Thanks to a large number of disgruntled sheppard’s occupying the railway tracks around Jaipur in protest at the size of their allocation of ‘reserved’ jobs in the Rajasthan public service my train to Bhopal was cancelled so I decided to take a car in preference to the only other option: a grueling bus journey. My driver and I hit the road at 6am: I was drowsily excited about the prospect of a leisurely car journey through a part of India that was unknown to me; half-an-hour into it I was starting to regret my decision to take a road trip. By the end of the seven hour drive I had vowed to not travel anywhere in India that I can’t access by train or airplane.

The condition of the roads in India in most states is appalling: the bitumen surface a lace work of potholes, the boundaries frayed by decay: worst of all are the corrugated bands of speed-humps, these are unmarked and are therefore invisible to the driver until the vehicle is almost upon them. Luckily the road conditions make it very difficult to drive at more than 50km an hour (at best) so slamming on the brakes in response to looming speed humps results in an annoying jolting of passengers rather than whiplash; still a hundred or so rapid halts of this kind in a day leaves one rattled. There is money available for road development and maintenance but whoever has control of the kitty seems to prefer to channel the allocated funds to benefit themselves and their nearest and dearest. The choice of officials to expand their own private assets in preference to developing public amenities such as roads and civic sensibilities also means there is no money available for education of road users.

Do you remember being taught ‘look right, look left, look right again’ when crossing the road when you were a child? Or something similar ?The inhabitants of Indian villages that highways pass through seem to have no concept of the road as a dangerous place: they allow their children play on it or very close to it; seem to encourage their cattle meander on it and happily stand in the middle of it to chat. I sometimes think that this behavior might be a cock at modernity (although rural Indians have taken just as enthusiastically to other aspects of modern life such as the mobile phone) and as such I have a grudging respect for it, but when the vehicle I am traveling in narrowly misses hitting someone who doesn’t even bother looking anywhere (let alone right-left-right) before stepping out onto the road and into the traffic I am at first relieved and then furious at the stupidity of it.

Drivers are also largely uneducated. Obtaining a drivers licence in India seems to be largely a matter of having a passport size photograph and enough rupees to cover the cost of the official and ‘unofficial’ charges levied to print one out: there appears to be no need to prove that you can actually safely drive a car. Witness here the on-road behavior of my driver: every 10 minutes or so he opened his door —while the car was moving— put his head down and spat out the reside of his chewing tobacco; he also kept in regular contact with family and friends via his mobile phone—while the car was moving—throughout the entire journey; he also failed to notice large stationary vehicles—the drivers of trucks, tractors and buses prefer to just stop on the road rather than pull off to the side— slow moving herd of cows or posses of village women pow-wowing in the middle of the road until we were almost upon them resulting in his slamming on the brakes just inches from contact. This left me to maintain a vigilant eye on the road and be prepared to issue warnings about approaching vehicles/bicycles/pedestrians/cows or to grab hold of the wheel if it came to it. It is great pity that Indian road travel is so torturous as there are two very appealing aspects of being on the road: the majestic and varied scenery and the food.

Highways in India are punctuated at regular intervals with roadside eateries called dhabas which are largely patronized by truck drivers. Thanks in large part to the condition of the road Indian truckies are commonly away from home for 25 days at a stretch (being stopped regularly by the police and various officials who extract unofficial ‘fees and charges’ also adds additional time to the journey). Therefore truck drivers rely on the dhaba to provide them with decent affordable food as this is where they take the majority of their meals. The dhaba has also become the preference for many regular road users and tourists who are willing to brave the often less than salubrious conditions to enjoy a tasty meal or snack (of recent times dhaba owners have come to appreciate that a ‘clean toilet’ will attract increased patronage). The food served in dhabas is largely, but not exclusively, vegetarian. The mainstays are hearty dals and bean dishes accompanied by roti (flat bread made from wholemeal flour) cooked in a tandoor (clay oven), along with steaming hot sweet spiced milk tea (masala chai). Additional menu items will be influenced by the season, the region and the preference of regular customers. The truck driving male customer tends to like his food well-spiced but he also likes it to be fresh and nutritious. I find it ironic that while the roads in India are generally in bad condition the roadside food is excellent whereas in the west the roads are excellent but the food served in roadside eateries is for the most part greasy, tasteless and lacking nutrition. Dhabas also serve up their offerings on stainless plates and in china or glass cups sparing the planet the paper and plastic disposables used in the west .

