Login Register
Follow Us

The melting pot that is Mauritius

The last of the large flightless birds known as the dodo had been killed for food some three hundred years before my visit to Mauritius.

Show comments

Puneetinder Kaur Sidhu

The last of the large flightless birds known as the dodo had been killed for food some three hundred years before my visit to Mauritius. This island nation in the Indian Ocean had been its home for nearly four million years before European interventions led to its extinction in 1681. The Portuguese were the first to arrive in the first decade of the 16th century but didn't stay long. The Dutch made tentative forays before colonising in 1598, the French took over in 1710, and finally the British, who wrested control a century later. By the time they left in 1968, they had shipped a 50 million strong indentured work force from across their colonies to Mauritius. Indians formed the largest section of the contracted labour that came to toil on sugarcane plantations, alongside Africans, Chinese and Malays. That the cuisine of Mauritius is an appetising melange of rich and diverse flavours — Indian, Creole, French, and Cantonese — is hardly surprising. Even less so when local markets, also called bazaars, mirror the fuss and familiarity of our weekly apni mandis.

It was at one such in Port Louis that I got my first taste of the ubiquitous dholl puri, erstwhile dal puri of Bihar. Widely acknowledged as the national dish, this savoury crepe made with yellow split pea flour doubles as Mauritius' favourite street food. Smeared with a butter bean curry called gros pois, it is served with rougaille, a Creole tomato stew, achards (freshly pickled vegetables), coriander satini (chutney) and mazavaroo, a chilli paste for every meal. Prepared with wheat flour, roti chaud and faratas — the Mauritian version of chapatti and paranthas — are similarly paired with vegetable, meat or seafood curries, with an unmistakable Indian base of onion, garlic, tomato and turmeric. Seafood stuffed steamed dumplings called boulet mimic the dim sum, and are eaten in a spicy fish broth. Another Chinese treat is the mine frites — soy-sauce fried noodles — which comes topped with spring onions and oodles of mazavaroo. Locals tend to temper the fiery effects of the chilli with a go at the sweet mousse noir, an unappealing yet tasty and cooling black jelly usually stocked by the same street vendors. 

Mauritius is as much a fruitarian's heaven, as it is a pescatarian's dream come true. The island's tropical nature and fertile soil assures it an abundance of fruit; its beaches are dotted with coconut water and Victoria pineapple sellers. The warm waters of the Indian Ocean support a bountiful marine life that unfailingly makes it to the dining table. Catches of the day can metamorphose into a lightly grilled meal with a slice of lemon or show up in fish vindaye, a dish cooked with mustard, garlic, ginger, onion and turmeric, eaten with rice. Fresh prawns are tossed around in rougaille while shrimps in a hot sauce make for a delightful camaron. Fish also finds its way into briani (or biryani), yet another Mauritian favourite that is evidently an Arab influence. As is the alouda, a sweet milky drink that has agar agar seeds and tapioca pearls, much like the jigar thanda of Madurai! The Mauritian sweet tooth seeks out the goodness of ladoos and jalebis, as much as it enjoys homey flans, cardamom-flavoured vermicelli, corn pudding, and gateaux Napolitaine. Gajak, though, has no relation whatsoever to the crunchy sweet treat back home. In Mauritius, these are deep-fried snacks — casava fritters, samosas, gateau piment — generally sold hot off motorbikes around beaches and local markets.   Something I discovered after my post-prandial request for some had earned me a look, I suspect, usually reserved for the proverbial dodo. 

Show comments
Show comments

Top News

Most Read In 24 Hours