Final New Bombay post

This post wraps up my New Bombay recap. Mostly because I just can’t take any more reminders of this lunch when I’m practically halfway around the world away. The home delivery charges alone would exceed our mortgage.

So here are the final dishes from that memorable meal. These were the most unconventional ones (at least, to me). I would not have guessed my carnivorous cousins would be inclined to order these, but I’m glad they did.

This is called, quite simply and rather generically, okra with gravy. The okra was partly crispy, which gave it a wonderful texture and eliminated its characteristic slimy feel. The ‘gravy’ was yet another curry-based sauce, creamy and full-bodied. They were perfect together.

The last of the entrees was the Bombay egg masala. Hard-boiled egg quarters with sauce flavored with red chili powder, ginger, turmeric, garlic, onions, and tomatoes (I think). I couldn’t tell if the softness in the sauce was from some added milk/cream, or from a bit of the egg yolk mixing in with the sauce. Either way, it was simply wonderful.

Finally, dessert came. We didn’t have a chance to order more because the owner came by with a tray of complimentary sweets for the table. They were like milk candy with a nutty flavor. Great way to end a heavily-spiced meal. Plus, I had never seen the chocolate flavored kind before, so that was a nice treat.

My cousin sneaked in an order of gulab jamun too, which is basically a fried dough ball in a sugary rosewater syrup.

It was good, but I have to admit that the best gulab jamun I’ve tasted still belongs to my aunt. Yes, she of the homemade lassi fame. (No, I’m not biased. Why do you ask?)

Now, you may have noticed that most of the angles of these food shots are identical. I can explain that. Imagine a gang of serious eaters at a table, all starving (except that one loser *cough*me*cough* that we won’t mention). I didn’t have the heart to ask them to please hold off on digging in while I painstakingly tried to find good angles with which to document our gluttony feast. All I could do was sit still, hold my camera, while my cousin hurriedly put one dish after the other in front of me for its glamour shot. Then, after just one photo – just ONE – away it was whisked, on its way to an unceremonious demise.

It was a massacre, I’m telling you. It was difficult to watch. Almost as difficult as trying to keep track of where the dishes were.

I loved every minute of it.