Review: Matir Ghor, Purbachal

Great traditional food just outside Dhaka  

Our table at Matir Ghor  

I feel lucky to have visited Dhaka at the end of 2019, just before the global pandemic kicked in. I've counted my blessing more than once over the last couple of years, especially as so many people haven't been able to see loved ones and family for much longer than me. My last visit home was unusually short, in between two busy periods at work, so it meant I actually stayed in Dhaka for once rather than travelling out to other places in the country. 

Of course, this wasn't something my parents could bear, so they had to take me out of the city for one road trip at least. Except, we didn't really head that far out of the city - only going partway to a planned new town project to the north-east of Dhaka called Purbachal. Apparently there was a really good fresh produce bazaar by the road on the outskirts of the town they wanted to shop from, as well as a nice traditional restaurant called Matir Ghor they thought I would like. And they were right, because Matir Ghor served up some really delicious traditionally Bangladeshi food. The restaurant is over an hour away from Dhaka, depending on where you're travelling from and what traffic is like on the day. As I was on holiday and my parents are retired (aka permanently on holiday - not as great as it sounds, they're usually bored), we went outside of rush hour on a weekday, making for quite a swift trip to a fairly empty restaurant. 

The restaurant building, just to the left

The venue is on a side street just as you turn off from the main road. There wasn't a gate or sign when I visited, just a bright-red clay path winding away from the street into the trees. Follow the path down, and you'll realise you're in the right place when you get to a bit of a clearing with parked cars. The site is a collection of single storey buildings set amidst a nicely overgrown garden. Talking to the staff, we learned that this was the owners' grandparents' home. Apparently the family aren't in residence anymore, but they wanted to preserve the site by turning it into a traditional restaurant. The main restaurant building is indeed made from earth as the name suggests, complete with a tin roof and bamboo supports. The structure has some supporting brickwork, along bright red metal doors and windows.

Clay walls, wooden benches and art on sale 

The look continues on the inside, with lanterns hanging form the ceiling, wooden furniture and earthen tableware - everything from the serving dishes to plates and glasses. But the little fans give away that the place does have electricity, despite the lanterns on the ceilings. And despite the old-fashioned look, this is a slick operation - with attentive staff, written menus and art for sale on the walls. A lot of the food is out on display in quirky serving dishes at the end of the room, and I would recommend wandering up to a have a look before ordering. 

Clockwise from the bottom left: tomato, lau, shutki, haash and murgi

The whole family loves eating, and so we ordered generously. From the vegetables we had tomato bhorta, lau pata or gourd leaf bhorta and paachmishali or 5-grain mixed daal. From the meat and fish options we had chicken cooked in bamboo, duck bhuna, king prawns with aubergine and shutki or dried fish bhuna. All of the food was delicious and clearly expertly cooked - and refreshingly a far-cry from the overly oily and spicy food served at a lot of Dhaka eateries serve. The ingredients tasted fresh too, and it really did feel like I was having a meal made from ingredients just brought in from the farm a few hours ago. I particularly liked the veggie dishes, as there's nowhere to hide when you're working with delicate flavours. The shutki was also very welcome, as I hadn't had it in quite a while. The bamboo-cooked chicken made it clear the place was potentially serving Chakma food and that the chef was possibly Chakma. And indeed, the spicing in some of food was slightly different to what I'm used to, but I don't know enough about Chakma cuisine to be able to describe exactly what was different. We rounded off the meal with some doi and payesh for dessert, but the former was bought-in and the latter was made with plain sugar - so I wasn't a big fan. However - dessert is not why anyone's coming here! 

This is a meal best shared with others, as all the portions are one and a half person's worth of food in my opinion. It's worth noting that this place is an actual restaurant catering to clientele on a day out from Dhaka - rather an a casual roadside eatery - and the prices reflect this. You pay similar to what you could expect from similar places in Dhaka back in 2019, with vegetable dishes around the TK 50 mark, whereas meat and fish dishes cost TK 200 upwards.  

