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Recipe: Brass Tacks Comfort – Simple Khichdi

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Rounding off this series of grain-based, khichdi-like dishes is the simplest, most quotidian version of all: a frequent-use Gujarati-style khichdi. If you’d like to catch up first, we began the series with the work-intensive and tummy-filling seven-grain khichdo and then went on to the versatile breakfast/dinner meal of bajra ghensh). Today, we come to an extremely basic dish, one that is sheer comfort food. What I’ve come to see over the years is that meals that one takes for granted in one’s own home are sometimes novelties in another’s. This is why I often share unassumingly familiar recipes alongside original and unusual ones. This classic khichdi is one among the former category.

Like many staples that are good for our health, khichdi is the kind of dish that kids turn their noses up at. At least, my siblings and I just hated it were growing up. So our mother would negotiate a lot of deals to work around our aversion. In those days, all our food was homemade, so this would take some extra effort on her part. If there was going to be khichdi for dinner, she’d serve something exotic that she learnt at her Continental cuisine or baking classes for lunch. We also cottoned on to the strategy: if there was a special snack in the evening without it being an occasion or a holiday, we knew she was going to put a bowl of khichdi on the table for dinner!

As adults though, it’s a different story. Our palates change and we begin to enjoy food that is good for us, feeling the difference in our bodies when we consume it. In fact, this subcontinental staple (which is eaten in similar forms like pongal in South India) is so relished that it even caught the fancy of the British during the colonial era. They enjoyed a version with fish, a dish they called “kedgeree”, and popularised it in England for a time. It was an import similar to mulligatawny soup, which came from the Tamil dish called molaga-thanni. Some form of khichdi is believed to have been eaten in this part of the world since ancient times, but the recipe reached its pinnacle in the kitchens of the Mughal empire, where its richly spiced and garnished versions are recorded as having been among the favourites dishes of various rulers.

For us at home though, khichdi is neither fancy nor fishy. Every single Gujarati household consumes this khichdi as a comfort food, as well as a frequent meal. During festive seasons or after important occasions like weddings, when the feasting is in full flow, someone or the other will finally say, “Bas (‘enough’), make khichdi today.” That is shorthand for being done with heavy meals, and wanting something that will make the gut smile.

In fact, when I say it is comfort food, I mean that quite literally. It’s the dish that is most commonly made in a home that has just undergone a bereavement, when the family just needs something basic to meet their nutritional needs as they tend to the necessary rituals. Most likely because of its association with grieving, khichdi is never served during celebrations. After them, certainly, as I mentioned above. But never as part of a special event. Neither is it served while entertaining guests. It is very much something that is all about family and simplicity. As we rarely get to encounter another family’s khichdi, I can only guess that the variations between recipes must be innumerable.

So no, khichdi is not special. That’s the best thing about it. It’s a brass tacks dish that gives the body the basics, and uses ingredients that are likely to be in the kitchen at all times. It is comprised mostly of moong dal and rice, with a bit of salt, turmeric and ghee. If it is served with accompaniments, crispy pappads and a bit of kadhi are usually enough. Some potato curry or other vegetable may round out the meal more, if desired. I’ve mentioned kadhi, a type of gravy, a couple of times recently. I’ll be sure to share the recipe for that soon.

Another recipe I will share soon will be for theplas that use leftover khichdi. As I’ve said before: cuisines across all communities in India are innovative when it comes to leftovers. We see poverty everywhere in our country and respect food, acknowledging it as a blessing from God. This in turn becomes a part of our religions too, which discourage food wastage.

Simple Khichdi

(Yield: 2 persons)

 

75 grams rice

25 grams split mung beans

3 cups water to soak

2 cups water to cook

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

2 tablespoons ghee

 

Wash and soak the rice and dal together for approximately ½ an hour to an hour. I have used split mung beans, but you can try this with other variants including pigeon pea/toor dal. Doing so will change the khichdi somewhat. Toor dal grains will separate like rice does, whereas split mung beans will create a thicker concoction.

Once soaked, discard the soaking water. Place the rice and dal in a pressure cooker along with the cooking water. Use a medium flame. Allow to cook for approximately 20 minutes or 3 whistles, or until the grains are tender and soft to touch.

Allow the pressure to decrease, then open the cooker.

In a small pan, add ghee. Once it is hot, add the cumin seeds. Let them fry until they change colour. Add this cumin-filled ghee to the khichdi. Stir gently and serve hot.

This grain series concludes with this simple and flavoursome recipe. I hope you’ve enjoyed trying out the gamut, from the work-intensive, “holiday special” seven-grain khichdo to the nourishing breakfast that is bajra ghensh, to this basic khichdi that is the ultimate go-to dish. Traditional Gujarati cuisine is something I’ve delved into many times on this blog, and I hope you’ll have a delicious time exploring a wide range of meals, snacks and desserts that I’ve shared here over the years.

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Recipe: A Good Breakfast – Bajra Ghensh

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After making the nutritious (and labourious) seven-grain khichdo to share with you last week, I felt inspired to do a short series of similar dishes. This series will showcase the versatility of the staple grains we consume, and the many ways they help make up the traditional Gujarati menu. So here is part two of this series: bajra ghensh, which uses the goodness of broken pearl millet. Pearl millet has been cultivated in India for thousands of years, and is a vital part of both the authentic Gujarati and authentic Tamil cuisines that I grew up surrounded by. As you may know, I truly believe in the revival of higher quantities of millet usage in our diets, especially as a preferred alternative to white rice, and have written many times about their value to us.

I’ve been spending more time with my sister recently, and as always this means exploring her cooking style and picking up new techniques to include in my own. As she sometimes does, she said to me the other day, “Come, I’ll teach you a new recipe.” Working alongside her in her kitchen, I was very surprised to discover that it wasn’t a new recipe to me at all, but only a different interpretation of one I knew well, and made for a different meal of the day. My sister prepares bajra ghensh as dinner, whereas for over three decades my mother-in-law and I have been eating it for breakfast.

What did I tell you about the versatility of millets? In this highly adaptable bajra ghensh, we see an example of how dishes themselves become versatile too depending on the choices of the cook and the habits of the one consuming the same. The method of preparing it, as either breakfast or dinner, is still less the same, but storage and serving determine the type of meal it becomes. It’s a very simple dish with three base ingredients and a generous helping of dry fruits and nuts.

