Munching on chikki

There are few joys as simple and sublime - and crackingly wonderful - as biting into a piece of peanut chikki. It is especially divine if it's the legendary Lonavala variety. That perfect balance of sweet jaggery and crunchy peanuts, a treat that takes under 30 mins to prepare but a lifetime to forget - especially if your molars decide to register their dissent.

It all starts innocently enough. A delightful crunch, a burst of caramelised nuttiness, and the smug satisfaction of having chosen a snack that's as trad as it's delish.

Never mind that the chikki has a tendency to leave a small souvenir or two behind. It turns out that the chikki isn't as brittle as the old filling was, leading to the destination of the dentist who will solemnly issue his or her decree: 'No more hard stuff.'


But tasteful habit, and habitual taste, has a mind of its own. The hand, acting purely on instinct, drifts towards the shelf where another piece of chikki patiently waits for crunch time. Some little pleasures in life are simply meant to be chewed on repeatedly.