Hitting Dacres Lane once again. In pursuit of the unknown. #uncookedwords
Often reasoning out the build of a dish is seeking method in extreme madness. Or, worse. The thought struck while I was guzzling down a Veg-chop (Vegetable Croquette) dipped in the gravy of flawless Kosha Mangsho at 'Chittobabu'r Dokan' at the fag-end of Dacres Lane. No kidding, vegetarian modesty undone by the juice of cooked mutton at its raging best. I almost saw the docile croquette soaking up sin while sinking in the dark richness of well-cooked spices. And, screaming for help yet laughing aloud in a newfound ecstasy. [Hitchcock would love it.] The pair was indeed as unlike as it could be. Say, like Kardashian wooing Chomsky.
These croquettes are plumped with a sweet mash of beetroot and carrot, and Peanuts to lend the brawny edge. My spoon ran finely through it to scoop a morsel soaked in the flavorous juice I dote on. [For the uninitiated, gravy is the soul of Kosha Mangsho. The taste abides more in it than elsewhere.] Along the way they strangely became one, and singularly delicious, with the whisper of sweetness in the croquette yielding to the boldness of meat juice. Almost like a foil to the beloved. Suddenly I LOVED THE DUO!
Like that an odd pair strode proudly into the dossier of timeless streetfoods. And, lived happily ever after. So, all acts of bravado don’t misfire.
By the way, mind asking for toasts to mop up the stubborn remains of ‘Mangsho’r Jhol’ from the porcelain bowl.
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