Step away from the kulfi!

Long has the Delhi consumer's capacity for craft melas held me in awe, particularly in the lead up to Diwali. There is nothing quite as frenetic as shopping at the famous open air markets like Dastkar and the Blind School's annual extravaganza. So many dupattas, so little time.

But I have finally discovered the secret ... kulfi. And not just any kulfi, but a kesar pista - think frozen condensed milk with saffron and pistachio. And in my case, along with the kulfi, have chai, mango sweets, date paan, more chai and a bottle of plum juice. On an empty stomach. Never have shiny things looked so shiny, silks looked so silky, colours looked so vibrant, and my bargaining been so ruthless as when the blood sugar levels are making for a screaming crescendo. Never have I been able to cover so much ground, leaping small children in a single bound to get to the last pashmina shawl at a bargain price.

Unfortunately the crash that came about 30 minutes later resulted in conversations that included sentences like: 'touch that kurtha again Aunty and lose a hand. It's MINE'.

Worse, after all the jostling, unfurling, trying on and taking off, reducing sales staff to bundles of quivering frustration, in the end I came away with nothing because my neurones were so close to bursting at the amount of choice that in a fit of ADHD they couldn't decide what they wanted.

The other unfortunate side effect was that I couldn't find my way out. As noted in other posts it is a bit embarrassing to be lost as a geographer and orienteer but sugar is clearly not good for the internal navigational systems. It took another hour of wandering with an increasing sense of hallucinogenic panic that the same dupattas were following me before I found the exit.

Luckily, just outside the entrance was now a line up of sweet potato sellers - my favourite Delhi street food and a lovely sign that winter is on the way. Sweet potato after kulfi, with a sprinkling of masala and splash of nimbu, is the equivalent of a spliff after crystal meth (so I'm told). As I sat on a wall with the street urchins, sharing our sweet potatoes in a twilight haze, the world stopped shimmering and calm descended along with the particulate matter of Delhi's traffic pollution.  

The gastronomic moral of this tale is that kulfi, while divine, should only be eaten on its own after a sturdy meal. Leave the chai, mango sweets, paan and plum juice for another day.