Berry Old Story
How the strawberry, popularised by the British in India,
has found its most delicious avatar in the combination with basundi
Strawberries and tennis is the Wimbledon combination.
But if anyone is looking for an Indian equivalent, they could consider
the Times of India (ToI) report from April 1907 of the
Mahabaleshwar season, when Bombay’s British escaped the sweaty seaside summer
by shifting to the Deccan hill station.
Every year, this much-anticipated break brought some
novelty. In 1907 it was “badminton and strawberry chota hazris”, the term for
the wake-up cup of tea being used for early morning sessions of the game, which
had been developed in nearby Pune, and eating the berries that were grown
locally. “There are two of these each week… This is a very happy idea, this
chota hazri.”
Strawberries were found in India before the British.
The fruit grows across the temperate hills of Eurasia, but the varieties are
small and, while often well-flavoured and appreciated in season, few felt it
worthwhile to cultivate them. It is notable that the Mughals, those
connoisseurs of fine fruits, never seem to have appreciated the strawberry
though they must have encountered it in the Himalayas.
What transformed strawberries were new varieties from
the Americas. From North America came a small, but strongly flavoured variety,
Fragaria virginiana, and from way south in Chile came a variety, Fragaria
chiloensis, that was large, though bland. It was when the two were brought
together, in France and England in the late 18th century, that the modern
hybrid strawberry was created.
This was a horticultural sensation and it is what the
British brought to India in the early 19th century. Lord Auckland, the
governor-general during 1836-42, is said to have grown the first modern
strawberries in India, but others were also trying across the subcontinent. In
1857, a ToI correspondent in the Punjab reported strawberries
in Sialkot, “a garden here with as fine a bed of them as you would like to
see”.
In 1859, the annual show of the Madras
Agri-Horticultural Society had “pots of strawberries in flower and fruit”,
presumably from the Nilgiris. In 1872 the Delhi Gazette reported
that Mr John Muller from Darjeeling had produced “a crop of strawberries which,
in size, colour and flavour, says the local News, surpass anything
it has ever seen in India”. In 1876, ToI printed a traveller’s
account of Ceylon which reported that in the hill station of Nuwara Eliya “we
saw a little bed of strawberries in one place; the good time is evidently
coming.”
The British set up systems to disseminate crops
through their empire, but strawberries were one crop that spread mostly through
the interest of amateur gardeners. It helped that, unlike fruit trees, they
grew fast and close to the ground, so were easy to maintain, as long as there
was enough labour.
This was not a problem in India and might explain why
some of the most impressive attempts at acclimatisation seem to have been done
in, of all places, Thane Jail, where prisoners must have provided plentiful
labour. An extensive report on strawberry cultivation in India printed in ToI in
September 1884 starts by acknowledging “the success of the experiment at the
Tanna Jail gardens under the able superintendence of Mr SS Smith” which proved
that strawberries didn’t have to be limited to the hills of the north, but
could be grown in the Konkan.
This example and expertise helped Mahabaleshwar
became the centre for strawberries in India. The weather was good, it was close
to the markets of Bombay and, most of all, had an influx of consumers in the
season. Strawberries became part of social life, even if the fruit itself
wasn’t always the focus. One ToI report on the season from
1871 mentioned two gentlemen from Poona “on matrimony bent — and I daresay
thought a strawberry party as good a place as any for furthering their view”.
It wasn’t only the British who were interested in
strawberries. Sir Jamsetji Tata had a large estate at Panchgani near
Mahabaleshwar and his nephew, Sir Sorab Saklatvala, recalled that Tata once
considered how “a jam factory could be built and strawberries grown on the
slopes of the plateau”, though, in the end, larger industrial efforts proved a
distraction. A ToI report from 1877 mentioned that
strawberries were now so cheap that “some enterprising Borahs are trying their
hand at manufacturing jams and jellies.”
By 1936, ToI was reporting that over
50,000 pounds (over 22 tonnes) of strawberries were being harvested annually,
with almost 50% consumed in Mahabaleshwar itself: “The rest find their way to
Bombay, Poona and Belgaum… Special consignments of course are sent throughout
India by visitors to their friends.” Jam apart, Indians didn’t seem that
interested in the fruit, put off perhaps by the contrast between the lusciously
red colour and the rather sour taste of the hybrid strawberry.
It has taken time for us to realise that the value of
the hybrid strawberry is not in its taste itself, but the way it complements
other flavours. Strawberries and citrus, like orange juice, is excellent.
Strawberries with a dusting of sugar and pepper is surprisingly good.
Strawberries work well in salads as much as pastry. But the real glory is
strawberries with dairy products, like strawberries and cream at Wimbledon.
Since Indians adore dairy products, this combination
was always going to be a hit and strawberries are now available across the
country and not just from Mahabaleshwar. From the Himalayas to the Nilgiris,
everyone is growing them. We are eating them with ice cream, in milkshakes,
with yoghurt, but if there has been one real breakthrough recipe it is
strawberries with basundi, the reduced milk dessert.
Strawberry basundi has quietly become a wedding
catering staple and should now be recognised as India’s real contribution to
strawberry recipes. Perhaps some of our badminton stars could consider
promoting it, as India’s answer to Wimbledon and a reminder of the local
histories of both their sport and strawberries.
vikram.doctor@timesgroup.com
ETM17FEB19
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