Tselha Anze - II

[Continued from Part I]

In contrast to the hackneyed Chinese items, the Tibetan dishes on offer were genuinely interesting. I think this was the first time I've come across a Tibetan selection more extensive than Momo and Thupka. They were there all right. One whole section was devoted to Momos. It listed no less than eight items including Kothey (forgot what it was), Rechotse (Momo in soup), and the charmingly-named Ting Momo (more on this later). Then there was a separate section entitled "Tibetan Cuisine". Apart from two varieties of Thukpa, it featured Gyathuk (ribbon noodles in soup); Sha Bhaglab (more on this later); Pingsha (glass noodles - out of stock that day); Thenthuk (flat noodles in either soupy or dry form); and a sampler, or Tibetan Thali as they called it. I ordered the Beef Sha Bhaglab, or flat, lasagne-like noodles stir-fried with thinly sliced meat and veggies. It turned out to be a wildly successful choice. What I found most remarkable was that the separate components, even the vegetables, retained their own distinctive taste and juiciness. The carrot was crisp, not undercooked; the spinach retained its texture without wilting. And the meat was delicious - thinly sliced, succulent, well done and yet not overcooked as to lose flavour.

The serving was substantial, enough for a full meal, and as such excellent value for money at seventy Rupees. But given  that long walk on top of a rather sketchy lunch, it simply didn't stand a chance against my starvation levels. I could tackle another full meal. This time I opted for Shabtak. I didn't have my DSLR with me, so had to rely on my phone cam. Its performance is drab as it is; in low light situations it's downright execrable (you really messed up on that front, Motorola). Execrable is more or less how the Shabtak pictures turned out; with the flash switched on the effect was still ghastlier. Which was sad, because actually the preparation looked every bit as tempting as this lovely photo on Courant.com makes it out to be. It carries the caption "spicy sliced beef and sauteed with onion, red and green bell peppers and jalapeno" - as succinct a summary as any, though the jalapeño must have been a western innovation. Tibetan Kitchen, the eatery where the picture was taken, mentions only "long hot pepper". On the other hand this recipe on China Tibet Online, which calls it "browned beef", specifies not only the western jalapeño but also speciality ingredients like ground Emmo (Sichuan peppercorn) and Churu (mould ripened Tibetan cheese), which makes me wonder what sort of audience the site caters to.

[Aside: China Tibet Online, effectively the Chinese government's Tibet portal, is a classic in its own right. One article proclaims, "Official: The Dalai Lama's New 'Prime Minister' Illegitimate". Despite reading it through several times I was unable to figure out just what it was that made the illegitimacy official in character, and on whose authority. A little net-snooping turned out to be instructive. It seems the text was taken from articles that appeared on Global Times (to which it carries an attribution) and People's Daily, but with the first eight paragraphs omitted for some reason. And oh, also with the headline tweaked ever so slightly: both original versions go "Dalai's [sic] New 'Prime Minister' Illegitimate: Official". Now the mystery clears somewhat: not officially illegitimate, but illegitimate according to some official. The missing paragraphs identify the official as Xu Zhitao, a Communist Party of China's (CPC) Central Committee member. Little surprise, then, that he would denounce the appointment. But no, it turns out his remarks were about the putative illegitimacy of the Dalai Lama government as a whole. Even the reason given why appointment is flawed, and should be dismissed as "just another political show by the Dalai Lama", is that the government itself is non-official in character. So the article contains nothing at all about the PM's appointment specifically. Which makes for a rather piece of writing, not to mention insubstantial. But perhaps it might not be fair to blame China Tibet Online for it. After all, not only did it procure the article from other sources, it even took pains to omit the paragraphs where the problem locates!]

At Tselha Anze they happily used regular green pepper. I have no idea what kind of peppercorn they opted for, and don't recall tasting any kind of cheese. Tenzin insisted I have it with Ting Momo (or Tingmo as Tibetan Kitchen calls it) - rolls of dough twisted into interesting shapes and then steamed to a fluffy softness. I shall not wax eloquent about the Shabtak as I did about the Sha Bhaglab, suffice it to say that it was every bit as toothsome as the latter. So much so that even at the end of the meal, when I was close to stuffed, I still found it enjoyable to break off off bits from the Ting Momo, use them to mop up the gravy that had collected at the bottom of the bowl, and then chew them unhurriedly to savour the taste of the gravy. By the time I finished, there was literally nothing left in the bowl, except maybe a dried chilli or two. It cost me eighty-five Rupees, plus another fifteen for the single Momo I had (they usually sell in pairs).

By this time it had become dark,and pleasantly cool. So I decided to take yet another walk. A different sort of walk, though. Unlike the unseeing frenzy that characterised the earlier one, this was a gentle saunter through Shanthi Nagar. An old neighbourhood, surprisingly heterogenous, and with some really pretty houses. I couldn't take pictures of them, there was hardly any light around. But these murals painted on the walls of a nursery school (and fortunately located just below a street lamp) proved too strong a temptation to resist.