kheer kodom
For those of you who don't know what kheer kodom is, I recommend you put in on your to-do-before-i-die checklist or at least on the to-do-if-i-visit-a-bengali-sweet-shop checklist. Yes. Kheer Kodom is a sweet. but no ordinary sweet mind you. Its a sweet that feels like a drop of heaven has been placed in your mouth.
I am getting all poetic about Kheer Kodom today because it was distributed in my office. The office super boss had a baby so as is tradition in India, he got sweets distributed.
And as I took a bite of this endless-desire of a sweet, I remembered my very first encounter with it, about 7 years ago. I immediately felt the urge to tell the story to my colleague. Then to another colleague. Who cut me short to tell me that she knew my "kheer kodom" story. She said I told it to her a few months back the last time someone mentioned the sweet during random lunch-time chat. I had no memory of this, so to convince me she narrated my own story back to me in a bit of a sing-song parroting way, which frankly I did not find as funny as she did.
And that is when I realized I am so charmed by the story of my first meeting with Kheer Kodom, that I am compelled to narrate it to someone every time I think of it. Not caring whether they have heard the story before or not.Then I thought why not sweeten my blog with this story? (now that I have broken my blog-fast after nearly 6 months)
So here goes.
Around 7 years ago, I walked into the Sweet Bengal outlet near pali naka in Bandra west, umbai with the intention of buying sweets for someone I was visiting. I can't remember who. I think I wanted kaju barfi. I love kaju barfi. I made my parents buy me kaju barfi every-time I did well in school exams. And since it was not that often that I excelled in exams, my parents didn't mind the arrangement.
The guy behind the counter decided to engage me a bit instead of simply taking my order. I shall be forever thankful to him for that decision of his that day. He said to me in Hindi with a thick Bengali accent, "why don't you try one of our bangali sweets?" the question did make me ponder a bit. After all I had walked into a shop called 'sweet-'bengal'. He had raised a good question. "But then, what do I pick?"
Reading the confusion on my face, he ventured, "I will give a first class item". He carefully took out this rather unassuming, pale looking laddoo and offered it to me. And I thought, "oh no... classic hard-selling at work. how can I not be rude and tell him to just pack me some kaju barfi like I originally asked". Once again, he read my face and said, "just try it...you don't have to pay for it if you don't like it" I found myself succumbing to his persuasion partially thinking, "fine I will eat it, and pay for it also, just for his earnest effort" and partially thinking, "is it possible that i am going to taste something that is going to blow my mind as this man promises?"
One bite. Next moment, a rich explosion of flavour fills my mouth and with that an explosion of sheer joy fills my senses. When I looked at the man again, I realized that there was a big smile on my face and I think my eyes were twinkling. He just smiled knowingly.
Sweets of this size and shape typically sell by weight but not Kheer kodom. The Kheer Kodom sells by cost/piece. In Sweet Bengal, it cost Rs 10 per piece back then. Today, it has gone up to about Rs. 16 per piece.
This story works best when people have just tasted the sweet because they then know exactly the impact of that first bite of kheer kodom in my mouth. So, I guess although i have blogged about it now, I am still going to narrate the story every time I eat it to whoever is eating it with me.
My affair with the sweet continues.
I am getting all poetic about Kheer Kodom today because it was distributed in my office. The office super boss had a baby so as is tradition in India, he got sweets distributed.
And as I took a bite of this endless-desire of a sweet, I remembered my very first encounter with it, about 7 years ago. I immediately felt the urge to tell the story to my colleague. Then to another colleague. Who cut me short to tell me that she knew my "kheer kodom" story. She said I told it to her a few months back the last time someone mentioned the sweet during random lunch-time chat. I had no memory of this, so to convince me she narrated my own story back to me in a bit of a sing-song parroting way, which frankly I did not find as funny as she did.
And that is when I realized I am so charmed by the story of my first meeting with Kheer Kodom, that I am compelled to narrate it to someone every time I think of it. Not caring whether they have heard the story before or not.Then I thought why not sweeten my blog with this story? (now that I have broken my blog-fast after nearly 6 months)
So here goes.
Around 7 years ago, I walked into the Sweet Bengal outlet near pali naka in Bandra west, umbai with the intention of buying sweets for someone I was visiting. I can't remember who. I think I wanted kaju barfi. I love kaju barfi. I made my parents buy me kaju barfi every-time I did well in school exams. And since it was not that often that I excelled in exams, my parents didn't mind the arrangement.
The guy behind the counter decided to engage me a bit instead of simply taking my order. I shall be forever thankful to him for that decision of his that day. He said to me in Hindi with a thick Bengali accent, "why don't you try one of our bangali sweets?" the question did make me ponder a bit. After all I had walked into a shop called 'sweet-'bengal'. He had raised a good question. "But then, what do I pick?"
Reading the confusion on my face, he ventured, "I will give a first class item". He carefully took out this rather unassuming, pale looking laddoo and offered it to me. And I thought, "oh no... classic hard-selling at work. how can I not be rude and tell him to just pack me some kaju barfi like I originally asked". Once again, he read my face and said, "just try it...you don't have to pay for it if you don't like it" I found myself succumbing to his persuasion partially thinking, "fine I will eat it, and pay for it also, just for his earnest effort" and partially thinking, "is it possible that i am going to taste something that is going to blow my mind as this man promises?"
One bite. Next moment, a rich explosion of flavour fills my mouth and with that an explosion of sheer joy fills my senses. When I looked at the man again, I realized that there was a big smile on my face and I think my eyes were twinkling. He just smiled knowingly.
Sweets of this size and shape typically sell by weight but not Kheer kodom. The Kheer Kodom sells by cost/piece. In Sweet Bengal, it cost Rs 10 per piece back then. Today, it has gone up to about Rs. 16 per piece.
This story works best when people have just tasted the sweet because they then know exactly the impact of that first bite of kheer kodom in my mouth. So, I guess although i have blogged about it now, I am still going to narrate the story every time I eat it to whoever is eating it with me.
My affair with the sweet continues.
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