Nimco: Old Spice
There are many a Nimco-maker in Karachi, but there is only one original store.
The sinfully caloric crunch of Nimco owes its addictive allure to dough ground with red chili, salt and turmeric. Off-set a mouthful of it with a sip of scalding hot, milky sweet chai for the ultimate afternoon teatime experience.
Today any bakery worth its salt will offer nimco, but these are all imitations of the real deal. The original nimco-makers are located off Bohri Bazaar’s Albert Street with a storefront that snobbishly declares that they have no branches in Karachi.
This store opened in the 1950s after Haji Muhammad Jan migrated from New Delhi to Pakistan in 1948. Knowing that his wife’s recipe of Arwi kay pattay would become an instant hit, he opened Saltish Snacks stocked with savouries out of his wife’s cookbook. The Arwi or Colocassia leaves (also known as a form of Taro) are stacked, rolled into spirals with a spiced chickpea paste, steamed and then fried to make patra or Arwi pattay ke roll, the famous Gujarati Farsan. For nimco, though, once the chili- and turmeric-infused dough has gone through the relentless shredder, the snack is deep fried with Arwi leaves, peas and peanuts.
The store was rechristened Nimco Corner, however, as “the name [Saltish Snacks] didn’t roll off the tongue,” recalls his grandson Siraj Jan, who now runs the iconic venture. He is quick to stress that they are Nimco with a ‘c’ as the ‘impersonators’ use a ‘k’.
Today you will find a long line of loyalists picking and choosing dal mot, mixed nimco, khewra, namak paray, all firmly packed in the signature yellow bags, sporting the symbol of a long-necked porcelain teapot beside their brand name in fiery red.
According to Siraj, they entertain approximately 1,000 customers a day.
“Our Parsi customers shop early in the morning, before the area gets too crowded,” explains Siraj. “In the afternoon, we see a lot of Bohra tradesmen coming over for a bite.”
In addition to nimco, you won’t be able to resist their samosas, pakoras and jalebis which are sold round-the-clock. At many other stores you can buy them piping hot straight out of the pitch black wok. After the initial hard caramelised crack, the jalebis do a little dance on your tongue and the sugary syrup floods out of the coil onto the edges of your palette.
Here at Bohri Bazaar, though, as with the rest of the items, Nimco’s jalebis are prepared in the kitchen, which is a floor above the shop. Behind the shelves that house their 35 products, is a little room with a busy lifter. It tirelessly sends down Nimco packets and fresh jalebis, samosas and pakoras so no customer is turned away.
There have been advantages and drawbacks to keeping one store and not branching out. Prestige is retained and overheads are kept on a tight leash. “My grandfather used to tell us that we haven’t opened this shop to mint money but to serve people,” says Siraj. He had wanted to expand but the family was adamant.
Nimco’s exclusivity is embedded in its antiquity. What Nimco with a ‘k’ and other replicas sell as ‘Slims’, the spicy chips that send jitters down your spine, on Albert Street are simply called ‘Finger Fries’, just as they were originally invented.
Nimco’s prestige is also reflected in its salesmen. Behind the L-shaped glass counter, with at least seven other hands — both young and old — stands Mohammad Rafiq who has been working there since 1971.
“They treat us like their family, which is why I’ve been here for so long,” he explains simply. When asked about how things have changed, he lightly pats a packet. “Kachori paapar is our latest entrant,” he says with a smile.
And so, even though ‘genericide’ has eaten into many a brand name, and indeed Nimco’s as well with it being sold across Karachi, Haji Muhammad Jan’s business, which is almost as old as Pakistan itself, should be proud of its contribution to our teatime delights by becoming a household name.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30th, 2013.
Today any bakery worth its salt will offer nimco, but these are all imitations of the real deal. The original nimco-makers are located off Bohri Bazaar’s Albert Street with a storefront that snobbishly declares that they have no branches in Karachi.
This store opened in the 1950s after Haji Muhammad Jan migrated from New Delhi to Pakistan in 1948. Knowing that his wife’s recipe of Arwi kay pattay would become an instant hit, he opened Saltish Snacks stocked with savouries out of his wife’s cookbook. The Arwi or Colocassia leaves (also known as a form of Taro) are stacked, rolled into spirals with a spiced chickpea paste, steamed and then fried to make patra or Arwi pattay ke roll, the famous Gujarati Farsan. For nimco, though, once the chili- and turmeric-infused dough has gone through the relentless shredder, the snack is deep fried with Arwi leaves, peas and peanuts.
The store was rechristened Nimco Corner, however, as “the name [Saltish Snacks] didn’t roll off the tongue,” recalls his grandson Siraj Jan, who now runs the iconic venture. He is quick to stress that they are Nimco with a ‘c’ as the ‘impersonators’ use a ‘k’.
Today you will find a long line of loyalists picking and choosing dal mot, mixed nimco, khewra, namak paray, all firmly packed in the signature yellow bags, sporting the symbol of a long-necked porcelain teapot beside their brand name in fiery red.
According to Siraj, they entertain approximately 1,000 customers a day.
“Our Parsi customers shop early in the morning, before the area gets too crowded,” explains Siraj. “In the afternoon, we see a lot of Bohra tradesmen coming over for a bite.”
In addition to nimco, you won’t be able to resist their samosas, pakoras and jalebis which are sold round-the-clock. At many other stores you can buy them piping hot straight out of the pitch black wok. After the initial hard caramelised crack, the jalebis do a little dance on your tongue and the sugary syrup floods out of the coil onto the edges of your palette.
Here at Bohri Bazaar, though, as with the rest of the items, Nimco’s jalebis are prepared in the kitchen, which is a floor above the shop. Behind the shelves that house their 35 products, is a little room with a busy lifter. It tirelessly sends down Nimco packets and fresh jalebis, samosas and pakoras so no customer is turned away.
There have been advantages and drawbacks to keeping one store and not branching out. Prestige is retained and overheads are kept on a tight leash. “My grandfather used to tell us that we haven’t opened this shop to mint money but to serve people,” says Siraj. He had wanted to expand but the family was adamant.
Nimco’s exclusivity is embedded in its antiquity. What Nimco with a ‘k’ and other replicas sell as ‘Slims’, the spicy chips that send jitters down your spine, on Albert Street are simply called ‘Finger Fries’, just as they were originally invented.
Nimco’s prestige is also reflected in its salesmen. Behind the L-shaped glass counter, with at least seven other hands — both young and old — stands Mohammad Rafiq who has been working there since 1971.
“They treat us like their family, which is why I’ve been here for so long,” he explains simply. When asked about how things have changed, he lightly pats a packet. “Kachori paapar is our latest entrant,” he says with a smile.
And so, even though ‘genericide’ has eaten into many a brand name, and indeed Nimco’s as well with it being sold across Karachi, Haji Muhammad Jan’s business, which is almost as old as Pakistan itself, should be proud of its contribution to our teatime delights by becoming a household name.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30th, 2013.