Bhajji Pav
Bhajji pav is Mumbai's monsoon sandwich: a crisp besan-battered onion fritter stuffed hot into a soft pav, with red garlic chutney and a fried green chili, eaten beside scalding chai in the rain.
Bhajji pav is Mumbai's monsoon sandwich: a crisp besan-battered onion fritter stuffed hot into a soft pav, with red garlic chutney and a fried green chili, eaten beside scalding chai in the rain.
Beef keema pav is the Muslim Mumbai version of keema and pav: dark dry spiced mince scooped with soft buttered pav, made with water-buffalo carabeef in the lanes of Bhendi Bazaar and Bohri Mohalla.
Beef gives it away: a Goan Catholic kitchen, where the cow was never off the table. A dry, vinegar-sharp chilli fry folded into the poder's pao, soured the way only a coast under Portugal would.
Parsi scrambled eggs pulled off the heat while still wet and barely set, the deliberate opposite of dry bhurji, scooped with buttered pav at an Irani cafe table. Texture decides the dish.