Bajra ghensh wasn’t something we ate while we were growing up, and just as my sister was introduced to it after getting married, I too first encountered it thanks to my mother-in-law. I remember how when I first moved in, my mother-in-law would make it as a porridge or cereal to be had in the mornings, and I loved it from the start. Soon, I was frequently whipping up a big pot of it for both her and I and we would share it for breakfast. We both enjoyed it so much that we would have the same dish for two or three mornings in a row, without needing variety. This was the only way I’d ever eaten it, until my sister served it for dinner the other day.

As delicious as that was, to my mind this is still a breakfast dish, and so my recipe and my photographs here reflect this perspective. It’s a very healthy post-workout meal, and it’s an ideal replacement for supermarket cereals, which make tall claims about nutrition values but are usually full of processed ingredients and sugar. On the other hand, this is comparable only to the simplicity and goodness of whole oats. It is also gluten-free, for those who are making a dietary switch, but it is not dairy-free.

Traditionally, just like the seven-grain khichdo, bajra ghensh was also a winter dish. Pearl millet is warming and high in iron, and the Macrobiotic principle of darker grains being considered winter-friendly applies here. They are harder to digest, whereas in summer lighter grains like jowar and amaranth that are light on the stomach and easiest to digest are better, as per the time-honoured logic of seasonal culinary usages. As I said earlier, since I usually have bajra ghensh in the mornings, I’ve noticed that on days when I have done so, I tend to not become hungry again till at least lunch time or even later. A dish like this cancels out your snack cravings, which automatically increases its already high healthiness quotient.

Finding out that this works well both as a filling breakfast and as a heavy dinner, as well as making the connections with Indian seasonal logic and Macrobiotics, also made me ponder how my mother-in-law and I prepare this at night and store it in the fridge. Since this is a traditional recipe, this meant that in earlier times it could only have been made in winters, when the climate as well as the type of vessels used would allow it to be stored overnight. Only certain probiotic foods would be kept to be on eaten the following day (including homemade yoghurt). There could be no such thing as leftovers, and if there were there were resourceful ways to ensure that these were consumed quickly too. Particularly for Jains, wastage goes against religious philosophy and practice, so quantities are an important part of cooking methods. In the absence of refrigeration, and often with access issues or resource concerns to consider as well, creating perfect portions that satisfy the entire family without any excess is a special skill, and one that cooks across the centuries had to cultivate. It is only in our modern age that we can rely on certain conveniences.

So what happens is this: because of its thick consistency, this bajra ghensh sets when you keep it in the fridge. In the morning, take a chunk, add a bit of milk and have it as a cereal. Or else, prepare it in the evening and eat it hot, right off the stove and with no milk added for breakfast, just like a khichdo.

Bajra Ghensh

(Yield: 2 persons)

 

½ cup broken bajra (pearl millet)

1½ – 2 cups water

½ cup thick yoghurt

Salt to taste

20 grams kharek (dried dates)

10 grams dried coconut slices

10 grams cashew nuts

 

Clean, rinse and soak the broken bajra for 2-3 hours.

Once soaked, cook the bajra along with the 1½ cups of water in a pressure cooker until the grain is soft and tender. Open the pressure cooker lid when ready.

Place a kadai on a medium flame and pour the bajra into it. Now, add the yoghurt and stir continuously. Next, add the salt. Finally, add the dried nuts, dates and coconut and mix well.

This is the point at which you have a choice: today’s main meal, or tomorrow’s breakfast?

Let’s say you decide to have it for breakfast. Just pour the concoction into a container and set it aside for some time. As the bajra ghensh cools, it will solidify. Once it is at room temperature, refrigerate.

You don’t have to do anything the next morning but scoop out a portion into a bowl, add a little milk or buttermilk (which I prefer for the tang) and enjoy!

Do you have a recipe in your own repertoire that you’ve been making and having a certain way for ages, which you later found in an alternate rendition somewhere else? It’s always fascinating to me how the very same dish is prepared or consumed in different ways, depending not even on the community but just on the family or the person who does the cooking. I hope you’ll enjoy this bajra ghensh, and be sure to let me know which meal you had it for!

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Recipe: A Feast Of Its Own – Seven-Grain Khichdo

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For centuries, Gujaratis observed the harvest season of Sankranti (which takes place in January) with a special dish, a seven-grain khichdo which celebrated the bounty of the earth. It was originally made with fresh, still green grains, and cooked for many hours in a large brass pot on coal. It would be prepared right before the harvest itself, when the grains would be ripe and tender. What constituted the seven key ingredients of the recipe depended on what was being grown, and some ingredients that we may think of as being legumes or lentils also qualified. It was also sometimes made with fewer. It was called “saat dhaan” – “seven grain” – when made with all the staples, and “paanch dhaan” – “five grain” – when a couple were eliminated for reasons of convenience, availability or taste. Pearl millet (bajra), wheat, rice, split pigeon peas (toor dal), sorghum (jowar) and green gram (moong dal) were among the traditional staples used. Over time, changes in agriculture and culinary life have allowed us to enjoy this wonderful dish whenever we please.

Even still, it’s a dish with a long preparation and cooking time, so I think of it as a Sunday dish – the kind that you begin working on as soon as you wake, and which is hot and ready just in time for lunch with the whole family. This was exactly how I used to see it being prepared in my sister’s home when I would visit her when she first got married. Her mother-in-law made an amazing seven-grain khichdo, and I would observe as she soaked each ingredient separately early in the morning, then as she literally pulled out the big old brass pot and coal in order to cook it in the time-honoured way. I had the good fortune of experiencing this whole process, just as I used to watch my own mother make Navaratri handvo authentically. Biting into the piping hot khichdo when she served it at lunch after having worked on it since the crack of dawn was unimaginably beautiful. My sister and I now make this khichdo in our own ways, with our modern appliances, but of course it’s her mother-in-law’s recipe that inspired us to keep this time-consuming (but so rewarding) dish in our own repertoires.

