To be honest, I didn’t really understand the magnitude of what I was asking for.
Skimming through my e-mail, I find a press release on how Sri Krishna Sweets — famous for inventing the rich, creamy ‘Mysurpa’ version of the traditional Mysore Pak — was celebrating its founder N. K. Mahadeva Iyer’s 92nd birth anniversary this week. Since the founder also created the sweet, for just one day, the chain gave customers one kilo of this now-iconic sweet free for every kilo that was bought.
A day before the big give-away, I mail the company, asking if I can pop by, meet the owner and see the process. After some polite hemming and hawing, I’m asked to report at the Ashok Nagar outlet. En route, I bone up on Mysurpa trivia. This soft, unctuous version of the sweet is surprisingly controversial, dividing Mysore Pak fans into two camps. Those who still swear by the brittle, honeycomb version, jagged with flavour and crunchy with sugar. And the converts, addicted to this version, which the founder renamed Mysurpa, for its (as their press release puts it) “world famous melting magic.”
Smoothening the surface of a tray of freshly made Mysurpa. To my surprise, Murali enters the kitchen, quietly takes off his shoes, picks up a long-handled spatula and begins to stir an oversized, well-weathered iron kadaai , as a chef fills it with sugar and a generous splash of water. “The consistency of the syrup must be just right,” he says, as he tilts the spoon to demonstrate how the frothy mixture is getting thicker and stickier.
His chef takes over, adding freshly-ground gram flour (besan) to the syrup, and then stirring with a practised rhythm, roasting the mixture till it becomes glossy and the room is filled with its deliciously caramelly scent.
I take deep, appreciative breaths as they pour in warm liquid ghee. “This is the first time I am ever allowing an outsider to see this in 20 years,” smiles Murali. His team, gathered around to watch, nods wide-eyed.
As it turns out, most of them haven’t seen it either. “We make it only in our central kitchen in Thiruvallur.”
I’m suitable awed. “So, it’s a secret recipe?” I ask. He chuckles. “It’s sugar, gram flour and ghee. Our secret is the technique. The way it is stirred...” He adds thoughtfully, “Don’t tell anyone about that.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The rhythm with which the sweet is stirred as it steadily thickens into a luxurious lushness is unexpectedly complex. The mixture bubbles energetically at first. As it gets denser, there are big, audible, liquidy glugs. Then, it begins to splatter. We step back hurriedly, but I’m not quick enough. A searing blob lands on my wrist. Quickly ascertaining that no one is looking, I put it in my mouth. It’s delicious.
A chef slices trays of the sweet at the factory. As the sweet is poured into a tray, and smoothed on top, he talks about how his father invented it. “Traditionally, Mysore Pak is hard and porous. My father wanted to improve it; he tried a 100 versions, then found a way to get this soft texture. He put out a tray and it sold out immediately.”
This was in the early 70s. Today, they make one tonne a day at Murali’s central kitchen, and five times that during festivals.
The secret? Quality ingredients. “Pure ghee: it gives a flavour that stays.” Then there’s the signature stirring. “And love,” says Murali, in all seriousness.
Meanwhile, I’m eyeing the tray filled with still-molten Mysurpa. “Wait 20 minutes,” says the chef. “I don’t mind it warm,” I counter. “No, no — the texture changes. You must eat it only when it sets,” says Murali.
A staffer jumps up and volunteers to hold the tray aloft, right under an air-conditioner. Everyone around him fans it, and him, simultaneously.
Then, finally, they cut me a still warm, slightly wobbly slice.
Pyjama parties. In anticipation of their soon-to-be released cooking show, domestic diva Martha Stewart and rapper Snoop Dogg just threw one, featuring waffles, bacon and bling.
Sweet potato toast. After avocado buns and cauliflower rice, the clean-eating mafia toasts sweet potato and claims it’s delicious. The verdict is out: It isn’t
