Quesadillas at an Indian Tex-Mex bar in Jaipur
It didn’t take long for me to start thinking about how to fuse Mexican food with Indian. Both use similar ingredients (chile peppers, onion, cilantro, flat breads), and both rely on a variety of salsas and sauces to compliment each meal. While slurping coconut chutney at Sagar on my second day in town, I thought: Why not coconut chutney on a taco? Why not a spicy sambar as a first-course sopa? With maybe some fideo noodles? There aren’t any rules that say we can’t do this. El mundo is our mariscos shell.
This type of thinking is dangerous for me, because I get really excited and then I start yammering on to Crayton, and then it becomes all I can think and/or talk about, and no doubt Crayton starts wishing that I’d move on to something else.
By the time we made it to Jaipur, the next leg of our journey, I was eager to share my Indo-Mex vision with someone else — namely, our friend Vikas, who lives in Bombay and planned to meet us in Jaipur. Jaipur is about three to four hours by train from Delhi, and the weekend we arrived happened to coincide with the Jaipur Literary Festival, a happening event that draws writers from all over India, and the West.
The festival was great. I bought a rose-printed kurta with red sequins that reminded me of Mexico, and we watched Tina Brown, Steve Coll and Vikram Chandra discuss whether the Internet has killed books. I was exhausted by 5 p.m. on the first day, but I couldn’t go to sleep, because then I’d be up at midnight, wide awake. So Crayton proposed pre-dinner drinks and apps at Amigo’s, a Tex-Mex bar he’d read about in our guidebook.
Vikas was skeptical. (He’s always skeptical.) But we convinced him in the end. (“C’mon! Three former Dallasites at a Tex-Mex bar in India! What could be better?”)
The place lay in the Om Tower Hotel, a somewhat shabby-looking cylindrical building guarded by a man wearing a Rajasthani turban. We took the elevator up several floors and exited into a dark tunnel, lined with rough rock. (Very old-school Space Mountain.) I’d expected sombreros and serapes, but the main room had been thoroughly blanketed in Western kitsch. Ceramic reclining cowboys supported glass-topped tables. There were ferns, and cactus, and mud-brown walls.
Interestingly, this place was marketed as upscale and trendy. We ordered vodkas mixed with lime juice, green chili and soda, a concoction Vikas suggested. They did have a few types of tequila, but both were strange brands that none of us had heard of. We also ordered quesadillas.
I wasn’t sure it was possible to create an Indian quesadilla, but that’s what we had. Two tortillas arrived covered in a béchamel-y white sauce, filled with a mildly spiced chicken (cumin-y, vaguely cinnamony), studded with a few bits of cilantro. There wasn’t any cheese, which was probably more authentically Mexican than they realized.
Over our drinks and quesadillas, I effused my vision of Indo-Mex fusion. The three of us threw out ideas: Potato masala tacos! Coconut chutneys as salsas! Tacos on chapati bread! At that moment, I desperately wanted a kitchen of my own in Jaipur so I could attempt to make some of this stuff. But alas, we were staying at a heritage hotel that didn’t include one.
It was a lovely night. After that, Indo-Mex fusion was my obsession on the trip, until I went to South India and became obsessed with upma and uttapam and savory breakfasts, and how to cook them using ingredients I can find in Mexico. I’ll get to that stuff later — I’ve already got a few recipes I want to share with you.
A few other things I enjoyed while in Jaipur:
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