Matir Ghor can be a bit tricky to find as it doesn't have a very specific address. I've noted down the restaurant's contact information as usual at the bottom of the review, but for convenience the Google maps location is here. I've decided to stop scoring reviews, and given I visited Matir Ghor a good while ago I'm not sure I could justify scoring it anyway. However, I can certainly say I'm looking forward to visiting next time I'm in Dhaka! 

A: Ketun, Dhaka Bypass Road, Kalihonj, Gazipur

T: +8801716883120

W: None

A Dessert That Kept Me Alive

ডিমের জর্দা
Dimer Jorda

Dimer jorda, or halua

This is basically how I liked my eggs done as a child. Not that my family would let me have this regularly - with good reason - just look at how much sugar the recipe calls for! But deemer jorda (or deemer halua to some) is very easy to cook, and my mom or aunts would often rustle some up when they needed a quick, fuss-free dessert. During my university years, the cheap and common ingredients meant it often featured in my diet. A healthier home cooked substitute to store bought desserts, or so I told myself.

Nowadays I'm a little more restrained, and I see dimer jorda as an occasional indulgence. The easiness of the dish makes it a great go-to for when I've just cooked a large meal for guests, and need a little less stress with dessert. During our various lockdowns, I found myself eating it on occasion to give myself a reason to live break up the monotony of store bought treats - though before the pandemic I never would have imagined tiring of chocolate and ice cream.

The dish is meant to look a little like yellow rice - and so it's important to watch the egg cook and break it up at the right time. Do this wrong and you end up with a pan full of sweet scrambled eggs. And of course, while I've talked about dimer jorda as dessert, it's often also served as a tea-time snack. The recipe below serves 4. 

Ingredients:

• 4.00 eggs
• 125.00 g white sugar
• 125.00 ml evaporated milk or 250.00 ml whole milk
• 2.00 tablespoons of butter or ghee
• 1.00 "capful" vanilla essence, or to taste
• 2.00 cardamom pods
• 1.00 "capful" kewra water, or to taste, optional
• 2.00 cm of cinnamon, optional

Method:

• Leave the butter or ghee to soften at room temperature
• If using whole milk, begin by reducing this to half in a non-stick saucepan on medium heat. Stir frequently to ensure it doesn't stick or burn. Once done, leave to cool
• Beat the eggs and sugar lightly with a fork until mixed, making sure there are no remaining clumps of egg white
• Follow up by pouring in the cooled reduced whole milk or evaporated milk, and again mix to incorporate
• Put a frying pan on medium low heat, adding the butter or ghee. Once warm, add the cardamom and (if using) cinnamon - then continue frying for a couple of minutes  
• Transfer egg, sugar and milk mixture to the frying pan
• Mix everything together, and let cook on low heat, stirring continuously
• Add the vanilla (and kewra water, if using) at the 5 minute mark, and continue cooking
• After 10 minutes the mixture should start solidify into loose, slimy clumps - break these up by stirring, and ensuring the clumps look like approximations of rice grains
• Cook until all of the jorda clumps into something that looks like mushy rice - this can take up to another 20-30 minutes
• Cooking times will vary based on the size of the saucepan - a larger, wider dish will let the jorda cook faster
• Once done, transfer out of the saucepan immediately to halt the cooking process
• Serve as a snack during tea or as a dessert, garnish with raisins and crushed pistachios

Additional Info
Dim (or should it be deem??) is the Bengali word for egg, and there are countless variations of this recipe, often called dimer "halua" rather than "jorda", based on national and regional variations. People have numerous methods of manipulating the texture, from the use of breadcrumbs to the addition of powdered milk, or adding food colouring to make the dish pop. I've kept this recipe very simple, but do look around for other versions to find what you personally prefer.

A Lighter Fish Stew

পাঙ্গাস মাছের দোপিঁয়াজা 

Basa Dopiaza with Peas & Tomatoes

Pangash in a broth of onion, peas and tomatoes

My only New Year's resolution for 2019 is to cook more fish, and so I'm pleased that my first recipe this year is a Bangladeshi fish stew. I've been wanting to share a recipe like this for a while, but I just wasn't sure what fish to use from the supermarkets around me in the UK. However, it seems they've started stocking basa nowadays, which I grew up eating and know as pangash in Bengali. Native to South Asia, pangash has gently flavoured white flesh - which works well with the lighter spicing of this recipe. 

