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Nandi Shah

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When I shared the recipe for sabudana wada last week, I also remembered the other delights that my mother would prepare when she observed Farali fasts, in which grains were not permitted. The food was the only part of those fasts that I enjoyed as a child, but how much I enjoyed it! Sweet potatoes, fruits, a variety of tubers (and really, who doesn’t love tubers?) filled our plates and our tummies during those days. I presume the diet was carb-heavy to compensate for the lack of energy-boosting nutrients in the forbidden grains. My mother would often prepare sliced yam, which was boiled then deep-fried or pan-fried. Years later, I encountered yam chips in the home of a dear friend, and these came back to mind. So this newfound recipe contains elements of my childhood memories too.

As with most recipes that I learnt from my mother, and that I continue to share here on this blog, the masala or spices she used were very simple – salt, pepper and an optional dash of lime was all she used in her fried or sautéed yam dish. This ensured that the flavour of the actual vegetable or produce being used came through. This version, however, plays with more spice. One day, when I was visiting my dear friend Sujata Pelletier, her cook Annapurna spontaneously put together a crispy yam snack that reminded me of my mother’s fried yams, but was also distinct. In Annapurna’s version, the slices were thinner and the spices more pronounced. This was the one I wanted to prepare, so I called them up for the recipe and to double check that my ingredient guesses were correct. They were elated to hear that it was going to be written about, and I’m excited for them to see the photographs in this post.

Annapurna really is such an appropriate name for a person who cooks. “Annam” means “food”, and “purna” means “filled to the brim, overflowing”. Annapurna is also the name of the Hindu goddess of nourishment. That little bit of trivia makes recreating this dish in my home all the more delightful for me.

Yam is a very nutritious ingredient, absolutely packed with Vitamin A, C and B5. It helps with the absorption of other nutrients as well, and has a positive effect on cognitive function, menopausal symptoms, your metabolic and respiratory systems and more. I sometimes feel it is under-rated, and to this I say: never judge a book by its cover. While it’s rustic and not particularly attractive to the eye, it’s a vegetable with a fabulous taste. If you’re fairly new to this ingredient, a word of caution: be sure to oil your hands before you cut into it. Raw yam contains calcium oxalate, which makes the fingers itch!

But once they’re nicely fried, your fingers will itch in a different way – you won’t be able to stop at just one!

Yam Chips

(Yield: 2-4 servings)

 

14 kilogram yam

Salt to taste

3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon chilli powder

1 tomato (only pulp)

¼ teaspoon turmeric

 

Slice the yam and boil in water, along with the turmeric, until slightly tender. Drain well and keep aside.

On a plate, place the yam slices and add the chilli powder, salt and tomato pulp. Mix well until well coated. Let sit for half an hour.

In a pan, add the oil and once it has heated, place the slices gently on the hot oil. Allow them to turn golden and crisp on both sides. You may prefer to air-fry them as well (you can do the same for the sabudana wadas, by the way) They are now ready to serve.

You can enjoy your crispy yam chips just as they are, as a delicious snack, or have them along with hot rice and dal to add more texture and flavour to your meal.

Looking back, I can now see how a wide variety of other dishes from around the world would be suitable for Farali fasting too. These Spanish-style patatas bravas come to mind immediately. Do you observe similar fasts, and how do you plan your menus for the fast-breaking, or within the parameters of what is permitted?

I don’t know whether sabudana wada, a savoury snack made of mashed potatoes with a coating of tapioca pearls, is a typically Maharashtrian dish or a typically Gujarati dish – but that to me is the beauty of India. Cultures blend and co-exist, respectfully. That is who we as a country really are, and we should not forget this.

I grew up in that kind of India, and while I was growing up I knew sabudana wada as not just a Gujarati dish but one specific to the Vaishnav community. This was because it was among the items that my mother, who observed fasts called Farali in which grains were not permitted, prepared during those times. What to my mother was a religious observance was an opportunity for tasty delights to me, as a child. As a fried dish, sabudana wada was logically delicious.  Other things that we ate during Farali were yam, potato and sweet potato preparations, some of which I will share with you soon.

While the dishes themselves were something I always appreciated and looked forward to, it is only with maturity and hindsight that I am able to see just how important those traditions were to my mother culturally. But more than that, I am able to appreciate how broad-minded she was in the way she raised us. She had come from a conservative family, and we lived in a joint family with our grandfather (who was with us up to the age of 89). He fasted devoutly, and so did she – but never did she impose the various fasts they both kept through the calendar on my siblings and I. Despite not having a formal education, she understood intrinsically that it was wrong to force her beliefs on us.

Interestingly, her leniency meant that by seeing and admiring her example, the traditions she held dear actually became imbued in us. I can see them live on in my daily life now, in the rituals I observe and the food I consume. The next generation, my children, who were raised quite liberally, similarly learn about culture from my example. They see how it is a part of who I am, and it becomes a part of them too.

When I think about my upbringing and that of my peer group, I feel as though we were all raised in a much more harmonious and open way, even though what was common in our generation was that parents and families tended to make all the big choices on their children’s behalf. From education to career to marriage and more, these decisions were not usually in our own hands (I rebelled on a few counts to chart my own path, but the norm was always to respect one’s parents’ wishes). But our so-called conservative parents had such a natural affinity for cross-cultural exchange.

