It’s the perfect season in Delhi to be eating alfresco. The winter’s beginning to set in—and, what with Christmas just a little over a month away, I realized it’s time to go shopping for gifts. And, since a lot of my Christmas shopping consists of ethnic stuff, my go-to place is Dilli Haat, the open-air cultural centre/bazaar/food court/what-have-you. This last Saturday, therefore, off we went to Dilli Haat to see what interesting gifts we could find, and—of course—to have lunch.
Dilli Haat, for those not in the know, has loads of food stalls, from all across India. There’s the more usual stuff, the Punjabi and Delhi stalls with their tandoori chicken and rajma-chawal et al; there are the further afield but still familiar dosas and utthappams and interesting rice dishes of the southern states and the ghee-laden, gatte and ker-saangri waali Rajasthani thalis. There are even what are rather more exotic cuisines for Delhiites: ristas and gushtabas from Kashmir, Mughlai parathas and fish and maangsho from West Bengal, Delhi’s best thukpa (not to mention great doh neiong) from Meghalaya.
And this, the Maharashtra Food Stall. The Maharashtra Food Stall is tucked away at the far end of Dilli Haat (if you enter from Gate No. 1, walk almost till the other end, and go down a few steps on your left). Here, just beyond the Nagaland food stall, is the Maharashtra one. It’s like all the other food stalls in Dilli Haat: there’s a common seating area, with tables and scattered chairs (some plastic, some rather more upmarket cane, some even made of cement and stone slabs) out under the eucalyptus trees. You check out the menu (printed on a large board, with helpful photographs, accompanied by descriptions—though only in Hindi), place your order and pay at the counter, and then move to the pickup counter to wait for your food to be served up.
We have, I must admit, eaten at the Maharashtra food stall so many times before that I didn’t even need to consult the menu to decide what I wanted. It’s all vegetarian, and with a mix of well-known Maharashtrian dishes (like bhelpuri and paavbhaji) and less common ones (jhunka bhaakar, thaalipeeth, misal paav, etc). I picked my favourite, thaalipeeth, while my husband ordered his favourite—sabudana khichri—and we agreed to share both. To drink, we both settled for mattha. (The stall also offers other ‘traditional’ beverages like kokum soda and lassi, besides the more usual aerated drinks. Dilli Haat serves no alcohol).
Fortunately for us, there wasn’t a huge crowd around here, so the waiter on duty said he’d get our food to our table. He got our glasses (rather flimsy plastic ones) of very pale green mattha within a couple of minutes. This, sadly, left me underwhelmed. From the colour, I’d guessed there was some fresh herb in it, but on tasting the drink, had to try very hard to guess what. Mint, I finally decided, though I couldn’t be sure. Basically, what I got was a faintly salty buttermilk drink. Not unpleasant, but I’ve had far better mattha.
Shortly after came the sabudana khichri (this is ready-prepared, so doesn’t take long to dish up. And the pass at the food stall isn’t handled by people professional enough to make sure all the food for one table goes out at one time). Sabudana khichri can be gluey and mushy and all sorts of bad, but the one at the Maharashtra stall, every time I’ve had it, has been perfect: each grain of sago separate and fluffy, very gently spiced with whole cumin seed and chopped green chillies, with a few cubed boiled potatoes, topped with a generous sprinkle of roasted peanuts and fresh green coriander. With a wedge of lime, and a little plastic bowl of raita—just salt, chopped onion, and green coriander to add flavour to the yoghurt—this is one of my absolute favourite comfort foods.
While we finished off the sabudana khichri, the thaalipeeth arrived. This is one of those sensational one-item dishes that I could live off, if it ever came to that. Flour from 13 (yes, thirteen) different types of grains, mixed with salt, chopped green chillies, onions, spring onions, and coriander, kneaded into a dough, shaped into a large chapatti-like flatbread and cooked on a hot tawa. As soon as it’s off the tawa, a big dollop of butter is added on top, and three sides are arranged on the plate: raita (the same one that came with the sabudana khichri); a green chutney (made of fresh coriander, but with a generous amount of green chilly added: hot, but refreshingly so); and a gunpowder-like dry ‘chutney’, made with roasted ground lentils and spices.
