A very merry Bandra Christmas

Meera Ganapathi plots a Christmas food trail through Bandra (West) with delicacies from its diverse villages and communities that tell the story of this historic suburb in Mumbai. Photos by Rose Tommy.

On an evening walk one day, I spotted my rather dignified neighbour sauntering down the street in a white toga with a crown of plastic flowers balanced jauntily on his head. 

“Good evening Mr B…” I greeted him, mildly alarmed but also quite intrigued.

“I came second,” he said referring to his unusual choice of outfit. 

It turned out that Mr B’s  ‘Caeser’ had won second place at the fancy dress contest at Bandra’s Annual Salsette Fete. In the magnanimous after-glow of victory, he directed me to this little-known fete and I spent a lovely evening sampling homemade food from various tables. 

A walk through Bandra West can often lead you to stumble upon its many stories, secrets and Salsette fetes. Made of a cluster of villages with residents as diverse as Bohra Muslim settlers to Kolis who were its original inhabitants- Bandra’s culture is as colourful and complex as its signature marzipan. 

Speaking of marzipan, Christmas is the best time of the year to explore the area on foot. The way to do it is to pick a crisp December evening and begin your trail with a drink at the local dive bar, Yacht (once the watering hole of seasoned alcoholics, now falling prey to gentrification and cheese-tomato sandwiches). After your drink, (preferably Old Monk and Coke) follow a delicate map of fairy lights through Bandra’s many villages and churches. 

While the fairy lights trail is perfect for romantics, you could also Hansel and Gretel it through the suburb on a food trail. Bring an appetite and take a winding route that traces some of the finest Christmas delicacies that Bandra’s many villages and communities have to offer. 

Here’s a plan:

Rum balls and marzipan at De Monte Park

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“Every year after midnight mass, my son’s friends come over to have my sweets. They might get late for their party, but they never miss my sweets,” says Mrs Hyrell DeSa, whose house smells like cake.  

Hyrell DeSa recommends her exotic fruit marzipan along with a crowd-favourite, her heady rum balls.

These irresistible sweets turn out to be rum balls.

“I never skimp on the rum you see,” adds Mrs DeSa explaining their appeal. It seems like the spirit of Christmas is, in fact, a generous amount of rum.

Mrs. DeSa who has been in the business of made-to-order sweets for 30 years now recommends her exotic fruit-shaped marzipan. She translates her natural love for painting into tenderly sculpted fruits that are ‘very different’, ‘not the kind you find here’. And indeed they do look like they tumbled out of a Bosch triptych, vivid, exotic and slightly surreal.

Originally a SantaCruz girl, Mrs DeSa learnt traditional East Indian sweet making from her in-laws who have been associated with Bandra for generations. As testimony to the fact, a sepia-toned photograph of the Vicar of the Mount looks down grandly on all who enter their sweet-smelling living room. 

Not only does Mrs DeSa take care to use only the finest of ingredients from Crawford Market, but she’s also very particular about her packaging. 

“Only white, silver and gold will do,” she beams.

Mysterious milk creams at Pali Village:

(If you know, you know).

But why does everyone make sweets?

A stupid question, apparently.

“It’s our lord’s birthday, how else does one celebrate birthdays?” asks a confectioner from Pali Village who wishes to remain anonymous. 

It’s a warm November afternoon when I meet Aunty M at a school for underprivileged children. Her eyes twinkle behind smudgy spectacles as she introduces her friend who also wishes to remain anonymous. 

Selling homemade sweets in Bandra is a competitive affair and those who get famous are often besieged with orders they’re ill-equipped to handle, much to the annoyance of their competitors.

The ladies I meet, however, are only in it for the love of sharing. 

“It’s difficult to make these sweets,” says her friend Mrs C.

“Very difficult,” she adds furrowing her brows in memory of long hours spent stirring batter.

However, they’re experts at making East Indian sweets, using ancient family recipes typically passed down from mothers to daughters in the community. 

The ladies interrupt each other frequently as they list a host of tediously made confections from jujubes, milk creams, cake and riquejao to the rather adorably named, ‘basket sweet’- pie crusts shaped like little baskets and filled with sweetened coconut and edible colour.

