At least once a year, we would travel to Delhi during the vacations to visit my grandmothers. The two Matajis, stayed in Karol Bagh, a not so long walk from each other. Google Maps tell me that the walk would be about 1.5 km or so. Every now and then, we would walk from one home to the other, and somewhere near Frontier Bakery and Tibia College would be this hole-in-a-wall shop selling pakodas. The aroma was to die for. My father would pick an assortment , pyaz, gobhi, aloo and paneer. They would refried right there by one white haired sardarji with a gentle manner, wrapped in newspaper and handed over. We would walk a little bit faster, to have them with dinner before the crispiness went away. Going through that, in my minds eye, makes my mouth water!
My father had a passion for all things fried. The hazards of refried oil were unknown and for a long time we maintained a kadhai for frying any and everything. When we had guests over my mother would make what I now know are onion bondas, with finely chopped onions and amchur. They would be especially crisp, because her recipe required them to be pressed and refried just before serving. My sister then added capsicum + onion pakoras to the repertoire.
The frying had to be done right, of course. Put them in cold oil and the pakoras would “drink up” the oil. In hot oil they would become dark brown when still uncooked on the inside. I did not mind them either way, especially if they were bread pakoras or baingan. The only pakoras I would have with some trepidation are the mirchi pakoras that would be served in the JCOs mess when the officers visited on one of the national holidays.
The air fryer has brought back the pleasures of pakoras guiltlessly, and I am on the path of rediscovery!
