Taste of heatwaves

As summer approaches, street vendors in Delhi prepare refreshing treats like jaljeera, chuski, kulfi, and buttermilk to beat the heat.

Out with roasted moongphali and roasted shakarkandi. Summer is at the gate, and the city streets are set to shift with the season. Vendors will soon start to offer cold treats suited to the looming heatwaves. Here is a preview of a handful of tried-and-tested summertime street stuff, along with an abridged introduction to a few veteran street vendors who prepare the said treats.

Citizen Amar’s kulfi cart in central Delhi’s Bhogal bears hand-painted verses in Hindi. (HT)

Citizen Seeta Ram in Gurugram’s Sadar Bazar keeps his day’s jalzeera, cumin-flavoured water, in an earthen pot. During peak summer noons, the pot’s porous clay keeps the drink cool through natural evaporation. Each summer, the vendor acquires a new pot and fills it every morning with the drink, just before launching the cart into the streets. The pot is always wrapped in a red cloth (the chosen colour is supposed to grab the attention of passers-by). Sprigs of mint leaves and lemons are tied along a string, and the loaded string is knotted around the neck of the pot. As the vendor navigates his cart along the streets, he regularly stirs the jaljeera to prevent the spices from settling at the bottom of the pot. Before serving, he adds a special spice mix—kali mirch+amchoor+kala namak+pudina+imli—into the glass. Along with half a spoon of lemon juice.

To have chuski is to literally consume snow. It is after all finely grated ice arranged around a wooden stick. Citizen Kamruddin in south Delhi’s Khirki grates the ice using a wooden “gola machine.” Like many chuski vendors, he uses artificial flavouring for different varieties; most popular flavour being kala khatta. The cart hoards long-necked glass bottles of coloured syrups including parrot-green colour, while the chunky ice slab lies protected under a piece of cloth.

Citizen Amar’s kulfi cart in central Delhi’s Bhogal bears hand-painted verses in Hindi. One verse discourages the customer from demanding kulfi on credit: “Nazuk hai zindagi, pareshan hain zamana, Tumhe udhar dekar, hame kya kamana.” Another celebrates the kulfi: “Phool hai gulab ka—khushboo liya karon, Kulfi hai khoye ki—maze liya karon.” The vendor makes the kulfis every morning at home, and sells them from noon until they are finished. His recipe includes milk, khoya, badam, elaichi, and pista. The cart bears one more verse, reading which at once induces thirst: “Kahi garmi kahi sardi, yeh sab kudrat ke nazare hain—Pyas unko bhi lagti hain, jo darya ke kinare hain.”

Citizen Sooraj sells his cold, slightly sour buttermilk along the footpaths of central Delhi’s Barakhamba. The bicycle vendor prepares a serving for the customer by pouring the buttermilk from a metal jar into a plastic glass, into which he adds fried boondi, black salt, and roasted zeera powder. The buttermilk is tangy; the boondi surprisingly retains its crispness. The drink is made afresh every morning by Shanti, the vendor’s wife.