Another significant change that has come with urbanisation is that while certain ingredients began to become available year-round, access to fresh ingredients became limited. Thus, a contemporary saat dhaan khichdo will be more likely to use dried ingredients. Here, too, availability determines what you can use. For instance, in Gujarat and Maharashtra you can get readymade chaffed wheat, with the skin removed. I haven’t been able to procure the same in Chennai, so I have to pound the grain gently, to remove the outer covering.

Hand-pounding each grain individually is an important part of the process when using dried ingredients. Each one needs a different type of pressure. Bajra and jowar can be pounded very coarsely, for example, whereas wheat breaks when you do so. Of course, if you happen to have the tender green grains, there’s no pounding required.

Then there’s the individual soaking too, with each grain requiring a different duration. Wheat, bajra and jowar take the longest, whereas rice can be soaked a few hours after the overall preparation has started. As you will likely be making this khichdo with a mix of readymade, hand-pounded or fresh grains that you have available, do use your familiarity with the ingredients to determine the preparation time you need. In addition to the grains mentioned earlier, some I have used or heard of being used in this khichdo include black-eyed peas and green chickpeas too. It just comes down to availability, but the trick is to strike a balance between heavy grains and the lighter variants.

That is because this seven-grain khichdo is itself a very filling dish. While it was a part of Sankranti traditions that honoured the harvest, there is also a science as to why it was made this way. Mid-January would still be winter in Gujarat, and a heavy dish like this made of up whole grains would take a long time to digest. It would increase the metabolism and keep the body warm through the day. It is meant to be enjoyed at lunch, served hot and without need for accompaniments, except some pickled green chilli and kadhi (which is similar to more kolumbu) if you have it.

In terms of spices, the authentic version of this dish required no sautéing and very minimal spices. Everything just went into the large brass pot and cooked away for hours. The flavours of the grains would be allowed to dominate, with just a bit of ajwain (which aids digestion), and the two quintessentials of turmeric and salt being added. That and ghee – a couple of dollops of glorious ghee are an important part of this khichdo.

My sister’s mother-in-law would include a bit of dhaniya-jeera (coriander-cumin) powder, while my sister chooses to add curry leaves and garam masala. I don’t use any of these, but I do use tomato. Play around as you wish to as well, until you hit on the seasonings you most enjoy.

Seven-Grain Khichdo

(Yield: 2-3 persons)

25 grams whole wheat (chaffed)

15 grams broken bajra

50 grams rice

15 grams green whole mung

15 grams yellow split mung dal

¼ cup green peas

¼ cup fresh green pigeon peas

Water to cook

2 tablespoons ghee

½ teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

¼ teaspoon asafoetida

1 crushed tomato

¼ teaspoon turmeric

Salt to taste

1 – 2 cups hot water

Soak the grains individually until they are tender to touch, in water about an inch higher than the level of the grains.

When cooking, add 2½ times water to the quantity of grain.

You may pressure cook the bajra and wheat together as it takes a longer time to cook these grains. Set aside.

Next, pressure cook the rice and green whole mung and yellow split mung dal together. Set aside.

In a kadai, add ghee and once it becomes hot, add the ajwain first and then the asafoetida. Next, add the crushed tomato and then all the spices.

Now, add all the grains together to the hot, spiced ghee in the kadai. Stir on a medium to low flame.

Keep stirring. Add some hot water if required, especially if you like the khichdo to be soft as I do.

Once cooked, serve hot along with a garnish of green chili and coriander leaves.

The long preparation and cooking processes that go into a good seven-grain, or even five-grain, khichdo mean that it’s really meant to be a feast, just as it originally was during Sankranti. I recall how whenever my sister’s mother-in-law prepared it, she would distribute it to their neighbours as well. It is a meal in itself, meant to be shared, and meant to be consumed immediately after the many hours that the cook would have spent putting it together.

As with all tasty things that are best shared, I hope you’ll whip up a nice big batch the next time that you have half a day to linger over putting a meal together. Then, I hope you’ll gather your favourite people around the table, and enjoy this traditional Gujarati khichdo, with all the joy that the farmers of yore would have felt as they feasted with their loved ones right before the big harvest.

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Recipe: A Mother’s Valentine – Red Velvet Cupcakes

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I don’t believe in Valentine’s Day. That’s the reason why you’ve never seen the occasion observed on this blog with a special recipe, even though you know that love is the key ingredient in every dish I create! This year is different, however. The COVID-19 pandemic had brought all my children back home for the first time in ages. Despite all else, it gave us the rare opportunity of being able to have almost a year of each other’s constant company, that too with everyone working from home. Then, right on the cusp of Valentine’s Day, all three of them flew off again, returning to the respective cities in which they are based. I am experiencing all the emotions of having an empty nest, and I need to express them through the way I know best. So here I am in my kitchen, feeling wistful as I lay the ingredients out for some very special cupcakes. This post is a valentine in red velvet, a symbol of a mother’s love.

Through the many months that my kids were back home, they would ask for “a special cake” every other day. Red velvet was one of their favourites in this category, but it was rarely baked at home during the pandemic. I am extremely particular about the ingredients I use, and not being able to source the particular brand of red colouring I prefer meant that this was off the repertoire. As you must have noticed too, accessibility to goods had finally returned to a normal standard here in Chennai, and a beautiful bottle of red colouring now sits on my shelf, ready to bring vibrance to these Valentine’s Day cupcakes.

This one is for my youngest, my daughter, whose hands modelled for my photoshoots through the year. If she wasn’t up for it, I would threaten to withhold a slice of the day’s cake from her, which always did the trick. I often joke with her that my recipes are my prized heirlooms, but it is no joke at all that one of the reasons I compile them this way has always been for my children. My daughter is an excellent baker, and was in fact the one who inspired me to become one too, but she is also a busy young woman and rarely bakes these days. I hope she reaches for this recipe, the next time that she does.

This one is for my second son, my unofficial marketing man, who is so proud of my work and never fails to put a good word in for his mother’s cakes no matter where he goes. He doesn’t cook, unfortunately, but I hope he will pick up this wonderful activity some day. If that day comes, there is an archive right here for anything his heart or his tummy desire.

This one is for my elder son, my partner in the business and a valuable critic whose opinion matters to me very much. He loves cooking, and has just as much of culinary inquisitiveness as I do, and I hope that this recipe becomes a keeper for him.