My sister and I were sent to a convent school as it had the best curriculum in the city, and I remember well how I would pray at the chapel with all my heart – and then go home to eat authentic Vaishnav Gujarati meals and pray in my family’s altar too. I had a burqa-wearing friend at that same convent school too, and she is but one example of the mix of communities, languages and backgrounds that we grew up with. At school, it didn’t matter to anyone at all whether you wore a bindi or a hijab, as long as your shoes were polished and your uniform was pressed and your nails were tidily cut.

We had so many perspectives to open our minds. We played together, studied together and broke bread together without thinking of the differences between us – because where it really mattered, there were none.

That was the India I grew up in, one in which diversity was celebrated and not considered unusual in the least. If you are of my generation, I have little doubt that that was the India you grew up in too. Let’s not forget where we came from. Personally, I see food as going a long way in restoring that harmony.

On that note, let us return to the topic of sabudana wada – a lovely Indian snack for everyone to enjoy, background no bar. Just bring your appetite and a warm, open heart.

Sabudana Wada

(Yield: Approximately 10)

 

½ cup raw tapioca pearls (will become 1 cup)

2 tablespoons crushed peanuts

1 cup boiled and mashed potato

1 teaspoon ginger green chilli paste

Salt to taste

2 tablespoons coriander leaves (finely chopped)

1 teaspoon sugar

3-5 drops lemon juice

Oil for frying

Clean and wash the tapioca pearls and then soak them for 4-5 hours. Strain the water. Make sure it is strained well. The pearls need to be dry to the touch. If needed, you can spread them over a thin cloth and allow them to dry a little.

Next, boil the potatoes until tender. Peel and mash the potatoes well while they are hot and set aside.

Now, add all the remaining ingredients together and mix well. Massage with the palms of your hands until you form a dough. Divide the dough into small discs. Sabudana wadas are ideally dainty, small and pretty, although you are welcome to make bigger-sized ones if you prefer.

In a pan on a medium flame, add oil. Heat the oil and drop the wadas and fry until they are golden and crisp on both sides.

They are now ready to be served. Enjoy with green chutney or ketchup.

Sabudana wada goes perfectly with a cup of chai. These lovely little snacks are ideal for a rainy day evening. We enjoy them very much at home, and I hope you will too.

 

I have been very inspired to make some pea soup thanks to seeing it on the Instagram feeds of many people whom I’ve been following keenly lately. I find the bright green hue of pea soup very, very attractive. We feast with the eyes first, as I say often. The colour green itself denotes good health, promotes a sense of calmness, and has associations with healing. Peas are still in abundance on the market right now, as I mentioned in my previous post on peas paratha (I hope you enjoyed that one; always happy to hear from you!). So my inspiration, which became both my photographic and culinary craving, was fulfilled. So, of course, was my appetite.

The technique that I find works best while making soup is to ensure that the flavour of the vegetable used is not drowned through the addition of too many spices. What I also enjoy deeply is tasting the flavour of the vegetable itself. You may have noticed this about my zucchini soup recipe too, which kept things minimal so as to elevate the key element. Personally, I also prefer my food in general to not be intensely spicy. This is rather un-Indian of me, but I do love to savour every ingredient. To me, when you cook and eat mindfully, you can taste the season of the harvest, the sunshine and natural elements that raised the crop, the work of those who brought it to us, and of course the love within the preparation itself. There is something about such an experience that contributes to well-being, just as much as power-packed ingredients ensure that our health and immunity stay strong.

In fact, when I was studying Macrobiotics, we were taught to hand-crush rather than use a blender. So the ingredients would be coarsely ground. In a soup, we have not just the liquid, but could also chew on the small pieces. This was where I learned the unique pleasure of slowly tasting the vegetable properly. Coming from a traditional Indian household, I hadn’t really grown up with soups, even though my mother was very inquisitive about culinary methods and was among the first in our community to take baking and foreign cooking classes. So I did not get into them until much later, and my fondness for them is associated with that time in my life where I learned all about the Macrobiotics ethos and began to observe the difference it made to my life. In fact, have a slight preference for soups over salads (although I do love both, as you know), and that is probably for this reason.

A mindful and mildly-seasoned method of preparing soup helps you distinguish between the different kinds, the different vegetables used. In the case of this recipe, if you have access to homegrown or organic peas, you will especially notice the distinct flavour. Those can be particularly sweet and fresh. They also cook faster. Soups are easier to consume as well, and are both filling and light at the same time. I hope you’ll explore my other recipes in this category if you are a fan of them too.

 

Pea Soup

(Yield: 2 servings)

 

1 cup shelled peas

¼ cup spring onions

2 teaspoons olive oil/butter

Salt to taste

A pinch of pepper

2 cups hot water

1 tablespoon fresh cream (for garnish)

 

Add the olive oil in a pan. Once it has heated, add the spring onions. Sauté for a few minutes, until tender.

Then, add the peas. Stir, lower the flame and cover with a lid. Allow the peas to cook until they are tender to the touch.

Add the hot water and then add salt and pepper, to your preferred degree of seasoning.

Stir, then remove from the flame. Allow to cool. Then, blend this peas mixture into a thick, coarse purée. You may use your blender for convenience, or you may experiment with the Macrobiotics way described earlier.

Return the blended mixture, now a proper soup, to the pot. Allow to cook, stirring occasionally. You may adjust the water quantity to your preference.

