When I used to live in Calcutta, very near our house on Lake Place, there used to be a Sweet Shop. And there was no pleasure more undiluted than when my parents would ask me to walk across to that sweet shop and get some rossogollas.

They were put into a clay pot (called a Bhanr or Matka), topped up with the sugar syrup and sealed close with a tissue paper and a rubber band. I would also sneak in some sandesh as an extra sweet with the change that was left over from the rossogolla transaction.

And so I grew up with the taste of Rossogolla, Jamun, Sandesh and Cham Cham and quite naturally believed that this was the length and breadth of Bengali Dessert Cuisine.

The Clay Pot used to make special appearances in our lives whenever we used to travel in West Bengal and Orissa (and we traveled a lot). Everyone from the roadside tea seller to the railway station platform vendor would offer us chai in a pot and the collection of broken down pot pieces around every joint would normally serve as a measure of its popularity.

So when we landed up at Call of Bengal, a delightful little Food Court option in Madhapur to grab a bite we were in for a surprising, delicious education.

The hungry dogs that we were, we ordered a set of starters – Fish Fry and Deemer Devil. For the main course we chose from an order platter that included Loochi+Radha Vallabher Aloo Dum, Rice+Chingri Maacher Bhapa and Moghlai Parotha+Kosha Mangsho. The dinner was good and we were happy campers.

Then Mou Ganguli stepped in and allowed us a glimpse into a world of Bengali Sweets that I (and the majority of my friends with me) hadn’t come across ever before.

While the bowl of Kesar Bhog evoked responses of familiarity and the Booondey was a  subtle variation of the Sweet Boondi we were all familiar with, the Mihidana and especially the Patishapta were strangers. Especially the Patishapta which was a plateful of Kheer filled pancakes.

And then the Prom Queen stepped into the Ball Room and all the boys began to drool.

What was brought out with a bit of imaginary fanfare was a helping of Chaanar Jilebi and a mouthwatering (spelt with a yummmm) serving of Doodh Puli.

The Doodh Puli was to me the magnum opus…the star of the show. It melted in my mouth and left a lingering taste of milk and coconut and a few gentle, exotic spices. It had a texture that felt magically rough and smooth at the same time. And it kind of topped the evening for me.

So, is there a Bengal that sweetens the tooth with more than just Rossogollas, Sandesh and Jamun…yes, I definitely think so…now that I have been ‘sweet talked’.

Thank you Mou. Thank you Call of Bengal.