The classic Dhaka "hotel" version of this dish is made with spices and onions only, in keeping with what a dopiaza usually is. But mom used to add tomatoes and peas at home to give the dish a little more flavour, which is especially important if the fish you're using isn't fresh. Traditional cuts of fish in Bangladesh leave bones in, which means the fish survives* the vigorous cooking process more easily. In the UK I can only get fillets**, which are a little delicate and prone to breaking up from frying and stewing. I recommend cooking this in a pot large enough to hold all of your fish in a single layer, so that the pieces aren't rubbing against each other as you try to flip them or stir the sauce. Additionally, you could opt to flash fry the fillets rather than frying them for 4-5 minutes as I recommend. This makes it easier to keep them intact. However, do note that it's typical in Bangladesh to fry the fish in hot oil long enough so that the pieces are left with a crust - and flash frying won't quite give you the same texture or flavour.

The recipe below serves two generously, or four as part of a bigger meal. Please note that unlike most of my meat recipes, this stew will not keep in the fridge for more than a few days. 

Another Weekday Dinner

শাক দিয়ে চিংড়ি
Spinach with Prawns

Spinach with prawns, served on a bed of boiled rice

It takes 10 minutes for rice to cook in the microwave, and another 2 minutes for it to cool down. That gives me 12 minutes to whip up a main dish - not quite enough time for anything traditionally Bangladeshi. But if you’re happy to spend just a little bit longer in the kitchen, this spinach and prawn combo will be done in around half an hour. Think 5 minutes of ingredient prep, 10 minutes to temper spices, and another 15 minutes to finish off the cooking process. The amounts below make a generous portion for one, or a side dish for two. It's an easy weeknight venture, making some allowances for the ingredients of course. I'm assuming a kitchen stocked with readymade garlic and ginger pastes, and prawns bought peeled and cleaned from a supermarket. 

It’s very common in Bangladesh for leaves to be cooked with freshwater prawns or the discarded bony parts of fish. The prawns or fish are meant to liven up a purely vegetarian dish, but traditionally they were never the main attraction. As people’s purchasing power has increased, this has changed, and growing up I looked forward to these more as seafood dishes. Across the extended family our parents upped the prawn content considerably, all to get the kids to eat their greens. The spices add a bit of heat to the dish, and the cooking time does mean that both the prawns and spinach are on the stove longer than is strictly necessary. But that’s the idea of the dish - mushy, soupy leaves studded with spiced prawns for a bit of bite. 

Ingredients:

• 1.00 medium onion
• 0.75 teaspoons of garlic paste
• 0.75 teaspoons of ginger paste
• 0.75 teaspoons of powdered turmeric
• 150.00 g of fresh prawns, cooked or uncooked, peeled and cleaned
• 200.00 g of spinach
• Salt, to taste (if using)

Method:

• Put a large frying pan on the stove. Add a tablespoon of oil, and leave to heat
• Finely chop the onion, and add to the pan
• Fry the onions until they go soft, translucent and start to brown at the edges
• While the onions are frying, boil 1.50 cups of water in the kettle
• Once the onions are slightly browned, add the garlic and ginger pastes to the pan. Add a splash of boiled water, and stir everything together
• Add the powdered turmeric, mix in and cook for 10 minutes. If the water starts to dry up add some more, making sure that the onions stay wet enough to form a sauce

The cooked prawns just after they
went into the pan with the onions.
Try and maintain this level of liquid
throughout the cooking process by adding hot
or boiling water as necessary

• Add the prawns - cooked or uncooked will make no difference since raw prawns will cook quickly
• Mix the prawns into the onion based sauce and leave to cook for 10 minutes, again adding water as needed if the dish dries up too much
• Add salt to taste - bearing in mind cooked prawns are already salted and shouldn't need any extra
• Add the spinach, mixing it in as it wilts and reduces

