two years. I loved my ghee-laden Dosas, tender spicy Raan and crispy Bread Pakora. 

But it didn’t make up for not being home.

As they both head to their room for an afternoon nap, I smile under my breath and plop my big scrubbed potatoes into the pressure cooker so they can boil until soft. While I can’t conjure up a plane to take them to Mumbai, I can bring a piece of Mumbai to Auckland. 

When the potatoes are tender, I grate them into a steel bowl before starting on my tadka - spice tempering. Hot ghee shimmers on my pan, and in go cumin seeds, mustard seeds, ginger paste, and a tiny but spicy green chilli.

I pour the spices into my potatoes, breathing in the buttery aroma of the ghee. They are going to be so surprised! Especially Mom.

A thick layer of spiced potato makes for tasty carb-loaded Bread Pakora

The irony of using multi-grain sliced bread to make a deep-fried potato snack is not lost on me. Soon, my bread triangles are stuffed with the potato mixture. A hint of the sulphurous black salt from the chaat masala lingers in the air. 

I switch on our fryer as I hear my husband Rushad reversing into the garage. He’s asked for shifts that finish early evenings so that he can be home to have tea with his parents. A ritual I know my father-in-law appreciates even though he’ll never admit it.

The tinkle of the teaspoon against the glass mugs lets me know that Mom and Dad are awake.

Time to dip the potato-filled sandwiches into my chickpea batter and dunk them into the hot oil. Oh, if I could bottle the aroma of potato frying, I’d be a millionaire.

The sun has come out for a final showing on the crisp winter evening so we decide to take our cups of masala chai (tea) and sit in the backyard. I bring out my plate piled high with Aloo (Potato) Bread Pakora, a steel ramekin filled with garlic-peanut chutney in my other hand.

“You made Pakora from scratch?”, Mom asks incredulously as she dips a crisp triangle into the crumbly hot red spicy garlic mixture. Hot steam from the half-bitten Pakora steams up her glasses.

Freshly fried Bread Pakora on a cold winter day

The phrase ‘for me’ is left unsaid as Mum wipes the steam - and a sneaky tear -  from her glasses. 

I can’t conjure up a plane that will take them to Mumbai. But on this evening, I brought a piece of Mumbai to our home. That will do.

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What is Bread Pakora?

Pakora is the Hindi term for fried. So Bread Pakora is deep-fried bread. We fry the bread by coating it in a thick batter of seasoned chickpea flour and turmeric before plopping the whole thing into sizzling oil.

Aloo (potato) Bread Pakora is a popular teatime snack though you can have it for breakfast too! My favourite memory of Bread Pakora is picking some up as a parcel at Churchgate Station (where the Western Railway line for Mumbai begins) when Mum and I did weekend trips to Nallasopara, a far-flung suburb of Mumbai where we owned a weekend home. The train journey was over an hour long, and the Pakora wrapped in a day-old newspaper kept me occupied for several stations.

Even though Bread Pakora is super easy to make at home, deep-frying a whole sandwich can get messy, which is why it’s mostly a street food that people indulge in on their way home from work. Like Pavlov’s dog, for many Mumbaikars, the urge to indulge in a hot, crispy, deep-fried potato snacks like Bread Pakora the minute it rains is ingrained in our DNA. 

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Pakora’s taste best freshly fried wrapped in day-old newspaper. Photo by Harini of Cook, Click and Devour.

Bread Pakora - for four

• 6-8 Bread Slices

• Oil for deep frying

For the stuffing

• 3 large potatoes boiled and mashed

• 3 tbsp ghee

• 2 green chillies finely chopped

• 1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds

• 1/2 teaspoon mustard seeds

• 1/4 teaspoon carom seeds (if you can’t find them, they can be skipped)

• 4-8 curry leaves

• Pinch of turmeric powder

• Pinch of amchur (dry mango powder)

• Salt

For the batter

• 1 cup Besan/Chickpea flour

• Pinch of turmeric powder

• ¼ teaspoon Baking Soda

• Water

• Salt

Method:

• Boil and peel the potatoes. Grate or mash them, ensuring no clumps remain

• Add in the turmeric powder, amchur and salt

• In a small saucepan, heat the ghee. Add mustard, cumin, carom, and curry leaves in this order. Allow it all to sizzle briefly until it’s golden brown.

• Add the spice tadka into the potato mixture and mix it all together.

• Prepare your sandwiches by pressing in the potato mixture between two slices. Cut them into triangles.

• In a separate bowl, mix together the chickpea flour, turmeric, baking soda and salt. Whisk in the water until you have a thick yet flowing batter with no lumps.

• In a wok or deep saucepan, heat your oil for deep frying.

• When the oil is hot, carefully dip a triangle into the thick batter and slide it in from the edge of the pan.

• Don’t add too many in at once; you want space in the pan/wok to gently turn them over.

• When your pakora are golden brown on both sides, remove them and strain out the oil on a paper towel.

• Serve hot with coriander and mint chutney or a coarse peanut-garlic chutney.

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