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Recipe: A Dish Best Served Cold – Watermelon Gazpacho

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Perhaps the combination of the sweltering Chennai summer and the memories evoked by my last post, on travels through Spain, were what made me crave this Andalusian dish. Gazpacho is a kind of cold soup, not soup gone cold but rather soup which has never been heated. Tomato is often the base, but I took the element of cooling a step further and used a fruit that is a staple for us during this time of year: juicy, ripe, sweet watermelon.

Chennai being hot through most of the year, gazpacho is always welcomed in my home. But the summer demands extra cooling, so first I tried my hand at a yoghurt-based soup with mint. But it ended up tasting a bit like raita and was quickly dismissed from my dining table. That’s when the burst of seasonal fruit at Namma Suvai  – a place I like both for their honest and open policy of having back end (farmers) and front end operations meet, as well as for their superb organic range – gave me a brainwave. I picked up the watermelons, which grow best in warm climates and provide a much needed hydrating and cooling effect to the body. I had not eaten watermelon gazpacho before, even though I knew it existed, and so was all the more excited to try it.

Gazpacho is exceedingly easy to make, just a simple puree, and as I prepared it, I recalled how I used to try to get the kids to eat healthy when they were younger. It’s quite a task, as all moms know, and most of you will be familiar with the technique of disguising (or as the kids say “disgust-ing!”) soups with all kinds of vegetables. I would add locally grown, water-based vegetables like bottle gourd or ridge gourd along with carrots and onions to the basic tomato – all while making sure the red colour of the tomato, the vegetable most popular to their palate, remained. Needless to say, I’d feed it to them quickly, before they noticed their red soup was full of green goodness! As they grew older, they caught on to the trick and refused to eat soup unless it was made to their taste and preferred proportions. Sometimes, they would eat it just to please me, but then say “Ma, did you think we didn’t know?” Fortunately, their tastes became refined once they saw their own friends beginning to enjoy soups socially. Of course, no matter what age the kids are, a parent is still a parent, and those of us who are parents never stop trying to ensure that they are eating well.

Even though I no longer needed to disguise this soup so it looked like tomato, maybe a little of that old desire to make my dishes as attractive for my kids as possible was still in me, so I wanted this gazpacho to be not just tasty but also vibrant both visually and on the tastebuds. So I added garlic, some colourful bell peppers and a hint of tomato to it. Raw chopped mango brought some tangy Indian-ness too, and a hint of chaat masala added familiar spice. The garnishing was meant to catch the eye, and so it did. Not only did the kids reach for it, but we had a surprise guest for dinner, and she thoroughly enjoyed my watermelon gazpacho along with my homemade sourdough.

As those of you who have followed my Instagram Stories for a while know, sourdough was something I worked at every day, entirely convinced I would eventually get the hang of it, and I did. It’s a very long and cumbersome process, but one every baker should experiment with. Sourdough is a way to make bread without yeast, allowing the natural bacteria to ferment in the air. I now make it so often that I have so much bread that I end up making accompaniments to it instead of the other way round.

One such accompaniment, of course, is this bright and flavour-rich watermelon gazpacho, which brings together sweetness, spice and some much-needed summer cooling.

Watermelon Gazpacho

(Yield: 5-6 cups)

2 ½ cups watermelon – deseeded

¼ cup tomato

¼ cup chopped red capsicum

¼ cup spring onions

3-4 cloves garlic

2 tablespoon olive oil

5 basil leaves

2 teaspoons any good vinegar/red wine/sherry or a big squeeze of lemon

3 small slices jalapeño

2 tablespoons finely chopped raw mango

¼ teaspoon chaat masala

Salt to taste (I used Himalayan pink)

Toppings:

Finely sliced avocado

¼ cup finely sliced red capsicum

2 tablespoons finely sliced spring onion

2 tablespoons olive oil

The method to make this watermelon gazpacho is extremely simple. Just keep the toppings aside and put all the other ingredients into a blender. Blend, but let the mixture remain coarse.

Pour into pretty serving glasses or bowls and garnish with the toppings. Gazpacho is meant to be served cold, and whether your guests will enjoy it as a soup or as a crunchy beverage is up to how you serve it!

This watermelon gazpacho is truly a mélange of flavours: from spicy chaat masala to sweet watermelon, and the textures of soft avocado and crisp raw mango in between. You may think so many ingredients wouldn’t go well together, but believe me – they do. I so enjoyed having this gazpacho with sourdough slices, a light and healthy combination that formed a perfectly filling (and very satisfying!) dinner. Do give it a try while watermelons are in season, and let me know what you think!

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Recipe: Memories Of A Special Sponge Cake – Spanish Madeleines

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I’ve spoken often of how, just a few years ago, my daughter baked a chocolate cake for the family which was a turning point in my life. It was the best cake I had ever eaten, and I remember watching her as she made it. She was in good spirits, and hummed and sang while she was gathering the ingredients and lining them up in front of her. Then, she happily pulled out a recipe and began with such lightness and joy. Watching her, I thought to myself: “I’ve tried baking for so many years. I must try again with the same spirit my daughter has.” The first bite of the cake that came out of the oven was the last push of encouragement I needed. I set my mind to it: I would learn to bake with joy. I spent the next month baking the exact same cake every single day, tweaking the method and learning with each effort, until I too fell into a happy, humming rhythm. And the rest, as they say, was history…

My daughter is a big part of the recipe I am sharing today, but it’s not just because of that life-changing chocolate cake (which you can order right here if you are in Chennai). Rather, it’s because of one of the many dishes she introduced me to when she was studying for her Bachelor’s in Boston. Whenever I would visit her, she would always take me to interesting new places to try out delicious cuisines and treats that never failed to inspire me. It was in one such café that I tasted madeleines for the first time. They were pistachio ones, and you know I love pistachio (of course, a pistachio cake also sits prettily on the re:store product list).

