Jagannath Bhojonaloy: Vegetarianism, the traditional way

Eating out at restaurants in Shakhari Bazar is like a trip back in time. I remember the first time I hit those bedraggled streets of Old Dhaka in 2010. A friend invited me to enjoy a feast he threw for his brother-in-law during the Poush Shangkranti, or now-famed Shakrain. 

I was grateful to that friend for introducing me to the special meals they cooked during the Shakrain, most of which were vegetarian. Later we explored the streets rife with the smells of agarbati and incense. 

With the sounds of shankha and the beating of drums from the adjacent temples, the spiritualism in the air was palpable. I have kept going back to that street ever since for the lure of the sandalwood or frankincense, or to fill up my senses with the hullabaloo of the households that seem immersed in the symphony of life.

Don't expect a fancy decor

At the entrance to Shakhari Bazar, you will find at least twenty biryani shops jostling to grab your attention. For a change, I wanted to veer away from their call, and try something less spicy, more earthy yet flavoursome. That is how I discovered Jagannath Bhojonaloy, a shabby-looking restaurant serving everything vegetarian. 

For those who come through the Gulistan road and take the Tanti Bazar lane, keep going until you reach the point where the road is bifurcated. That narrow alley is infested with jewellery shops and screaming hawkers, since many people visit those shops to mortgage their gold jewellery. 

Look above carefully; you will find a neon sign with the restaurant's name on the second floor. This place has stood the test of time and change of owners. 

Expect nothing fancy as you walk up a ravine staircase. First-timers may not even realise they are entering a restaurant, because no door takes you inside. The rectangular space exudes a naff vibe on first impression. The chairs and tables are on par with a roadside 'bhaater' hotel. 

The basin to wash your hands is dirty, and while doing so, you can have a peek inside the kitchen. The front of the small window through which the food is served is crammed with tiny aluminium bowls containing curries. If you are a foodie who nitpicks, this is certainly not a place for you. 

Same food, round the clock

At Jagannath Bhojonaloy, you are never a lonely eater. The restaurant starts serving food from 7.30 am in the morning, till 11 pm at night. Even at the odd hours of the afternoon or twilight, you will see them serving the same food – rice with a smorgasbord of vegetarian dishes. 

For those who think vegetarian dishes mean the shak vaji and alu bhorta, a surprise awaits you when they bring in their tray full of small bowls of gravies and fries. 

Besides the typical items, the menu usually has kachkola rosha (green banana gravy), soybean rosha, daler bora diye alur jhol (gravy of lentil dumplings and potato), panch sabji niramish ( five vegetable medley), shorisha vendi (okra in mustard gravy), dhokar dalna (lentil cakes in a spicy sauce) and chanar rosha (cheese with potato gravy), etc.

It was drizzling outside when I reached Jagannath Bhojonaloy. Some of the servers were resting or chatting, while a few others were cleaning the restaurant to prepare for evening eaters. 

As usual, a plate full of warm rice was served with the usual tray full of curries. According to traditional norms of vegetarian meals, one should start with bitter items as they clean the internal system, and prepare the palate to dig into richer flavours. However, I wanted to start with something different since I had already tried their vegetable medley. 

Gravy-tating towards flavours

The waiter served me chhanar rosha. Even though rosha is supposed to be a thicker gravy, the one they served was a bit runny. Looking at the rest of the items, I realised almost all of their gravies were similar, because the traditional vegetarian cuisine doesn't use any onion or garlic as the base. 

Both are considered to be rajasik and tamasik, according to Hindu scripture, which means they can awaken desires in a way that one will become defocused from one's spiritual journey. The chefs, therefore, start cooking by tempering the oil. In most cases, it's mustard oil.

The oil is heated to a certain point so that its pungency disappears. Then it is tempered with spices to make it more flavorful. In this case, I could clearly see darkened whole cumin seeds floating in the gravy or smeared on the chunks of cheese and potatoes. 

Cumin: The critical tastemaker

Being a regular cook, I could almost visualise cumin seeds sputtering in heated oil and releasing warm and earthy aromas. Cumin, spice-ologists suggest, is a globetrotting spice that made its journey from ancient Egypt to the Indian kitchens during a period of 5,000 years. It accentuates the sweetness with a citrusy note (thanks to belonging to the Parsley family) and works magic with rooty vegetables. Nevertheless, in this dish, the spiciness came entirely from the ginger paste, which was balanced with the milky taste of the pieces of cottage cheese. 

Thanks to the widow cuisine

The next thing I tried was the dhokar dalna. For this food, we should be grateful to the widow cuisine of Bengal, which has a misogynist past. In the 19th century, during the times of Sati daha pratha, many widows were restrained from eating items like meat, fish and onions; items which could 'entice their desires and elevate their libido.' 

It was quite ingenious of them to discover items like dhokar dalna, made of chickpea or chhana dal paste, which was not only full of umami flavours, but also a great source of plant protein. The dalna served at Jagannath Bhojonaloy tasted rather picante, but the chickpea cakes were as tasty as they were supposed to be. 

It was a good decision to try out their raw mango chutney, and boy, was it a treat! Though a bit flowy, the chutney gravy smelled and tasted heavenly due to the use of five spices, aka panch foron. Also, the use of sugar helped remove the tanginess of the raw mangoes, pieces of which literally melted inside my mouth, making my taste buds vacillate between sugary and savoury sensations.

Last but not least 

I wanted to eat more, but I was already satiated. Yet, coming to Jagannath and not trying their niramish felt like a crime. With a bit of disappointment, I found some of the vegetables were still chewy, as they did not have enough time to boil. 

When cooked properly, this vegetable medley, like its French cousin Ratatouille or Italian brother Ciambotta, can win hearts. Though I refrained from trying the soybean rosha or soybean fritters gravy, I can vouch for their versatility. They taste as good as any meat curry, because of the way they are usually cooked alone, or with chickpeas. 

My last item on the menu was rice pudding, aka payesh. The dessert was delicately flavoured in the most delightful shade of pearly white colour. The milk was not too thick or thin. Just perfect. 

The sweetness wasn't overpowering at all. Rather, it was very subtle, which helped to cleanse my palette, which was already high from the irrefutable bond of spices and vegetables. I could feel my tummy full and ballooning, though all the food cost me only Tk210. 

A sweet ending

After such a heavy meal, one needs a walk. I knew a stroll along the busy alley of Shakhari bazar would help me eliminate the bloatedness. And it did. 

Roaming around the narrow lanes brought back memories of my first Shakrain as the steely rings of rickshaws passed by me. Nothing has changed here and nor that it should. One of Dhaka's busiest and most colourful streets has managed to remain the same with all its glory. 

As I felt relaxed and less full, I tried a gurer sandesh from Amullyo Mistanno Vandar, which has always been my go-to sweetmeat shop here. The cubes of molasses-drizzled curd never fails to amaze me. 

On that sweet note, I called it a day!