Indians are suspicious of all soups except Hot & Sour, and Tom Yam.
I am wary of ordering salads in most Indian cities, because — at the risk of sounding like the worst kind of gourmet snob — they are so seldom done right.
The mayonnaise-drenched soggy salads of the past have given way, true; but what you will often find is a pile of stale iceberg lettuce with limp croutons and other back-of-the-fridge toppings, or an unimaginative heap of arugula and supermarket feta or goat’s cheese. (There are exceptions: the Oberoi Deli does a superb fennel and orange segment salad, Ritu Dalmia’s green mango salad used to be a favourite, and from Indigo Deli to Baci’s Felix salad, there are still some chefs out there who know how to reinvent rocket leaves.) Unless I know the restaurant, though, I’m unlikely to order salad.
For many decades, Indians refused to take to cold soup — an apparent anomaly in a country so wedded to lassi, raitas and cold chutneys such as the green mango ambal that ends so many indulgent Bengali meals. Perhaps this was to do with pure-vegetarian anxiety — except for the lightest fruit or vegetable-based cold soups, many will depend on a beef-based or chicken stock. Or perhaps it has to do with the general Indian suspicion of all soups except for Hot and Sour and Tom Yam.
It’s a pity, because a really good cold soup is the perfect starter for a summer meal. Gazpacho did, for several years, become a kind of buffet table staple and cliché, making me wish that chefs would discover the Andalusian gazpacho — a funky carrot-coriander-fennel-saffron blend with an intense aroma and incredible body, if you had the right quality of carrots.
Any of the classics, from gazpacho to berry soups to the creakingly venerable vichyssoise — a leek and potato blend — can be reinvented, says Daniel Boulod. In his Letters to a Young Chef, he speaks of an extraordinary meal, and then writes: “What I remember most was an exceedingly simple Georges Blanc vichyssoise with scallops, oysters and caviar — in other words, a basic peasant dish, transformed by additional ingredients into something noble and sublime.”
The Park, the Taj and Olive pay particular attention to cold soups, and it’s worth experimenting with the melon and berry soups and stepping away from the traditional cucumber-yogurt menu. (Basil & Thyme does a classic chilled melon soup — good enough to rival Diva’s equally classic chilled beetroot soup — for those in Delhi.) Two of India’s finest cookbook writers and foodies have extensive collections of cold soup recipes. Bhikoo Manekshaw has some classic party soup recipes, including an all-green spinach and lettuce based one that’s delectable, and Jasleen Dhamija’s recipe for whole lauki pieces in a yogurt-based soup tastes much better than it sounds.
But it was at one of Delhi’s Korean restaurants that I was reminded of how great cold soup can be — perfectly cooked buckwheat noodles in a cold, summery broth. Digging into it, I found myself curiously grateful to have discovered the perfect summer meal — not too heavy, but satisfying and nourishing.
It’s the Far East that offers some of the classic soups; at a Japanese restaurant, experiment with a cold soba soup, and if buckwheat noodles aren’t your thing, try a chilled seaweed soup. These are relatively complex soups, like the gazpacho family, or the tomato-avocado-parsley school of cold soups; and while they’re normally served as appetisers, you can make a meal out of any one of these.
If you’re looking for a palate teaser, though, stay away from the rich Russian soups, or the relatively heavy vichyssoise. Stick with the deceptively simple melon soups: buttermilk, melon and mint is an old, light classic, while berry soups can go all the way from appetiser to dessert. I wouldn’t go as far as the character in Yoko Okugawa’s Hotel Iris who based an entire menu on purees and soups, but it is actually possible to dine, exceedingly well, on only cold soups if you’re so minded.
[Nilanjana S Roy is Delhi-based writer and editor]
