India: Ode to Orissa

  • On a garden path amid the leafy surrounds of the Orrisan capital’s Trident Hotel.

    On a garden path amid the leafy surrounds of the Orrisan capital’s Trident Hotel.

  • Fishing boats bringing in the night’s catch at Konark.

    Fishing boats bringing in the night’s catch at Konark.

  • A flower arrangement.

    A flower arrangement.

  • In the gardens of the Trident Hotel in Bhubaneswar.

    In the gardens of the Trident Hotel in Bhubaneswar.

  • Konark’s 13th-century Sun Temple.

    Konark’s 13th-century Sun Temple.

  • A photo op in front of the Udayagiri caves.

    A photo op in front of the Udayagiri caves.

  • A doorman at the Mayfair Lagoon.

    A doorman at the Mayfair Lagoon.

  • A statue of the elephant-headed god Ganesha on the grounds of the Mayfair Lagoon.

    A statue of the elephant-headed god Ganesha on the grounds of the Mayfair Lagoon.

  • A statue of a dancing Shiva in a Bhubaneswar workshop.

    A statue of a dancing Shiva in a Bhubaneswar workshop.

Click image to view full size

Now, thanks to Dalma and several emulators, Oriya restaurants are everywhere, including at the Mayfair Lagoon, whose Kanika dining room puts a five-star spin on the local larder. Some of the state’s most intriguing recipes, at least as Patnaik describes them, are only available on special occasions, such as a vegetable curry called ghanta that is made during the Dwitiya Osha festival, or a slow-cooked mutton dish, poda manso, that is reserved for formal functions. But the everyday fare served at Dalma is remarkable enough, redolent of mustard oil and cumin. I particularly enjoy the kakharu phool pithou—pancakes made from pumpkin flower—and the buttery-mustard flavor of fried rohu, a type of carp. A pungent and crunchy chutney made by crushing gram-flour biscuits together with garlic and spices is so good that I contemplate carting some home. I reckon if Patnaik ever finishes his book, it’ll be a best seller.

Later that day at the Udayagiri and Khandagiri caves, I discover where everyone is. The system of rock-cut chambers, carved out of the hillside for Jain ascetics in the first century B.C., is overrun with chattering groups of teenagers and young couples dressed in their Sunday best. I scramble up the rocks and clamber into the hermit holes, which are hardly bigger than the snow caves I used to dig growing up in Michigan. At the top of the hill, I have a fine view of Bhu-baneswar, which looks every bit a metropolis in the making.

Konark is a small town, hardly larger than a village, about 60 kilometers from Bhubaneswar on the Bay of Bengal coast. The drive there is pleasant enough—harrowing in an Indian taxi, of course, but unimpeded by traffic or the usual yawning potholes of Indian roads. From the moment we leave the city, there are palm trees and freshly harvested rice fields on either side, and all along the road, farmers have swept paddy onto the pavement for threshing by passing vehicles.

Share this Article

Related Posts

The Story of Sake in Photos

A new book provides a rare glimpse into the artisanal world of Japan’s national drink.

A Little-known Indian Hill Station Worth a Detour

With farmers’ markets, Himalayan views, and flora galore, Kalimpong is West Bengal’s best-kept s...

The Allure of Thailand’s Isan

Amid this huge swath of rural Thailand, three small resorts provide an immediate connection to the c...

5 Walking Tours to Take in Mumbai

From food to flea markets, these five themed walks are anything but pedestrian.

A Look at Seoul’s Flourishing Hanok Culture

In Seoul, a resurgence of interest in Korea’s traditional tile-roofed residences is breathing new ...

Watch These Big-Ticket Shows from Home

Get your dose of global culture this Easter through a compilation of must-see videos and live stream...