2 Bandra Girls Buy a Farm, Part 5 – A Popti Party

Readers of my farm posts may have wondered about my long hiatus. No, we haven’t abandoned the farm. It continues to flourish, thank God. And we continue with our travails, triumphs and adventures.

A lot has happened since I last posted about our electric poles. In short order, we had our first black rice harvest, grew loads of gorgeous, fresh, organic and sometimes bionic vegetables, installed our drip irrigation, and built our pretty toilet and tool shed. Each of these came with their own stories, characters and tales, but I will leave them for another day and jump right to the present.

The last few times we were at the farm, our manager, M, has been trying to persuade us to have a party on the farm. Not knowing what this would entail, we brushed it aside a few times with a gentle, “maybe later”. Last week though, he was insistent. We had to have a party while the weather was still cool, and it had to be in the evening!!! The latter was almost the deal breaker! It takes a little over 3 hours to get to the farm, so an evening party would have us driving back home on a pitch dark (and we thought deserted) highway with bad roads and hundreds of unexpected, unmarked, treacherous speedbumps. But M was having none of this. We had to party, and it had to be in the evening, or it was pointless. We reluctantly agreed, and the party date was fixed for the following Sunday, Feb 6th, 2022.

As we had absolutely no clue what to expect, we requested Mr Stonethrower to use his Marathi language skills and get us some clarity. After a brief conversation, Mr Stonethrower assured us that we needed to do nothing besides show up, as one does at all good parties! Also, putting to rest our fear of feeding the entire village and others, he was told the only people invited were our core team. And, all the cooking would be done on the farm. More and more mysterious. The farm has a toilet, a tool shed, and trees. Yes, of course, we understand bonfire, etc., but utensils? Ingredients? Plates? Chairs? Lights? All very worrying.

As we got closer to Sunday, I had another round of cold feet and called M to ask if he was sure we shouldn’t get anything. “Get biryani”, he said. Phew, so maybe there was a change in plans, and we were all getting together for a biryani party. That made sense. On hearing this, Bandra Rose called M to ask (once again) if we could have the party in the afternoon. No way, Jose, she was told. This is an evening ‘thing’, and people come from far and wide to take pictures of what we now learnt was to be a ‘Popti Party’ [pronounced Pope T]

So it was that we set off for the farm at 2.30 pm in a car laden with Mutton Biryani sealed with a ring of “aata”, Nali Nihari, Mithai and soft drinks.

The traffic out of Mumbai was surprisingly light, and we got to the farm in record time. It was a cool, clear evening, and we arrived in the golden light of dusk. Surprise 1 – absolutely no mosquitoes!!

Surprise 2, five chairs were brought out of the tool shed, which our local Imp told us he had managed by ‘doing a deal’ with someone in the village! On the ground were two large mats and, in the foreground, what looked like an Indus Valley earthen Choolah (hearth). Yes, yes, sue me; I’m a city girl and have never seen any of this. Was that for the Popti we asked? No! That was for the Biryani! The massive pile of hay was for the Popti. More mystified than before, we threw ourselves into the jobs at hand.

Soon, we were all at action stations. Several of us pitched in to clean a big heap of Bhamburdi (Popti) leaves that the Imp had harvested from the farm. These Popti bushes grow wild in the Raigad region of Maharashtra during the winter months. The leaves are medicinal and used by the locals to disinfect wounds. Local Imp quickly reminded us that he had used these leaves to stem the flow of blood when Mr Stonethrower had tripped and impaled his knee on a thorn and grazed his leg. By the way, it did stop the copious flow of blood, and nothing got infected, so full marks to Popti leaves.

So, were we supposed to eat these leaves? Much hilarity followed! No, of course not. The leaves were going to line the pot and provide insulation. It seems Bhamburdi or Popti leaves are not to be eaten but secrete oils, which impart their unique flavour to the contents. They also have some medicinal properties and help improve digestion and liver function. So, Popti leaves are pretty useful. Who would have thought?

