Superior MoMo: Skills

Photo Credits: [HERE]
Back at my time at Budhanilkantha School, I had a very good friend who was both a talented musician and an excellent cook. His parent's owned the famous "Makoo Bakery" in Jwalakhel and I used to visit there at times just to use him as a leverage to get my hands on free Black Forest cakes. Paying to eat the flavorful, lustful dessert was already a delight, eating it for free made it all too sweet. 

Jokes aside, he was indeed a masterclass in the kitchen. He cooked Buff, a buffalo substitute to cow, with real vigor and excitement, shelling out melt-in-your-mouth buff curries I had hardly imagined possible. The way it smothered and soothed the rice flakes, the way it tingled those sensitive taste buds and olfactory nerves, and the way the flavors rushed down on your empty belly made the experience almost at a level of unprecedented orgasm. 

But it was not the curry cooking that brings him as a topic of discussion here. It is in fact, his ability to eat and to eat so well  that is the prime focus of this writing, but more specifically, his art of eating MoMo:s.

His excellent skills were demonstrated to me first in school on my very first visit to the illegal Black Gate, a place where access to the delightful Nepali dumplings was just an arms reach away. You would basically toss the money over the school's wall and a black plastic bag with MoMo: would come flying in. The guys would then hide underneath the thick forests behind the field and prepare themselves to feast on what was possibly the most beautifully steamed dumplings we could ever think of. The only problem though, was the amount inside. It was depressingly small for large group of five hungry teenagers. With the school's meager pocket money system, we would only have enough dough for a plate of MoMo:.

So every time that little black plastic bag opened, all hell would break loose. If one had to document a short clip on "fight for survival" or the "survival of the fittest," that would be it. You would have to feel for the guy who would "voluntarily" open the plastic bag as often he would only end up drinking the sauce for his gallant service.  

Unfortunately, as the rules stated, the first-timer had to be the one opening it and I was called upon to do the most unselfish deed I have done in all my life. To be honest, I wasn't ready for it but what could I do? I took a deep breath, looked at each and everyone in the eye and opened it. I swear to god, the MoMo's were all gone in a split second and I was just left with the complimentary soup. 

If you look at it, the math wouldn't work out. There were five people including me which meant that there were only eight hands Vs the ten MoMo:s inside. Even if each one hand would take out an incredibly hot, steaming piece of dumpling, there should have been two left for me. How on earth did it disappear?

You see, the answer lies on the slow motion video I was able to record in my brain in sparkling resolution. While I opened the bag of plastic, my friend who was in the topic of discussion was able to reach in first, grab two deliciously hot dumplings, put both in his mouth while everyone was still busy shouting out "Atttthaaa! Kasto tato"  and then go for the other two. I was just so impressed that I had forgotten that those were MY MoMo:s that the sucker was busy grabbing onto. 

Later on, I asked him if he actually burnt his palate while putting that 100 degree Celsius dumplings in his mouth.He looked at me, gave me a cheeky smile and replied "that's how you are supposed eat it my friend. No burn no fun."

I still want my MoMo:s back, you hear me?


  1. Aha! What good is momo if it doesn't burn your palate? I loved how in the previous article you wrote that the word MoMo appeared infinity times in your times. Also, Makoo is my favorite bakery. Black forest is awesome there. So much smiles in this post. :)


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