On a driving holiday many years ago, our aged Fiat broke down in the middle of a remote village in Madhya Pradesh. I stepped into a round thatched hut with cool mud-washed interiors, where a woman served me water in a tall copper glass. Then she shyly asked if we would eat in her home but by then we had managed to get the car going. A little later, though, we were starving and stopped at a village eatery. The man literally opened shop for us &mdash pumped the stove, cut vegetables and kneaded dough. The rough dal-roti that late afternoon tasted divine. I have always wanted to do more of this &mdash drive into remote villages and stay awhile.