The frying pan just before the cover went on

• Cover the pan and leave to cook for a final 10 to 15 minutes - the spinach should go dark green and mushy, as opposed to bright green and crunchy
• Serve hot with plain boiled rice

Additional Info:

I leave out chillies from this recipe because I enjoy the natural sweetness of the prawns. However, feel free to add either powdered chilli with your turmeric, or some dried whole chillies just before adding the prawns. You can skip the prawns entirely to make this a vegetarian dish, but I'd recommend adding 0.25 teaspoons of garlic on top for a little more flavour. This dish would normally be served as the fish and/or vegetable component of a mutli-dish meal - combine this with recipes for chicken, other meats and carbs for a dinner party. For a purely vegetarian spinach recipe, see here, and for just prawns see here. 

Dhaka-Style Biriyani

মাটোন বিরিয়ানি 

Mutton Biriyani

Biriyani served normally, i.e. not in a flour casing,
because my house isn't try-hard Indian restaurant

This is going to be one of those epic recipe posts. Not so much because I'm going to waffle, but rather because the recipe itself is so long it may as well be a novel. Biriyani I believe needs little introduction: a dish that mixes meat and rice, possibly of Persian origins, it has travelled throughout South and Southeast Asia, and most regions nowadays produce their own varieties. The recipe below is what my mom cooks at home, and is close to what I could call Dhaka-style biriyani - though it is not identical to what you'd get from traditional roadside eateries. I've been building up to this post for a while, watching people cook biriyani and even cooking it with more experienced friends whenever possible. I wanted to wait till I was a reasonably competent cook before I had a go at this myself, so that I wouldn't mess it up and could post an actually workable recipe. 

As luck would have it my mom visited me earlier this year, so the photos you see are of what we cooked together and the recipe below has been signed off by her. A few words of advice though - I used 1.50 kg of meat for 1.00 kg of rice - but be as generous (or stingy!) as you want with the meat to rice ratio. My mom wanted to go for 2.00 kg of meat to 1.00 kg of rice, but I convinced her we shouldn't be eating quite so much red meat. The liver I used is definitely optional - the only way liver ends up in Dhaka biriyani is if there isn't enough of it to make a standalone curry. But liver in biriyani is a weakness of mine, and therefore a quirk in our household. Biriyani houses in Dhaka serve each portion of the dish with potatoes, a boiled egg and a side salad - but I don't mention the egg anywhere below because I don't like eggs have a complicated relationship with eggs.

Finally, I know restaurants around the world serve various types of biriyanis with chicken, fish, vegetables etc., but those didn't really exist back home until recently. Chicken biriyani isn't a thing for example - instead we have a lighter chicken and rice combo sold by biriyani houses called morog-polao (morog meaning chicken). Similarly, we have a fish-based ilish-polao, though this is mostly cooked at home. The spice combinations for these two dishes are different from traditional Dhaka biriyani, and I'm not sure how I would go about cooking them. If you're feeling adventurous, perhaps try cooking a more heavily spiced version of my classic chicken curry into your polao - but you're on your own with that kind of experimentation (though do let me know the results!). 

Completing the Classic Sweetmeat Trio

গোলাপ জাম 

Golap Jaam

Golap jaam in rose and cardamom syrup,
served with crushed pistachio

This post about golap jaam (and by extension kalo jaam) feels like a big milestone. Being able to cook these sweets, along with roshogolla, completes an important trio of Bengali sweetmeats that I grew up with. Roshogolla, golap jaam and kalo jaam were the safe, go-to desserts in our family, bought en masse for special occasions, celebrations and the traditionally Asian practice of delivering sweets with good news. They are rarely cooked at home in Bangladesh. All three are milk-based, but while roshogolla is traditionally made from boiled cheese curd, golap and kalo jaam are made from deep-fried milk solids. The difference between golap and kalo jaam is the sugar added to kalo jaam, which creates a dark, caramelised outer layer during the frying process. Some sweet shops even add purple food colouring to their kalo jaam, making it look more like the fruit it is named after. This recipe is obviously not all that traditional, constrained by ingredient availability and practicality outside Bangladesh. It grew from a mishmash of recipes collected by word of mouth, with ingredient amounts cross-referenced from various sources online. As such, I don’t really want to claim it as mine. I do, however, want to highlight a few things I learned from cooking these sweets multiple times. First, to address the various horror stories of disintegrated dumplings or sweets with uncooked centres: I think these are more the result of our habits – not writing down recipes and estimating ingredients! If you’re a beginner, then yes, these sweets will be a challenge. But if you’re a fairly regular cook, used to forming dough and deep frying, there’s not much to worry about here. The “dough” from the recipe below doesn’t disintegrate easily, even with slight cracks, as long as you add enough milk to hold it together. 