We stopped twice at dhabas for sustenance on our journey. First stop a breakfast of poha, delicate plump rice ‘flakes’ lightly spiced with black mustard seeds, turmeric, fresh coriander and a hint of green chili and hot jalebi, a crisp pretzel shaped confection soaked in sugar syrup accompanied by steaming ginger infused tea. This is a classic breakfast combination in the region where Gujarat, southern Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh meet, although it is so delicious that it is enjoyed over a much wider area than the one I have delineated. The second stop was for another cup of tea. I was too full from breakfast to eat anything more but in my role as ‘culinary detective’ I poked around amongst the cauldrons of the kitchen, and the plates of the other customers, to discover what was being cooked and who was eating what. Most patrons were eating a thick porridge of spiced yellow lentils, accompanied by slices of crisp white radish ( a winter vegetable in India) and a chutney ground from green chillies and fresh coriander leaves: rotis were continually extracted from the tandoor and hurriedly sent out to be eaten piping hot. If we had lingered any longer in this dhaba I would have succumbed and taken a plate of the dal despite my lack of appetite as it looked so delicious (and now that I am writing this it seems remiss of me not to have done so particularly now that I have sworn off road travel).

In India the word dal is used as a generic shorthand description for a dish of legumes cooked with various spices and flavouring ingredients. These legumes are also called dal but each has its own proper descriptor such as channa ka dal (spilt chickpeas), urad dal, moong ka dal, masoor dal, toorvar dal and kali dal (black dal). These can also be further categorized by the processing they have been subjected to, for example if they are whole, spilt or skinned (or various combinations of these processes): spellings of the names and varieties also differ regionally. Dal is the daily food of the majority of Indians across all classes, castes and regions: it is nutritious; inexpensive; most varieties can be cooked quickly (saving on fuel costs) and it takes flavour well. It can also serve all culinary needs as it can be used as a spice, made into savoury and sweet snacks and desserts and serve as a light soupy type support to a main dish or as substantial meal in itself.

A bowl of good dal is a most excellent dish. It is something that I would chose in preference to many other more exotic or fancy foods. This is my ‘master’ recipe for dal. I have prescribed five different types of dal but if you don’t have all of these just make up the overall measure of dal with what you do have. Using the five different dals gives a variety of textures to the dish: the masoor dal disintegrates quickly working to thicken the dish while the toorvar dal stays firm and gives one  something to bite into. You can also play around with the liquidity of it making it soupy or more porridge like as you prefer. In India this dish of five dals is called panch ratna which means ‘five jewels’: a name that indicates just how valuable dal is in the Indian diet.

Panch ratna

Serves 4

Ingredients

2 tbsp moong ka dal (spilt yellow mung beans)

2 tbsp toorvar dal

2 tbsp chana ka dal (split chick peas)

 2 tbps skinned urad dal

2 tbsp masoor dal (red lentils)

¼ tsp turmeric

 ½ tsp salt

Tempering:

3 tbsp mustard oil or ghee

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 dried red chili, broken in half

1 tsp garlic paste

1 large onion, grated

¼ tsp ground turmeric

½ tsp red chili powder or to taste

1 tsp garam masala (recipe below)

½ tsp salt

1 tomato, skinned and chopped

1 tbsp chopped fresh coriander

squeeze of lemon juice

Method

Soak the lentils for 20 minutes in cold water, then drain. Put the lentils in a saucepan with 2½ cups water, the turmeric and salt, bring to the boil and skim off any scum from the surface. Reduce the heat, cover and cook gently until all the dals are tender (by this time the masoor dal will have completely broken down).

For the tempering heat the oil or ghee in a frying pan, add the cumin seeds and dried chili and let them crackle. Add the onion and garlic paste and cook until it turns golden brown. Stir in the spices and sauté for a minute. Stir in the tomato and cook for a few minutes. Pour this mixture over the lentils, bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Stir the fresh coriander and lemon juice.

Garam masala

Ingredients: 1 tbsp green cardamom pods 1 brown cardamom pods 1 tsp cumin seeds 1 tsp whole cloves 1 tsp black peppercorns 1 cinnamon stick 2 bay leaves 1/3 of a nutmeg, grated.

Method: Dry roast all the spices except the nutmeg. Grind to a powder and mix in the nutmeg. Store in an airtight container.

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