Food Bloggers: The New Influencers

First thing I realised after joining work after almost 2 years was blogging has arrived in India. It was the same client, familiar work profile, but a visibly changed media space.  As a PR professional and out of my liking to try 'new restaurants and food', I started following some food bloggers on Twitter. 

Twitter became the best place to know of a new restaurant and a cafe or latest food trivia. Mainline media was writing about how people have developed their blogs as a source of specialised information, thus generating revenues too. Professional reasons apart, I found myself relating to food differently through these blogs. Born and brought up in Dadar, Aaswad and Godbole stores are not new to me. But Kalyan Karmarkar's blog  of writing about Maharashrian breakfast at Aaswad puts these known things in a different perspective. Nikhil Merchant's pictures give another glimpse of the a culinary journey. On the other hand I met Manisha Talim who lucidly presents the health benefits - be is an Asparagus or a Seafoood Festival. 

No wonder foood blogger have become the new influencers and my door to  culinary wonders - be it new restaurants, new cuisines, trying new recipe, simply planning an evening or even a vacation!

Break ke Baad in Aamchi Mumbai

AI 130 was hovering over Mumbai to land at Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport. As I stepped out of the plane, the swanky new terminal was the first amongst the many changes I noticed in Amchi Mumbai.  


The new terminal, duty free shops were unlike what I had seen a few years ago when I first travelled abroad. But this was short lived as the two helpless scanners tried best to accommodate luggage of the passengers at the customs.  On my way home, I noticed the new construction at City Light theatre was complete, but was promptly told that it’s just a commercial complex with no theatre. One more landmark with many childhood memories has disappeared in the builder-official-politician nexus.

Prices of vegetables, basic food items have inflated

Eating out is too expensive 

The most striking was the sky high prices of fruits, vegetables and daily items. Prices for dozen eggs, a litre of milk, bread and vegetable made me think, perhaps grocery was cheaper or at similar rate in London. Our staple Idli sambar at DP’s now costs Rs 32 while the favourite sabudana wada from Prakash is for Rs 30. So much for the inflation.....  

It was the next day after Dasara, my first festival since my return J, I got a call from my brother ‘you missed ganapati visarjan this year; start walking towards Gokhale Road you will get a glimpse’. Sure I did, it was a long queue of trucks with Devi idols headed towards Dadar Chowpatty. Sign of another festival becoming bigger, louder, commercialised and politicised. This time my usual long drive at night to Marine Drive took another route on my way back – the new Lalbaug fly over. Another subtle and important change was the death of close relatives, friend and acquaintances when I was away, a loss which will never be relived.  

The Weatherman

This morning I stepped out to go to the university and realised it was a little dark and the sky was grey. Is it the white cloud or will it rain? Oh shit I forgot to check the weather forecast... The first lesson I learnt when I came to London was – Always check the weather before leaving.

Perhaps the only unpredictable thing in London is the weather.  I was least bothered about the weather in Mumbai as practically we have only two seasons – summer and rainy.  Winter season is a distant cousin who very rarely visits Mumbai. My most concern to know the weather was during monsoon just to know if there is any water logging or heavy rains are expected. Our metropolitan department was infamously famous for inaccurate predictions so these updates were also taken with a pinch of salt. Later the weather reporters clad in corporate suits explaining wind directions on private news channels also failed to get my attention.

In London BBC is my weatherman. I can check weather for London, Kingston and even according to the postcode. I am leaving at 9 am but it’s going to rain at 16.00 and temperature drops at 22.00.  Along with my travel the five day weather forecast helps me to manage my laundry routine.  My friend casually asks – is it a good day to wash clothes? Me – Yes it’s going to be sunny for the next two days.  Or weather forecast could help to decide what to wear. If it was not for London, I would not have paid attention to the wind speed. Once my friend said its sunny today with temperature about 10 degrees. I asked her to check the wind speed. Reason? To know if I need to carry a jacket. She was surprised is when I told her if the wind speed is above 7 mph means it could be breezy. That was my observation. I love to drench in the Mumbai rain, watch splashing waves along the sea shore. But in London, rains, cold weather and wind is a lethal combination.  The wind cheater I brought from Mumbai is going back home as I need a rain coat suitable for the London rain.

