I've always thought that calling the vada pao an Indian burger was an unfair comparison. Mostly because I've always felt that a pao is so much more flavourful than a burger bun and has so much more character. With its shiny, bright golden brown crust that gives it a bit of bite and the soft, porous centre, the pao is just more delightful than any bun you are ever going to encounter.
Of course, the pao is ubiquitous in Mumbai. Though it's most commonly associated with Goan Catholics, the fact is Mumbai can't do without its daily pao. You'll find a vada pao stall at almost every street corner; and if there isn't one then there's bound to be someone selling pao bhaji, misal pao, kheema pao, omelet pao or a dabeli.
And the best pao in the country can only be found in Mumbai; though no one is quite sure why. It could be a number of factors: the humidity, the quality of the yeast, the familiarity of bakers with the technique or the quality of the water. Whatever the reason, the pao in every metropolis tastes quite different from a Mumbai pao.
Its identity as an iconic Mumbai food, particularly as cheap food, has made it the perfect base for a new breed of trendy bars that have modelled themselves as cheap drinking places. The first place to put vada pao and kheema pao on its menu was WTF! in Khar when it opened in 2010. A few years later when Monkey Bar opened in Bengaluru, it included a Bombay vada pao and dabeli on the menu.
By this time, more than half way around the world, specifically in New York, a dish invented by a Korean-American chef was attaining global notoriety. David Chang's hoisin-coated pork belly buns were already legendary by 2010. Chang's open-mouthed steamed bao buns looked exactly like vada pao except that they had a sweet pork filling. It was a dish that was just waiting to migrate to Indian shores.
And that finally happened when Ellipsis, a very modern American-influenced restaurant opened in 2012. The menu included the famous pork belly buns, albeit in a slightly different version, theirs was flavoured with soy and had a base of Korean kimchi. Down the road, at The Table, another American-influenced restaurant, they did it with a hoisin-glaze. The stage was set.
And then suddenly two years ago, when the city witnessed the opening of a staggeringly high number of new restaurants and bars as well as a growth in home chefs, the flood gates opened. Everyone began experimenting with pao and baos.
At Pack-a-Pav in Bandra, home chef and entrepreneur Rohan Mangalorkar stuffs shammi kebabs topped with browned onions and herb-flavoured hung cheese into grilled paos. Monkey Bar, now also in Bandra, does a kheema bao and the popular Goan snack chorizo pao; the only difference being the chorizo are cooked sous-vide till all the fibres break down and the chorizo has a marmalade-like consistency. At the Social, you can get bold and jump into a pulled tandoori chicken makhani bao, a vada bao, an anda pao with a mozzarella-stuffed shammi kebab topped with a fried egg, or play it safe with a kheema pao. The bao bun has become familiar enough for the Colaba-based delivery service The Bao House Co. to base their business on it. Their soft and spongy baos come with a host of options, with my favourites being the coconut shrimp bao and the somewhat pricey Belgian pork belly bao.
Just as earlier baos could only be found in Chinese restaurants in Mumbai, the pao was quintessentially a street or snack food (with the exception of the Goan Catholic macapaos, for whom it was a daily bread). Today, it's difficult to find a trendy new restaurant that won't include either one, or both, on their menu. Baos and paos have finally risen to the top of the basket.
