The other day, I saw mangoes at a posh fruit shop in Khan Market, and I wondered why the sight of my favourite summer fruit didn’t excite me a whit. It was not until I went to the Walled City on a foodie tour that I realised why. There is something so right about eating food that moves with the seasons, for flavours evoke so much more than merely one’s taste buds. Conversely, eating summer foods or fruits in winter, or vice versa, is just not the same thing. Anyway, on this foodie tour of mine, I revisited an old favourite which I have always associated with the winter chill — the wonderfully subtle and subtly wonderful Daulat ki Chaat.
This incredibly light dessert is made up almost entirely of air, containing nothing more than milk froth. The story goes that in the olden days, chefs would leave lightly sugared milk out at night to cool with the falling dew. When it was nice and chilled by about two in the morning, they’d begin whipping it with their bare hands. As the froth began to form, they’d skim it off and put it in a flattish dish. After about three hours, sometimes four, all the milk would have magically changed form into a gloriously light mass of bubbles. Then this would be left to cool further and set. The whole process was so laborious, the time when it was cold enough to make it so brief (when the night temperature is even a smidgeon over six degrees, the frothy peaks tend to flag) and the ingredients so pure — that it cost a king’s ransom. Hence, its name has little to do with savoury chaat, and everything to do with licking pure treasure.
This, of course, is a mere story, but visit Sitaram Bazaar or Kinari Bazaar this time of the year, and you’ll see these little portable kiosks on the pavement. The Daulat ki Chaat is set in a large brass pan covered with net to keep the flies out. I got mine from Kinari Bazaar, where the vendor scooped out a generous portion into an earthenware bowl, dusted it with powdered sugar and some khoya. Spoonfuls of it vanished in the mouth, as if they hadn’t been there at all. “How do you make this now?” I asked. He said that the process of making the Daulat ki Chaat remained the same, except that they used electric churners instead of their bare hands to whip the milk. “We make this in Sitaram Bazaar,” said he, “we still prefer to chill the milk in dew. The old- timers believe that the chill and dew of the night make all the difference to the end product!”
Although, said he, now modern appliances have made the making of Daulat ki Chaat much easier, this little known sweet still hasn’t lost its mystique, especially for the dwellers of the old city. “They say that the best Daulat ki Chaat is made under the full moon, when the milk soaks the silvery rays of the moon,” said the vendor. What would happen to this mystique, I asked, if the milk were cooled in the fridge, whipped in a commercial churner and served in china instead of leaf plates? “It is possible,” said the vendor, after thinking long and hard, “it would certainly make life easier for us who stay up nights in this season to make it. But would it be the famous Daulat ki Chaat of Old Delhi if it were made by machines and eaten even in the peak of summer? Not on your life!”
I knew exactly what he meant.