This one is also for you. I know that many other parents who had their grown kids return and stay unexpectedly last year have felt or are feeling the same pangs that I am. I hope that baking these scrumptious cupcakes will offer you some comfort too. For me, what I noticed is that in the past – when they were away for their education or their work – these pangs were not as intense. They were adults with their own routines, just as I had mine, and I was used to seeing them at only certain occasions. But having this one year that felt like it was just dedicated to family, to catching up with each other on a deeper level, to reinforcing the values we instilled in them and live by… It was a very different experience. Perhaps you can relate to this too.

One day, hopefully sooner than later, when the world fully opens up again, I look forward to jetting off to see my three valentines just as often as always. If ever you bump into me at an airport, carrying big boxes in my hand luggage, you will know what’s in them. My precious baked goods are making their way with me to my children and their friends. Until then, and for long after, this recipe will always be here for them, whenever they want to recreate for themselves the taste of my love.

Red Velvet Cupcake

(Yield: 12 cupcakes)

For the cupcakes:

1 ¼ cups maida

3 tablespoons corn flour

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1 cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ cup oil

¼ cup unsalted butter

1 tablespoon red food colouring

¾ cup whole milk (room temperature)

1 tablespoon (+ ½ teaspoon) vinegar

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the cream cheese frosting:

1 cup cream cheese (room temperature)

¼ cup butter

2 cups icing sugar

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

To prepare the red velvet cake cupcakes, preheat the oven to 170°C. Prepare 12 cupcake liners in the pans. You may want to check out this comprehensive introduction to baking, if you need to.

In a bowl, mix and sift together all the dry ingredients – flours, salt, baking soda and cocoa powder. Set aside.

In another bowl, add the milk and 1 tablespoon of vinegar and set aside. This becomes buttermilk.

In a large mixing bowl, use an electric mixer to cream together the butter and sugar on medium speed for 4-5 minutes, until the mixture is light and fluffy. Add the egg, and beat it in well. Next, add the oil, red food colouring, vanilla extract and the remaining ½ teaspoon of vinegar.

Add in the blended dry ingredients from the first bowl a little at a time, alternating them with the prepared buttermilk. Do not over-mix, and be very gentle.

Distribute the cake batter into the lined pans evenly. Bake for 15-18 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean. Remove the pans from the oven and cool on a wire rack.

To make the cream cheese frosting, use an electric mixer to beat the cream cheese until it is smooth. Add the butter and mix until the two are well-combined and smooth. Then, add the powdered sugar and vanilla extract, making sure the sugar doesn’t fly around. Beat until fluffy. There may be quantity variants based on the brand of sugar used, so add more or less to suit your requirement or until the icing is stiff enough.

Top the cooled cupcakes with a swirl of cream cheese frosting, and garnish with sprinkles for a celebratory touch.

This recipe has a generous yield quantity and is meant to be shared. I hope that you will enjoy these sweet delights with those who are most precious to you, during some cherished moments together. I’ve given the recipe away simply as a gesture of joy and camaraderie, but it is also on the re:store menu. If you’d prefer to order some red velvet cake or cupcakes from me, or perhaps any other delectable item from my array of goodies, please drop me a note. The pantry is fully stocked, the kitchen is thriving with scents and flavours, the house is quiet now – and I would simply love to bake for you!

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Recipe: The Perfect Alternative – Vegan Millet “Thayirsadam”

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Thayirsadam is a typically Tamil dish, and translates literally to “curd rice”. It is exquisitely simple and accessible food, which is why it is eaten here on practically a daily basis at households of every background. Even though we are Gujaratis, as lifelong Chennaiites, it is also a go-to in our home. It’s among the comfort foods we reach for whenever we feel down, or when we come back tired from a long trip. It’s also ideal for the day after late night parties, when not much has been prepped for the day’s meals, other than the homemade yoghurt that we ensure is made nightly without fail.

I’ve spoken many times of my deep love for yoghurt ever since childhood, and of how I used to consume it even by mixing it into upma and in other unconventional combinations. My love for it is something I brought into my new home when I got married, and I made it a staple in this household too. It truly is the ingredient that I find most difficult to give up even as we as a family make further inroads into a vegan lifestyle. For a variety of reasons, ranging from wanting to eating healthier to having doubts about the quality and purity of store-bought milk to being moved by the plight of mistreated dairy cows, we have all been veering towards the vegan way. My struggle to at least consume less yoghurt, even if I can’t quite give it up, has made me explore healthy and conscious alternatives. It’s such an integral part of Indian cuisine that it’s not a matter of finding a simple substitute for one or two recipes. I have to match each replacement to the dish, and see how it fares in that unique combination.

I have also been trying to make vegan yoghurt at home. Many of my experiments have failed, but a few attempts have brought me some degree of success. However, as I have yet to perfect a recipe that I feel I can confidently share with you, I won’t do so for now. My fingers are crossed that a vegan homemade yoghurt recipe will one day be featured on this blog.

So for now, we will stick to store-bought vegan yoghurt. Coconut yoghurt is my preferred one for this dish. I love the flavour: simple, versatile and a little sweet. Coconut also takes on the flavour of whatever you add it to, while retaining its own standalone taste. I add a dash of lemon to it so as to evoke the slight sourness of dairy yoghurt.

In addition to trying to eat vegan more often, I am also going through a phase where I am cutting down carbs, which means white rice is something I avoid. This leads me back to a food category that I’m passionate about: millets. Millets have made many appearances on this blog due to my belief in their importance in terms of good health and eco-sustainability. If you haven’t already enjoyed the following recipes, I hope you’ll check out: my vegan chilli bowl starring kodo millet, Indian vegetable salad starring foxtail millet or some authentic local dishes that showcase how millets have always been eaten in this region, such as chakkara pongal and ragi kanji.

In this dish, I have used kodo millet, also known as “varugu” in Tamil. Millets are fibre-rich, which makes them more filling, as well as good for your digestive system. Kodo millet is a gluten-free alternative to rice that I enjoy as much for its taste as for its benefits in regulating blood sugar and cholesterol levels, and the boost in antioxidants that it gives too. For me, veganism is about healthy eating, and that remains the impetus behind many of my food choices.