Madeleines are a kind of basic sponge cake which are made in a shell-like shape (you can find trays for this in most baking stores). They are widely regarded as being of French origin, and an English version with jam, desiccated coconut and cherries is also popular. But to me, it’s the Spanish madeleine that captured my heart. You see, some time before being introduced to the sweet treat in Boston, we had gone to Spain, where I first heard of the little sponge cake. It was the loveliness of the trip itself which gave its local version a sentimental value for me, even though it wasn’t until later that I got a chance to eat it.

It was an experience of a lifetime to be in Santiago de Compostela, in Spain’s Galician region, on the holy day of Palm Sunday. We had been delayed and had missed our connecting flight, so we were surprised to find we had made it in time for the services. And even better, we had somehow wound up in the front row. Here, we had a wonderful view of a special ritual that only takes place on special occasions. Enormous incense holders known as botafumeiro are swung across the expanse of the church and back, filling the environment with scent, smoke and a feeling of divine grace.  The effect of the smoke in that beautiful cathedral, amidst the chants and prayers, was surreal.

Heading back to the exquisite Hostal dos Reis Católicos, which dates back to 1486 and is thought to be the most beautiful hotel in Europe, I gathered these new memories together. Somewhere on this trip was where I learned how the humble madeleine is related to the grandeur of a Spanish cathedral, and that’s how I think of it, no matter where I eat it. You see, Santiago de Compostela is the culminating point of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route. In the Spanish origin story of the recipe I am sharing today, a medieval chef named Madeleine used to make these little shell-shaped delights to feed the pilgrims there. The treats took on her name.

Short or long, pilgrimages are all metaphors for our own life as we pursue our dreams and life’s mission. To me, my own pilgrimage is a journey of delighting people through food which appeals to every sense. From the tastebuds to the memory centres, and everything in between. These sweet madeleines are a perfect example – and yes, they are made with joy!

Madeleines

(Yield: 12 madeleines)

90 grams flour

¾ teaspoon baking powder

100 grams unsalted butter

65 grams sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon lavender seeds

2 teaspoons maple syrup

2 teaspoons milk

Powdered sugar for dusting

The basic madeleine recipe is simple and elegant and I have done little to change it but sweeten it further using maple syrup. I also added a little re:store flourish in the form of one of my favourite ingredients – lavender, the subtle hint of which always lightens up my mood.

Prepare a madeleine pan by buttering and dusting it.

Whisk all the dry ingredients together. Carefully melt the butter in a pan, on a medium flame, until it turns brown.

Place the sugar in a bowl and mix it. Add the eggs one at a time and beat well.

Now, add the vanilla extract, the lavender seeds and the maple syrup. Whisk well until the mixture is perfectly blended.

Now, add the remaining dry ingredients. Once all the ingredients are well incorporated, add the butter in slowly, using just a small quantity at a time. Then, stir in the milk.

Now that you have made the batter, divide it into the moulds of the madeleine tray and allow it to cool in the refrigerator for 15 minutes. In the meantime, preheat the oven at 160 °C.

Remove the tray from the refrigerator and place it directly into the oven. Depending on what kind of oven you use, bake for 10-15 minutes.

Once the baking is done, remove the tray from the oven. Upturn it and watch as the beautiful madeleines fall out. Dust them with powdered sugar and store in a dry container. That is, if you don’t serve them immediately. Chances are, you won’t be able to resist.

These delicious madeleines are a perfect tea-time snack, so brew yourself a pot of your favourite as you enjoy the scent of baking still lingering in your kitchen.

I love ruminating over tea, as I sit with Max and enjoy a little me-time. It was on one such day that I dreamt up this post as well. And I especially like having a little sweet treat to go with my beverage. How about you? Please be sure to let me know what tasting these madeleines inspires in you!

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Recipe: Gorging On Glutinous Grains – Black Sticky Rice With Mango

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We all know that the best sticky rice comes from South East Asia, as Thai cuisine attests. No visit to Thailand is complete without my daily share of sticky rice pudding, topped with either lychees or mangoes. I love the mix of flavours – sticky, juicy, sweet. A dessert made out of main course material! So imagine my excitement when I discovered a South Indian variety of black rice, grown right here in Tamil Nadu.

Sheela Balaji’s shop Spirit of the Earth in Alwarpet, Chennai, is a gem of a find for those who want to switch to organic rice varieties from all over India. Sheela has been responsible for revitalising the cultivation of 30 indigenous rice varieties, a journey which began when she saw a farmer spraying pesticides on paddy crops. He explained to her that hybrid rice cannot grow well otherwise, and this inspired her to try to find a solution that would benefit farmers, the crop, and everyone who eats it. The answer lay in indigenous rice variants, and Spirit of the Earth works closely with farmers to bring back ancient grains.

The grains have interesting names like illupai poo champa and mapillai champa, varied nutritional values, and are all healthier than hybrid rice variants that have undergone chemical treatments and processing. Among these is the karuppu kavuni or kavuni arusi, a black sticky rice which is believed to have been grown in Tamil Nadu from the period of the Chola dynasty. Not only is it an attractive colour that will draw the eye to the dish you serve, but it’s also very healthy, with anti-inflammatory properties, antioxidants and dietary fibre. Black rice itself has many varieties, and is grown in Assam, Sri Lanka and other places as well. Its cultivation depends on the soil, and it usually has a slightly nutty taste.

If you’re a long-term reader of my blog, you’ll know that I’ve always loved to advocate traditional varieties of food. As a Macrobiotics specialist, I am always interested in seasonal, local cooking, and everything from millets to vegetables and fruits and more which fit into this cycle. So I was very excited to learn about organic, indigenous rice which our ancestors used to eat too. For those who have just not been able to make the switch to millets, this will come as a boon. And now that I’ve discovered this kavuni arusi, and with mangoes in season, I simply had to have my favourite black sticky rice pudding.

