Alu…The Omnipresent Lover Boy

And in all of these glorious tales of the hunger and the hungry, the one item that emerges king is the omnipresent alu. The innocuous potato. This humble being, with its mild manners, has the quality to placate the stomach and equally the heart with its gentle personality.

Ever heard of that shy boy, with a gentle demeanour, always welcome in any group simply due to his pleasant nature? He isn’t the talkative kind, he listens silently and contributes with a smile. Neither is he the one eager to please; he wears a gentle assurance about him like a second skin. That’s the hero of my story, the omnipresent Alu in the life and on the plate of a Bengali.

We Bengalis are that self-crowned breed gracing the soil with an air which shouts loud ‘ki khabo’?  Be it Pujo shopping or pandal hopping, trudging home after a day at work or a movie date with friends, prepping for a Indo-Pak cricket match at home or planning the next picnic, the one constant through these rainbow of events is  ‘What’s-on-the-plate’? This is the litmus test for the True Bong. Food must emerge hero in every life event. Big or small. Special or mundane. 

You align? I crown you a True Bong.

And we are perfectionists at our game. The extent to which the phoron must splatter in the kadai,  the mathematical degree to which the oil must separate from the ingredients to attain that perfect ‘koshaano’, the emotional level to which the look and colour of the final dish must titillate our taste buds are affairs where the Bengali allows zero compromise. 

If you are that True Bong who swears on home grown food and has ghee alu sheddho bhaat as a go-to remedy for ‘my life is in a mess’, this narrative is as much yours as it is mine. Feeling the blues in a lost corner of the world, miles away from home? A simple mushur daal bhaat with alu bhaja can be your ultimate cure for homesickness. Getting the feel of Sunday by treating yourself to Bengali mutton curry of course is the ultimate elixir of life. 

And in all of these glorious tales of the hunger and the hungry, the one item that emerges king is the omnipresent alu. The innocuous potato. This humble personality, with its mild manners, has the quality to placate the stomach and equally the heart and claim an equal market share alongside his glamorous non-veg cousins. So in a reddish brown rich mutton curry, the quintessential question (read, warning) is always – alu achhe toh? (There better be potato!). A lazy afternoon’s chicken er jhol better come armed with alu, which is often tastier than the chicken itself. Cooking up a winter special machher jhol with seasonal vegetables? It ought to be sheem, phoolkophi and the obvious alu!

Even an average veg dish for a Bengali scores extra brownie points once the alu graces it. Hence the  alu phoolkophi’, ‘alu peyanjkoli’ are more welcome than their lonely veg cousins! Of course, in all these, the alu posto continues to be the reigning queen and a rare case where the dignity and status of the alu finds its equal in posto. Let’s park aside this epic status war for now!

Halt here fellow Bongs. The Calcutta Biriyani became famous because of the special alu, an affirmation so strong, it has won a place in numerous menu cards across the length and breadth of India and the world.

This humble potato has qualities like those of an evergreen lover boy, minus the glam looks. Shy and gentle, it comes loaded with a deadly potent of alleviating the taste of any dish manifold. The alu emerges as either a gentle understanding partner or the hero in all stories of the Bong cuisine. Never one to demand the spotlight, this gentleman emerges like the melodious song of the lover boy who would remain forever in your heart and on your plate even when the next dish arrives. He truly is omnipresent.

When all good things melt away into oblivion, there remains the resilient alu. The retired alu floating in the remnant gravy of the leftover mutton or chicken er jhol is like that true friend who never leaves your side, gently lapping up the best of the taste and enriching its stay. Its glory lies in its utmost resilience. We smash it, it still lingers in our taste buds with a dash of shorsher tel and green chillies. We roll it around the kadai, add some peripherals, smashed dried red chillies with some angry green cousins and it kicks up a storm as alu chokha. We butcher it into small pieces, add some cucumber, chhola, a dash of lemon and a sprinkle of masala and there emerges the tangy alu kaabli. We slaughter it into the thinnest of slices and deep fry, only to have the young and the old of the house fight alike for a fair share of the alu bhaja. 

The story of the alu in the heart of a Bong is one of romance. Its an old love that lingers well after all the hot faves have been lapped up from the plate. It’s a sweet rekindling of your first love, which never really was lost, but remained in our conscience as that lover boy who was gentle and sweet, with a shy smile and a heart of gold.