I’ve always seen food as a vital component of living in alignment with nature. Many of you know that I also maintain a home garden with various daily ingredients, from lemongrass to coconuts to tomatoes. Green chillies are among them, and as I stepped out of my kitchen to pluck a fresh one for this vegan millet “thayirsadam”, some pretty white flowers on the plant caught my eye. I paused to admire them, and I loved being able to include them in the styling for my photoshoot. How special and gratifying it was, to have my abiding love for all things culinary, my intensifying passion for photography, and my reverent love for nature come together…

Vegan Millet “Thayirsadam”

(Yield: 3-5 cups)

50 grams kodo millet

160 grams coconut yoghurt

¼ cup water

2-3 tablespoons raw mango

1 tablespoon coriander leaves

1 tablespoon chopped cucumber

Salt to taste

A dash of lemon

 

Tempering:

1 tablespoon oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

1 green chilli finely chopped (optional)

A few curry leaves

Rinse and cook the kodo millet in 3-4 cups of water. This will take about 15 minutes. Allow to cool.

Once cooled, transfer the millet into a bowl. Add the coconut yoghurt, salt and water. Mix thoroughly. Next, add the cucumber, raw mango and coriander leaves. You may include your choice of crunchy ingredients to add more texture and taste to the dish. Sometimes I use pomegranates or grated carrots, either as a substitute for cucumber or along with it.

Now, add the dash of lemon.  Set aside.

For the tempering, heat the oil and then add the mustard and cumin seeds. Once they splutter, add the green chilli and curry leaves and immediately pour over the millet-yoghurt that was set aside.

Stir gently and refrigerate. Serve once slightly cooled again.

And there you have it: thayirsadam with neither thayir (curd) nor sadam (rice)! This vegan curd millet dish truly becomes a filling meal-in-a-bowl once you scoop in a spoonful of pickle on the side, and add a handful of some delicious, crispy banana chips to add more variety to your meal.

By the way, if you are a fan of curd rice in general, may I suggest that you also try my recipe for Gujarati masala curd rice? And if you’re a vegan who is looking for dairy-like but dairy-free desserts, my take on another Gujarati speciality, in the form of this vegan passion fruit shrikand, may be right up your alley!

 

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“Garden of Eden” by Apparao Galleries

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I am delighted to share that a selection of my photographs will be showcased at Apparao Galleries’ latest exhibition, entitled Garden of Eden. These photographs are from my still life series of dark and moody compositions that celebrate Indian brassware. If you are in Chennai, please visit Asvah 24 at 4/24, Beach Road, Sri Kapaleeswarar Nagar, Neelankarai between February 1st and February 3rd 2021 to enjoy the exhibition.

This is my second public exhibition, following the inclusion of my work at Apparao Galleries’ showcase at the IDINDIA2020 design fair in Okhla, Delhi. I couldn’t be happier with how Nandi Shah Photography is growing, and I am deeply grateful for your encouragement and support.

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Recipe: A High-Powered, Low-Profile Legume – Horse Gram Dal

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Sometimes it happens that I chance upon a wonderful dish somewhere, and as I’m never shy about asking for recipes, I decide to find out exactly how to replicate it myself. But then, the story of how that dish wound up at that table turns out to be more complicated, and I’m unable to get to the source. There was a horse gram dal that I had at a friend’s house once, but it had been made by someone else and I didn’t have access to the original recipe. I was intrigued not just by its fine taste, but also by the use of a legume that I’ve encountered relatively rarely. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that dal since, and between my inability to obtain a recipe and my own culinary inquisitiveness, I set forth on a series of trials to create a version that I would want to serve – and to eat! – again and again.

Fortunately for me, I had an accomplice in this endeavour. We have a new cook at home, Prem, who shares the kitchen space with me. He is a wonderful chap, and we’ve been getting used to each others’ styles and quirks. I am very particular about who enters my kitchen, and the cryptic but tangible measure of “good energy” is extremely important for me. He definitely has that. The problem though? He is as meticulous as I am, maybe even more so. He talks constantly and questions everything I do, because of which I call him my second mother-in-law. He rattles off 25 questions about each thing, and nags me about certain details, with food wastage being a pet peeve of his. When I arrange something on the shelves, he’ll come in two minutes later and rearrange it to his own preference. I tease him for his pedantic nature, and he teases me back. I’m not complaining; the kitchen has not become a battleground at all, but is now a space for shared experimentation. We came up with this horse gram dal recipe together. In fact, to give credit where it’s due, it’s more his than mine.

I must add this suspicion here: I think there may be a secret ingredient that he adds to this dish once I’ve stepped out of the kitchen, but you know how determined I am when it comes to cracking a recipe! I think I’ve done it, and between him and I, we have pretty much perfected it. This wonderful dish has actually made me forget what the original horse gram dal I enjoyed at my friend’s home tasted like. Now, this is the only rendition I know, and it’s served in my home several times a week. You may recall from my recent Gujarati dal recipe that toor dal is very beloved in my home. It’s been quite exciting to introduce a new dal that actually challenges the multi-generational staple!

While doing a little research on horse gram, especially since it’s an ingredient that strangely enough isn’t a staple itself, I was tickled to find that it is also called Madras gram! In Tamil, it’s known as “kollu”, and it seems that it is native to the subcontinent and has its own names in various Indian languages (it takes its English name from its prevalence in horse feed, where it was used because it gave the animals such a boost of energy, just as it does for us). In terms of health quotient, horse gram is high in iron and protein, and is used in traditional medicine systems to help treat kidney ailments, mumps and jaundice. It’s certainly a legume that we could all be eating more of. So I would also like to use it in more dishes, and if you’re open to sharing your recipes, you know that I’m all ears!

Perhaps it is just like so many other traditional foods that have slowly been declining in common usage. As a sustainability and authentic food revival enthusiast (as I’ve discussed various times on this blog, such as in this black sticky rice pudding recipe) this has me very intrigued. Do you use horse gram in your cooking? I’d love to hear about your memories, experiences and theories about why it’s become less popular.

