It'll Only Be 10 Minutes, Sir...

Friday, Aug 6, Allison was ill with a bad case of Bangalore Belly from something she ate on Thursday.   The good news was I had access to the car for the day, and after having been homeward bound for the week, decided to go looking for furniture while she slept.

We ran into some beautiful wood, called North Indian Rosewood, at a restaurant recently, and we thought it would be nice to take home a small square table and four chairs made from this wood.  So, a new quest was commissioned to find somewhere in South India, in Bengaluru to make, sell, import, whatever, a table and chairs.  The wood is also known as Seseme or Sheesham, and it is only available in North India.

So, Imtiaz and I set out in search of said table and chairs.  The plan was to visit some furniture dealers on Ring Road towards Manyata, and then to go towards Commercial Street to see if a vendor in the furniture district handled this wood.

As soon as Imtiaz heard we were going to Commercial Street, he indicated that he wanted to go to the beef market - "it'll only take 10 minutes, sir".  Ok, no problemo, not realizing what the beef market was, and having been there I'd be willing to bet that the majority of the ex-pats have never been there - with the exception to Tom Murphy who was everywhere.

Friday is the holy day for the Muslim community, and Commercial Street are has 4-5 mosques in close proximity, and this day was the last Friday before Ramadan begins, which makes it especially important.  Needless to say, finding a parking spot took a long time, and by the time we got parked at Russell Market, and hoofed the 100 meters over to the beef market, we were into "lunch hour" and everything was shut down.  So, we needed to kill 30 minutes.

The beef market is an old brick building with two entrances, which lead to rows of stalls on either side of the entry way.  The stalls are constructed of elevated granite platforms, and each has a large (24" diameter x 20" tall) log that is the "butcher block".  Not all stalls have vendors, and you really are thankful that the whole place is dimly lit so you cannot see what might be living in the abandoned stalls.  The vendors display their meat on a wooden platform facing the walkway, in the open air.  There is no refrigeration. This is not a clean place, and at least one stall had a very mangy looking cat sitting at the feet of the butcher.

Outside, the entrance to the market is protected by a corrugated cement roof overhang, which keeps out the rain, but I am at a loss as to why that would be an issue.  It could be that it's true purpose was to keep the 200 or so Pariah Kites from snatching the beef from the display areas.  And the overhang seemed to provide at least one sleeping cat a spot in the noontime sun.

Next to the beef market is the "pet market", and this is about as vile a place as the Western mind can imagine.  Kittens, puppies, pigeons, parakeets, rats, bunnies, you name it, they've got it, are all housed in wire cages pending sale.  I cannot imagine the health conditions for the cage inhabitants.  I suppose if they do not live through the experience, they become the evening meal for the kites who inhabit the roof tops waiting for the butchers to toss the leavings onto the ground in front of the beef market.

We took a walk through the vegetable market and then trough the textile market and looped back around to the beef market, which took about 30 minutes.  All the while each of the mosques loud speaker systems were blaring out the days sermon and pilgrims were scurrying about, and one middle aged lady in a Saree meditating with her back to the lamp post in the center of the circle, her eyes closed with her face and hands held high as if reaching to heaven, with the traffic swirling about her.   As we walked, two wheelers and three wheelers were all vying for space on pathways barely wide enough for foot traffic. It was a very busy place.

By the time we got back to the beef market, the doors were up, and business was underway.  Entering, Imtiaz was immediately accosted by two butchers claiming to have the freshest beef.  I still did not know what Imtiaz wanted beef for, so I stayed out of the interaction as I was pretty sure this beef would damage my fine tuned Western intestinal tract.  The butcher cut some meat, and had his assistant, probably his son, cut into smaller chunks.  Then the kid put it in a bag and disappeared.  He reappeared about 10 minutes later giving the bag to the butcher, who was now thinly slicing some other meat for Imtiaz.

It turned out that the kid took the meat to the grinder to mince it, which  I cannot even visualize that after witnessing the market - I do not want to know.  And it turned out that the plan Imtiaz had put in place that morning was to make a fresh batch of beef kabob for me as a gift.  Upon our return to the house many hours late, he set about mixing the ingredients he had acquired into beef kabob mix.

I tried to cook over a charcoal fire on kabob rods while Imtiaz went to Manyata to fetch another ex-pat and return them to home, but I could not get the rod hot enough to cook the inside of the kabob.  Upon his return, I explained this to Imtiaz, and the importance of cooking this mixture well to avoid E.coli, whereupon he set about frying little kabob patties in oil on the stove.  These were well cooked, and they were quite tasty.  I'm am now waiting to see if there are side effects.

So, if anyone wants some very fresh beef kabob mixings, c'mon over, I've got some, and like I said, it is very fresh batch.