Last week, in Mumbai, I had a great urge to eat some vada pav. This greasy everyman’s snack, comprising a deep-fried patty of potato wrapped in a heavily-buttered bun and seasoned with a liberal dousing of sweet and sour chutneys isn’t just a Mumbai staple. The value of this cheap, spicy and calorie-dense snack is that it often suffices as a daily meal for many of the city’s teeming millions. “I eat one every day on the train while going home after work,” said Monica, a young lady who worked as a nanny in the building where we were staying, “it’s the best treat I can give myself after a long day’s work and saves me the trouble of making dinner when I get back!” So I asked her where I could get the best vada pav. “Oh you can’t eat it!” she cried with an exaggerated shudder. “Although the patty and bun are both practically deep fried in butter (which probably kills all the germs they may otherwise contain), the chutneys could make you sick!” Even though she refused to tell me where the best vada pav could be had, she told me about the maximum city’s favourite snack.
To say Mumbaikers live on vada pav would not be an overstatement. Its rich array of flavours — a fiery blend of spicy, sweet and sour, all wrapped in a fried starchiness, has an irresistible appeal to locals. Mumbaikers, said Monica, swear by their very own favourite street-side vada pao stand. “Mostly, you will see these stands outside colleges, bus stops, train stations and offices,” she said.
Apparently, this iconic snack is quite a recent invention — traditionally, Mumbai’s street-food was best known for batata vadas (batter fried potato patties) and pav bhaji (soft local bread with spicy vegetable mash). “Then, about 10 years ago, an enterprising street vendor in Dadar decided to sandwich the batata vada and pav, creating the first vada pao!” she said. Soon vada pao and a glass of strong tea (locally known as cutting chai) became the street food of choice. Was there any standard recipe for vada pao, I asked? Monica said this popular snack was rarely homemade. “Its flavour comes from the street, and how can one replicate that at home?”
The next day, I learnt that Mumbai’s very own alu tikki burger spin-off had some McDonaldised versions as well — a few enterprising businessmen have set up attractive vada pao stands outside all major local train stations. On offer are hygienic vada paos with assembly line patties, square burger buns and chutneys in sachets. So I set off to try both the high street and the low street versions.
The low street stand at the Kandivili station was buzzing with people, flies and dust flurries. At Rs 10, the vada pao was cheap, but definitely not for the faint-hearted. Then I went to the snazzier and definitely cleaner stand of a popular snack-food chain. They dished out a mean vada pao all dressed up in foil and tissue. Two types of chutneys in ketchup-style sachets were on the side, and the buns had been nicely grilled to an even tan. One bite, though, and I was left wanting. Something quite essential was missing. Was it lack of spiciness? Was it lack of butter bursting forth when I bit into it? I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
Then, as I took my second bite, I realised what it was. It was the quintessential flavour of the street that made the vada pao so delicious. With that gone, it just tasted like a burger.