This new knowledge has taught me a different lingo – white cloud, sunny intervals, light rain, heavy rain, snow, drizzle. It was a sunny day; I was trying my best to cope with the market research class when suddenly it started thundering followed by heavy rains. Our Greek professor in his own style said "You know guyssss there is a famous saying in London You don’t like the weather? Wait a minute".  

Sometimes is it good not to be ‘socially connected’?

I was enjoying an ice-cream at Leicester Square when a friend from India called and scolded me for not answering her mail. Reason – she was worried after reading reports of riots in London. I was totally clueless about the latest incidences till I reached home to find my room-mates following the London mayhem on-line.

I knew about riots in North London but for some reason was not ‘glued to my lappy’ to know the details. I was at central London when I noticed some missed calls from friends and relatives in London and Mumbai. A friend informed me about some disturbance at Oxford Circus, the same area I had passed barely half an hour ago. The Oxford Street was as usual buzzing with shoppers and tourists. I noticed a police car screeching away while leaving the area but thoughts of riots in that area never crossed my mind. Harrods, London's famous luxury department stores, was also crowded with shoppers and tourists alike.

I figured my lack of knowledge about the fresh violence was that I was not ‘socially connected’. I don’t use a smart phone and hence was not twitting, updating FB messages or checking in places through Four Square application while enjoying a day out with a friend. This disconnection had kept me away from the panic, confusion, concern, discussion on the internet from policing in London to the fate of India-England test match. Later I came across reports and comments on how BBM was seen as one of the reason for spreading the violence. I stumbled upon this skype interview http://www.firstpost.com/world/how-blackberry-messenger-was-used-to-organize-londons-riots-57418.html , which discussed about BBM’s role in the London riots.

No doubt social networking, internet and technology are playing a greater role in every aspect of life. It’s not even a month since Mumbai was yet again rocked by bomb blasts, one of which was very near to my home (http://tejaldeshpande.blogspot.com/2011/07/when-terror-memories-hound-you.html). I was first informed about the incidence and my family’s well-being only through the net. Today also I am seeing how people are comments and organising messages online, which is a positive sign. I have seen riots and bomb blasts in Mumbai and am now in London for almost a year. This kind of riots and looting needs to be condemned and is not justified. But still I thought to myself – Sometimes is it good not to be ‘socially connected’?

Work in progress, Apologise for the delay

Today I got a mail from Transport for London (TFL) informing about bus route diversion on 14^th August due to a cycling test event for London Olympics. Such communication is highly unimaginable for a Mumbai citizen used to unexplained road digging and facing daily traffic snarls. And I realised I am getting used to London’s way of communication and liking it.

One chilly November morning I was late for a morning lecture because of some traffic near the campus. I was fortunate enough to have been allowed to enter the classroom, but the lecturer reminded the late comers about the ongoing gas pipeline work near the campus. This meant we were supposed to factor in that delay and plan our journey accordingly. This was one of the first lessons of travel planning in London as opposed to the assumptions and presumptions of Mumbai travel.

Later I started noticing digital sign boards along the roads at least a week in advance informing about planned engineering works. Importantly the boards apologised to commuters for delay and causing inconvenience. London tube stations have a ‘good service’ sign flashing against a tube line. Once my friend wondered what is ‘good service’. In Mumbai terminology it meant Western / Central / Harbour trains are running on time. Here the tube driver apologises for delay if the tube stops between stations, which was amusing for us in the beginning. Today’s TFL mail mentioned specific bus routes in my area that will be affected and provided a link for further information on those routes. Couple of days back my friend noticed our internet connection was down and we remembered receiving the pamphlet from our internet service provider about possible connection failure from 9am – 1 pm. Aptly our net connection was back at 1.30 pm.

This is in stark contrast to seeing Work in Progress signs on Mumbai roads for infinity. Worse the same road is again dug for some other reason disregarding logic and commuter’s convenience. If engineering works were actually planned a Mumbai commuter will not suffer the annual saga of pot-holed roads during the monsoons. Many will save money spent on doctor’s consultancy for backaches, sprains, maintenance costs for private vehicles and most importantly time and energy to face the same ordeal again and again.

