Momo’s

Momos are little crescent shaped pieces of heaven. Those little delights that I have been eating since I first hit northern India and Nepal back in the late 90’s. Yes I am that old.

They are made of very simple flour and water dough, not too dissimilar to making raviolis really. The dough is rolled as thin as possible, but not to thin that it will split in the cooking process. The filling is spooned into the centre then they are either made into the more traditional half moon shape or a more round dumpling type shape. They are then steamed over a soup or a stock base, which is served along side the momos in small bowls. A very hearty and delicious snack. It’s never a meal for me, just a starter or a snack.

They are really popular in Nepal and anywhere that Nepalese or even Tibetans hang out. But they can be found all over the Himalayas from Ladakh in the west to Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh in the west.

Pork filling is really popular, but anything can be put inside. I’ve even tasted momos with a vegetable samosa filling. Controversial I know.

They are normally made as a crescent shape but in Bhutan they make them more as a dumpling, in the Chinese style of dumplings. The ones in Bhutan were not the best in the world as the dough was slightly too thick, and sometimes not cooked properly. Potbelly stickers.

The best ones I had on this trip was at a house in Kathmandu. The lady of the house made the most delicious ones I have tasted in an age. The filling was pork, but subtly spiced and with a touch of coriander to give them that freshness. Lovely.

To make momos, you need to fashion the dough into small circular flat pieces. The filling is then enclosed either in a round pocket or in a half moon shape or crescent. The dumplings are then steamed over a soup or stock, this is in turn served with the dumplings, as well as a chilli sauce or even soy sauce if you like.

They can also be steamed and part fried, or even deep fried, not my favorite way of eating momos but some like the crispy coating.

They are very similar in a way to the Chinese Jiaozi. But it is really in Nepal that they are shown to their highest grade.

I’ve never found a decent momo in London, although I always meet someone who knows someone whose friend ate some as good as in Nepal. An urban myth if you ask me.

Nepalese Thakali Food

Nepalese food is a lot subtler in flavour and heat than its southern neighbour. It is very healthy as well, as they do not use that much oil or ghee. The sauces are not as fatty either compared to some Indian gravys I have eaten.

This was shown to me by my guide on my 5 day rapid trip through Nepal visiting nearly 20 hotels. Thankfully we were not invited to eat in many of those hotels, as I was sick of hotel food by that point.

The Thakali people originated from the north of Nepal in Mustang. They originally were trading people, but slowly over the years have migrated south into the cities of Kathmandu and Pokhara to set up businesses there.

As they used to conduct trade as far north as China and south as India, there adaptation of these foods has become legendary. No one does dal bhat (rice and dal) better than a Thakali. Slowed cooked in an iron pot, with some turmeric to add some earthy flavour.

The arrangement of the foods is essential as well. You will never find foods of the same colour next to each other. They never clash. The bowls are arranged neatly with the dal closest to you. Radish chips are an essential in a Thakali meal. Their crunchiness is as good as the potato version. The meats are slowed cooked and tender and fall apart when they reach your mouth. As I said the flavours are quite subtle and do not over power the meat or veg. Something some Indian cooks should take note of.

But with everything in Nepal, rice is the king. When we stopped for food, it was always said we are going to eat some rice. The other ingredients just add to it. I ate a lot of rice. Too much.

I’m not sure if there are any Nepali restaurants in London, but it will be fun to try and find one, as long as they sell the local fire water called raksi. 

My 100th Hotel Visit – A Landmark

After a major mis calculation, my 100^th hotel visit actually was in the Chitwan National Park at the rustic Island Jungle Resort. I thought it was here at the Yak and Yeti in Kathmandu, but I forgot about one property outside of Pokhara on Begnas Lake.

The rustic (best word I can come up for it) resort is only one of three camps within the National Park. The other two, Tiger Tops and Temple Tiger have both been closed for the last 9 months, as the Government wants no camps within the park. No idea why this rustic place still operates. Politics.

The trip across to the Island was by a small leaking rowing boat, in total there were 8 people, a lot of supplies and a bike. How we made it down and across this fast moving river is beyond me, but we did. A miracle.

A large elephant thrashing some grass on the ground greeted us. Not sure if it was happy with us arriving or not. But it was a sight.

The warm and big smiling manager welcomed us to his property, and forced us to eat before anything else was done. After a pretty piss poor lunch, we were shown to our basic or rustic riverfront cottage. The facilities included a fan. That’s it. This was ok, but electricity was only available from 5.30pm to 9.30pm.

We tried to get out of the elephant safari, but he looked so dejected, that we agreed to a quick one hour just to get the feel of it, citing we were very tired. His smile appeared again.

I have to say it was an experience. It’s so different to see a jungle from such a height. This also had its problems, the branches were now at head height, and after looking at the ground to try and spot wildlife I got twatted in the face by a branch. All wildlife spotting went out the window and we were more worried about getting our legs crushed by tree trunks or low level branches to the head. We had a few near misses.

We didn’t spot anything, except a few birds, a centipede and a million ants that fell onto us and the little fuckas bit us like mad.

Our 40 year old elephant was called Laxmi Kali. I felt akin to her being the same age, but she was an ugly beast and had major problems with her rear end. She farted continuously and elephants do big poos.

After the exhausting ride, we managed to get to the bar and started drinking. After 3 Everest beers we were pretty happy and had to endure another crap meal. The chef looked proud of his creations, but I should have told him it was crap, instead of telling him it was very good. He smiled a lot. I just couldn’t tell him. It would have crushed him.

After a shower I crashed before lights out, and woke up at 3am, never to return to sleep. This is becoming a pattern now, but the heat in the room was awful. My bed was pretty drenched in the morning. Maybe I should have slept in the shower.

I have to say I was never so fucking happy to get out of there, but looking back it was an adventure, and a worthy experience for my 100^th hotel visit. It will never be matched. I hope.

So the Yak n Yeti is 101, and tonight, I am going out for a Chinese meal with our ground operators here in Kathmandu. If it’s anything like being force fed beer and food on day one then it will be a fun night.

Hotel 102 will be in Bhutan somewhere.