Chaat is a Verb
what counts as “street food” and aloo tikki chaat
Chaat is a verb. Whether you’re at a bustling street junction or in your kitchen, chaat dictates action: papdis shatter, paani puri endlessly circles a crowd, and chatpata (spicy, tangy, sour) flavors announce themselves.
Every summer, I whip out my not-so-secret weapon: a tattered green box of MDH chaat masala, the zingy spice blend with notes of dried mango, hing, muskmelon…just read the label below if you care to know the rest. Chaat is for any time of the year, but I love it most in the summer. It’s easy—the way summer eating should be—and the frenetic burst of flavors and textures is refreshing.
I usually refer to chaat as my favorite Indian street food. No-frills takeout counters and higher-end restaurants alike also refer to chaat as street food. And while chaat is served at street sides, I started to wonder if it’s appropriate to call it “street food” after the “street” context and easy access to the food are stripped away. Is there an obligation to make street food affordable to the everyday consumer? If an expensive restaurant utilizes the term, it seems to be taking advantage of the idyllic premise of street food. Getting a chance to eat street food is like stepping into Bourdain’s shoes as he travels the world for A Cook’s Tour! It’s a window into how ordinary people live in faraway lands! It’s presented as an opportunity.
Regardless of terminology, chaat is a welcome respite from the creamy orange tikka masalas that have otherwise been known to dominate the Indian restaurant scene. The New York Times has devoted attention to it, chaat masala-almond butter toast is a fusion novelty (to be fair, it tastes great), and every restaurant now includes it on its menus, in addition to the usual Punjabi dishes.
Still, there is a disturbing dichotomy. The same people who eat chaat on white linens, perhaps with a fork and knife if they don’t know any better, may critique the way chaat is traditionally served: with “filthy” hands and a side of questionable hygiene. And yet, an important part of street food’s ingenuity is that vendors work with their hands and with limited resources.
For Whetstone Magazine, Farah Yameen writes:
Professional cooking in India actively distanced itself from the intimacies of touch in favour of the clinical values of precision and hygiene…There was, however, a consensus that street food did not taste quite the same off the street. The women of the home, whose hands could achieve miracles, could never achieve the flavours of the hands of the street vendor with — and despite — all their unsavoury imagery. The adventure and romance of eating on the street is a powerful validation of touch, as a momentary breach in insularity across caste and class
I’m not saying that it’s wrong to serve chaat at formal establishments in America and beyond, but chaat is a verb. Chaat is to manage not to choke on paani puris while reaching for the next one out of a paper leaf bowl. Chaat is to let chutneys trickle down your chin, leaving a trail that you would never allow at a restaurant. Chaat is to eat in oblivion of when your next meal will be; it’s not an appetizer.
There is no golden ratio for the best chaat, for the best results are up to your tongue. You don’t use measuring cups and spoons to put chaat together, so you know what that means: you’ll have to unleash your inner Indian aunty to make your best chaat.
the anatomy
a crunchy or soft base: aloo (potatoes), aloo tikki (potato patty), papdi, samosa, bhel (puffed rice), corn, vada, idli
These are the classics, but I am convinced that anything can be a base for chaat. While I am not a fan of restaurants that exercise exorbitant prices on chaats that have been famous forever, I respect fine dining restaurants that add a unique twist to street food in an effort to establish Indian cuisine in the fine dining space.
vegetables: onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, and/or potatoes
chutneys: cilantro, mint, tamarind
dahi (yogurt)
masalas: chaat masala, amchur (dried mango powder), kala namak (black salt), red chili powder, cumin, and/or coriander
aloo tikki chaat (but Bihari style!)
My parents grew up in Bihar. I don’t usually meet people from there. I have friends from Delhi, Hyderabad, and Mumbai, but not Bihar. Until recently, I didn’t know much about Bihari food, but after interviewing my parents, I have a general idea. There is litti chokha, kopal, kala chana, aloo kathal, and apparently, Bihari aloo tikki chaat. I’ve noticed it has a similar structure to Maharastrian ragda pattice, which also features soft potato patties in a matar (white peas) gravy. I will give myself a headache if I try to understand the precise differences between them besides their names, so I am trusting Mother and Father Chandra (as well as a handful of Bihari cuisine YouTubers – a niche I didn’t know existed until yesterday) that this is the Bihari way.