While I’ve talked about “English” vegetables and foreign-inspired desserts often on this blog, what I’ve really been trying to achieve on this platform is  diversity. We are so lucky to be able to access so many wonderful ingredients both from home and abroad. This traditional rice, kavuni arusi, is going to become one of my staples. It has to be, because I can’t get enough of black sticky rice pudding, after all!

 

Black Sticky Rice Pudding

(Yield: 3-5 cups)

4 cups water

½ cup raw black rice

½ cup milk

½ cup coconut milk

1 cup sugar

2 tablespoons fresh shaved coconut

½ teaspoon toasted sesame seeds

Pick and rinse the rice, then soak it overnight. The rice quantity would have increased marginally due to the soaking. Now, cook the soaked rice in 4 cups of water. While I used kavuni arusi grown in Tamil Nadu, you’ll be using the black rice that is most easily available to you, so keep in mind that the water quantity may vary. Adjust accordingly. The idea is to make sure the rice is soft to the touch and tender. I also lightly blended the rice with a hand blender so the grains became smaller.

Place the rice pot on a medium flame and add the milk and sugar. If you prefer not to use sugar, replace it with maple syrup, honey or any sweetener. I often substitute sugar with brown rice syrup myself. For vegans, coconut milk tastes superb in this dish as a dairy replacement.

This time, I debated but decided to not add the twist of rose that is so often the re:store signature, wanting to achieve something as close to the Thai dish as possible, but I might do so when I next make this pudding. If you want that floral aroma, just include a little rose essence or rosewater.

Stir constantly, making sure the mixture does not stick to the bottom. The mixture will remain thick.

Next, lower the flame and add the coconut milk. Stir. Just before the mixture begins to bubble, turn off the flame. Add the coconut shavings and blend well, then allow to cool. Once cooled, scoop into small serving bowls.

I was so excited to discover this black rice grown in Tamil Nadu, and wanted to complement it with other flavours native to my state, like coconut and mango. Sticky rice as a dessert is traditionally served with fruit, and my fruit of choice was mangoes, because the season has just begun here in India. But lychees work equally well, as will many other fruits of your own choice. Together, the mix of sweetness and stickiness is just sublime. I hope you’ll enjoy this wonderful sweet treat which shows you just how versatile rice can be!

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Recipe: Still Gaga For Guavas – Bachu Foi’s Guava Jelly

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In my Gujarati household, we have always had a deep and old association with Parsees. The Dark Prince’s best friend, Sohrab, is a Parsee, and so was his grandfather’s best friend, Bachu Foi, in Ahmedabad. When we got married and his grandfather also became mine, so too did Bachu Foi. “Foi” means “paternal aunt”, and Bachu Foi was the gentlest, kindest soul I’ve ever known. When I met her, she was well into her 70s and happily single, and always seemed to be around when we visited our grandparents. In those years, I would arrive with my gaggle of toddlers who kept my hands full. Bachu Foi always knew when I was coming, and would move in with me for the duration of my visit. And she would make the best-I’ve-ever-had guava jelly. Well, I’d never had guava jelly before hers, but it set my taste for life.

Pink, sweet, luscious, diamond-shaped guava jelly. I treasured it not only because it was sweet, but because it was made by my very sweet Bachu Foi. The truth is that at the time, I was too involved with my little children to spare the time to patiently learn the recipe from her, but how I wish I had. As my culinary skills grew, over time I experimented and finally arrived at my own version. I would say it comes pretty close to what Bachu Foi used to make. After all, we both use the same basic ingredient: love.

I was not only busy with my kids, but also highly involved with trying to stay in the good books of my strict, disciplinarian grandfather. And Bachu Foi was ever on the lookout, ready to bail me out and take my side. These memories came flooding back to me on a recent trip to Ahmedabad for a book I am working on (ssshhh…). There, I met a relative of hers, an old gent who exclaimed, “Ah yes, I knew your grandpa – Bachu Foi was his girlfriend!”

I was quick to argue with him, “No, she was never his girlfriend!” Then I realised how futile it was to explain that they just shared such a beautiful friendship. I thought about how my grandmother, who was just as wonderful a person, was always around too. She was divinity personified, calm and chilled out, and not in the least threatened by Bachu Foi!

In my previous post, in which I shared a mood-uplifting Gujarati curry using the favourite fruit of my childhood, I’d mentioned that one other way in which I like to enjoy guavas is in jelly form, with a platter of crackers and a glass of wine. The combination of salty and sweet makes for a lovely treat. This was something I picked up in Cuba, during the only other time that I’ve experienced guava jelly close to Bachu Foi’s sublime creation. I was surprised to see guavas there then, not knowing their history, and brought back a big chunk of guava jelly. I later realized that they were the perfect substitute there for fig jam, which is usually served with wine, and it’s the same here. Our familiar, affordable guavas are perfect for the job.

The previous post is full of information about the goodness of guavas (they are loaded with Vitamin C), but let me be honest – this one is very, very indulgent! It is dedicated, with much love, to the memory of my Bachu Foi.

Guava Jelly

(Yield: approximately 15 pieces)

½ kilo guavas
6 cups water
¼ cup butter
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon rosewater
Sugar to measure

 

As I experimented with guava jelly recipes, I hit on what would make this one unique. One of re:store’s signature ingredients: rosewater. It adds a divine aroma to an already divine dessert. You may also know this dish by another name – sweet guava cheese.

Wash the guavas and place them in boiling water, and allow the water to bubble until the guavas turn soft. Then, remove them carefully and keep the water aside. Allow the guavas to cool slightly, then remove the skin. Next, remove the seeds from the fruit and keep them aside.

Add the seeds to 2 cups of the same water that was used to boil the guavas and allow them to cook for some more time. Cool.

