Lost art of foraging

Ispent the last weekend in a luxurious desert camp near Jaisalmer in Rajasthan. The property, The Serai, was awesome: it consisted 21 luxury tents and when I mean luxurious, I mean the works. Over 1,100 sq ft, it is air-conditioned, beautifully furnished and each guest has his or her plunge pool.

The good monsoon had transformed the desert, bringing verdant vegetation and desert water melons (inedible except by goats). But what interested me was the food served. Jaisal Singh, the owner of the Serai, who also owns the better known Shergarh in Ranthambore is a gourmet connoisseur.

So an English chef Gemma was hired to train village boys in the art of making western food, including baking. Breakfast started with delicious croissants and eggs benedict. The hollandaise sauce was perfect and the quality of the eggs exceptional. The best I have had in India.

The manager, Cassandra, an Australian lady who had worked in the Aman, a resort in Gaul, Sri Lanka, expressed pride in the fact that most of the modern European food — great pasta, salads — was made from produce grown in the camp’s  garden — this included ten varieties of lettuce, fennel, parsnips, and aubergines. All this could be achieved by employing drip irrigation. The salads benefited from the freshness of the produce and organic method of cultivation.

She also referred to some delicious local mushrooms. Local boys from the hotel went to nearby villages and encouraged foragers to find them. These mushrooms were small and bursting with flavour. The flavour came closest to the amanita genus of mushrooms, of which the most famous is Caesar’s mushroom, the favourite of Julius Caesar. It is expensive and in London would retail for around £70 a kilo, if you can get it.

Going to the villages and seeking the help of foragers to chance upon gastronomic delights is the new style of cooking. According to the San Pellegrino food guide, the Spanish restaurant, El Bulli (now closed), has been displaced by a Scandinavian restaurant, Noma, in Copenhagen, as the best restaurant in the world.

Scandinavia is not known for its cuisine, apart from pickled herrings and the smorgasbord (and you have to like fish). It was considered a gastronomic wilderness. However, the ingenuity and innovation of one chef, Rene Redzepi has changed all that. Noma has now become a cult. The official waiting period to get a table is nine months. 

One of the original features of Noma is that it has employed four foragers who go into the countryside and pick foods which are not just local, but have some historical connection to traditional preparations. Redzepi has taken things like tree bark, snails, moss, seaweed, and paired them with the more conventional, setting a new benchmark.

So, you have dishes like egg white, birch wine and wild mushrooms, seaweed with sweet bread, bleak roe and sea shore herbs. I must confess that I have not been to Noma, but those who have, rave about the combination of flavours and textures that are magical.