From what I’ve seen, there are a lot of ways to make this chaat. This recipe is a streamlined version, because summer eating should be easy. As I was making it, I kept nagging my mother, “Are you sure we don’t need more spices in the matar? Are you sure we don’t need chaat masala?” She was sure.
Instead of chaat masala, we dry roast red chilis and coriander seeds, allowing them to unleash their aromas before being ground into a spice blend. We don’t need a host of aromatics and spices for the matar (pea gravy) because there are so many components of this chaat that provide its spunkiness. The aloo tikkis sport the red chili and coriander spice blend. The cilantro green mango chutney is chunky, spicy, and pungent, while the tamarind chutney is velvety, tart, and sweet. The yogurt is plain because I figured there is enough flavor going on, so all I wanted from the yogurt was an element of cool creaminess. Finish with more coriander-chili powder, kala namak, and cumin. Add some onions, cilantro, and sev (crispy chickpea snack).
Aloo tikki
6-7 medium white potatoes (boiled in salted water, peeled, and mashed)
2 tsp coriander seeds
2-3 dry red chilis
1.5 tsp amchur (dried mango) powder
Salt to taste
1/4 cup rice flour
3 tbsp avocado oil
Toast coriander seeds and red chilis for a few minutes in a pan over medium-low heat. Add to a food processor and process until coarsely ground. Add most of the resulting mixture to the potatoes, but save some for topping!
Add the rest of the spices to the potatoes. Form patties (mine were 2-3 inches wide and ½-inch thick. Shallow fry over medium heat for 5 minutes per side, or until crispy and golden-brown.
Matar
2 cups dried white peas, soaked overnight (This makes a lot. You can cut it in half if you want.)
4 cups water
1/2 tsp red chili powder
1/4 tsp turmeric
3/4 tsp salt or according to your preference
Add white peas to a pressure cooker along with water, red chili powder, turmeric, and salt.
Close the pressure cooker and cook over medium heat. After the first whistle goes off, continue cooking for 5 minutes. I have not tried this with an Instant Pot but I’m sure you can find some numbers online.
To assemble the chaat
Start with the matar gravy. Add aloo tikkis. Sprinkle leftover ground coriander and red chili, along with roasted cumin powder and kala namak (optional, but really great).
Add cilantro chutney (I usually riff on this one), tamarind chutney, yogurt, onions, cilantro, and sev.
This is part four of the chaat series. If you’re into this, you might also love papdi chaat, corn chaat, and samosa chaat. Next week, I intend to make a paani puri party happen. Other chaats that have been on my mind: raj kachori, hara bhara kebab, mirchi bhajia, bhel, green mango chaat. Can I make all of these before mid-September? Challenge accepted.
SPICE RACK
dishing on the favorites
cooking
Eric Kim’s gochujang-glazed eggplant. It was PERFECT. You fry scallions, use the leftover scallion oil to crisp up the eggplant, and douse the eggplant in a gochujang (Korean red chili paste) glaze. It’s perfect with cold soba noodles.
A cake for my mom’s birthday! Vanilla sponge cake with coconut whipped cream frosting, a mango jelly layer, a drippy chocolate espresso sauce, and pistachios and almonds candied with date syrup. Here is the vanilla sponge cake recipe I used; I owe the impeccable texture to whipped aquafaba (canned chickpea liquid).
A kimchi udon recipe because I have been obsessed with the batch of kimchi that I tended to for 4 hours. (Fine, all I had to do was flip the cabbage every 30 minutes. It wasn’t that strenuous.)
drinking: Ever since I went to Four Barrel Coffee in the Mission, I have not been satisfied with a single cup of coffee I’ve made.
dining: Burma Superstar. Inner Richmond has a number of Burmese restaurants, but this is the most popular. It’s good, but I’m starting to think it’s overrated and will try a smaller place next time. Samusa soup is a cool concept though.
reading
Still getting through 100 Years of Solitude.
Eating meat is good, says the philosopher (Despite resolving not to eat animals, I found this absolutely hilarious.)
Covering the Coverage of South Asian Food: Late Summer 2020 Edition (In researching chaat, I came across My Annoying Opinions. Amusing, yet thought-provoking.)
listening: Gracie Abrams does more for me than Headspace’s sleep soundtracks could ever.