Horse Gram Dal

(Yield: Serves 3-4 people)

½ cup horse gram dal

3 cups water

2 tablespoons oil (+ 2 tablespoons)

¼ tsp cumin seeds

1 finely chopped onion

3 blended tomatoes

1 teaspoon garlic-ginger paste

1 teaspoon dhaniya-jeera (coriander-cumin) powder

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon rajma masala

1 teaspoon Kashmiri chili powder

1 pinch asafoetida

1½ heaped teaspoon besan (chickpea flour)

Salt to taste

Soak the legumes in water, overnight. Make sure that they are completely immersed. In the morning, the dal will double in size.

Rinse the soaked dal and put it in a pressure cooker. Add 3 cups of water and allow to cook until the legumes are soft and tender to the touch.  Allow to cool slightly.

In a kadai, add the oil and cumin seeds, and allow them to splutter. Then, add the onions. Sauté until they are brown.

Next, add the garlic-ginger paste. Sauté again and add the chickpea flour. At this point you will need to add more oil, about 2 tablespoons, until the concoction looks like it does in this video.

Next, add the chili powder, coriander-cumin powder, turmeric, salt, asafoetida and rajma masala.  Mix, and then add the blended tomatoes. Now, sauté for about 3-6 minutes or until the oil separates.  Finally, add the dal, along with the water it was cooked in, to the mixture.

Stir and allow to boil for no more than 5 minutes. Serve with roti, rice or however you usually take your dal. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!

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Recipe: Love At First Sip – Nandi’s Special Chai

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The new year has dawned, and with it much hope and optimism for what is to come. As I said in my previous post, which was a recipe for a festive boozy hot chocolate that I hope you enjoyed, every one of us has learned so many lessons recently. If we would just take time to reflect on them, we would all see how much we have to be grateful for. As for me – and if you’ve been on my journey here right from the start, you may already know this – I do a lot of my reflecting over a cup of delicious, hot chai. As I was doing so the other morning, enjoying the gentleness of that early hour and my solitude in my garden, my thoughts drifted to the tea itself. I had been making it in my special way for so many years that I had almost forgotten how unique it is. It’s my pleasure to share it with you today, and perhaps it will become your special way too.

Even though tea is now a ubiquitous part of my life, this wasn’t always the case. The humble beverage was once an aspirational one for me, as it often is for children. Growing up here in India, neither caffeine nor sodas were permitted for children in most families of my generation. We were always given milk instead, or a milk-based healthy drink such as Bournvita. Tea or coffee were drinks we could only watch adults consume, knowing they were forbidden to us!

For me, the most vivid childhood impression of tea was always from the summer holidays when my mother’s entire clan of nine siblings would meet along with all of their own children. From wherever we were in the country or the world, we would descend on their sleepy little hometown. That meant that 50 or 60 cousins would be under the same roof, and you can imagine what happy times these were. As for the adults, I would often notice how they would chatter all night long over cups of freshly-made tea. To me, tea represented their bond. I always associated it not only with grown-upness, but with a sense of camaraderie.

Funnily enough, both of my siblings grew up to reject caffeine, even though as kids all of us and our army of cousins were constantly asking when we would be able to try some chai for ourselves. This meant that I only became properly introduced to it in my mid-20s, once I’d gotten married. It was love at first sip, happily infused of course with the knowledge of fulfilling a long-held childhood wish.

Over time, I began to infuse my cuppa with more than just memories. Playing around with different flavourings over the years, I found a version that is perfect for me. My special chai uses both lemongrass and ginger. I have one cup of it every morning, and a half cup every afternoon. The time I spend with my tea is always a pleasant and even meditative few minutes, with and without company.

It won’t surprise you to know that I’m quite particular when it comes to each ingredient in this tea. I tend to use homegrown lemongrass, but I am also partial to Maharashtrian lemongrass. Lemongrass tea is extremely popular in there, where it’s called “leelee cha” or “green tea”, in reference to the colour of the leaves, not to be confused with the other variant of green tea. So whenever a dear one is coming via the state, I insist that they bring me some. My husband is in Mumbai at the moment, and I’ve told him he isn’t permitted to return home without some lemongrass leaves from a local vendor! I’m so obsessed with having lemongrass in my tea that whenever I’m falling short of the ingredient, I tell the rest of my family that they’re just going to have to go without it and hoard it all for myself.

Complementing the spicy lemongrass is the equally piquant ginger, which is always freshly crushed. As for the tea leaves themselves, I used to have a fondness for the citrusy tang and rich colour of orange pekoe, but later it was several variants of tea sourced from the Nilgiris mountain range that became my favourites. Lately, with travel and access being more restricted, I’ve discovered some lovely Indian supermarket brands for good quality tea leaves too. I’m not a fan of tea bags, and believe that powdered tea leaves are one of the secrets to a great chai.

That reminds me of another cherished tea memory of mine. I’ve spoken many times about my travels to the Nilgiris (such as in my harra bhara kebab recipe, vegan passionfruit shrikand recipe and plum chutney recipe). Many lifelong Chennaiites like myself will have decades of holiday reminiscences from time spent in the coolest climes of Tamil Nadu. Among these for me are memories of a dear family friend who lived in the hills, Mrs. Bosen. She ran a kindergarten school, and my kids too have fond recollections of going there to play with the little ones and teaching them the alphabet. She represented the summer holidays to us, and we loved spending time with her. Her tea was so legendary that whenever she invited us over, we would adjust our entire schedule for the day around arriving just in time to have it. It was simply incomparable, and continues to be our benchmark for brilliantly-made tea even though the lovely lady herself is long gone. Sometimes, when the evening tea has come out exceptionally well, one of us will still remark, “Doesn’t this taste like Mrs. Bosen’s tea?”

I often feel that the water used in tea, an ingredient we take for granted, also makes a difference. Does tea sipped in the Nilgiris taste so much better because of the water there, in which leaves grown there are steeped? Or is that just the taste of nostalgia? Either way, I always make my tea with mineral water. Chennai has hard water in the taps, and soft water is certainly preferable for tea.

That said, I’ve certainly enjoyed a pan-Indian experience when it comes to tea. While I like mine with just a little splash of milk, in many parts of the country it’s made so that it’s often more milk than tea. Once I learned the reason for this – i.e. milk used to be a symbol of affluence, and from being a status marker it simply became a preference in many places – I understood that it’s all about the context. I may not have liked the variants with over-heaped chai masalas had I made them at home, but having those in North India in the winters where the extra helping kept me warmer made sense. Similarly with sugar, which I personally take less of, but I could appreciate in situations where it was used to turn a tea into a type of dessert too.