The old heritage homes of Bandra West add nostalgic charm to the neighbourhood. The cats know the best ones.

“East Indians have a tradition that came from the Portuguese and was later adapted to include Indian cuisine. I think we may actually have the maximum variety of sweets compared to any other community in Bandra,” says Aunty M. 

Sweet making begins on the 15th of December and ingredients are painstakingly stirred by hand, often while watching television shows. Once the sweets are ready, nieces or neighbours step in as ‘tasters’ before the final batch is packed and sent to clients.

The bestsellers are milk creams. When I mention never having tried one, I’m sweetly invited home for a tasting. 

“I told you I love sharing,” says Aunty M twinkling again. 

Nostalgia, chicken roast and duck moilee at Rajan Village:

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At a charming 150-year-old cottage in Rajan Village, a chicken roast is primped with sage on a vintage porcelain plate and presented with flourish in the centre of an ornate, antique octagonal table.

“Want to take a photo?” asks Mr Neil Fernandes, obviously proud of his best-loved dish. 

I’d rather eat it, I think to myself. It is 12:30 in the afternoon and Joanna Cottage smells like Christmas lunch.

I’m told that the roast is stuffed with cocktail sausages, fresh green peas, and ham, but its entire recipe is a closely guarded Fernandes family secret. 

Neil Fernandes at his 150-year-old cottage in Rajan Village.

Legend has it that there were once so many Fernandes’ in Bandra that the family had its own cricket team in Chuim. But Neil is only wistful about a time when Rajan Village was surrounded by dense thickets of coconut trees leading to the Arabian sea. Carter Road and its concrete promenade have replaced the trees today. 

These days Neil and sometimes even his sprightly 80-year-old mother join in to cook and cater everything from duck moilee, fugias (East Indian balloon bread), mince pies, roast beef sandwiches, corn tongue, quiches and more to the residents of Bandra. 

Mr Fernandes who once worked as a welder quit to continue the family catering business and picked up tricks of the trade from his mother Pauline Fernandes. 

“I can’t sleep in the afternoons anyway, so I catch up on my reading,” says Pauline when I apologise for interrupting her nap to ask her questions. With her perfectly coiffed short black hair and straight-backed posture, her age is only betrayed by her admission of it. 

Pauline claims she never knew how to cook as a young bride until she joined Mrs Karanjia’s cooking classes in Bandra in the early ‘60s. 

“That’s where I picked up an interest,” says Pauline. 

I notice an old photo on the mantelpiece that piques my curiosity as old photos always do. Pauline in her 30s, with a coiffure reminiscent of Indira Gandhi, is dressed in a printed chiffon, a brood of children lean on her as she sits elegantly cross-legged on a rock, brimming with the self-assurance I see even today. 

“I wanted to make extra income for our family,” she says. 

And her ambition and interest eventually turned her into an expert sweet maker. She began using family recipes, selling under the name ‘Cottage Caterers’ before she transitioned into the elaborate lunch spreads, they’re famous for today. Now, the menu is a refreshing mix of East Indian and Goan cuisine and they’re besieged by orders all year round. 

But on the 25th of December, as various family members drop into Joanna cottage, the feast on the table is for the Fernandes family alone. 

“I love a good pork roast,” says Pauline. 

Conscious Christmas Cake at Chimbai Village:

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In a charming lane down St Andrew’s church in Chimbai village, Jennifer Menezes Mallick (Jenny) along with her husband Javed Mallick, offers locals a contemporary Mangalorean Christmas at The Village Shop. 

The popular café is always teeming with regulars- a rotating crowd of health-conscious yogis, vegans, ‘cheegans’, ‘gheegans’ and others who linger over conversation and the tangy-sweet Kombucha (don’t knock it till you try it). Each table has fresh seasonal flowers tucked into Mason jars and that, along with a salty breeze wafting in from the Arabian Sea provide respite from Chimbai’s dust and heat. 

As a girl, Christmas for Jenny meant an assortment of traditional Mangalorean fare- kalkals, coconut toffee, chaklis, guava cheese, kuswar and more- thanks to her grandma, who was an expert cook. Today she adds a contemporary accent to the sweets of her childhood and often borrows from local cuisines, adding healthy ingredients to the old recipes. 

