Around Town: How a 1965 war veteran created this 51-year-old Pav Bhaji eatery, a south Mumbai favourite

Dandekar recalls details from the 1970s as if they were yesterday. (Express photo by Sankhadeep Banerjee)

Yes, the eatery was originally meant to be called Cannonball. But the painter missed the memo, and wrote Cannon instead. “My friends insisted we keep it,” he smiled, adding, “Do you know that a cannon is used by all three defence forces — the Army, Navy and Air Force?”

Although age has slowed him down, Dandekar recalls details from the 1970s as if they were yesterday. He remembers how the stall was inaugurated by then Mumbai police commissioner M G Mugwe. “He said that on behalf of the Mumbai police department, he was very pleased to see that Army discipline had started flowing into business,” Dandekar recalled.

Lieutenant General M L Naidu, however, refused to inaugurate it, telling him he must learn to live among civilians. Still, Naidu turned up that day. “He told me, ‘Dandy, do you understand what the commissioner said? He was pointing to corruption in the civilian and municipal system. We are Army people, we must protect our reputation and discipline.’”

Those words stayed with him, and perhaps explain why Dandekar insisted on collecting payment even from policemen. He also shared that even though the eatery began in 1975, it received its food licence only in 2023, after a long legal battle.

Only Amul butter is used, and pav is sourced exclusively from Yazdani and UP Bakery. (Express photo by Sankhadeep Banerjee)

How Cannon became the pav bhaji destination

When he started the eatery, Dandekar had no background in food or hospitality. On the day of the inauguration, he stocked large quantities of cold drinks after being persuaded by a major beverage company, which also signed him to an exclusive contract. Today, he no longer sells any aerated drinks. “It’s only lassi, buttermilk and water,” he said.

For food, Dandekar turned to his mother, Kamla Bai, who suggested batata vada. “But I told her I wanted the vadas to be bigger than a table tennis ball and smaller than a tennis ball,” he recalled. “The batter had to be thin and crisp so it could hold more filling.” His mother explained the process, and Dandekar wrote down the recipe. The vadas were served piping hot with coconut and pudina chutney.

For several years, batata vada was the only item on the menu. Samosas were introduced in 1982, and it was only in 1985 that pav bhaji made its debut.

“We were catering mainly to the lunch crowd,” Dandekar said. “Back then, we would display all the boiled vegetables, and customers would choose what they wanted. The staff would prepare a bhaji accordingly. It took at least five minutes per order.”

One day, he asked his staff which vegetables were ordered most frequently and decided to combine them into a single bhaji. To popularise it, he devised a plan. “I am a chalu (shrewd) man,” he said, laughing. During a Test match at Wankhede Stadium, he installed a television at the stall. As crowds gathered, he melted a 500-gram pack of Amul butter on the tawa, then another, and another, until the surface was swimming in butter. He sliced pav, soaked it in butter, and laid it out. “People had already eaten with their eyes,” he said. “Now they wanted to taste it.”

For several years, batata vada was the only item on the menu. Samosas were introduced in 1982, and it was only in 1985 that pav bhaji made its debut. (Express photo by Sankhadeep Banerjee)

The pav bhaji became an instant hit and soon Cannon’s defining dish.

Decades later, the eatery still has no chairs or tables. Customers line up along a four-foot peripheral wall topped with a marble slab that doubles as a standing counter. Service is quick and choreographed. Two older women clear plates and wipe surfaces, while a young staffer, Pooja, takes orders and assembles plates. Kuldeep Singh, a trusted hand, prepares the bhaji, creating an aromatic pool of Amul butter at the centre of a warm tawa and lining butter-soaked pav around it — an image unchanged from Cannon’s early days.

Dandekar is emphatic about ingredients. Cannon uses no artificial colours or flavours. “We are hardcore pav bhaji walas,” he said. Masalas come from APMC Vashi, potatoes from Indore or Uttar Pradesh—never Gujarat or Maharashtra, which he says are too sweet. Only Amul butter is used, and pav is sourced exclusively from Yazdani and UP Bakery.

Today, the menu is deliberately limited: pav bhaji, dahi vada, sabudana khichdi, halwa (sheera), rabdi, gulab jamun, sattu ladoo, peanut ladoo, lassi and buttermilk. Pointing to the gulab jamuns, priced at Rs 30 each, Dandekar said, “Look at the size of them. All our ladoos are made with jaggery. I want everything to be healthy.” Many of the vegetables now come from a horticulture farm in Talegaon.

Dandekar still visits Cannon daily, as does his wife Manisha, 78, who is also a co-owner. They usually spend a couple of hours at the eatery each day. When asked about the future, Dandekar is uncertain. “There is good money here, I won’t deny that, but you need that drive,” he said. “My son isn’t interested, my daughters are well settled. Kuldeep is eligible to retain it—his father served in the Navy—but let’s see what happens.”