Back to Tangra

Just a little shy in size and the place would have qualified as a hole in the wall. With no parking facility like most of the eateries in New York City though we were deep inside the borough of Queens, it has no waiting lounge either. Earlier during the day over phone we learnt they do not book tables in advance or even take credit cards, it is cash only policy. Though the restaurant is open till midnight, no new customers are entertained after 9:30 p.m. They do not serve wine on premises and you can not even bring it along. At least there is no denial that the warnings were not served! But I like this attitude – these are signs of a place that is busy, well patronized and confident in what they do. If you know how to cook, I will happily relinquish my position as King to you. We found parking on a dark street three blocks away and hoped for the best while walking back towards the restaurant about some forty-five minutes ago. Upon arrival we were told that the wait will at least be thirty minutes before we can hope to be seated. Being in a group has its disadvantages in a city where any count over two is considered a crowd. Prepared to wait, we joined other expected diners on the pavement under a chilly November sky and start a debate among ourselves about the wisdom of traveling sixty miles each way from New Jersey just to eat “Chicken chow mien – gravy type” and “Chili chicken” while we draw close to each other for warmth and share few tiny bottles of vodka between us drinking straight up for extra helping. It was the hope of eating not just any “Chicken chow mien – gravy type” with “Chili chicken” that had brought us here but the lineage of this tiny little Chinese restaurant and a promise of a chef from Tangra (once a poor run down suburb of Calcutta famous for cheap Chinese restaurants) on the wrong side of Queensboro bridge, which it proudly displayed just under its name “Calcutta style Chinese Cuisine”. Those who are not quintessential Calcuttans will probably need a little introduction to the adjective “Calcutta style”. In the beginning of 19th century Chinese immigrants came to India (nobody still knows how got past the border guards) and mostly settled around the eastern fringes of the city limits of Calcutta to run business of tanneries, open leather goods and cheap silk garments store where you could expect to strike a bargain if you knew how to extract one. They also ran dentist’s shops in Calcutta without bothering to disclose educational credentials as dentists. However if you felt the need to have our teeth paved with metal of your choice or affordability they were the only place that could help for a long time. Surely few Chinese restaurants came along walking that path and greeted Calcuttans with their food. It did no harm to these establishments as they accommodated few change requests from fellow Calcuttans and spiked it up a notch to suit the local taste bud. For quintessential Calcuttans the early memories of Chinese food has to be going to a Chinese restaurant on a Saturday evening or a Sunday afternoon complete with pictures of dragons, dim red lights and being greeted by Chinese waiters with a strange English accent. It would be an hour or two well spent leisurely eating wonderful stuff while trying to master the art of eating with fork and spoon (strangely no one used knives or risked requesting for chopsticks) with occasional frown from your dad if you made too much of noise while eating. Ask any Calcattans, he will proudly boast with deepest of conviction that the “Desi Chinese” cuisine of the continent of North America is a poor cousin of “Calcutta style” Chinese food. After about fifty minutes we were seated on three tables hastily joined together that could barely hold us with little elbow room to spare. We order heartily without a care for how much we can eat or even how much our small table can hold. Seeing the familiar names was like meeting long lost friends. “Prawn Pakora! Two order please. Sweet corn soup? Sure! Make it two by three! Please check if the chili chicken is boneless! Hakka noodles anyone? Pass me the soy sauce please!”. Suddenly the division between the skeptics and initiated over traveling such a distance just for food seemed to have vanished and everyone is as excited. If you can’t finish it now, you can always carry it home and have it tomorrow. So Calcuttans! Have no fear – today we are ready to eat and carrying cash! After the meal, with a warm feeling inside and heavier by few carry bags we begin retrace our path towards our cars. At that point the argumentative Indian strikes again. How long a road can a man travel for food even if it is great? And how often? Before we could reach a verdict we reached our cars and felt genuinely happy to see it still there. As I eased myself on the wheel, my darling wife reached for her seat beside me and her own personal verdict at the same time, “not every weekend”. ‘Sure, not every weekend” I repeated after her as the car began to roll.

First Notes This is about the travels to the wonderful world of culinary curiosity, meals that you once had and the ones that you look forward to. Food that connects with cultures that are your own and also the ones that are alien in a uniquely intimate way. It can transport one back to the past that can only be visited in dreams. Mom’s food cooked ready and warm for you when you were back from school hungry or food from roadside eateries that never cared for health department codes or sanitary certificates or simple snack that was shared with your first love interest at corner of a college canteen. Five star buffets that you had strangely disliked but loved to death the corner café of your part of the town who exactly had six things to offer. Food excites us, it intrigues us, makes us feel happy and warm. And for those of us with some amount of culinary curiosity, it is a multi-dimensional journey. A journey back to our roots but also a flight to experience ingenuity of human nature, its connection with its own environment, both immediate surroundings but also far beyond! For a fascinated observers of culinary habits that is very much like language, culture and any other forms of visual arts, which reacts, modifies and changes its tone and colorations with age and exposure. Here I intend to share my travels to this world with you and hope to get you along the way! Bon Voyage!