One it has cooked, scoop out the soup into bowls and serve garnished with fresh cream. You could also sprinkle some more spring onions, fresh and finely chopped.

As I said earlier, the secret to this one is really in keeping the spices as minimal as possible. I believe that salt, pepper and a hint of lime (if you like tanginess) are more than enough to add flavour to a good soup, and everything or anything else is an additional twist.

Soups are always soothing to consume. They really are a comfort food. I hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as I do, and that you have the kind of experience that I do when I have it – savouring the taste of the peas slowly and enjoying the warmth of the soup.

 

I’m the inquisitive type, and I love to know about everything that I eat. Recently, an ice cream recipe I was trying out called for guar gum, which made me wonder about its relationship to guar or cluster beans. With a little insight from Wikipedia, I learned this fun fact: guar gum, widely used internationally, comes from the guar seed and is exported from India. Guar gum is a thickening agent, and used in food industries around the world. Unfortunately, the processing the raw seed undergoes renders the final product rather unhealthy. Still, that takes away nothing from the goodness of guar itself. This wonderfully healthy vegetable hasn’t made an appearance on my blog so far, probably because it is not enjoyed by most of my family. But I know from experience that it is an acquired taste. I’ve been making it in a typical Gujarati style recently, in the form of guar dhokli. You may remember my dal dhokli recipe from years ago, and will be familiar with the stew-like concept behind it. This is similar: parcels of dough, known as dhokli, are cooked in a gravy – this one, full of nourishing guar.

Cluster beans are a bitter vegetable. The dhokli part of the dish balances this flavour out. Guar dhokli on the whole is a dish with several textures and flavours, and healthy too. As someone who enjoys a wide variety of vegetables, including unpopular ones like this one, I can safely say that a nice preparation, along with awareness of the benefits of an ingredient, can change one’s mind about it. This one contains: glyconutrients and a low glycemic index (making them good for diabetic diets) and folic acid (good for pregnancy diets). More generally, it is good for blood circulation, lowers bad cholesterol, and is rich in minerals, iron and Vitamins A, B and K.

As I mentioned, my family members aren’t fans, but I am. However, I too detested guar when I was growing up. My mother would make guar dhokli often and I would pick the guar out of the gravy and just eat the dhoklis, much to her fury! Funnily enough, once I got married and moved away, whenever I visited her I would request guar dhokli. It had a nostalgic quotient, and it truly began to grow on me. At this point, I would even go as far as to call guar one of my favourite vegetables. Some day, when my kids find themselves having a strange craving for it, they can look up this recipe. I am certain they will also have a change of palate as they get older.

The typical thaali that we eat at my house daily consists of a dal bhaat (dal and rice), rotli and a shaak, which is some kind of vegetable curry. This is the most basic Gujarati meal, and will be found at most households at lunch-time. Some may make it more elaborate by having one dry vegetable and a gravy one, or a savoury item and a sweet. But the core three elements remain. What happens in my home is that I often end up cooking some guar or some ridge gourd (which I I enjoy in a South Indian stir-fry, and have shared the recipe before) or some other vegetable that the others don’t like. So this just-for-me preparation becomes one extra dish, in addition to the core three.

When it comes to my kitchen, there are certain items that only I make. This guar dhokli happens to be one of them. Another one of my specialties is this Gujarati potato and brinjal curry. These recipes were transferred from my mother’s hands to mine, and somehow they just don’t taste the same unless I make them myself.

While preparing this guar dhokli, I pondered about how this authentic recipe has been preserved through the generations. My mother was only 19 when she moved to Chennai, and my siblings and I were born and raised here, just as my own children were. Still, we speak pure and perfect Gujarati at home, and the majority of the dishes we ate growing up were authentic ones. Even as I enjoy fusion food and amalgamating cuisines, I still find a way to maintain cultural and language traditions, even while integrating elements and influences. Food, of course, is the most beautiful way to do this – it’s amazing how we can enjoy diversity and also enjoy authenticity at the dining table.

Guar Dhokli

(Yield: 3-4)

 

Gravy

¼ kilogram cluster beans

2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

1 tbsp dhaniya jeera powder (coriander and cumin powder)

½ teaspoon sugar

2 cups water

 

Dhokli

¼ cup whole wheat flour

¼ cup chickpea flour

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

A pinch of chilli powder

1 teaspoon oil

¼ cup (or less) water

 

First, prepare the dhoklis. Make a tight dough with the above ingredients, adjusting the water accordingly. Now, make small discs with the palm of your hand. Set aside.

Then, prepare the gravy. First, wash and cut the guar into the desired size.

In a pressure cooker, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the ajwain. Next, add the chopped guar. Add 1 cup of water and allow the vegetable to cook until it is tender. This takes no more than 1 whistle.

Once cooled, open the lid and add another cup of hot water and then add the dhoklis that were set aside earlier.

Add the remaining spices and stir gently.

Once cooked, allow to cool for about 5-8 minutes. Your guar dhokli is now ready.

This dish is best served with rotis or rice, since it has a gravy component.

There you have it – guar dhokli, a dish that can turn a rather unpopular vegetable into a hit. Try it yourself and tell me what you think. I hope this recipe inspires you to bring the cluster bean into your repertoire, on repeat!

