If you are ever invited to lunch at SunilaPatel’s, and if you happen to know in advance that she will be serving hercrisp-fried, green chilli-stuffed Bombay Duck, then please do drop everypressing engagement and go.
It is an arduous climb up several ‘builder-steps’ to her second floorapartment, but worth every asthmatic gasp.
You will be seated at a square wooden table, bought in the mid-eighties atTaaru’s, that furniture brand that existed when there were no such things asfurniture brands. Behind you will be a wall full of books, leaning against eachother unselfconsciously like old friends. The walls will be scattered withdelicate Mickey Patel drawings. And a split air-conditioner will lower thesecond-floor summer temperature considerably.
But all this will fade to a blur and your whole, undivided attention will fallon the star attraction, as it is placed simply before you.
The Bombay Duck is not a bird, it does not quack, neither does it come fromBombay. Ours comes a short hop down the road from the Chittaranjan Park fishmarket. To call the Bombay Duck a fish would be like calling Shabana Azmi anactor. It is much more than that. It is about an inch longer than a six-inchruler, slender, firm, yet slightly, nicely, plump. (Think Aishwariya Rai’sbelly in ‘Kajra Re’.) It is marinated for a bit in a touch of turmeric, afinger’s pinch of red chilli powder, a tiny hint of ginger-garlic paste,stuffed with an entire small green chilli, dusted in the merest whisper of riceflour and placed delicately on an iron griddle glistening with smoking hot oiltill it is done to an impossible deliciousness, shatteringly crisp on theoutside, the flesh meltingly soft and moist on the inside.
Even though I would include Sunila in my list of favourite conversationalists inDelhi, her Bombay Duck is best eaten in utter silence, with your fingers, headfocused firmly on the plate in front of you, fingertips just slightly scalded bythe searing hot flesh, hands used only in pantomime when it is time for yourplate to be replenished. You pause mid-mouthful to rain fresh lime on it,lengthwise, from large half-discs of lemon, or gulp large sips of iced water. Itis important to mention here that no other conflicting flavour be servedalongside. The only thing that goes well with Bombay Duck is more Bombay Duck.
The ingredients for this feast to end all feasts cost a princely 30 rupees. Butsimply flashing a credit card will not give you access to this extraordinarytaste sensation. It is a dish that occupies heartspace, not menuspace. In asense, this is fast food, straight from the fish market, into the frying pan andinto your mouth. But it is possibly the world’s most delicious fast food. Youcannot merely buy your crisp fried Bombay Duck, you have to earn it. And, ofcourse, it is never ever too late to get to know Sunila Patel.
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This article originally appeared in Delhi City Limits, July 2007