Blend the flesh of the guavas and strain, along with the water containing the seeds. Collect the pulp in a pot and boil. Within a few minutes, add a quantity of sugar equivalent to the pulp. When I was making this recipe, I found that I added 3 cups. You may adjust the sugar quantity depending on the sweetness of the guavas and your own preferences.

Allow the mixture to boil, stirring constantly. This took me approximately 20-25 minutes. You will notice the pulp becoming thicker. Now, add the butter and lemon juice. Cook some more until the pulp starts to leave the edges of the pot. If you scrape to see, you should notice a dry pot.

Drop a glob of the pulp in cold water to check if it forms into a hard lump. Allow to cook some more.

Finally, add the rosewater. Stir well, and pour the thick pulp onto a greased plate. Remember that the quantity of the pulp will reduce as it cools, which you must allow it to do at room temperature for 3 hours.

Then, cut into shapes and remove gently. I use the diamond shape, just like Bachu Foi – that gem of a person – did.

You’ll find the guava jelly to be chewy, sticky and sweet. I’ve used approximate quantities in the recipe above, so do experiment and see what suits you. As I mentioned, I don’t really know how to make Bachu Foi’s exact recipe, and so I also want to share the method as to how I arrived at mine. I did it by reading at least 20 different recipes from various sources, adjusting according to my culinary sense and taste. So here’s a big Thank You to all the other food bloggers out there, especially on Instagram, who generously share their recipes too! Here’s adding mine to the collection, with love for Bachu Foi…

 

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Recipe: Guavas For A Good Mood – Gujarati Guava Curry

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To say guava curry is a comfort food in my home is an understatement. To call it by that name doesn’t come close to accurately explaining the effect it has. It lifts the mood, changes the vibe, inspires – and always hits the spot. It is my husband (aka the Dark Prince)’s favourite. Whenever I know that he is feeling low, it’s the guavas that I reach for. Something about this guava curry does him so much good. Even though it’s a traditional Gujarati shaak (sabzi), it somehow feels like it’s a specialty in my home precisely for the way it makes us feel. It’s uplifting, soul-warming, and so delicious.

There are of course numerous varieties of guavas. They are believed to have originated in Central America, but grow well in hot climates, which is probably why India is one of the world’s top producers of the same. I am accustomed to so many names for this fruit: jamphal (the Gujarati Jain name in my husband’s home), jamrukh (the Gujarati Vaishnav name in my mother’s home), peru (as the Parsees call it, since it’s considered similar to the pear), and of course amrood in Hindi and koyapazham in Tamil. Guavas are especially popular in Gujarati Jain households during their month of fasting, as they do not consume green vegetables at that time. They are cultivated in many places in the country, and are widely and affordably available. In fact, climbing a guava tree is such a cherished memory among kids of my generation. Even growing up in cities, most of us have some anecdote about being shouted at by a cranky neighbour as we sidled along a branch to pluck a fruit, and eating it greedily even if it was still raw and green! I still have a tree in my backyard, and since guavas can be harvested almost year-round, it’s lovely to have the fruits within reach when the mood at home calls for this curry. Although I’ve used pink guavas in my photoshoot, I often cook this recipe with the white ones too.

Even as a child, I loved guava so much that whenever we visited our grandparents in Vijayawada during the summers, I would use my treat money to buy some instead of a soda or a sweet. I loved the slices dipped in a spice mix of salt, chilli powder and chaat masala. They were a crunchy, flavourful snack, and being fruit-based were naturally healthier than most things that kids like to eat. Another way in which I love eating guavas now is in the form of guava jelly, best enjoyed with a glass of wine, cheese and crackers (maybe the recipe for this will follow later – let me know if you’re interested in the comments?).

This humble and widely-available fruit is a nutritional powerhouse, with very high vitamin C, iron and antioxidant content. It’s low in calories and sugar, and has a lot of fibre – thus improving metabolism all round. It’s also 80% water, so it is hydrating as well.

The Dark Prince too grew up with guavas, and I think that must be why this guava curry has a way of chasing away his blues. The first time that I encountered this dish, having grown up with and loved the fruit but not having tasted this particular manifestation of it, was in the household of his own grandparents. Each bite transports him back to a simpler time of love and comfort, and the sweet memories of his childhood.

I learned how to make this recipe quickly, understanding how important it was going to be in my marriage! And ever since then, I’ve found new ways to make use of my favourite fruit, playing with its taste and finding complementary flavours. As human beings, we are very innovative when it comes to food, but I’ll go as far as to say I think Gujaratis are the most innovative of all, and certainly the biggest foodies I know! This delicious and inventive guava curry is proof of the same.

Guava Curry

(Yield: 2 cups)

1 tablespoon oil

1 cup chopped ripe guava fruit (I removed most of the seeds)

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

2 cloves

1 piece cinnamon stick

1 dry red chilli

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

¼ teaspoon garam masala

¾ cup water

2 tablespoons jaggery

Salt to taste

In a kadai (pan), add the oil and heat on a medium flame. Once the oil is hot, add the cumin seeds and mustard seeds. Wait till they splutter. Then, add the cloves, cinnamon and dry red chilli. Immediately after, add the cut guava.

Add about a ¼ cup of water and mix well. Now, cover with a lid and allow the guavas to turn soft on a low-medium flame. This will take about 10 minutes.

Uncover, and add the cumin powder, turmeric, salt, garam masala, chilli powder and jaggery.  Stir, then add the remaining water. Allow to blend and cook for a few more minutes on a medium flame.

Despite being cooked with so many condiments and softened until the crisp texture is gone, you will find that this guava curry retains a great deal of the flavour of the fruit. Like good Gujarati foodies, we enjoy it most with rotlis, but you could have it with rice too. It’s spicy, tangy and has a hint of sweetness (from the jaggery, if not the fruit). I hope you’ll be as proud of having this unusual yet iconic recipe in your repertoire as I am. And I hope it lifts the mood in your home too!