A tribute to a friend whom I shall meet only in spirit

As I signed in, my FB page listed today’s birthday but the birthday girl left us for her heavenly abode, leaving fond memories behind. No wall updates, no HB messages. My mind raced to so many birthday wishes and calls as we cherished the decade long friendship.

A casual meeting in the corridor on the first day of senior college had transformed into a formidable bond irrespective of the distance and time. She truly epitomised the phrase ‘friend in need is a friend indeed’ when I banked on her for notes during exams. Asking for her History notes was my birth right! The nervousness of appearing for exam disappeared with her assurance that I will do well. Remember the late evening when we both decided to visit the Kalina campus on knowing our graduation results were out. This was when results were not announced online, but pasted on a notice board in building somewhere in the corner of that deadly campus. We checked our results under a dim tube light accompanied by couple of other friends.

I enjoyed her company on the same campus when we both enrolled for post graduation. She failed to quell my restlessness to sit quietly and study in the library, surrounded by thick books on political science and economics. Hard to believe it’s the same me who prefers quite study zone to work on assignments at my university in London. That friendly pestering for missing lectures was not new. I was used to it since college as I visited cyber cafe in the days when personal computers were not so commonly owned. She introduced me to the world of making friends online when Orkut, Facebook were unheard of. Thanks to that I made some amazing friends through the Internet. I always admired her courage and positive attitude to face adversities with a smiling face.

Out of sight is not out of mind is so true for some relationships. Our friendship was one of them. Those long on-line chats were our focal connecting point when both of us were in different cities. The short mail with birthday wishes when we were across time zones meant a lot in the age of on-line wishes. It was yet another chat that turned to be our last meeting until the angels decided to choose my friend whom I shall only meet in spirit.

When the terror memories hound you....

As a 12 year old kid one day I was playing near my building, waiting to go with my mother for a relative’s wedding shopping at Dadar market, when she suddenly cancelled the plan. Reason: a neighbour who came from that side informed about a possible bomb blast at the Plaza Theatre. Yes, I did hear some noise, but had thought it to be sound of a firecracker from a wedding at the nearby church. Little did I know that ‘firecracker sound’ in 1993 will become a regular pattern in my life as I grow up in this buzzing city called Mumbai.

Yesterday again the terror struck at my backyard as I watched images of the very area I live in been cordoned off as a bomb exploded on the roof of a bus stop. The live streaming was showing the damaged bus stop in front of the school that my brother studied in, the foot path I have walked on umpteen numbers of times, the familiar Hanuman Temple, the Jesus Cross and the hardware shop that was damaged. It was the same time my mother returns from work and walks the very same foot path to buy vegetables. As I spoke to my father we both were relieved that the school children were safe. Mother was sad to know that old woman from whom she occasionally bought fruits lost her life.

Following the blast updates from my university library in London, I felt as if there is a set time table to blow Mumbai every two years. In 2005 I was returning home from work when I saw unusual traffic jam when a fellow passenger informed about bomb blasts in Mumbai local trains. A year earlier I had covered the bomb blast in a bus at Ghatkopar as one of my early experiences as a newspaper reporter. The Zaveri Bazaar and Gateway blasts followed with a horrific terror attack in November 2008. The terror attack, like 2005 floods, will never be forgotten by anyone. In fact most of the Mumbai citizens by now have some dark memory of riots; bomb blast, terror attacks, floods, and god know what is going to follow.

The famed ‘Spirit of Mumbai’ manifested its online avatar minutes after the blasts. Facebook and Twitter were flooded with initiatives to help people – a car lift towards suburbs, offer to host those stranded, phone numbers and addresses of nearby doctors or hospitals been shared or re-tweeted. This rubbished the cynicism of some who question this habbit of sharing helpline numbers on the internet. This same spirit has made us Mumbaikars strong and resilient. But I am not sure how much stronger can we be or should be as ‘the city gets back to normal a day after’.

Have you wondered about your favourite bus route?