Peas are in abundance right now – they are in season, cheap to purchase, good for health, and I for one am glad they are flooding the local market. It feels like I am making something with them every day. Recipes I’ve shared with you in the past, like this harra bhara kebab, pea-pomegranate festive kachori and chura matar are being relished at my dining table. I’ve even begun using peas as substitutes for staples. For instance, I usually send my family members off to their offices with some aloo paratha in their tiffin carriers, but the potatoes have been swapped out for – you guessed it – peas. I would like for you to experience the lovely pea-stuffed parathas that they are enjoying at the moment too, so that’s exactly the recipe that I’ve decided to share this week.

Since I am now preparing as well as eating these pea parathas daily, I’ve observed that they are healthier and lighter than aloo parathas, which makes them more suitable for the mid-day meal when one’s work has to be resumed after. The best accompaniment for them is yoghurt and a cup of simple salad – add these two elements and you’re all set with a nice lunch. Traditionally, parathas are meant to be generous in size, but I prefer to make them small. They look pretty and dainty, fit more easily into your Tupperware or tiffin carrier, and the overall presentation just looks and feels nicer. That’s quite important for any meal, not just a special one. When a loved one opens their lunchbox at the office, the dishes within would have been prepared hours earlier and may no longer be warm or as fresh, so making them look attractive makes a difference.

I’ve been using peas grown in my region, but I must admit a preference for those harvested in Jaipur or Delhi at this time of year. The weather there is more conducive to this vegetable, and the yield is smaller in size and so sweet that it can be eaten raw (and even used in desserts, like in peas halwa). I have friends who grow peas on farms there, and visits from or to them during this season would always include some fresh produce. Sadly, no one is able to travel much at the moment, but the local variants are still much enjoyed in my home.

As I was preparing the peas for my photo shoot, I smiled as I recalled helping out in the kitchen when I was growing up. When we were kids, my siblings and I would have a competition about who would peel and shell the most peas. These were a chore that our mother often assigned to us, and this is how we would make it more interesting. The winner had no reward and the loser had no punishment, but this game was just a way for us to pep up a boring activity. Once again, as I did while sharing the previous recipe, I reminisce about how kids of my generation always found ways to keep ourselves entertained. We were innovative and creative in the absence of technology. What sorts of games did you play to make chores go by faster?

Peas Paratha

(Yield: 4-6)

 

Peas stuffing

1 full cup crushed green peas

1 teaspoon aamchur powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon ginger/green chilli paste

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil (to roast the peas)

 

Paratha dough

1½ cups whole-wheat flour

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil

+ Oil for shallow frying

 

Divide the dough and the stuffing separately into equally-sized small balls (lime/lemon-sized).

Roll one dough ball out, and place a spoonful of the peas stuffing in the centre. Gather the dough around the peas and make a smooth round ball, using gentle pressure.

Dust some flour onto the ball and roll out again delicately, making sure the peas do not come out of the dough.

The method of stuffing the paratha with peas is similar to the method for making puran poli, which you can refer to in this post here.

Heat the tava over a medium flame. Once it is hot, place the rolled paratha on it and cook. Flip and spread a ½ teaspoon of oil evenly around the edges and shallow fry both sides until light golden brown spots appear. Repeat with the remaining parathas. Serve.

As I said earlier, some yoghurt and a bit of salad are great accompaniments, but even eaten on its own this peas paratha is flavourful. It is a perfect light meal, and it is lunchbox-friendly, cost-friendly and health-friendly too!

 

 

Here in Tamil Nadu, the harvest festival of Pongal has begun, and all over the state families are celebrating the occasion. Delicious, piping hot chakkara pongal is customarily consumed, but alongside it ven pongal (white pongal, made with freshly harvested rice) is also made. Oh, and let’s not forget certain creative yet authentic pongal renditions that are out there, such as this red rice and jaggery pongal. As you can see, there are many kinds of pongal, and this year, I thought I’d share with you a lovely savoury one.

Ven pongal is a traditional breakfast, one of my own favourites. It is a part of regular temple offerings too. This ven pongal is similar to a khichdi, which is a basic mixture of dal and rice. Unlike khichdi, it’s to be eaten with chutney or sambar. While khichdi is normally eaten for lunch or dinner but seldom for breakfast, with pongal it’s the reverse. As I mentioned, it’s a breakfast dish, and is rarely seen at other times of the day or night – except when it’s eaten for tiffin, which is what we call a late afternoon meal in this region.

Whenever I have breakfast while out and about in Chennai or elsewhere in Tamil Nadu, I always reach for the ven pongal. To me, it takes pride of place on the restaurant menu alongside its more famous counterparts, idli and dosa. The latter two are the “safe choices” that most people usually stick to, but I love ven pongal for breakfast and find it just as reliably made across the state. It’s very refreshing, filling, satisfying and healthy – and sees me through the day up until a hearty lunch.

The rice that I use in the pongal made on Pongal comes from our farm, and I observe a local tradition on this day. As is custom, this is when I store rice for the household for the whole year. The older it gets, the better it tastes. It is preserved well through a natural method: the raw rice is dampened with castor oil, and neem leaves are layered on it as I fill the storage barrels. This ensures that bugs stay away, given the humidity and the climate of this region. This raw rice is eaten throughout the year. When it is rinsed before use, the castor oil goes way, and any residue left is healthy for the body in any case. You can see a part of the process in the photograph below.