A confession: wherever I travel, no matter where else and how else I drink my chai, I always carry powdered tea leaves and some lemongrass with me, because I simply must have it my way at some point in the day. I’m sharing this recipe with you in the hope that it becomes your most trusted style of tea too.

Nandi’s Special Chai

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 full cup water

¼ inch ginger piece (crushed)

2 pinches of lemongrass leaves

1 teaspoon tea leaves

2 tablespoons milk

Honey/sugar to taste

Boil the water along with the fresh ginger and lemongrass leaves in a pot. When it begins to boil along the edges of the pot, add the tea leaves. This will happen within approximately 2 or 3 minutes.

Once it’s properly boiling, add the milk. As I said, I use just a splash, but you can adjust the quantity as required. You can certainly make this recipe with almond milk too. I often do, whenever I’m in a vegan mood myself.

After about 30 seconds, switch off the flame and cover the pot with with a lid. Covering it ensures the flavours will blend nicely. Let it sit for another half minute.

Now, strain the tea. Enjoy your cup with honey or sugar or neither, depending on your preference. If you’re like my husband, who hates mugs, I’m sure that proper tea cups are a must in your serving style. If you’re like anyone in my home, a slice of cake may tempt you too!

That first sip – ah, so satisfying. Tea is one of those things that anyone can learn how to prepare, but which becomes simply sublime when someone has a knack for getting it just right. I happen to be that person in my household, by unanimous vote. Although I’ve taught every single one of them the very same recipe I’m sharing with you today, they insist that I make it best, and so I’m always the designated tea-maker. Perhaps that’s because of the special ingredient, which is not so secret at all – love.

 

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Recipe: To Bright New Beginnings – Boozy, Orange-Kissed Hot Chocolate

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Christmas was always a very special occasion in our home when my children were growing up. They would be so excited about setting up the Christmas tree, going shopping to find beautiful decorative ornaments, and simply enjoying the festive atmosphere. While Diwali always held its own importance as as our main religious event, Christmas was something we enjoyed as pure celebration. We had our own little Christmas traditions, and as the kids started leaving home, these slowly disappeared. But this year, for the first time in a while and with nothing but this pandemic to credit for it, we are all at home together. And once again, Christmas feels just like it used to, full of camaraderie and deliciousness – except, now that my kids are adults, we’re all raising toasts together. The beverage we’re clinking glasses with? This orange-kissed, boozy hot chocolate!

There are scores of recipes for hot chocolate all over Instagram this time of year. But this is my version, and I can assure you that it’s absolutely delicious. I first tried hot chocolates like this one abroad, but these days you not only find excellent brands here in India but also have homegrown confectioners who work with small-scale farmers, are eco-conscious and create locally-made chocolates of a high quality. You can use the dark chocolate of your preference for this recipe.

The booze quotient here comes from Cointreau. A French liqueur containing bitter orange peels, it adds a wonderful citrusy kick to the beverage. While I’ve used whole milk, you can try this recipe with almond or coconut milk too – let me know what you think of the results, if you do? You can also play around with the liqueur, perhaps substituting a mint-based one or some other flavour. But for me, chocolate-orange is an unbeatable combination, and that’s why this is my favourite version of this festive drink.

Every day during this pandemic, we’ve been drinking tonics that boost our immunity: warm turmeric, herbal anti-sniffle concoctions and more. I’m sure you’ve been doing the same at home. Hot chocolate – hot, boozy chocolate, to be accurate – is a nice change! The weather in Chennai has also been changing for the better, and there’s a nice nip in the air and the season of heavy rains has passed. This is such a lovely and appropriate dessert for this time of year, especially as we reflect on all that has passed and all that is to come.

The theme of hope is on my mind constantly of late. I believe hope is what separates us from others in the animal kingdom, and is the only thing that has kept and still keeps us going through the pandemic. “Hope, gratitude and good health” is truly going to be our mantra for the coming year. I wish for you that all three are in abundance always.

The lockdowns in various parts of the world have taught us all so much. We have changed and we have learned. We’ve understood what bears meaning, and what doesn’t. For me, one of the most important learnings is that Nature rules us all. We have to be mindful and respectful of the health of the planet and the co-existence of all living things. Our interconnectivity has never been clearer than through the spread of the pandemic. I believe that now that we have seen this, we must change our individual habits. I also believe that it is never too late to start doing so. Even though the planet is on the brink of climate collapse, we can still do our part to contribute to its healing. I have hope. I have hope that hope itself, combined with a strong sense of responsibility, can save us.

Just look at how much we have overcome already. We are no longer scared and confused. We’ve figured out how to cope, and we’ve also been able to bring little rays of sunshine back into life.

The beginning of a new year usually inspires optimism, but this year I’m feeling it all the more. I truly feel like I’m seeing everything in a fresh light, and I am looking forward to good things to come

It so happens that even our home has also undergone a bit of a transformation, and has been repainted and rejuvenated. It’s also our wedding anniversary in late December, so there’s a double reason to celebrate. We have had decades together, with all the ups and downs, and thick phases and thin ones, that such a duration invariably brings. It has been a beautiful journey, and has contained so much. I hope that you too have something to toast as this year winds down.

 

Boozy, Orange-Kissed Hot Chocolate

(Yield: Serves 2)

 

1 ½ cups whole milk

¼ cup cream

75 grams dark chocolate

1 tablespoon cocoa powder

1 teaspoon corn flour

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon sugar

1 star anise

1 tablespoon Cointreau

 

Garnish options (pick any, or all!)

Dried or candied orange slice

Cinnamon stick

Whipped cream

Caramel sauce

 

In a ¼ cup of milk, add the corn flour and whisk until the mixture is smooth.

Add the remaining milk and cream to this and stir. The cream is optional, depending on your tastes. Vegans – you may replace the milk with almond milk, and eliminate the cream. Next, add the cocoa powder and mix it all up.

In a heavy bottomed pot, place the concoction on a low flame and stir constantly.