It was hot afternoon when we boarded our usual bus no 71 from busy Eden Street that my friend remarked, ‘I hate 111, 131 their routes are so long, 71 is the best, it goes straight’. This made me think, I am not the only person having peculiar thoughts about bus routes. Living at Dadar, I have mostly travelled by bus to school, college, classes, work, anywhere in Mumbai. These bus travels have developed certain notions and memories about particular bus routes in my mind.

When I think of Mumbai buses I remember bus nos 165, 164, 385, 81, 85, 324, 79, 33, 87, 91, 28 and the list can be expanded. I can associate some memories, incidents, people I travelled with or something or the other with each of these bus routes. Bus no 165 has been a permanent companion from childhood till date. The landmark for my house is ‘ building behind 165 bus stop towards Worli’. This will be amusing for Londoners who depend on tube and location maps to travel. I use to take the same bus in the opposite direction to catch those early morning lectures at college. The 7 am 165 use to be full with school kids, most of them disembarking at my stop, making way for us other regular travellers. The daily routine to see the bus conductor managing the school kids and his witty conversations were fun to watch. The same conductor knew his other passengers and we never had to mention the stop we wanted to get off at, the ticket would be ready in our hands.

There was something I liked about route no 81, but still can’t figure out what was it. So many time when we were engrossed in chatting on the bus stop, my friend would say ‘your favourite bust has come, will see you tomorrow’. Was it the particular seat I use to scramble for while travelling to French classes? But I know why bus no 324 was my favourite while returning home from a tiring day when I was working at Business Standard. Doordarshan was the starting point, I got the window seat and the bus stopped right opposite my house! Bus travels on routes 87 and 91 remind me of several visits to my aunts' house, 79 and 33 will always be associated with my first job at Andheri.

This saga has continued in London too. My first Red Bus ride was no route 131, travelling from New Malden to Fairfield Bus Station. One of the early experiences of travelling in London was the recorded tapes inside the bus – 131 to Tooting Broadway. The journey in 111 to Heathrow Central will always be remembered for my early days in London, horrendous travel time to reach my university campus and for many more reasons. And I cannot forget 85 to Putney Bridge, my all time companion while studying at Kingston University. Another day when I was boarding the same bus home, I heard a guy telling his friend ‘this is my favourite bus’. Have you ever wondered about your favourite or not so favourite bus route?

The humble scrambled egg

When I was preparing to come to London one of my friend insisted, go and enjoy the English breakfast there. I always had fetish for hash browns, had tasted baked beans and of course the scrambled eggs. My first English breakfast was as expected, enjoyable and filling. Eating that lovely breakfast on the street side cafe under the bright sun was relaxing.

As always I did not to finish the scrambled eggs soon. Eggs have always been a part of my diet. Mother makes them in different ways, dry egg bhaji, egg omelette, half fry, egg curry and egg bhurji. Egg bhurji is a spiced version of the known scrambled eggs. My all time favourite is the simple scrambled egg. Don't know if I make it as per the prescribed recipe, but I love scrambled egg sprinkled with black pepper powder. Its my first choice whenever I go for buffet breakfast. On the other hand egg bhurji has its own place. I like to eat the hot bhurji made in iron wok or tava, as we call it, with hot chapati. The smell of tava bhurji been prepared on the roadside stalls in Mumbai mesmerizes you. The site of people crowding these stalls and hearing of clanging sound of the wok is common to us Mumbaikars.

Its the same with egg omelettes. I prefer plain omelettes instead of the spicy ones prepared with onion, tomatoes, chillies and coriander. Not to forget the yummy Tibbs egg frankie that becomes your saviour at the Churchgate station. Wrap, eggs, little of chat masala, soya sauce makes one of the yummiest frankies that I have ever eaten. I remembered all this I was relishing another filling omelette breakfast at one of the cafes in Kingston.

I missed it sooo much - The Sea!!

Those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part. Broch, Hermann

This quote is so true. Its been 8 months that I left Mumbai to study in London but there have had endless discussions remembering Mumbai seashore and rains. I realised how much I was missing sea when I visited Whitstable, near Canterbury this week. The site of calm water with men, women and kids enjoying themselves was so soothing and refreshing.