My love for this dish started in childhood. We had many Tamilian friends in our neighbourhood, so my familiarity with South Indian flavours and cooking began early. The house beside ours had girls of my age, and so we used to hang out together all the time. In those days, there were no TVs, computers or other electronic devices to keep us distracted indoors, so our hobbies were to run around, climb trees (eating fruits from them and being bitten by hairy caterpillars, as I’ve recounted on this blog before), play fun games that kids no longer seem to do and generally make a racket.

With these particular neighbours, we often spent the late afternoon together. I would go to their house at around 3.30pm, right in time for tiffin. We would sit on their front porch, enjoying leisure time together. My friends’ grandmother would oil, comb and braid their long hair and decorate it with jasmine. As she did, she would tell stories. I would watch their grooming ritual, listen to their Paati’s tales and enjoy the snack of the day. Very often, it was vada (savoury fried dough) or ven pongal, like the recipe I’m sharing with you today.

While I was growing up, my mother would sometimes make this too. This was because I would bring recipes back and forth between the different homes in our neighbourhood. Pre-blog and even pre-Internet, I already loved the exchange of kitchen techniques and secrets! South Indian families we grew up with also ate quite a bit of Gujarati food as a result. Of course, festivals meant gathering together and sharing meals too. It’s funny how connected we all were in that time before cellphones. I had such a lovely, inter-cultural upbringing – it contained food, heritage, granny tales and so much more from my family and well beyond. I feel like my children missed out on those simpler times, since technology began to dominate when they were little. I wonder how the generation of today fares, with even more at their disposal, and perhaps with even more disconnection in the world. What are your thoughts on all this?

Ven Pongal

(Yield: serves 3-4)

 

½ cup split mung dal

½ cup raw rice

3½ cups water to cook

2 tablespoons ghee

1 tablespoon cumin seeds

1 teaspoon whole black pepper

3 tablespoon split cashews

2 teaspoons finely minced ginger

Salt to taste

A handful of curry leaves

 

Mix the dal and rice together and rinse well. Heat a pan and add the mixed rice and dal to it. Sauté until they release an aroma. Do not allow the grains to turn colour.

Now, add the water, salt and 1 tablespoon of ghee. Pressure cook until tender. This will take approximately 20-25 minutes.

In another pan, add the remaining ghee. Once it has heated, add the cumin seeds and pepper. Next, add the curry leaves and ginger. Finally, add the cashews. Once this tempering has turned golden, add it to the steaming hot rice mixture.

Mix well and serve warm. It can be eaten on its own, or with sambar or chutney.

Whether you’re having this as a festive dish, or just snacking on it at tiffin or breakfast, I hope that you find it as delicious as I do. If you happen to enjoy it while sitting on your porch or balcony with dear friends, as I used to as a child, I’d especially love it if you could paint me a picture of those special moments in the comments! Food is such an intrinsic part of bonding, is it not?

Green mung – also known as green gram, green moong and mung beans – is considered to be “shukaan” in Gujarati culture, meaning that it symbolises good luck and all things auspicious. When we hold a housewarming ceremony, the first thing we do is make a Hindu svastika on the floor using the legume. Similarly, when Jains break a significant fast, such as a 9-day fast, the first item consumed is water in which green mung had been boiled. This infused water is easy on the digestion, and helps the system adjust to whole food again after the abstinence. The combination of faith in the luck factor and the fact that it is very healthy mean that the ingredient is used across Gujarati cuisine in a wide variety of ways. You may have noticed its recurrence on this blog too: green moong dhokla, green moong bhel and green mung khatta are among the recipes I’ve shared. This time, I wanted to start the new year off on a promising note by sharing the method for getting green mung to sprout.

There is a special shelf in my fridge that always holds my tomato purée, a selection of chutneys and sprouted green mung. This should tell you a lot about the versatility of the last item, since it has pride of place on that always-reached-out-for list. I steam the sprouted green mung and add it to salads, sauté it and have it with roti or dosa or rice, put it in my stir-fries… You can see why I always like to have it on hand.

You may remember growing sprouts from your school days, as I do. We would have projects in Science class during which we would keep mustard seeds on a cotton ball and sprinkle water on them, then watch what happened over the next few days. The process was so fascinating back then, and when I pause and contemplate it, it still is. When I was training in Macrobiotics a few years ago, we learned that all seeds and legumes are sacred, as they contain life within them intrinsically. They may hold this potential for thousands of years before a few drops of water awaken it. This is the mystical part of nature, expressed in the way the green mung holds life within it no matter what. We are so fortunate to have these sprouting wonders: for the nourishment they provide, as well as the inspiration.

This is why the method for growing green mung sprouts occurred to me as being the perfect post to start this year with. May hope and renewal fill your heart as you conduct this experiment. Here is to all your new beginnings, to good health and to all the positive intentions you put out to the universe beautifully coming back to you. May all our goodwill come back to each of us manifold.

Method: Green Mung Sprouts

1 cup green mung

2 cups clean water

 

Rinse and soak the green mung in clean water overnight or for at least 8 hours.

In the morning, the beans will have increased in size and part of the skin would have opened up.

Rinse the beans once again and place them in a muslin cloth. Tie the cloth gently. It’s okay if the cloth feels damp.

Place the cloth containing the beans in a deep pot and cover this with a lid. Store at room temperature in a dark place.

Take a look the following day and you’ll notice that the beans are sprouting slightly. Cover again and leave be.