Kalo jaam in syrup
Some of these were overcooked, some were burnt
Hard to tell them apart in my opinion

Also, make sure you have enough oil for the dough balls to properly float in; otherwise they will burn at the bottom where they touch your pan. While making golap jaam, you can quite comfortably cook the sweets on medium-low heat for some time without any burning. And if do you start to burn them, it’ll be obvious from the blackening on the dough – immediately take the pan off the heat and scoop out the sweets.  And if you undercook them, leaving a hard, uncooked lump in the middle, boiling and soaking the sweets in syrup will usually soften your centre. It only gets difficult, in my opinion, with the kalo jaam: it’s hard to tell while frying whether the dark (almost black) sweets are the result of sugar caramelising or actual burning. I’ve found no way around this, apart from making sure I have plenty of light directed towards my stovetop! My second note is on ingredients (the below amounts make approximately 20 sweets). I haven’t specified the fat content of the milk in the recipe, largely because I have obtained similar results whether I opted for whole or semi-skimmed. I like to think this is because the fat content is mostly provided by the double cream. Despite the very non-traditional approach here, the end result feels surprisingly authentic (a dangerous word!). Of course, the sweets will be lacking the earthy flavours of ghee made on a kindling stove, and the rich flavours of raw, unrefined sugar – fortunately the rose and cardamom will go a long way in masking those “deficiencies”. And with that, I feel like my Bangladeshi dessert repertoire has grown a strong backbone. Time to move onto shandesh! 

Review: Izumi

Sashimi in Dhaka

Chef's sashimi platter

Most of my trips back home involve gorging on food that only Bangladesh can offer. I can claim this trip was slightly different, if only because on top of the usual gorging I made an effort to explore the evolving restaurant scene in Dhaka. Izumi had been on my Wishlist for a while, not just because it was one of the newer restaurants in town, but also because it specialised in Japanese cuisine, a rather uncommon offering in Bangladesh. 

The restaurant sits at the end of a quiet side road in Gulshan, away from the noise and pollution of the main avenue. The site is gated, and a short driveway leads up to the guarded main doors, typical of many establishments in Bangladesh. Walking through these doors we found ourselves in a large Japanese themed lobby, with a small reception booth to our left. I headed straight there to ask for a table, as the staff present seemed hesitant about approaching us. After a check of their reservations we were led through to the ground floor dining area, a softly lit room with generously spaced tables. Restaurants around the world should take note – especially higher end establishments who have no excuse for squeezing guests together like sardines. 

A spacious interior

Despite being a weekend, the floor was largely empty, and the other guests seemed to be businessmen entertaining clients or Asian expats out on expenses. We were seen to quite quickly by a polite and helpful waiter. He pointed out items on the menu the kitchen was current unable, unsurprisingly to prepare due to a lack of imported ingredients. While I sympathise with the hurdles Bangladeshi businesses must face importing unusual ingredients, it is something to be aware of before visiting establishments like Izumi. Our waiter helped us with our orders, talking us through the contents of each dish. He was vague about portion sizes though (good news: they’re big!,) and we had to do a bit of guesswork with amounts. 

On the left, complimentary tofu with veg and sesame.