Frankly, the thaalipeeth itself is so bursting with flavour of its own—all those grains, the added herbs, the butter on top—that there’s no need for the sides. For the sake of it (and because I hate wasting stuff that’s on the plate) I had my share of the raita, the dry chutney, and the green chutney, but had some of the thaalipeeth on its own too. (Incidentally, while my husband had been in the queue to place his order, he’d heard the lady in front placing an order for the thaalipeeth atta—the food stall actually sells the mix of flours too, which you can buy and take home if you wish to make the thaalipeeth yourself).
We’d known, of course, that these two dishes (not huge portions, either of them) wouldn’t be enough. And I’d already a third dish in mind, this one with an inbuilt dessert: shrikhand-puri. Though the name suggests it’s only shrikhand and puri, the truth is that along with that also comes a helping of potato sabzi. This arrived within five minutes of the order being placed: five little puris, crisp and puffy and deep bronze-gold, with, on the side, a heap of potato sabzi (a very simple but good one: boiled potatoes, cubed and fried with green chillies, curry leaves, salt, and lots of turmeric). There was the familiar green chutney, and a small plastic bowl heaped with shrikhand.
My husband was adventurous enough to try combining the sabzi and puri and shrikhand, all at once (he admitted, after that experiment was done—just one morsel—that he didn’t like it much). I, however, stuck to my rather more tried and tested way of eating some of the sabzi with the puri, and having the shrikhand on its own afterwards, as a dessert. Shrikhand, of course, is made from sweetened full-fat yoghurt which has been drained of its whey: the result is a very creamy, rich (almost buttery) dessert, both tart—from the yoghurt—and sweet, because of the generous quantities of sugar added. The Maharashtra Food Stall adds a fairly lavish quantity of finely chopped pistachios to their shrikhand, making it even more luxurious. A filling dessert, and (especially for people with a low tolerance for sugar and fat, as my husband and I are) just the right quantity, in that small plastic bowl.
Not a very fancy meal, and an ambience that could definitely be improved upon (we did spend a good bit of time swatting away flies and keeping an eye out for passing stray dogs). But, absolutely delicious food, filling, satisfying, and for a song: we paid a total of Rs 450 for this meal of ours, all taxes included. No wonder we keep going back.
Maharashtra Food Stall
No. 20, Dilli Haat
Opposite INA Market
I am drooling here! When I come to Delhi, can we go to Dilli haat?
Absolutely! I love the place (in fact, I remember taking Greta here when she came visiting, though we didn’t eat at Dilli Haat – she just shopped there).
I have wonderful memories of Dilli Haat, We of course did not spend any time at the Maharashtrian stall because we have spent our entire life with this food all around us. The stall we made a beeline for was Bijoli Grill and if you remember I did a post on it in my
It was a wonderful experience at Bijoli Grill.
Oh, yes, Shilpi – I remember your write-up about Bijoli Grill (by the way, they’ve also opened an outlet at the West Bengal State House here in Delhi. I’ve never been there, but have heard good things about it). We’ve eaten a couple of times at the Bijoli Grill in Dilli Haat, too – I remember their Mughlai parathas being very rich.
We did not go in for the parathas, we chose fish and some vegetarian Bengali delicacies, I have linked to my post above, you will see what we ate. We specifically instructed them not make it and believe me it was superb.
Yes, I can imagine it must have been superb – my sister’s father-in-law, when he was alive, always got Bijoli Grill to cater for any functions he hosted (including my sister and brother-in-law’s wedding reception) and their food was always excellent. I’ve also had a lot of thier vegetarian dishes, because after my sister’s mother-in-law died, on her birthday every year (or was it death anniversary? – I don’t remember), a special prayer meeting would be held, followed by lunch…
I have eaten at Dilli Haat so often. But i have never tried the Maha Stall. The food sounds really yummy. I could practically taste the Sabudana khichdi. The parantha you had sounds like a richer version of Missi Roti.