Check again on Day 2, and you will see that healthy, sprightly mung beans have sprouted – grown and ready for use.

It really is so simple to grow these sprouts yourself, and to use them as much as you want to in a wide variety of meals. I mostly sprout green mung, but also use black channa (which takes longer), and as mentioned earlier from my school memories, quite few kinds of seeds and lentils can be utilised for this purpose too. Here in Chennai, it’s really very easy to grow sprouts, as the weather is very conducive for this, versus a colder climate. Do keep that in mind – the process may take a little longer for you, depending on where you are.

These sprouts are to me small manifestations of nature’s glory, which we also experience in the form of trees. Too often, we take them for granted. Down the road from my home, a beautiful old tree was recently chopped down as part of some construction work. Seeing this was heartrending. If we cannot revere them as they deserve to be revered, the least we can do is to preserve them. A marvelous book, Peter Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees, teaches us that they communicate amongst themselves, in everything from the way their roots touch one another’s and the way they sway. There is so much we have not appreciated, respected or learnt fully about. We need to be more aware of the life-giving essence of nature.

In that spirit, I would like to share with you my New Year’s intention. We have a little farm that I’ve spoken about from time to time on this blog, and along with various crops, I’ve also slowly been growing flowers there. Local varieties, especially ones which are quickly being forgotten, are what I most want to have flourish there. I am hoping that this is the year that I really begin to design it and cultivate it, in a meaningful and long-lasting way so that the next few generations can enjoy my garden and carry forward my love of local blossoms.

What is your intention, and how do you plan to bring it to life? What is sprouting in your dreams right now? As always, I would love to hear from you.

 

A merry, merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate! Whether you are reading this post on that auspicious day or a little later, I hope that your home and your heart are both filled with all good things. Christmas is a time of feasting and of special delicacies, and as I prepared many re:store orders in the past few weeks, I gave a little thought to what I might want to serve at my own table during the festivities. As you may recall from the last few posts, travels to Europe are brightening my thoughts these days. A delicious dessert that I’ve eaten many times in the U.K. came to mind too on these memory-lane wanderings. That would be this date and orange cake, and I am sharing the recipe for it with you today.

My introduction to date and orange cake was through the commercial versions that are widely available in supermarkets in the U.K. They come in individual portions, in cups, just right for a quick dessert or a tea-time snack for one. I loved them, and I always wondered how much fresher the homemade rendition may be. Somehow, I didn’t have the chance to experience a homemade date and orange cake during any of my visits to the U.K., but I fondly recall baking some right here in Chennai when a group of us from school met after many years at one of our homes. As the baker in our friend group, I was placed in charge of dessert. I made individual portions of date and orange cake, in line with my London memories, and we all enjoyed them very much.

This week, I set about recreating that dessert again, realising that I don’t bake it often enough. As I am fortunate to have many people to share it with – loved ones, family and of course, you – I decided to bake a whole cake, serving the sauce drizzled on top as well as on the side.

I also decided to up the festive quotient a bit by adding a little Grand Marnier orange liqueur to the mix, which helps put us into the happy, grateful mood that this time of year is all about. I had some lovely serendipities in terms of the other ingredients as well. I get many orders for date squares, in general but especially when there are gifting needs, so I had a whole lot of dates in my kitchen. Plus, it’s orange season in Nagpur, so some of India’s best citrus fruits are on hand as well. These tend to be a staple in the house, and it was nice to put them to special use, in this wonderful cake that brings the year to a gentle close.

Date & Orange Cake

Cake

200 grams chopped dates

2 cups water

125 grams maida

2 eggs

150 grams butter (unsalted)

90 grams brown sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

 

Topping

1 teaspoon freshly squeezed orange juice

 

Sauce

2 tablespoons butter (room temperature)

¼ cup sugar

½ cup cream

1 tablespoon orange juice

¼ teaspoon orange extract

1 teaspoon Grand Marnier (optional)

Pre-heat the oven to 170°C for 20 minutes.

Prepare a 9-inch baking tin by greasing the edges and dusting with flour. Set aside.

Boil the dates along with the water, stirring until the dates become soft. You could use a hand blender and slowly mush them. Then, add the baking soda. The mixture will bubble up.

Combine and sieve all the dry ingredients except the baking soda. Set aside.

In a mixer bowl, cream the butter and sugar for approximately 3 minutes. Now, add the eggs and while stirring, slowly add the vanilla extract. Make sure the ingredients are well-incorporated by scraping down the sides occasionally. Then, gently add all the dry ingredients to the bowl, making sure the flour doesn’t fly around. Next, add the tender date mixture. Using a spatula, fold it all together. Pour into the prepared baking tin.

Bake for 30 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.

In the meantime, prepare the sauce. In a pan, add the butter, salt, sugar and cream. Allow to boil while stirring. Once combined, add the orange extract and vanilla extract. Drizzle in the Grand Marnier for that festive and indulgent touch.

Once the cake is ready, top with the orange juice and spoon the sauce on top, saving some to serve on the side if you wish. You may give it a light dusting of cinnamon for more flavour, and add fresh cream as well for extra decadence.

Serve with a seasonal beverage of your choice. This boozy, orange-kissed hot chocolate may just be the perfect accompaniment, with more citrusy liqueur to really play up that zest.