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Recipe: The Exotic “English Vegetable” – Harra Bhara Kebab

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Every summer during my childhood, my family would drive up to Ooty to get away from the heat in Chennai. There we’d be, little children in our little Fiat car, excited to reach the hills. The drive would take anywhere between 8 and 12 hours, and since our car didn’t have an AC, it would be sweltering for most of the ride. So we’d stick our heads out of the windows and enjoy the drive. There were no eateries along the way, so we’d pack picnics for the journey. This was a ritual for many families we knew, who would escape the summer weather during the school vacations, in favour of the refreshingly cool climate of the hills.

As we came closer to our destination, not only would the air and the temperature become more and more pleasing, but the curling streets and by-lanes winding up to Ooty would be lined with the stalls of farmers, selling fresh produce like carrots and green peas, and a variety of fruits and other vegetables which grow well in that climate. Green peas would be sold by the name “English vegetable”. Even today, if you go to the local produce markets in Chennai and other places, “English vegetable” is the term that is used. Strangely, there is evidence that suggests it could be found in India some two thousand years ago, but no doubt it was the British who cultivated it properly. And who introduced it from their own cuisine into ours.

Green peas are not actually vegetables, but legumes. They are rich in antioxidants and fibre, have a high protein content (four times that of carrots) and also contain vitamins, manganese, folate and other beneficial elements. Like most green things that farmers grow, they are good for you.

Indians are very innovative when it comes to the kitchen. So all over India, the “English vegetable” was quickly welcomed into the family like they would a good daughter-in-law. Indianised and masalafied recipes featuring the ingredient became popular. We are big foodies in this country, and always find intelligent ways to incorporate new culinary elements into our own styles. Green peas are versatile, so you can make everything from a rice dish like a green peas pulao to so much more. The most bizarre dish I’ve heard of was a green pea halwa, a kind of sticky sweet – any chance you’ve tasted it? From this end to that, once it became popularised by the British, people made interesting dishes using this exotic “English vegetable”. Somewhere in the North, the availability of the green pea gave rise to a dish known as harra bhara kebab.

Kebabs in India originated from Mughal cuisine, from the palace kitchens of the Sultans. Although traditionally made of meat, today we make kebabs out of everything, even quinoa or paneer. The closest English equivalent, since we are using the “English vegetable” today after all, would be a patty or cutlet. Kebabs are sometimes cooked on a skewer, though not always served on one.  The harra bhara kebab is a great hit at parties because it’s a fabulous vegetarian snack, especially for those who’d like to try a kebab but want to avoid the meat ones. The word harra bhara itself is a Hindi term – “harra” meaning “green” and “bhara” meaning “stuffed”.

While cooking this dish, the challenge is to add spices in such a way that the green peas and vegetables retain their colour. This is because the way it looks adds to your experience of eating it, and most cooks want to convey the freshness of the ingredients visually. Some add baking soda or other condiments to keep this so, but I always prefer to keep things natural.

There’s an abundance of green peas in the markets right now, so I decided to make harra bhara kebabs. And as the weather is slowly turning hotter, memories of those summer vacations and those calls of “English vegetable” in the street markets have come flooding back…

 

Harra Bhara Kebab

(Yield: 8-10 kebabs)

1 ½ cups green peas

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

3 tablespoons oil

1 finely chopped green chili

½ cup finely chopped onions

½ teaspoon ginger garlic paste

½ teaspoon garam masala

½ teaspoon aamchur powder

¼ teaspoon sugar

½ cup coriander leaves

½ cup mashed potatoes

Salt to taste

In a pan, add 1 tablespoon oil and the cumin seeds. Once the cumin seeds turn golden, add the onions. Sauté for 2 minutes and then add the ginger garlic paste. Sauté some more till the colour turns.

Now, add the green peas and green chili. On a medium flame, stir well, making sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Then, cover the pan with a lid so the peas soften a little bit.

Once the green pea mixture has softened slightly, add the salt, aamchur powder, garam masala, sugar and coriander leaves. Mix well and allow to cool completely.

Grind the peas mixture coarsely. Blend this with the mashed potatoes, using your fingers. Then, make small patties with your palms.

In a flat pan, add the remaining oil. Once the pan is heated, place the kebabs gently on the oil. Keep the flame between low to medium and turn them over gently. Make sure they’re done well on both sides. Remove from the pan.

These harra bhara kebabs are ideal for sharing and are a perfect finger food, especially for parties where you want to add a few exciting vegetarian options to the menu. Serve them with a dip of your choice. I like them with a green coriander chutney, which you may remember from this earlier snack recipe for banana methi fritters. A tamarind chutney will also go very well. I’d love to know what dip accompaniment you like best for these harra bhara kebabs when you try them out. Looking forward to your comments!

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Recipe: Health, Home, Happiness – Turmeric Shot

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When we were young, our mother used to give us a bitter herbal drink, made of a powder called sudarshan churna, which was effective in deworming and improving immunity. Every Sunday, we would have to stand in a row, and would be made to gulp down that horrible liquid. But it worked. Later on, I tried to make my own kids do the same but I could not convince them. Perhaps one day they too will learn the value of these healing home remedies, just as I eventually did. I was thinking about some of them from my childhood as I prepared some herbal medicines for a chest congestion I’m recovering from. There’s the sniffle season drink, of course, which you may remember. But of equal importance is a shot of turmeric that I have daily, which has been coming to my rescue.

