#1 Curry: Escaping the Formal Economy (INDIA - part 2 of 2)

Following the lead of a rickshaw driver is a street food lover's dream. As tradition dictated, I dedicated a final, full day in Chennai to enjoying regional flavors, with an emphasis on understanding the informal street food economy of India. Under Rama's lead I was free to sit back, confident that he would expose me to the best street foods in all of Chennai. Stick with the locals.

We headed out with Rama at 2PM, learning that afternoons and particularly the evenings are the best times for street food. Vendors usually uncover their carts by 1PM to serve the midday rush, staying until three or four before wrapping up for the day. A separate wave of vendors emerge with the last rays of sunlight to operate the evening crowd. Over the melee of impatient horns and grumbling engines, Rama shared with us his insights on Indian street food culture.

The majority of local citizens rely on meals bought off the dusty, sooty roads as an inexpensive calorie source. A basic rice and curry plate costs no more than 20 rupees ($0.40), a third of typical restaurant fares. More formal dining arenas are frequented by middle and upper class Indians to avoid the sanitation risks associated with eating in unregulated settings. As we drove, my eyes followed Rama's sudden gesture down an unexceptional street. "This is the #2 place for beef curry. You can see all the rickshaw drivers are eating here today." True to his description, a slanted row of neatly parked rickshaws formed a golden-yellow block against the monotonous cement background. A congregation of men, heads dipped to their plates, hailed Rama as we passed. Our rickshaw continued on, destined for "#1 curry" (leave it to Rama). Moments later we had sidewinded through oncoming traffic and cut a surely illegal U-turn to park by a compact, wooden blue cart. Despite being shunted off to the side of a three star hotel, the cart was surrounded by locals who prefer quality and simplicity to the bounty of restaurants in the vicinity. Rama ushered me behind the production table, elbow-to-elbow with the slightly startled vendor, to smell the action taking place. I edged in behind the surprisingly clean, well-maintained cart, and found myself catching a unique glimpse from a typical vendor's perspective towards the facing crowd. The curious patrons (more curious than hungry, Rama informed us) smirked or smiled up to me, with curry-filled plates in hand.



INFORMAL ECONOMY
Street vending in India plays out a textbook description of informal economies. While there are no legal government permits to operate and impose minimal safety regulations, vendors must bribe local police 10-20 rupees daily to avoid harassment. Despite the fluctuating conditions of the informal economy, vendors usually make more money than participants in the formal food industry according to Rama. #1 curry vendor dishes out an impressive 300 plates in three hours during the afternoon. At 20 rupees a plate, absent fixed start up costs, the man grosses nearly $120 USD for the shift. Variable operating costs are also lower with the one-item menu. Vending is a typically a family affair, with wife and mother participating in preparing and cooking the food. Unlike small independent restaurants in the formal sector, street carts are not usually passed down through the generations. Instead, many relocating Indians might set up a stall to alleviate debts while searching for other work. The unregulated nature of the street food economy has additionally created an informal credit system for trustworthy customers. Vendors may permit monthly payments for meals, and debts are casually memorized rather than meticulously recorded by pen and paper.

SOCIAL NORMS
In a small village, squeezed into another corner of Chennai, a shy woman was crouched by a circular griddle with her patterned sari wrapped neatly around her. She efficiently ladled and spread the fermented daal batter by her side over the hot stone in a few practiced movements. Minutes later, a thin dosa crepe was folded back onto a banana leaf, heaped with a familiar, spicy beef curry, and thrust eagerly into our hands. Feeling accustomed by this point to eating without utensils, I dug in and enjoyed a remarkable sixth dosa in three days. I had requested that we find a street vendor that "cooked" on site rather than merely dole out foods from industrial-sized pots prepared in-home. Beside me Rama beamed at the clear satisfaction on my face and the success of his mission.

Women are invisible participants in the street food industry. We questioned Rama about the female dosa vendor and discovered that her small set up was not typically intended to serve people outside of her village. Within the village, her role as a street vendor was more akin to a member of the cook crew in a cooperative living situation. A larger crowd, including toddlers and their caretakers, gathered around to watch us mop up the simple meal, wide-eyed in wonder as if to ponder, "Why are these foreigners here eating our humble food?" Humble or not my mouth tingled from its spicy deliciousness. Half of my delight I attributed to the elemental nature of our meal, and the other half to the opinion of my taste buds. Aside from our unusual presence, women are never seen eating from street vendors, much less playing the role of one. Rama explained that it was more comfortable for women to forgo the long stares in the clearly male-dominated environment and pay a few extra rupees to sit indoors. Not to say that women don't love street food as well; a national quality. Social customs differ throughout the country and in Goa and Karola, women feast or serve alongside men under the sun.

BEEF - The edible kind
Another intriguing aspect of Indian street food was the availability of meat in a predominantly vegetarian region. India has a hefty 80% Hindu majority which reveres the cow as the god Shiva's vehicle of transport, i.e. the cows with brightly painted, dual-tone horns, wandering aimlessly through the streets are not for eating. Beef and pork are absent from the handful of non-vegetarian South Indian restaurants, substituted instead with poultry or mutton. However, beef is surprisingly common in curries and stews from street carts, albeit scrappy, sinewy cuts and small cubes of liver; fine by me, I prefer the various textures. The reasoning is purely economical, beef is cheap whereas mutton is not.

SUGGESTIONS
Attach yourself to a local (preferably a rickshaw driver) to experience delicious street food at clean(er) locations. You can be certain that they have sampled every street cart around to find the best. Food vendors fill unexpected pockets around the city and would be impossible to scout out unguided. I had no need for either Immodium or pink Pepto, but bring both for peace of mind.