To all my dearest friends and lovely readers, I want to take this opportunity to remind you that it is the festive season, and so it is a time to treat ourselves. Especially during these uncertain times, we must celebrate and give thanks for what we have. Let’s not lose out on joy by counting calories, at least this week (that, after all, are what New Year’s resolutions are for!).

As another year dawns, let me also take the opportunity to wish you all good health and happiness. I am reflecting at the moment on how we are each responsible for making this world a better place to live in. How we treat people and how we treat the planet are equally important. We are at a crucial point where we may lose the planet’s good health, and the pandemic we are still in is a reminder of how closely linked we are to Earth, as well as to each other. Let us heal together and return to safety, putting the worst behind us. I look forward to the way that food will continue to connect us all, and eagerly anticipate sharing many more dishes from my kitchen with you too.

Last week, I shared the recipe for a saffron crème brûlée, a close rendition of my favourite dessert, crema catalana. Nostalgia for the vibrant city of Barcelona and for all the delicious food I’ve enjoyed there also made me fondly recall how I love patatas bravas too. It’s a typical Spanish dish, with a name that translates to “spicy potatoes”, and I’m so happy to share this recipe with you too.

Patatas bravas fall into the category of tapas or small plates dishes, and can be found delicious and cheap all over Spain. The best I’ve had was at a small and nondescript place, popular with the locals, that a friend took me to. They originated in Madrid, but I first enjoyed them in beautiful Barcelona, naturally. My husband used to export garments and I would accompany him on business trips to the city. We would often end the busy days with a plate of spectacularly-made Spanish potatoes. No trip, however short it may have been, was complete without some patatas bravas.

Intriguingly, I learnt that the Europeans did not consider the potato an edible item when it was first brought there from the Americas. It was looked down on by the elite as food that was only for labourers, who needed its energy benefits. The Spanish armies did consume it for this reason, however. When famines hit in the 18th century, the durable potato finally found pride of place in the European palate. Imagine: they deprived themselves of such deliciousness earlier!

Now, of course, the potato is hardly seen as humble. At El Tomás de Sarrià, the Barcelona restaurant that is most famous for the patatas bravas, their preparation of the dish is so renowned that the son-in-law of the King of Spain, numerous famous football and handball players and other celebrities have been known to frequent it.

But really, who doesn’t love potatoes? At home, we consume them in any form. Fried, sautéed, mashed, you name it. As much as I personally love them too, I do try to avoid eating them because I know how addictive they are. Once I start on just one wedge, I can’t stop myself from reaching out for more. Funnily enough, this is the same complaint – or compliment, rather – that I receive about my almond brittle. It happens quite often that a customer will call me up and say, “I couldn’t stop munching on them and have finished the batch you sent already! Do you have more?”.

These cherished “demands”, that I so gladly fulfil, also come from my family. For instance, whenever I make shakshouka, the family wants potatoes on the side. I discovered that patatas bravas are a brilliant accompaniment to that egg-based dish, and this multi-continental medley is much enjoyed at home. Every time I up my game a little bit, such as by substituting some plain vegetable dish for something more exciting like patatas bravas, the family decides that that’s the combo that they want ever onward. Do you ever find this happening – as your repertoire expands, the meals you prepare become more elaborate because the people you cook for begin to ask for specific dishes more frequently?

Our potato obsession at home is so intense that my husband even went so far as to buy an air fryer so as to eat healthier and feel less guilty about his consumption. But I personally feel that it’s better to have the oil-fried version occasionally than to use the air fryer every day. So that machine has been shelved for now, gathering dust in some poor corner. In the meanwhile, we are enjoying our almost-authentic patatas bravas, made with oil and love and lots of other good stuff!

Patatas Bravas

(Yield portion: 1, serves 2)

 

2-3 cups diced potatoes

2 cups oil for frying

Salt to taste

 

Alioli

2 garlic pods crushed

¼ cup mayonnaise

 

Bravas sauce

¼ cup olive oil

1 tablespoon paprika

1 teaspoon chili powder

Salt to taste

1½ teaspoons corn flour

1 cup vegetable broth

 

Patatas bravas are easy to make, and you begin with the potatoes and prepare the two sauces while they are frying.

Heat up the oil in a pan and deep fry the potatoes until they are golden. Drain them on a paper and then place them in a wide bowl.

Prepare the aioli sauce by crushing the garlic well and mixing it into the mayonnaise. Stir until well incorporated.

Prepare the bravas sauce by first adding the oil to a saucepan. Once it has heated, add the chili powders and flour. Stir till toasty. Then, add the vegetable broth gently and stir till emulsified. Boil on a low flame until the sauce thickens (this will take approximately 3-5 minutes). The sauce should have a consistency that can be drizzled.

To assemble the dish, simply drizzle the two sauces, aioli and bravas, over the fried potatoes and serve hot. You can also add some mayonnaise or sour cream, if you prefer.

I wonder what these patatas bravas will taste like if I swap the regular potatoes out for sweet potatoes. I’m definitely going to give that experiment a try…

My absolute, all-time favourite dessert in the world is crema catalana. Barcelona is one of my favourite cities in the world as well, and to me the idea of a perfect Spanish meal simply must end with a delectable bowl of crema catalana. I can’t quite make it here in India, but fortunately for me, the next best thing to crema catalana is easy to make, and requires only easy-to-source ingredients. That would be crème brûlée, and I’ve added a dash of a regional element to pep it up, which gives us this week’s recipe: saffron crème brûlée.

