Flavours from the canteen: recipes BRKM alumni still crave

Few things tie alumni together quite like the taste of food served during their school years. For generations of students who passed through the gates of Baranagore Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama High School, the canteen was more than a place to grab a quick bite. It was a daily ritual, a social equaliser, and a keeper of memories that linger long after the final bell has rung. The clang of the bell, the chatter of friends debating whether to spend their tiffin money on a puchka or an egg roll, and the unmistakable aroma of spices drifting from the stall near the boundary wall — these sensory snapshots return whenever alumni gather, whether in Kolkata or in a suburban home in Sydney.

The canteen culture at Baranagore Ramakrishna Mission was defined by simplicity, speed, and flavour. There was no menu board, no QR code, and certainly no app for pre-ordering. A handful of trusted vendors served the same loyal crowd year after year, perfecting recipes that had been passed down through generations of tiffin carriers and steel dabbas. Alumni who now live in Melbourne, Brisbane, or Perth often speak of these recipes with a mixture of reverence and longing, recalling details that seem impossibly vivid: the exact tang of tamarind water in a puchka, the crispy edges of a singara enjoyed on a rainy afternoon, or the comforting warmth of a mug of chai shared with friends during the winter months.

For many alumni who have settled in Australia, the search for these flavours has become a kind of culinary pilgrimage. Indian grocery stores in Harris Park, Dandenong, and Sunnybank have become treasure troves for those seeking to recreate canteen classics in distant kitchens. The challenge is not just sourcing ingredients like kalo jeera or specific varieties of green chillies, but also remembering the proportions and techniques that made the originals so memorable. Conversations in alumni WhatsApp groups frequently drift from reminiscence to recipe exchange, with former classmates in Adelaide and Fremantle trading tips on how to coax the perfect crunch from a singara or how to replicate the frothy, sweet tea served in tiny glass cups.

Reunion gatherings offer a chance to taste these flavours once again, often prepared by alumni volunteers who have spent weeks perfecting their versions of canteen favourites. The committee behind BRKM Reunion has long recognised that food is a powerful thread connecting past and present, and has woven culinary traditions into its broader mission of supporting students. Stories of alumni giving back, whether through study centre scholarship success or contributions to the school magazine, often begin with a shared meal that rekindled old friendships and inspired new commitments to the community.

The puchka stall legacy

No discussion of the Baranagore Ramakrishna Mission canteen can begin without paying homage to the legendary puchka stall. Positioned near the entrance, often under the shade of a large banyan tree, the stall was a magnet for students from the moment the morning assembly ended. The vendor, known to generations simply as "Puchka Babu," worked with a rhythm that was both efficient and theatrical. One hand would crack open the crisp puris while the other dunked them into a bowl of spiced tamarind water, finishing with a splash of the fiery green chilli-pudina concoction that made eyes water and tongues tingle.

Alumni who have moved to Sydney's Inner West or Melbourne's northern suburbs often find themselves seeking out the closest equivalent to that puchka experience. While the local Indian restaurants and food halls offer respectable versions, many argue that the magic of the school stall lay in its unassuming presentation — a humble tin plate, a few paper napkins, and the banter of friends waiting their turn. Recreating the tamarind water at home requires patience; the right balance of jaggery, roasted cumin, and chaat masala must be achieved, and the green chilli paste must be fresh rather than bottled.

The legacy of the puchka stall lives most strongly in the memories of those who counted their coins carefully, knowing that ten rupees could buy either a full plate of puchkas or half a plate with a friend. That spirit of sharing — splitting a plate between two friends, taking turns to sip the leftover water — was, in many ways, the true recipe. When alumni gather for reunions in Kolkata or host a casual catch-up in Brisbane, plates of puchkas are often the first item requested, prepared lovingly by volunteers who remember their own school-day splurges.

Egg rolls and evening snacks

The egg roll was the undisputed king of evening snacks at Baranagore Ramakrishna Mission. Sold from a separate kiosk that opened only after the last period, the egg roll was a study in contrast: a soft, flaky paratha wrapped around a filling of shredded egg, onions, green chillies, and a drizzle of mustard oil. The vendor's hands moved with practiced efficiency, cracking eggs directly onto the griddle, chopping onions with a curved blade, and rolling the finished product in butter paper before handing it to eager students.

For alumni living in Australia's colder climes, the memory of the egg roll takes on an additional layer of warmth. In Hobart or Canberra, where winter temperatures can dip well below what anyone in Baranagore is accustomed to, the comfort food status of the egg roll is amplified. Many have adapted the recipe for Australian kitchens, substituting local free-range eggs and using wholemeal or whole wheat tortillas when fresh parathas are hard to source. The key, they insist, remains the same: a generous handful of freshly chopped onions, a splash of raw mustard oil if available, and the precise moment when the egg is flipped so that it remains soft and slightly runny.