After we cleaned what I thought was an abnormally large pile of Popti leaves, M proceeded to build the dish. First, he lined the bottom of a “Matka” (earthen pot) with the leaves. The “Gauthi” or Country Chicken he had bought had been marinated for two hours in Dahi, Ginger, Garlic, and standard store-bought Chicken Masala powder. His wife patiently wrapped this chicken [which was skinned but on the bone] in Banana leaves, making convenient parcels – as the French would say, en Papillote. On the bed of leaves went in handfuls of “Vaal Sheng” or Field Beans in their pods. They looked very similar to Edamame Beans. The next layer was the chicken parcels interspersed with a few raw “Gauthi” or Country eggs. Typically, whole onions, skin on, would have joined the chicken, along with potato, sweet potato and whatever root veg you liked. Remember, this is an utterly seasonal dish. Winter is root veg time. The only spice added was a rather large quantity of Carrom Seeds or Ajwain, whose flavour is similar in profile to the Popti leaves, so they complement each other. The pot was then topped very tightly with a final layer of Popti Leaves. That was it.

Since Bandra Rose was in a vegetarian cycle, a separate Matka was prepared with the Onion and Potato and Vaal Shenga. Thus, we had two Matkas – one with chicken, egg and Vaal Sheng and the other with onion, potato and Vaal Sheng.

Now it was time to cook. To my horror, the two Matkas were turned upside down [with the opening on the ground], and some sturdy dry branches were carefully placed around them. All this was covered with mounds of hay and set on fire. Yes, I know hay burns quickly, but even so, I was shocked at how quickly the hay ignited, it was scary, and I realised how dangerous and horrifying forest fires are. The hay burnt alarmingly fast, and the Imp was soon busy placing ever-increasing piles of hay on the rapidly burning flames.

Meanwhile, we made a tripod with 3 Laterite stones under which we placed some burning twigs on which we set the Biryani on Dum. The Indus Valley Choolah was used to heat the Nalli Nehari and the Vegetarian Biryani that Bandra Rose would eat.

Forty-five minutes later, M declared that the Chicken Popti would be ready. Needless to say, no one had brought any insulating material with which to lift the two Maktas, the Biryanis and the Nalli Nehari, off/out of the flames. One pocket-handkerchief [with multiple folds] and one Bombay Dyeing UltrX hand towel were sacrificed.

The Matkas of Popti were steaming and aromatic. The top leaves were removed and discarded, and the Matkas overturned on the waiting banana leaves. Out tumbled the contents, steaming hot Chicken Parcels, iridescent white Eggs and olive green Vaal Shenga from one pot and Potato and Onion and still more Vaal Shenga from the other. The smells were seriously amazing.

We loaded our plates. The food was searingly hot, impossible to touch and almost impossible to eat. A hot hard-cooked egg is bloody hot and remains bloody hot for a very long time. The chicken was cooked superbly, moist, falling off the bone, melt-in-the-mouth tender, and intensely flavoured. The onions, which had steamed in their skins, were moist, soft and sweet. The eggs were frankly fairly ordinary when they reached a reasonable temperature.

The flavour and aroma from the pot and the food were far more than could be expected from the humble ingredients. It was a classic case of the whole being more than a sum of its parts. Was it the great outdoors and clean air, was it the flame and the smoke, was it the uniqueness of the experience, was it that we were hungry? I think it was all this and more. It was a truly wonderful and fun evening.

Popti has its regional and communal variations. All are one-pot seasonal [invariably winter] dishes with root vegetables or fresh green garlic or Vaal Sheng or Paapdi. The non-vegetarian ones would have protein in the form of mutton or chicken. The Gujaratis have their Undhiya, the Bohri’s have Umbharyu [well, the Bohri’s are Gujarati too, one could argue] the Odiyas have something they call Ghanta [pronounced Ghan Taw]. This is by no means an exhaustive listing. Popti is typical of Raigad, a District in Maharashtra, so this is made mainly in towns like Alibaug, Roha, and now, of course, our farm.

We left the farm in the pitch dark and made it safely down to the highway. En route, we were surprised to see small restaurants, roadside stalls and wine shops brightly lit and heaving with people. What we had thought would be a lonely, deserted ride back on a dark highway NH 66 turned into a continuation of the party, albeit with different people, as we drove along with throngs of people who were out and about.

A perfect end to a surprisingly fascinating Popti Party. The farm continues to teach us something new every day!