Sunday, November 19, 2017

Well Spring of Memory: Jalabis



Jalabis

            A fact about India is that even the smallest village will have a shop  that sells tea and makes a wide variety of candy called the halwai.  My favorite confection is jalabis.  As I close my eyes and imagine the taste it is more like imaging heaven, warm, sweet, crunchy, just the right lingering hint of sourness from the fermented dough and the stale fat where the jalabi was fried, the sugar syrup running down my chin, to my hand and even down my arm to drip off my elbow.  Total immersion in deliciousness.

            Any pilgrimage back to India involves the plan to find and eat jalabis which is no small feat.  My Aunt Ann declared on her first trip back in 45 years that she was going to find a halwai and order a kilo of jalabis and eat them all herself.   Her enthusiasm amazed me, I thought I had a corner on the craving but she was obviously as passionate about jalabis as I was. 

            The trick to finding jalabis is to be at a shop when they are being prepared – if they are cold or having been sitting with flies on them they are not edible.  Each shop has a specific time of day for making jalabis, either early morning or just at dusk. As you walk through the bazaar or drive through villages you keep an eye out for the halwai, squatting beside his huge wok, the flames leaping up on all sides, his wrist move in quick spirals as he squeezes the dough in pretzel shapes into the bubbling oil.  Once the pan is filled with rows of the jalabis he deftly flips them over one time, and then tosses the batch into the waiting sugar syrup.   That sight makes my heart sing – fresh jalabis.

            I love the surprise on the shop keepers face when my white self asks in Hindi to please sell me 200 grams of those fresh jalabis.  It is a paltry order but it is perfection – I will eat every one, exclaiming “yum” and “perfect” as I polish them off.  

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