I am both a very adventurous eater and crazy food lover, so a class that combines Indian history and food history is my dream come true. That being said, I regretfully admit that I have absolutely no experience with Indian food outside of the minimal section of premade food inside my local Whole Foods. Walking into the Taj Mahal Imports Chaat Corner, I truly identified with Jennifer Nardone’s description of human experiences of material landscapes. According to her, locations such as this small Indian grocery store “reproduce familiar and recognizable spaces for members of the in-group” (pg. 198). However, outsiders like me who are oblivious to these hole-in-the-wall type places “feel unwelcome because of their unfamiliarity with the ambiance of these spaces” (198).
As I walked through the doors of the grocery store, I was overcome by the smell of fragrant spices and the sight of seemingly thousands of products and foods that were foreign to me. The front of the store displayed Hindu figurines, a section of British goods, and various vitamins and health products among other grocery items. Moving towards the back of the store, there were displays of fresh produce and the Chaat Corner counter and menu.
But, being curious and also starving, I was very excited to try my first authentic Indian food. Posed a pseudo-challenge by our professor that Panipuri was the most adventurous thing on the menu, I decided to order just that. But trying not to throw myself into hot water I ordered my Panipuri medium rather than hot. The friendly woman behind the counter gave me a bright smile and began to prepare my dish. She broke a hole into the hollow and crispy fried puri with her thumb. She then filled it with a mixture of onion, chickpeas, potatoes and spices, and dunked it into three separate bowls of flavored water called pani and presented it to me over the counter.

To my fellow Americans, it honestly tasted like cold and tangy taco meat, which I found both very amusing and interesting. Panipuri is a type of street food snack that is served one at a time, so as soon as I had finished my first one I was immediately given my next. Almost like a very large bite of sushi, something I have also not mastered, Panipuri should be eaten in one full bite so as not to lose the delicious spicy liquid inside—I observed this practice as some apparent regulars behind me ate their Panipuri. It is also customary to drink the leftover liquid at the end, which was definitely the spiciest and most adventurous part of the dish but still very delicious.
As I continued to eat my Panipuri, I was overwhelmed with the warm feeling of a loving mother or grandmother trying to fill me up at a family meal. If I not raised my hands as a sign of a full belly I think the Panipuri may have kept on coming. I felt welcomed and appreciated, if only as a customer, which was an enjoyable contrast to most American quick dining experiences these days. According to Arijit Sen, immigrant stores like Taj Majal Imports “serve as sits of social, political, and economic transactions. These places promote in group solidarity and sustain a robust ethnic economy” (198). Even as an outsider and newcomer to Indian culture, I experienced a sense of solidarity that often comes along with food in that it brings people together and creates common ground and common experience. My first taste of genuine Indian food left me with a happy tummy and a new favorite food spot.