On the right, prawns and spinach in spicy mayo - stacked, so bigger portion than is obvious

Food arrived soon after we placed our orders, starting off with a complimentary canape of tofu muffled in shredded vegetables and sesame. While not particularly special, the tactic of serving a small canape was very much appreciated while we waited for our orders. The dish also made me feel we were going to get actual Japanese food - another plus. However, the rest of courses turned out to be a mixed experience. We'd ordered a starter of prawns and spinach in spicy mayo. The portion was rather generous here: more than enough for two and shareable between our three at a stretch. But while it tasted "Japanese" insofar as it wasn't somehow "Bangladeshified", it wasn't very good, and more in line with what I'd expect from a cheap restaurant elsewhere in the world. I felt similarly about our mains - the grilled miso chicken was a delight to find in Bangladesh, but it should have had more miso. Our garlicky king prawns were nice, but similar preparation can be had elsewhere in town for less. It was really the sashimi that saved the day, which was extremely fresh considering it must have been refrigerated for import, and was served beautifully as you can see from the photo in this post. Some of the cuts were a bit awkward, and a bit too large for a single mouthful, but it definitely satisfied our family's raw fish cravings. 

Grilled miso chicken, on the bone

The only sticking point I can imagine is the price, which was TK 3500 for the set before tax. This easily puts Izumi up there with an above average price for sashimi in say, London. In fact, the pricing at Izumi is my main criticism. The restaurant is easily more expensive than others of the same bracket in Dhaka, apart from maybe the newest 5 star hotels. A starter will you set back by around TK 1000, and mains cost from TK 3000 onward. Granted, portions are big enough to be shared, but our bill for one starter, two mains, a sashimi set, drinks and steamed rice came to a total of TK 12000 with VAT, or TK 4000 per head. This is a lot for Bangladesh. Imported ingredients or not, the food - the mains in particular - needs to be better than what we had for our visits to become regular. However, I expect the restaurant will survive on business meals and expats who have few options for eating out. To someone local, I would only say go if you need a sushi or sashimi fix. It will be good, but be aware that it's going to cost you a lot. 

Food: 6.5/10

Service: 7/10

Atmosphere: 7/10

Value: 6.5/10

Final Score: 6.5/10

Contact Information

A: 24/C Rd 113, Gulshan 2, Dhaka 1212, Bangladesh
T: +8801933446677
W: www.facebook.com/izumiBD

NB. The final score, while influenced by the sub-scores, is a qualitative reflection of my overall impression of the establishment.

Eggs From Our Sundarbans Trip

ক্যাপসিকাম ও পাপরিকা দিয়ে ডিম ভুনা 

Eggs, Red Pepper & Smoked Paprika Bhuna

Egg bhuna, served with khichuri on the boat during our trip
through the Sundarbans. From my Instagram feed.

Curried eggs have a long history in my family. In Bangladesh, they represent a cheap, inexpensive way to incorporate protein into a family's diet. Growing up, I had a great dislike for eggs and currying them used to be one of my mom's tactics to get me to eat them. They're also easier (read: quicker) to cook than meat, and therefore often a common enough recourse when she was pressed for time in the kitchen. This recipe is my own, based on the basic chicken curry recipe I posted long ago here. The addition of smoked paprika is the result of a slight personal obsession, and the red pepper gives the dish sweet-sour notes without resorting to sugar or yoghurt. I have been cooking this dish for a while, and have served it to guests when a vegetarian main has been called for.

On the left, the banks of the forest as we sailed past.

On the right, the beach our walk eventually took us to.

Our trip to the Sundarbans for New Year's Eve served as a reminder to post this, as the chef on board our ship served a very lightly spiced version of this with khichuri for breakfast. It made for a heavy breakfast, which was reasonable in light of the walking we were going to be doing throughout the day. Unless you're preparing for a similar excursion, I would recommend serving this as a main or side dish for dinner or lunch. 

Review: Hotel Star (aka Star Kebab)

Hunting Down the Original

The original Star Hotel in Thatari Bazar, from
where all the other Star Kebab and Star Bakery
branches have their roots

I'm not sure who introduced me to Star Kebab, but I'm willing to bet it was someone on my mom's side of the family - that's where all the original foodies in my life come from. Star in Dhaka takes on various incarnations - there's Star Kebab in Panthopoth, two Star Kebabs and a Star Restaurant in Dhanmondi, as well a few Star Bakeries dotted around town. This list is by no means exhaustive, and then of course there's Hotel Star in the Thatari Bazar area of Old Dhaka, the place where it all started. It's a fifteen minute rickshaw ride from my grandma's but I'd never visited as Panthopoth used be on the way home from college, and that's where I'd stop to get kebab for the family. 