There are so many reasons why I so lovingly made this essential ingredient the logo for re:store (the bright stamp you see in the header above is it, and you’ll see it on the packaging when you put in orders as well). Turmeric is a powerhouse, which is why it is a vital ingredient in many traditional healing systems. Siddha, Ayurveda and Unani medicine treat it as crucial. Surprisingly, it is not believed to be native to India. But its usage here is so extensive that it can be said to be ubiquitously Indian. Not only are the edible variants used widely in cooking and healing, but the “kasturi manjal”, as it is known in Tamil, is prized as a beauty enhancer. In South Indian aesthetics, applying it on the face and leaving it on the skin is appreciated. You still see women everywhere with positively yellow, glowing faces. It’s very much a part of our landscape and sense of beauty. Turmeric is also auspicious in Indian culture. You see the stalks being used in the Pongal rituals in Tamil Nadu (which is the time during which it is harvested; Pongal was in mid-January, and turmeric is currently in season. And you also see it being given as a blessing gift by Gujaratis.

Turmeric is best-known for its antioxidant, antibiotic and antiseptic properties. To boost immunity, and assist in recovering from infections, there’s nothing like turmeric. Its usage is so simple – for instance, if we had a cough when we were kids, our mother would just give us a tablespoon or even a finger of turmeric power mixed with honey before bedtime. It would ease the severity of the cough as we slept. Even today, when I cut myself in the kitchen, which I do often, I just take a pinch of turmeric and place it over the cut. It always heals quickly.

This recipe would literally be a single-ingredient one if it wasn’t for one more addition. Ghee, also known as clarified butter. Ghee is fat-soluble, and I use a small drop of it here so that the body can absorb the turmeric better. It’s often used in Ayurvedic medicines for the same reason. It’s optional (vegans may avoid it), but I also feel it slightly improves the taste.

But the turmeric is really the main thing, a star among ingredients for healing remedies. And that’s why I keep talking about it, and why it’s the symbol of re:store. To me, it is the epitome of good health and represents it in every shape and form. Wherever it originally came from, it belongs to India now, and you can grow it in your own backyard. I’m all for ingredients that can be homegrown, so you know just what goes into your body, and even my turmeric powder is homemade. Whether it goes into a drink like this or into a curry, it’s wonderful to know exactly where our food comes from.

Health-Boosting Turmeric Shot

(Yield: 1 cup / 2 shots)

Ingredients

Turmeric (fresh or powdered)

A drop of ghee

 

This might be the simplest recipe I have ever shared on this blog. But believe me, it is also one of the most effective. Once you see how much it helps you fight off small infections, allowing you to not have to resort to antibiotics, I have no doubt you will make it for yourself and your family frequently.

You can make it with either fresh or powdered turmeric, depending on what’s on hand. If using the former: wash, cut and remove the skin from the fresh turmeric root. You will get about a ½ cup’s worth. Now, finely chop it, then grind it in a blender, adding a tablespoon of water to help it blend properly. Once the turmeric root has been well crushed, sieve the juice through a fine muslin cloth or cheese cloth. Pour into a glass and add a drop of ghee or melted butter.

When I do not have fresh turmeric available, I do use powdered turmeric. For this recipe, blend a ½ teaspoon of turmeric powder with 1 cup of water. Once blended, add a drop of ghee.

You require no more than a ½ cup of the drink for each dosage. Have it once a day, in addition to any other remedies you may be taking. You will find that it boosts your immunity, and helps clear any infection more quickly.

And finally, even though it’s a herbal medicine – it’s also such a beautiful drink to look at! That vivid colour is so uplifting. Simply put, it stands for health, home and happiness to me.

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Recipe: Getting The Green Light – Green Moong Dhokla

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If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you may not be surprised to hear me say that green moong is my favourite among lentils (you may know it as mung bean, green gram or pachai payiru). As you’d have seen, I’m so in love with its versatility that it’s found a place in recipes as diverse as this crunchy teatime snack and in this deeply filling meal-in-a-bowl. With Republic Day this weekend, honouring the Indian constitution, I thought of how to best honour a different kind of Indian constitution – and once again, the humble yet power-packed mung bean was what came to mind.

Green is one of the three stripes of the tricolour and greenness is something that I think we need and must celebrate in this country. It’s a colour that evokes fecundity, growth and serenity. In my previous post, I talked about the harvest festival Sankranti. As a farm-owner, and someone very invested in using the goods of my garden in my kitchen, “green” is a way of life for me. I hope that this year will be good for farms and farmers everywhere, for political calmness, and for harmony and oneness with nature.

The recipe I am sharing today is for green moong dhokla – a healthy, fermented, steamed dish that can be eaten as a main course, a snack or an accompaniment. Soft and flavourful, a dhokla is so ubiquitously Gujarati that it’s a stereotype. I’ve literally heard people say “Dhokla!” when they hear what my ethnicity is. We have so many varieties, and my personal favourite is actually the buckwheat kind which is eaten on Agyaras, the eleventh day of each month which is traditionally observed by Gujarati Vaishnavites as a relaxed fast during which no grains or salt are consumed, but buckwheat, fruits, yams, potatoes and the like are allowed. I’m not one for fasting, but I always look forward to having some dhokla when I’m around someone who is!

Once again, it was my sister who taught me how to make this – one more classic item from the Gujarati cuisine that she learnt after getting married, just like this til-ka-chikki. She has a knack for making it in practically a snap of the fingers – often, I’d ask for a plate of green moong dhokla, go downstairs for a bit, and come up to see it was already prepared.

This green moong dhokla is eye-catching thanks to its colour, which is always a great way to get kids to eat something that’s good for them. As you may remember from earlier posts, moong is extremely nutritious. It is a great source of fibre, potassium, manganese, folate and various vitamins and minerals. They are also an excellent source of protein, and I would say crucial to a vegetarian or vegan diet. They are known to lower blood pressure and sugar levels, prevent heat stroke, aid digestion, reduce the risk of cardiac disease, and possibly assist in weight loss.

