Homemade Bombay Mix in Whitechapel: Unbelievable

Walking down through the immense densely packed Whitechapel market one Saturday afternoon I had to pause on one side of the brimming pavement to take stock and absorb what was happening around me. The stretch of road the market spans is overwhelming, Indian stall holders bellow as though scratched records under voodoo curses the price of particular goods, bags are stuffed with alien Indian fruits, vegetables, spices and seeds whist a freight of human traffic meanders curiously by.


As I collected myself I couldn’t help but catch sight through the sporadic gaps in between the passers, a small, discreet Indian man, concocting something from the top of a small checkered granny trolley, unable to make it out I investigated further.

The aged Indian man, with his inconspicuous mobile trolley was blending fresh Bombay mix (known as chiwda in India), fresh Bombay mix, holy Christ. The only Bombay mix I’d previously eaten or considered to exist was the dried, fusty alarmingly spicy variety that all newsagents seemingly sell by the sack load but alas, I had stumbled across an informal seller of a light, fresh and tangy sort.

The sellers English wasn’t fantastic so I failed to establish the origin of all the ingredients he was using, his trolley was clad with tiny plastic tubs that contained coriander, fresh onion, chick pea flour noodles, fresh chick peas and two tart liquids I couldn’t quite make out the flavor of. Each was shaken in turn into a large plastic tub, shaken and poured into a little disposal white plastic cup, topped with a little more fresh coriander followed by a plastic spoon and charged at a pound a pop. Simply amazing, my smile radiated for the rest of the day at the find of this little gem, hidden away amongst the market sellers, fresh Bombay mix.