Born and brought up in Mumbai, my memories are filled with the sea. The childhood trips to Dadar 'chowpatty' as we call it, eating Mumbai street food and making sand dunes and wells on the beach. How can one forget those long drives and bike rides along the queens necklace, Bandra and Worli Sea face. The fishermen boats anchored at Versova, Juhu or Worli. The salty stink one is exposed to while crossing the Mahim causeway. Ah and the sea roar and splash during rainy, windy, Mumbai monsoons. The joy of drenching in those splashing sea waves at Marine Drive or Worli Sea Face cannot be described. The soaring sea, rough sea, sometimes calm sea is witness to the several romantic, gentle, emotional moments in the lives of us Mumbaikars. It swallows our sadness, frustration, anger and celebrates our joy. I am so longing to go back and feel that familiar cool and salty sea breeze in my beloved city - Mumbai.

Portobello Market - London's Colaba Causeway

Yesterday was my first experience to venture on the streets of London, and I discovered Portobello Market. Situated in West London, Portobello market was once a farm and is now a famous market to shop for antique items and vintage goods. Recently it has become popular as the shooting destination of Julia Roberts starer film Notting Hill.

The Portobello Street, which turns into a market, is dotted with small stalls and shops selling a variety of antiques from old parking boards, posters, cameras, old CDs,old momentos and many other things. The common site was see stalls of oxidised imitation jewellery. Beautiful hand crafted rings, earrings, necklaces studded in silver. What struck me was its uncanny resemblance to the Colaba Causeway in Mumbai.

Like Portobello market, Colaba Causeway in South Mumbai, attracts tourists and city shoppers alike with stalls selling imitation jewellery, clothes, accessories and electronic items. Both these streets are vibrant with shopping buzz, hotels, restaurants and pubs. I live you today with a glimpse of Portobello Market - London's Colaba Causeway.

Life in a metro – Mumbai

Mumbai or Bombay, like London, has been described and glorified a tonnes of times. Both the cities are financial hub; boast of some beautiful tourist attractions, melting point where people from different cultures and backgrounds live and not to forget their experience with terror. So when I decided to make my mood board on Mumbai for one of my assignments, I pondered what can I focus on which will not be a cliché. The answer was a Mumbai citizen or Mumbaikar’s life.

Born and bought up in this thriving city, I could recognise some finer nuances which drive everyday lives of millions and moulds you as a person.Transport is Mumbai’s lifeline. Travelling in Mumbai literally brings out a person’s determination and zest to live. Negotiating your way in the BEST bus, shoving for a seat in trains and dealing with cab drivers requires some sort of expertise, which you gain only by using public transport.

When on this journey, one will not miss a group of people clad in white clothes, pushing some carts filled with tiffins. These are Mumbai’s Dabbawalas, who deliver lunch boxes from home to office and back with a precision that most of the top companies will wonder about. Their dedication and determination to serve the customer, in time without any extra benefits has been applauded by one and all. This also signifies a fast pace life in Mumbai, where people cannot wait for their lunch boxes to reach work on time. What supports these hungry souls is Mumbai rich street food, general signified by Vada Pav.

Mumbai is dotted with many street stalls selling Vada Pav – a spicy potato filling stuffed in soft buns. One helping is fulfilling till you have the next meal. Every citizen, including me, craves for a vada pav from their favourite street stall. City’s grit is tested when the black monsoon clouds engulf it for three months. Though the heavy rains put Mumbai out of gear, they show a different facet of Mumbai life. Personally the feeling of drenching in smashing sea waves on a heavy rainy day is one of the most thrilling and unexplainable experiences of my life. Each year I look forward to one way of getting wet in rains and enjoying near city’s many waterfronts.

What unites this busy metropolis is the passion for cricket and festivals like the Ganesh Festival and Dahi Handi. Since my childhood Ganesh Festival has symbolised devotion, sharing and the feeling of belonging towards your family, friends and community. Indian batsman Sachin Tendulkar is a living legend we adore, not only for his cricket but as a person. He teaches me that praises and rewards are temporary, what matters is your passion, dedication and determination towards your goal, cherish your family values and be humble.