Its been ages since I had Shrikhand. It is very popular in Gujarat as well. I can make it too. Its easy. And so Yum Yum.
I’d always eaten at either the West Bengal, Rajasthan, or J&K food stalls in Dilli Haat, until a few years ago, when I was to meet a couple of friends for a reunion of sorts at Dilli Haat. And one of them suggested we go to the Maharashtra food stall. She said it was her favourite, so we did – and I was totally bowled over. The food is so good that even a die-hard non-veg like my husband loves it. :-)
How do you make shrikhand? Hung curd, I’m guessing, sweetened, and with elaichi added?
Yes. Hang curds, add sugar, and then sieve it through a fine sieve. That gives it a smooth texture. Add whatever you like as a flavor. We used to add a strand or two of kesar.
Thank you! I have rather a lot of saffron lying around, so this might be a good way of using some of it.
I should make some as well. :)
Winter goodies! :-)
BTW, thalipeeth isn’t like missi roti, really. Because it’s made with so many different attas, it has a very unique flavour of its own.
Sorry to strike a discordant note, but why are these strange adverts clogging up your blog? “The best (and worst) gaming tattoos”, “Child star syndrome”, I’ve seen worse, admitted, but this is strange stuff all right.
Great review as usual. Had me salivating, no mean feat for a purely vegetarian writeup. I wonder why they don’t serve meatier dishes, stuff like Kolhapuri Mutton.
I have no idea why these ads have suddenly started popping up, either. :-( WordPress is up to its tricks, I guess.
Mmm. Kolhapuri mutton is glorious, isn’t it? And there’s a dish – I’ve forgotten the name, but it’s there in Madhur Jaffrey’s A Taste of India – of prawns cooked in coconut milk. Awesome stuff, also Maharashtrian.
Whenever I visit Dilli Haat with family our preferred eating joint is Maharashtra stall. You have added to our knowledge, so next time it is going to be thaalipeeth and srikhand-puri. Thanks a lot.
So what are your usuals at the Maharashtra food stall, AK? I end up going to Dilli Haat at least a couple of times in winter, so the next time I go, I should try what you recommend.
My favourite-st Marathi dish is sabudana khichdi, followed by thalipeeth (which I try to get made without the copious amounts of onions they usually add to it), and Shrikhand-Puri! And since I’m in Bombay, I shall endeavour, of course, to try and eat all of it. :) And being vegetarian, this review is perfect – only it is too early in the day to begin salivating over food such as this.
Echoing Abhik here – why are there those ads at the top of your page?! They are terribly distracting – and not in a good way.
Yes, I know those ads are horrid, Anu. Nothing I can do about them. :-( It comes as part of the WordPress package, I guess. You sign up with us, you bleddy well accept what ads we paste on your blog. And if we decide to suddenly up and change our algorithm (or whatever) – well, too bad.
But. To talk of cheerier things. Yes, I adore all this food so much – the sabudana khichri, thalipeeth (and at Dilli Haat, they don’t add too much onion to it), the shrikhand-puri – that even now, less than an hour after breakfast, I’m already drooling at the thought of it all.
Our favourite food stall at Dilli Haat is the Maharashtra food stall. :-) And my favourite Maharashtrian dish is Sabudana Khichdi (which I can never make right – it always comes out too gooey and mushy!). Thalipeeth – I like very much too – but am a bit bored now (we make it, or rather a slight variation of it for breakfast often at home.) Great review, Madhu!
I remember having tried to make sabudana khichri a few times, years back, when a colleague gave me the recipe. Mine always turned out either gluey, or – when I tried to be extra-cautious about soaking time – a little too al dente. But Dilli Haat, zindabad! :-)