A dhokla could be described as a kind of savoury sponge cake, steamed rather than baked. Every kind of dhokla is delicious, in my opinion. But as a Gujarati, I’m biased. Why don’t you try this version and tell me what you think?

Green Moong Dhokla

(Yield: 15-20 pieces)

1 cup green moong (mung beans)

½ teaspoon ground green chilli paste

1 teaspoon ginger paste

2+2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 cup coriander leaves

½ cup capsicum

½ teaspoon sugar

½ teaspoon eno powder

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

A few curry leaves

Salt to taste

Grated coconut (optional)

 

Soak the green moong overnight. In the morning, rinse the moong, remove the water and put the beans in a blender along with salt, coriander leaves, ginger paste and green chilli paste. You may need to add approximately a ½ cup of water to allow it to grind well. The The consistency of the batter needs to be a little thicker than that of pancake, or in other words, like idly batter.

Now, add 2 tablespoons of oil, and the lemon juice and finely cut capsicum to the batter.

Grease a plate and keep ready. Now, add eno fruit salt to the batter and mix gently. Pour the batter onto the greased plate, cover it and steam for 15 minutes. Below, you can see a traditional Gujarati dhokla cooker which my mom gave to me. I believed it was a part of her own wedding gifts. I’d forgotten that I’d had it and could use it. It’s still in perfect condition, and so compact and ideal. You can also see how it allows for cooking in layers.

Once steamed, remove the plate and allow the dhokla to cool. Cut into a desired shape. Square or rectangular pieces are the standard. I’ve done diamonds here.

In a small pan, add the remaining oil and the cumin and mustard seeds and wait for them to splutter. Once they start to splutter, add the curry leaves. Then, pour these over the cut dhokla. Garnish with coriander leaves and some grated coconut.

The green moong dhokla is now ready to serve. Spongy, spicy, and so very nice on the eyes with that gorgeous matcha cake colour. Like I said: have a piece as a snack, a couple as a side dish, or polish off the plate and call it a full meal. But honestly, I’d be surprised if you can stop at just one. These light, fluffy but very flavourful dhoklas demand to be devoured!

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Recipe: Open Sesame – Til-Ka-Chikki

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Sankranti, the harvest festival, is here and as we celebrate by giving thanks for the crops we eat daily, it’s til-ka-chikki that strikes me as a perfect dish for the occasion. The chief ingredient of this crunchy sweet is sesame, which is believed to have been cultivated in India for over 5500 years. As a form of produce that can grow with relatively little supervision, and in less than ideal conditions, there is no doubt to me that many of our ancestors would have considered it a perfect if not vital part of their Sankranti. Sankranti is known by various names throughout the country – it is also observed as Pongal, Bihu, Maghi and by other names depending on region. No matter where, it falls in mid-January and is a time when the sun is worshipped for its life-giving properties.

“Til” is the Gujarati word for sesame, as well as in other languages including Hindi and Punjabi. The English word “sesame” is from the Arabic “semsem”, indicating oil or liquid fat. This is because it is an oilseed produce. It’s an excellent digestive aid as it’s full of fiber, and also has high copper, manganese and calcium content, in addition to other vitamins and minerals.

Chikkis are a whole category of snacks, usually sweet thanks to the sticky jaggery that holds them together. We also make them with groundnuts, puffed rice (mora mora) and other variations, depending on the season. You can make them either in bars or in balls, and they also make a great ice cream topping when crushed. Til-ka-chikki is basically a sesame brittle, and today I’ll share the method to make them into bars.

I used to have a huge mental block about til-ka-chikki as I simply hadn’t known how to make it. My sister got married when she was just out of college, and she hadn’t learned how to cook yet. She went to her mother-in-law’s house, where she learned how to make the most beautiful traditional Gujarati dishes. I was still in high school at the time, and am still envious to this day about the culinary skills she picked up back then. Meanwhile, in my mother’s house, I was still studying but also began to slowly pick up recipes and techniques in the kitchen. I was probably inspired by my sister’s newfound talents, and our mother started me off on the basics, like rotli. Over time, I began to regard not only my mother and my own mother-in-law as my culinary teachers, but my older sister as well. My sister’s repertoire is vast. Even to this day, each time I visit her, I insist that she teaches me an entirely new dish  every time.

I overcame my mental block when I finally learned how to make this til-ka-chikki a couple of years ago, with her guidance. And I’ll admit that I am still learning. I don’t quite have the confidence to make it on my own yet, but every experiment has ended in happy mouths and sticky fingers. It would be great if you could learn it together alongside me. We could master it together, just as my sister has.

As with most traditional Gujarati sweets and snacks, this too requires only three ingredients. In this case, they are jaggery, sesame and ghee. If you’d like a vegan version, replace the ghee with a flavourless oil of your choice. Til-ka-chikki is also offered as a prasad, so while it is a simple dish it can also be a part of prayers for festive and special occasions. For Sankranti, of course, it’s a beautiful way to honour the sun that gave us this ancient and nutritious crop.

 

Til-Ka-Chikki (Sesame Brittle)

(Yield: 10-15 pieces)

 

Ingredients

½ cup sesame seeds

½ cup jaggery

1 tablespoon ghee

Grease an overturned steel plate and a rolling pin and keep these ready. Next, in a wok or kadai, roast the sesame seeds on a low flame. Occasionally increase to a medium flame for short spans. The sesame will take about 7 minutes to roast. Keep stirring until the colour changes.

Once roasted, transfer to a plate and allow to cool. Once cooled, taste a few seeds to check if they have a crunch to it. This means they are ready.

In the same wok or kadai, add the ghee. Then, add the jaggery and stir constantly on a low flame. As with the roasting of the sesame seeds, you may occasionally increase the flame to a medium for short spans, then immediately reduce it to a low again. Take care that the jaggery does not burn. Do see this video for reference: re:store sesame brittle video – 1

Mine took approximately 9 minutes to turn into a reddish colour. Once this happens, turn off the flame. Add the sesame seeds and stir well.