The egg roll also holds a special place in the lore of inter-house competitions and annual sports days, when students would queue for what felt like hours to grab one before the events began. Alumni who now attend local Australia Day gatherings or weekend barbecues in Perth often speak of bringing their own version of the egg roll to potluck events, much to the bemusement of non-Indian friends who become instant converts. The recipe, simple as it is, travels well — a testament to the canteen's enduring influence on palates that now span multiple continents.

The magic of Moghlai paratha

Moghlai paratha, with its distinctive sealed edges and rich, spicy filling, was the canteen's answer to a hungry student's deepest cravings. Unlike the simpler flatbreads served elsewhere, this paratha arrived at the table as a stuffed parcel, its exterior golden-brown and crispy, hiding a filling of minced meat or mashed vegetables mixed with onions, garlic, ginger, and a proprietary blend of spices. Each vendor guarded their spice mix with the secrecy of a family heirloom, and students developed finely tuned preferences for specific stalls based on the colour and aroma of their Moghlai parathas.

The recipe's complexity is part of its mystique, and alumni across Melbourne and Sydney have spent years attempting to replicate the exact flavour they remember from school. The dough must be kneaded until soft and pliable, the filling must be cooked until the oil separates, and the sealing technique — crimping the edges with a fork or twisting them decoratively — requires practice. Some alumni have turned their recreations into small side businesses, selling Moghlai parathas at weekend markets in Carlton or at community festivals in Western Sydney, where they find a ready audience of homesick Bengalis and curious food enthusiasts alike.

Beyond the recipe itself, Moghlai paratha represents the canteen's role as a training ground for adult appetites and ambitions. Students learned to appreciate nuance, to distinguish between good and great street food, and to respect the craft of the vendors who fed them daily. Those lessons in discernment and appreciation have stayed with alumni as they navigate diverse food cultures in Australia, from the laneway restaurants of Adelaide to the bustling hawker-style centres of Brisbane's Fortitude Valley. The Moghlai paratha remains a touchstone, a dish that anchors them to their school days while allowing them to share a piece of that heritage with friends and neighbours across their adopted home.

Tetra packs and tiffin treats

Before the era of bottled water and packaged juices, the canteen relied on a colourful array of tetra packs and small glass bottles to slake students' thirst. Lemon drinks in bright yellow cartons, mango-flavoured concoctions that left a sticky ring on wooden desks, and the occasional treat of a frothy banana milk shake from the corner stall were all part of the daily rotation. Tiffin carriers — the multi-tiered steel dabbas brought from home — added another layer of culinary interaction as students compared notes on whose mother had packed the best aloo dom or the most perfectly round luchi.

The seasonal rhythm of tiffin offerings mirrored the calendar of school life. During the hot Bengali summer, refreshing drinks were prized; in the cooler months, steaming hot chanar jilipis or warm samosas were the prizes of the day. Alumni now living in Australia, where the seasons are reversed, often find themselves craving these items out of sync with the local climate — wanting hot chanar jilipis in July when Australian winter is at its peak, or craving a cold lime soda in December when Sydney summers are in full swing. This temporal dislocation adds another bittersweet dimension to the nostalgia, turning simple cravings into poignant reminders of distance and time.

Modern reunion events have begun to incorporate these tiffin traditions, with organisers encouraging alumni to bring along homemade versions of their school-day favourites. The result is a potluck that feels both familiar and new, bridging generations and geographies. Contributions to the alumni magazine memories frequently mention food as a central motif, with writers recalling specific meals, vendors, and shared tiffin moments that shaped their formative years. The tiffin tin, once merely a vessel for lunch, has become a symbol of community and continuity, passed from one cohort to the next through stories, recipes, and the simple act of sharing a meal.

Reunion recipes: bringing the canteen home

The act of recreating canteen recipes in Australian kitchens has become a quiet ritual for many alumni, a way of keeping connections alive across thousands of kilometres. Social media groups dedicated to BRKM alumni frequently feature recipe threads, where former classmates trade tips on perfecting the singara's crimped edges, debate the merits of different brands of mustard oil, and share photographs of their attempts alongside childhood memories. These digital gatherings have become modern extensions of the canteen queue, spaces where the chatter is lively and the advice freely given.

Reunion committees have begun to formalise this exchange, compiling recipe collections and organising cooking sessions where alumni can learn from one another. Some events feature demonstrations by former students who have turned their culinary passion into professional careers, while others focus on the casual camaraderie of chopping onions together and recreating the sounds and smells of the old canteen. These gatherings, whether held in community halls in Sydney's western suburbs or in borrowed kitchens in Melbourne, serve as bridges between the past and the present, allowing alumni to honour their shared history while building new memories.

Ultimately, the recipes that alumni crave are about more than just flavour. They are about identity, belonging, and the simple joy of recognising that a particular taste can transport you back to a specific moment in time. Each puchka, egg roll, or tiffin treat carries with it the laughter of friends, the pressure of exams, the thrill of sports day victories, and the quiet comfort of routine. As long as alumni continue to gather, cook, and share these recipes, the canteen of Baranagore Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama High School will remain alive — not just in memory, but in the kitchens and communities that its former students now call home.