Kachaloo!!

First, an admission of complete ignorance: I have no idea what kachaloo means.

I do have some theories. Could it be a nonsense rhyming word that Urdu seems so fond of? We can never just say "khaana khao", it always has to be "khanna wanna khao"... even English words take on a nonsense rhyme when spoken in Minglish: family becomes family shamily. So is kachalu a mere appendage to aloo- the humble potato? This theory is borne out by the children's nursery rhyme we all learn-

Aaloo Kachaloo beta kahan gaye the?

Bengan Ki tokri mein so rahe the.

Bengan ne lat mari Ro rahe the.

Mummy ne pyar kiya hans rahe the.

Potato Shotato, son where were you?

Sleeping in a basket of aubergines were you?

The aubergine kicked, crying were you?

Mummy kissed, laughing were you?

(Admittedly in translation the little ditty is even more nonsensical than in the Urdu original). 

The other theory could be that "kachaloo" is just a "kacha aloo" or an unripe potato, which sounds quite unappetizing, until one remembers that plums are often called zardaloo- or yellow potatoes. Now unripe plums can be wincingly sour, and sour is a flavor we South Asian kids get. We grew up in trees- climbing up the mango tree to pluck the still green fruit, which has a name of its own in Urdu- kairi. Yes the very same kairi that gave birth to the paisley motif and is responsible for aam ka achar, the most-beloved of all pickles, as well as the refreshing kairi-ka-sherbet and mango fool, and the main ingredient in chaat masala- the spicy, sour, salty mix that is essential to our cuisine. 

Chaat- now that brings us to the true use of the word kachaloo. There is of course a real aloo kachaloo, a dish of lightly sautéed potatoes turned a delicious shade of saffron with the addition of chaat masala, and topped with creamy yogurt and some mint leaves...but the truly wonderful kachaloo has to be the one made with guavas. Fruit chaats are ubiquitous in our part of the world but to my mind they are somewhat too reminiscent of much-dreaded mixed salad- a sort of final resting place for all the little bits of not-quite-prime produce that never got consumed. Amrood ka kachaloo, on the other hand, is a delight- a perfect blend of slivers of pungent, creamy fruit spiked with dashes of lemon, sugar and liberal lashings of chaat masala. 

It is so simple to put together- no recipe required. Just scoop out the seeds of the split guavas- their grittiness here detracts from all the slippery tart slitheriness of kachaloo, and slice them in your hand, letting the slivers fall pleasingly into a mound of yellows, greens and creams. 

And then mix a dash of sugar with the juice of a neither-lemon-nor-lime neembu, and a generous spoonful of chaat masala. 

Just one bite and I am transported to my childhood summers, Karachi days so hot that we had to pull the curtains shut, creating an oasis of cool and dark, where the only sound was the comforting whirr of the fan overhead.