Drop the mixture onto the greased, overturned plate and immediately start to spread it out as thin as possible. You may need to use your fingers (dipped in water), while the rolling pin is coated with ghee. With this combination, try and spread it out in such a way that you mark lines for the pieces later.

Allow the spread mixture, striped with lines to form bars, to cool. Once it has completely cooled, place the plate on the stove and warm from below. The entire piece will come out as a whole. Break it along the marked lines. Store in an airtight container.

 

Here’s another process video: re:store sesame brittle video – 2

I want to say that this til-ka-chikki is easy to make, but I’ve already told you honestly that it’s not. But I love a challenge in the kitchen, and try again and again to better then perfect my dishes. Even with my photoshoots, it’s the same. When the end result comes out well, it’s all the more delicious when I know the effort that’s gone into it! Tell me how it goes when you try your hand at this dish. Wishing you and your loved ones a happy Sankranti!

 

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Recipe: Subtly Sweet – Vegan Lavender Panna Cotta

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A panna cotta is a classic Italian dessert that is among my favourites – mostly because it is not too sweet. Some say it is quite like baked yoghurt, which I also enjoy. A traditional panna cotta is just dairy, sugar and gelatin, which are then topped with a fruity sauce. But you can also infuse the mixture itself with a flavour of your choice. Perhaps you remember my lavender shrikand from some time ago. That recipe came about thanks to a gift of lavender from my friend Siddharth’s farm in Australia. If you click on the link in the previous line, you’ll find lots of information about the cultivar of culinary lavender known as Miss Donnington. Siddharth sent me a batch from the most recent harvest, and its wonderful scent gives me much calm and joy at the moment. As I held those beautifully dried buds in my hands, I was inspired once more. I was already in the mood for some panna cotta. A lavender infusion would kick it up a notch. And to make it vegan? Perfection.

I’m on a vegan wave at the moment, as you saw from my vegan masala milk post earlier this month. Making a vegan panna cotta is quite simple, just requiring you to replace regular milk with almond or coconut milk. I used coconut cream here for a more luscious texture. If you already have a panna cotta recipe and are trying to wean yourself off dairy, just try it with a milk or cream substitute, using the measurements below. This recipe calls for half the guilt: even thought coconut cream has a high fat content, you can enjoy it without cheating on your dietary preferences. Of course, if you’d rather not try the vegan version, or have milk in your fridge you want to use up, just replace the coconut cream with regular milk or cream.

In my masala milk recipe, I suggested honey as a sweetener, which strict vegans don’t touch. In this one, my preferred sweetener is maple syrup. You can substitute this with another of your choice too. But what I like about maple syrup is that like all the other key flavours here, it is subtle. Coconut, lavender, fig and maple syrup – combined, they are subtly sweet as well. This makes for a perfect dessert after a heavy meal, when anything too rich might be too much.

To top this panna cotta, I used a fig sauce as I found the flavours to be complementary, but you can experiment with everything from blueberries to lilac sauce, depending on your tastes and availability. I’ve refrained from using other additives, keeping the ingredients simple. I want to add here that panna cotta, despite having the ring of a fancy dessert, is actually quite easy to make. It’s perfect for youngsters who are entertaining guests more formally for the first time. And the decorative potential also gives you creative scope.

Plating is essential for a dish like this, otherwise it runs the risk of looking too plain. When it comes to something like panna cotta, you have to find a way to lift the dish so that the person who is going to eat it finds it fascinating even before they place that first spoonful into their mouth. So the visual presentation is crucial. How do you want to impress someone? Do you want to add flower petals, or cut figs and cinnamon sticks, or find another way to bring colour into the display?

Developing my style as a photographer helped me innovate with plating as well. I love setting up my photoshoots, and I feel like I have found a distinct look now – I like dark and moody pictures in 100% natural light, and very little editing. For this shoot, to play up the dish, I decided to bring a bit more brightness in. Yes, brightness – what better quality for a New Year dish (and a New Year wish) to have?

 

 

Lavender Panna Cotta

(Yield: 3-4 small cups)

 

Ingredients

Panna cotta

2 cups coconut cream

¼ cup maple syrup

½ teaspoon lavender buds

1¾ teaspoons kanten (agar agar)

Fig sauce

4 figs (cut to small pieces)

¼ cup maple syrup

1 long cinnamon stick

 

In a pan, add all the ingredients for the panna cotta. Allow to heat on a medium flame, stirring constantly. Once the mixture begins to boil, you will notice the edges bubbling. Give it a few more minutes (remember to keep stirring), and then turn off the flame. The contents will start to thicken at this point. Close with a lid, allowing the lavender to steep well for about 10-15 minutes. The quality of lavender that my friend sent me was so good, and so fragrant, that I barely had to steep it for the recommended time for the flavours to become well-infused, but this will vary.

Then, strain the liquid into cups of your choice and allow them to set in the refrigerator. Panna cotta is always served chilled.

For the fig sauce, simply add all the ingredients to a pan and allow to boil until the liquid thickens. Keep aside.

When you are ready to serve this dessert, add a spoonful of the fig sauce onto each cup of panna cotta. Decorate as desired. As I said earlier, plating is quite important for panna cotta of any kind as the dish by itself looks quite bland. You can do this easily, and keep it all edible too, with nuts, fruits and so on.

Lavender is used in alternative healing such as aromatherapy as it is believed to be a calming influence. As I prepared this dessert in my kitchen, inhaling that evocative fragrance, this is what I pondered. I know that the past year has had a lot of volatility for many of us. As we move into this new year, this lavender panna cotta is a heartfelt metaphor for what I hope for us all. Let us wish that 2019 is just as subtle, calming, peaceful – and simply delicious.

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