Crème brûlée originates in France, and as with many dishes that one didn’t grow up with, I had the impression that it was very complicated to prepare. I can assure you that this was a misconception. The method is quite easy, the ingredients are basic, and you can make parts of it ahead of time, which also considerably speeds up the process. The original crema catalana is similar in all regards, except that it uses something we don’t get in India, an ingredient called farina (which looks like wheat rava).

I’m nostalgic for my travels at this time of year, and I love journeying through my tastebuds. So I thank you for joining me as I head back to Europe in my imagination! As I prepare this dessert, my mind lingers over happy memories of waking up in the mornings to go for a walk around the neighbourhood, finding a crowded café (a clue: if it’s popular with the locals, it must be good) where I would sit and people-watch over fresh, authentic coffee and pastries. This would be the same whether I was in Venice, in Santiago de Compostela or somewhere else.

If I was in Barcelona, this lovely day would later culminate with going out to dinner with friends. How I miss ordering a starter of deep-fried Padrón peppers sprinkled with rock salt, followed by delicious patatas bravas and saving the best for last with a tiny, well-presented portion of crema catalana! I love that culture and even tried to learn Spanish at one point. While studying the language didn’t go so far, I have had better luck with exploring and replicating European cuisines in my own kitchen. To be candid with you, I’ve never had a good crème brûlée in Chennai, which is one of the reasons why I tried my hand at it. So without further ado, here is my recipe, so that you can do so too!

Saffron Crème Brûlée

4 egg yolks

2 cups heavy cream

¼ cup sugar + 4 tablespoons

¼ teaspoon salt

2 pinches of saffron

Topping

2 teaspoons white sugar

1 teaspoon brown sugar

 

There are four parts to this method: preparing the custard, preparing the egg yolks, baking and then brûléeing. If you’re familiar with baking, you’ll find this method to be easy to follow. If you’re new to baking, keep in mind that the secret is in following the recipe to a tee.

Before we begin, here are a few more tips:

  • There are two key elements to a good crème brûlée: being mindful while adding the yolks to the custard and maintaining a continuous whisk, and baking only up to the correct moment so that the different textures of the dish are maintained.
  • Ovens vary and temperatures vary. I was literally sitting in front of mine with my eyes peeled, so that I would know exactly when to switch it off.
  • You can prepare the custard a couple of days ahead, then bake it and stick it back in the fridge, and then do the brûléeing just before you serve it. If you’re expecting guests, this paces the process well so that you can make the dish in a leisurely way.

Preparing the custard

In a pot, add cream, ¼ cup sugar and salt. Cook on a medium flame and stir often so the mixture doesn’t stick to the bottom.

Midway through mixing, add the saffron. It adds a nice festive colour to the dessert, as does the flavour. Once the cream comes to a simmer, remove from stove and cover with a lid. Rest this for 20 minutes, during which you must open and stir again no more than twice.

Preparing the egg yolks

Meanwhile, take the egg yolks, add the remaining sugar and stir well.

After the custard has rested for 20 minutes, it’s time to add the yolks to it. Slowly and in a single steady pour, add the custard to the yolks. Beat continuously while pouring. At this point, you have to be careful that the eggs don’t become a scramble due to the heat. This is where you may wind up with breakfast rather than dessert! The key is to stir constantly. Once all the cream is added, mix the custard well and refrigerate until you are ready to bake. This can keep in the fridge for up to 2-3 days.

Baking

Preheat the oven at 150° C. In a wide enough tray with tall sides, arrange 6 ramekins. Now, it’s time for the bain-marie technique, used for delicate baked goods like this. You do this by simply pouring hot water into the tray. With the help of a ladle, gently fill the ramekins with the custard-yolk concoction to ¾.

Place the tray gently into the preheated oven and bake for about 30 minutes or until the centre looks jiggly while the edges are not.

Remove the ramekins from the tray and allow to cool on a wire rack.

Once they are at room temperature, refrigerate for at least 5-24 hours.

Brûléeing

Remove the ramekins from the refrigerator and sprinkle 1 teaspoon each of brown sugar and white sugar on top. Brûléeing is the process of using a torch to heat the sugar until it melts and changes colour. Hold the torch longer to make it a nice crust on top and until all the sugar melts. You may add another spoonful of sugar if you like and repeat the same. Do this for each individually.

Serve immediately. The custard must be cold and the brûléed sugar on top must be warm. This play of temperatures, along with the play of textures, is what a good crème brûlée is all about!

It’s quite a simple recipe once you get a little practice at it. Remember to follow it very closely. The one place where you have room to innovate is in the flavouring. The authentic dessert is plain, but I have no doubt that others must also be playing with the taste additions like I am.  If you’re not a fan of saffron, you may want to try vanilla, rose or lavender. I also like to have the plain one with a little passion fruit on top of the brûléed sugar, which brings in a fun flavour interaction.

If you have any questions at all about the process, especially if you are still a little intimidated about trying out what is usually considered a somewhat fancy dessert, drop a comment below. I’m happy to help you figure it out. Trust me, you deserve to taste this loveliness!

On that note, more desserts are coming up here on this blog later this month, in time for Christmas, so do stay tuned! You may want to explore the dessert archive as you plan your menu as well. If you’re in Chennai and want to order from the re:store kitchen for the festivities, give me a buzz!