Review: Hirajheel Hotel, A House of Purity Foods

Home, Chaos and Other

The entrance

Despite its rather unfortunate full name, Hirajheel is a stalwart on the Dhaka food scene. Located in the Motijheel business district, its proximity to the Dhaka Stock Exchange, big banks and various other offices guarantees the restaurant a steady flow of customers. Known for its breakfast “soup” (more on that later) and Ramadan staples (it does a good kebab, almost as good as Star), Hirajheel has been around for over a decade. Dhaka has quite a few even older historic eateries, and each venue has established itself a reputation for doing particular dishes very well. For example, next door to Hirajheel is Ghoroa, which beckons from mom's youth and is the local go-to for good khichuri. 

The interior

I'm willing to bet that Hirajheel at its inception represented a slightly upmarket version of the traditional Bangladeshi “restaurant” - often locally misnamed as "hotels". These are quick and dirty operations: menu-less with a set number of largely unchanging dishes served in a canteen style space. Business is geared towards feeding a regular, local clientele of blue collar office workers, day labourers, rickshaw pullers etc. Decor and ambience do not exist as concepts, prices are rock bottom and the food is simple yet often very good. With Hirajheel things are a little more elaborate - the waiters (sometimes) wear uniforms, and the interior is clean, painted and tiled. Prices are beyond what a rickshaw puller could pay, though they are within reach of most and nothing compared to certain newer restaurants in town. There is still no menu that we could see, however, and finding out what's being served today beyond the usual required a friendly yelling match with the staff.

The Iftaar Series: Part 2

Iftaar with Family

Okay, I realise it's not Ramadan but I did a part 1 to this a while ago and promised a part 2, so here goes. 

In Spain

Our table, with a close up of all the unhealthy but very traditional fried foods!

On my way to Bangladesh I stopped over in Madrid for a day, meaning I spent a day fasting and having iftaar there. Wherever our family may be in the world, our iftaars are still pretty traditional. So while there are tomatoes, cucumbers etc. on the table, we also do the more traditional fried foods. Looking to the picture on the right above, at the front left we have dal bora. Dal boras are usually served as snacks, and are made from lentils mixed with chilli and onion. This mixture is then covered in maize flour and deep fried. The shaag bora on the front right is similar except the lentils are replaced with spinach. Finally, in the background you have begunis, where the spinach or lentil is replaced with sliced eggplant. While it wouldn't be unusual to have these foods throughout the year, their popularity peaks in Bangladesh during Ramadan. 

From My Grandma's House

Coconut Sprinkled with Sugar

This is an old favourite of mine that I first had at my grandma's house in Bangladesh. It's basically freshly grated coconut sprinkled with (a lot of) white sugar. And no, it's just not the same with dried or tinned coconut!

This particular coconut came with us from my dad's ancestral home in Salop, Sirajganj - a rather interesting trip that I intend to blog about later.

Blogging From Bangladesh

I'm Praying For Internet

Some things in Dhaka, like traffic, have gotten slower.

Technology on the other hand, has gotten faster.
Much respect to this brave soul undertaking rickshaw computing!

I admit got a little teary when the plane landed at the airport in Dhaka. But then we stepped out of the lounge the 138% humidity hit me like a wet towel. Then it took us 3 hours to get home because of the traffic, and reality had begun to catch up with me again.

But I’m still holding onto shreds of optimism as I sit here typing this on a train headed from Sirajganj to Dhaka. I’m tethering my phone’s EDGE connection to my laptop, and hoping that it’ll be good enough to actually upload this post. This in itself is a major improvement as far as I’m concerned. I’m on my way back from Salop, the village where my parents’ ancestral home still stands (barely!).