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TAXICAB CONFESSIONS
Follow the cabbies for an exotic meal in rustic surroundings

Salvatore DeTraglia and Jai Harpalani

Brown-skinned men in flowing robes and flowing beards smoking unfiltered cigarettes with impunity. The air heavily perfumed with roasting spices, frying parathas and ghee-glorious-ghee. Rickety card tables propped in a corner supporting paper plates piled high with sliced green chiles, onions and lemons. Hindi soap operas blaring from a 1980s-era television set. At first blush, it appears that we have stepped into some Third World eatery featured in a Michael Palin travelogue.

But then we notice, through the window, the line of Chicago taxis parked beside 4-foot-high snowbanks. We have entered the domain of the "dabha," and for those die-hard food adventurers seeking an Indian/Pakistani dining experience that is long on spice-induced sensory overload and short on creature comforts, an intense culinary and cultural escapade is at hand.

The word dabha derives from India where, in various regions, it refers to the ubiquitous roadside food stands serving heady stews eaten on rickety benches (much akin to the jerk stands of Jamaica). In Chicago, however, dabhas informally refer to those small restaurants, off-putting in appearance, that cater almost exclusively to Indian, Pakistani and African taxi drivers seeking a brief respite from the day's drive and a spicy meal that conjures memories of home.

The typical dabha is either poorly decorated or not decorated at all, open round-the-clock, may or may not have a sign out front indicating its presence and features a limited selection of Indian/Pakistani dishes that change daily. The typical a la carte menu offers a choice of naan or roti, biriyani (spiced rice), dhal (lentils), vegetable stew (typically cauliflower, potato or eggplant), a chicken dish, fish, dessert and chai (Indian tea). A meal generally runs $6-$8, with many dabhas offering half-orders. A number of dabhas can be found in Chicago's Loop and River North neighborhoods.

The obvious question is why eat at a dabha when there are plenty of comfortable, attractive, conveniently located Indian/Pakistani restaurants lining Devon Avenue or multiplying like bunnies throughout the western suburbs? For one, many find the food served at dabhas to be more intense, authentic and comparable to what is offered at home and in the home country. Dabhas tend to liberally employ the use of ghee (clarified butter) in their cooking, which adds an aroma, flavor and texture that is far superior to the more heart-healthy canola oil favored by many mainstream restaurants. Furthermore, dabhas are not timid in their use of spices, thus turning out a more pungent and potent end product than is commonly found in conventional Indian/Pakistani restaurants. These characteristics (and in the opinion of many, advantages) of dabha food preparation versus the mainstream clearly arise from differences in clientele demographics. Whereas mainstream Indian/Pakistani restaurants may be motivated to appease western taste buds (and therefore, broaden their appeal) by toning down their offerings, such motivation is soundly rejected by dabhas.

Another reason for seeking out a dabha is that the menu, although limited, changes daily and often features interesting choices far removed from the omnipresent chicken tikka masala, et al. Finally, gastronomic benefits aside, dabhas offer the curious cultural voyeur some of the most interesting people-watching (and listening) to be found in the Chicago area. Weathered, world-weary faces in a multitude of colors and tones. Diverse styles of dress. Animated conversations and passionate, arm-flailing debates (religious and otherwise) barked out in any number of Asian or African tongues. In Chicago, where a large percentage of patrons observe the Muslim faith, many dabhas have an adjoining prayer room where prayers toward Mecca may be offered prior to returning to the day's drive.

As the ultimate post-meal chaser, many dabhas offer (and some will even make to order) sweet paan. Sweet paan is made by layering (with a spoon, pen or any other readily available utensil) lime paste, gulkand (crushed rose petals in sugar syrup), chopped betel nuts, cardamom and anise seeds, crystallized sugar, cloves and shredded coconut on a fresh betel leaf. The leaf is then tightly folded into a plump triangular package, popped into the mouth and chewed whole. The sensation is unique to anything that western taste buds are likely to have experienced. It is a juicy explosion of layer upon layer of distinct, intense and contrasting flavors and textures—sweet, savory, moist, dry, soft, crunchy, smooth, rough, cool, hot. Sweet paan is the ultimate embodiment of a "love it or hate it" food experience.

Sensory attributes aside, sweet paan has a practical function. Its ingredients are ingeniously engineered to cleanse the palate, freshen breath and aid digestion after a rich, heady meal. But be careful to specify sweet paan when ordering, because paan comes in a tobacco-filled version as well. Although the tobacco paan will also certainly "cleanse" the palate and neutralize the spice residue from one's breath, its properties as a digestif leave something to be desired.

LaRosh, 209 West Lake, (312)263-9540
Babas, 223 West Hubbard, (312)329-9499
Zaiqa, 858 North Orleans, (312)280-1652

(10/04/2001)


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