Simply Rabdi-licious

Nagpur: We’ve all been there. Nearly full after a meal, we’ve given in to temptation to have an extra bite or three, and ruined any chance of having dessert. But ever had a sweet dish that, if you have more than one serving of it, would make you seriously consider skipping the next meal? Say hello to the blessing-cum-curse that is rabdi. Or, at least the decadent, food coma-inducing version of the sweet at Hattya Maharaj Rabdi Wale at Netaji Square in

Kamptee

. Set up about 130 years ago by Kaluram Sharma, the establishment got its curious name from his son Hariram, who was said to be a stubborn child. He wouldn’t be at peace until his demand (or ‘hatt’ in Hindi) for a particular thing was met and was, therefore, nicknamed Hattya. He ran the shop for several decades. After Hattya Maharaj’s death, his son Rajendra has been running the business. Like all still-surviving pre-Independence food establishments, Hattya Maharaj Rabdi Wale’s first marker of popularity was this: “It was a hit among the British officers and their families.” The fame of the place has not changed over the years. Neither has the recipe. Sharma says only close family members know it fully. But he can tell this much: It takes six litres of cow’s milk, boiled on a low flame for an hour, to make a kilogram of rabdi. The method to make it has also essentially remained the same. The Sharmas still have the old coal-fired bhattis (giant stoves) to cook the milk — Rajendra insists that this gives the sweet its smoky notes. The workers use a thin metal wire to skim the thin film that keeps forming over the slow boiling milk and collect it on the side of the giant kadhai. Layer upon layer of the diaphanous deposit forms the lachchas that give the rabdi its unparalleled creaminess. The end product is so thick, you have to use a spoon to have it. That’s right, this milk must be eaten. “We only add saffron, cardamom and a little bit of sugar to the rabdi,” Sharma says, adding that there are a few ‘tacts’ that he can’t reveal. At least 10kg of the rabdi is sold every day. The demand spikes on Sundays. “If any rabdi is left over, we make a special peda from it,” Sharma says. Most of the customers are Nagpurians, Sharma says, adding that this prompted the family to start a branch near Nikalas Mandir in

Itwari

about eight years ago. Sharma’s close relatives run another rabdi shop in Kamptee as well. Hattya Maharaj Rabdi Wale has been visited by a few famous personalities. Among them is celebrity chef Sanjeev Kapoor. “He came one day some six-seven years ago,” Sharma says. “He had some of our sweets and two katoris of rabdi.” Sure enough, a wall displays a photograph of Kapoor draining the last dregs of the rabdi from a disposable cup. It’s safe to assume that he skipped dinner that night. (This occasional column looks at some old eateries in the city, when they started and how they have evolved. Do you know of any? E-mail this reporter with exact locations and a little description. We will try featuring it if it fits the theme)