While her specialty is Mangalorean style ‘macroons’ (not to be confused with French macaroons), cashew-based marzipan and savoury cheese sticks, the star at Christmas is obviously, cake. 

The Village Shop is frequented by those who love a wholesome meal with a side of peace and quiet.

Prep for this elaborate cake starts as early as November by gathering a wholesome assortment of fruits like dried organic raisin, candied orange peel, ginger and more that are drenched in rum. This is followed by preparing a freshly ground spice powder, that’s added to the rich and nourishing cake ‘Villagers’ swear by. 

Jenny wants to transition to a healthier Christmas while retaining the authentic flavours of her recipes by adapting wholesome local ingredients.

“Every home creates its own taste and yet each generation attempts to add their ideas to traditional sweets- that’s how we keep evolving,” she says. 

A KOLI catholic lunch

Be at the right place at the right time.

Death is almost pedestrian in Chimbai’s narrow lanes with coffin makers scattered casually alongside fishmongers and vegetable vendors. Strains of MLTR’s ‘Paint my love’ drift out of someone’s window over steel and plastic coffins until they finally reach Carmeline’s fish stall where a large dismembered tuna head drips blood onto the street. 

Fitting perfectly into Chimbai’s inherent drama, 63-year-old Carmeline Joseph Koli lords over her table of fresh fish, flanked by two chatty friends and a tourist furiously photographing her. Carmeline doesn’t seem to notice the tourist, or has chosen to ignore her. 

In Chimbai, gentrification rears its head in hordes of trigger-happy tourists who pass through the village fascinated by the proximity of death to the bustle of living. However, Carmeline tells me she isn’t affected by the attention. 

It’s a busy day as usual for Carmeline whose stall is packed with chatty friends, busy customers or trigger-happy tourists.

“I have to sell my fish,” she says. 

And even though making her living takes up all her energy, she somehow sets ample time aside to cook for Christmas. Koli Catholics have a unique Christmas repast that draws inspiration from East Indian and Goan cuisine, but centers around traditional Koli delicacies.

Neuris are Carmeline’s specialty, and she makes them either rawa fried with dry coconut and cashew or with freshly grated coconut and maida in the form of pastries. Marzipan and coconut cake are the other ‘star items’ on the menu along with shankarpalis and a delicious ‘daal sweet’ made of jaggery, ghee and channa daal. 

Chicken curry, fugias, wedding rice, and other dishes comprise a lunch that blends Koli cuisine primarily with East Indian food. 

On Christmas Day, Carmeline prefers a piquant chicken curry.

However, Carmeline doesn’t like to sell these sweets. Since Christmas is all about sharing, she distributes them amongst her Hindu friends and neighbours. 

“I put up a red star outside my home and on Christmas day I put on a new sari and attend morning mass,” she says describing a typical Christmas. 

Why not midnight mass?

“I’m not a heroine like you anymore,” she cackles as her entourage joins in the laughter.

A grand finale of Digene and carols at Mt Mary

The frenzy of Chimbai spills onto Hill Road in a rush of rabid Christmas shoppers, Santa hats and plastic trees. A few shoppers tend to take a minute from the chaos to gaze meditatively at the store-front display at Damian’s. Join them or keep walking and meet Bandra’s hypochondriacs at Noble Plus where I’d strongly recommend a pint of Digene to counter your past gluttony.

Finally, walk up Mt Mary steps and follow the sound of carols to the oldest church in the neighbourhood. Christmas or otherwise, the shops outside Mt Mary are brimming with dolls in loofah-like dresses, brightly coloured candles and an odd assortment of plastic legs, arms and houses to highlight very specific pains and prayers. The church itself stands like a wedding cake caught in time, with its curly Corinthian pillars and creamy steeples.

Stars, lights and nativity scenes are scattered all across Bandra announcing the arrival of the festive season.

Follow the inevitable throng of chatty ladies in floral dresses and find a quiet spot within to watch evening light bounce off the powder-blue walls of this semi-Gothic church. Despite being damaged by conquests and time, Mt Mary has been restored consistently and is now frequented by people of various faiths and beliefs. Which is why, it’s a fitting spot to pause, reflect and light a candle, bringing an end to your Bandra walk. 

Story in collaboration with The Goya Journal