You can now add the star anise. Do not allow the milk to boil, but once it is heated up, turn off the flame and then add the chocolate, sugar and cinnamon powder. We like our boozy hot chocolate only lightly sweetened so I use just a tablespoon of sugar, but you may double this quantity if you prefer. Stir constantly at this time, making sure the chocolate melts and the milk turns silky smooth.

Add the Cointreau. Use more liqueur if you want to make it boozier. Garnish as you wish to and serve immediately.

I believe that thoughtful portion sizes are very important, both aesthetically and as well as in terms of what is good for us. I always say that the eye feasts first, and I knew this from a culinary perspective even before I understood it as a photographer. Serve this beverage in small cups or glasses. It’s a heavy, filling drink that keeps you warm and cozy and you will not need a whole mug of it to enjoy it. What a perfect symbol for the year that has ended too, which has taught us all to be grateful for the little things. Look more closely at what you have, rather than take it for granted, and you will cherish it all the more.

I am cherishing having my family around, and having the joy of my work to keep me busy. The re:store kitchen is always especially busy and beautifully aromatic at this time of year as I bake an array of goodies for the year-end festivities. I would love to bring some deliciousness and warmth to your home as well. If you are in Chennai, please take a look at my product catalogue  and see if anything catches your fancy. May I draw your eye to the almond cakes, available in a range of flavours and with an eggless option, to complement this wonderful beverage? Or how about my latest addition to the menu: a caramel-pecan cake that simply uplifts everything through its sweetness? I can’t wait to hear from you, and to place something special into the oven for you and your loved ones…

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Recipe: Traditionally Dal-icious – Gujarati Dal

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Dal is made in every single Gujarati home almost every single day. Literally. No exaggeration. Dal is the staple, the tradition, the go-to, the “I must have my daily dal”. It is made the same way every afternoon, and we never get bored of it. Come what may, there’s a bowl of dal on the table for lunch, alongside a vessel of hot rice. Given what a fundamental part of our palate it is, it’s funny that it’s taken me over four years of blogging to share the recipe, especially when so many of you have also requested it from me. But here it is, finally! I can say for certain that it’s been worth the wait.

While I’ve asserted repeatedly over so many recipes that every dish tastes different based on the cook, the kitchen and the place it’s being made in, this one somehow always tastes the same. Which is to say: it tastes perfect. It’s a mainstay, made exactly the same way no matter who is making it or where. I have enjoyed it everywhere I have tried it and have never tasted a difference. So what you are getting today is an absolutely authentic, time-honoured recipe for quintessentially Gujarati dal.

It’s funny how the stereotype as far as food is concerned goes “dhokla!”, when dhokla isn’t quite the backbone of the cuisine the way that dal-bhat (dal and rice) is. It should tell you so much about stereotypes versus the real experience because while we may not be famously associated with dal-bhat, it’s such a part of our culture that the dish even forms part of our pleasantries. When one Gujarati person meets up with another, we often say these words: “dal-bhat, rotli, shaak?” The phrase means: “dal and rice, rotli and vegetables?”. The question is a way of saying, “Have you eaten?” – a typical and pan-Indian form of polite chatter. If you notice, dal-bhat is the first term even though it is actually served later in a meal. In a traditional meal, it is rotlis that are served first, and once the rice comes out you know that there are no more rotlis left. Still, in our greetings, the importance is accorded to dal-bhat, because that’s the place it has in our hearts.

The Gujarati dal and rice combo is one that has been relished for generations in my home. When my husband was little, his grandpa nicknamed him Dal-Sukh Dal-Bhat (“sukh” means “happiness”) because it was the only dish that always satisfied him, without fail. My husband’s grandpa also lived to the ripe old age of 99, very fit and healthy on a daily diet of dal and rice – and happily watching his great-grandchildren eat this beloved dish every day too. The very first solid food that my children all ate was dal and rice, and it is still their comfort food. Just as in some South Indian homes, when kids come home after eating out somewhere, they’ll head to the kitchen and say, “Ma, do you have any thayir sadam (curd rice)?”, a bit of dal-bhat is the dish that most Gujaratis will crave in order to feel like a meal is truly complete.

Never come between a Gujarati and their dal rice. Trust me, no matter what other traditions are parted from, this one will stay true for the ages!

While dals are eaten everywhere in India, what makes this one unique to our community is that it panders to our famous sweet tooth. It contains jaggery, which sweetens it, and is also made tangy through kokum. It should only be made with toor dal (pigeon pea), and there is no substitute for this ingredient that won’t alter the entire recipe and the entire experience.

Gujarati Dal

(Yield: Serves 4-5 persons)

 

½ cup raw toor dal

2 cups + 2 cups water

2 tablespoons ghee

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

1 dry red chilli

A pinch of methi seeds

A few curry leaves

A pinch of asafoetida

½ cup finely chopped tomato

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon red chili powder

2 tablespoons unsalted peanuts

3 tablespoons jaggery

4-6 stems of kokum flowers

¼ cup chopped coriander leaves

 

Wash and strain the dal. Pressure cook it in 2 cups of water. Then, blend the dal with a handheld blender and set it aside.

In a kadai, add ghee. Once it has heated, add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds and fenugreek seeds and allow them to splutter. Next, add the dry red chili and the salt, chili powder, turmeric and asafoetida. Finally, add the curry leaves, peanuts, chopped coriander leaves and chopped tomato. Sauté. Cover with a lid and allow this to cook on a slow flame until all the spices and the tomato come together and look mashed, as in this video below.

Now, add the jaggery. Then, add the blended dal that was set aside earlier. You will need to add more water at this stage, based on the thickness you prefer. I’ve added 2 cups. Remember that once cooled, the dal will thicken a little more.

The final touch is to add the kokum to the kadai. If you don’t have this ingredient, you can use a little lime juice as a substitute. Allow the concoction to boil for approximately 4-5 minutes.

Then, serve hot alongside rice or rotli, or both – as in a traditional Gujarati thaali.

Not only does this dish have the charm of simplicity and familiarity, it is also downright delicious. It’s truly such a pleasure to share this recipe for this deeply-loved Gujarati dal with you. I would not be surprised to hear of it being made in your own home daily from now on, just as it has been in mine since time immemorial!

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