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The festival of Navaratri has just ended, and now we look ahead to Diwali. We here in India are very much within that season of the year when we are consuming sweets, sweets and more sweets. Even as things get happily hectic with product orders at re:store, as dear customers reach out for their gifting and entertaining needs, I still make the time to prepare some traditional delicacies at home. This year, I have been thinking fondly of one that I’ve always considered an unusual sweet: doodhi halwa, the chief ingredient for which is bottle gourd.

If that made you pause for a second, let me tell you, so did I when I first heard of it! I encountered doodhi halwa only once I got married. It was one of my late mother-in-law’s go-to dishes, and to this day my husband has a great nostalgic attachment to it.

For me, however, the idea of putting a vegetable into a sweet was rather unappealing. It was also unfamiliar, which probably contributed to my bias. This was something my own mother had rarely done, with the exception of gajar halwa, which utilizes carrots. That too was a dish she would only make during red carrot or Dilli gajar season once a year. Doodhi halwa was something simply unprecedented in my notion of food. While I have always delighted in novelty when it comes to all things culinary, it took me a while to warm up to the idea, let alone to the taste. Quite recently, I came across an onion halwa, and despite my eventual acceptance of doodhi halwa, I think that one might be a bridge too far even for me!

Doodhi halwa was very popular at my in-laws’ home, which is why I had many opportunities to try and even to enjoy it. I observed that it was a dish that my mother-in-law was able to whip up very quickly when we had sudden guests, which put it into that special category of recipes that every homemaker keeps for that specific purpose in her repertoire. It was also something she prepared whenever there was an excess of khoya, a milk byproduct, in the kitchen. Between the speed of the preparation and the fact that everyone around me adored this sweet, it made sense for me to learn to make it too.

When I became a part of the family at the age of 23, I entered a kitchen in which two women – my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law – were already present and had established their own rhythms. In joint families, certainly of my generation and for centuries before, there can be a sense of competition between women when it comes to cooking. It can be healthy, if one is aware of it and treats it sportingly, and if it pushes you to do better. We were all intelligent women who put our brains to use beyond the kitchen too, and within that realm we had both collaboration and rivalry. I can happily admit that my sister-in-law has always made and continues to make a better doodhi halwa than I can, perhaps because she grew up watching her mom’s expertise in the dish and honed her own skills accordingly. When I look back, I feel that I am also lucky to have learned much from my mother-in-law, to add to the wealth of recipes my own mother taught me.

Over the years, it came to be that I too would prepare this doodhi halwa quite often. This was especially true during my mother-in-law’s last years, when she could no longer be an active presence in the kitchen. Since her passing, we have consumed it much less, but I wanted to bring it back to our table in her memory.

Over time, despite the fact that I still cannot entirely compute using a vegetable to prepare a sweet, one of the reasons that I began to appreciate doodhi halwa is because it mitigates some amount of dietary guilt during the festive season. This isn’t only because of its primary ingredient, but also because it doesn’t necessarily require a lot of sugar. I haven’t experimented with alternate sweeteners for this dish, but I do know that you can control the amount of white sugar that you use. The flavour profile can also be enhanced by roasting the halwa in ghee to achieve a nice caramel-like finish, and the amount of ghee used for this can also be minimal.

Doodhi halwa is a light dessert, which makes it equally good to serve both during these monsoon and winter festivities, as well as during the summer – when it pairs nicely with fresh, ripe mangoes.

Doodhi Halwa
(Serves: 2-4)

3 tablespoons ghee

250 grams grated doodhi (bottle gourd)

400 ml milk

125 grams sugar

¼ cup milk malai

½ teaspoon cardamom powder

8–10 cashew nuts

A few strands of saffron

 

Heat 1 teaspoon of ghee and roast the cashews until golden. Set aside.

Boil the milk and keep it hot.

Heat the remaining ghee in a kadai. Add the grated doodhi and sauté for about 5 minutes, until the excess moisture evaporates.

Now, add the hot milk and cook until it is almost completely absorbed.

Then, add the sugar, milk malai and the saffron. Cook until the mixture thickens. Add the cardamom powder and mix well.

Allow to cool slightly and garnish with the roasted cashews.

You can serve this dessert warm, at room temperature, or even chilled. Leftovers can be refrigerated for a couple of days in an airtight container.

I wish you a wonderful Diwali, and I hope that as you plan your festive menu this year, you’ll explore the recipes for many other treats hat I’ve shared over the years too!

I would describe a doddaka as being a kind of cross between a dosa and a roti, and some version of it exists in numerous cultures in India, including in Goa, Karnataka, Maharashtra and even Gujarat (my mother-in-law used to make that version). As with both dosas and rotis, numerous variations in preparation exist. I experienced a lovely bottle gourd doddaka a few months ago, and even though I’ve been travelling a lot this year and haven’t spent as much time cooking, I keep thinking about it. So I decided the other day to try out the recipe myself. It came out well, and as always, I wanted to share the deliciousness with you too.

I encountered this bottle gourd doddaka while we were zipping around in the lead-up to my son’s wedding a couple of months ago. We had not wanted to invite people digitally, and felt that the effort of the time-honoured Indian custom – of personally visiting people and inviting them – was well worth it. On one such visit, we went to meet a Kannadiga friend of ours. Our friend’s elderly mother was present at their home. It turned out that she is a reader of this blog, and we spent time chit-chatting about food and photography.

It had been a long and exhausting day, and we had arrived at their home at almost 7.30pm, which is beyond my dinner time, and at some point during the visit we were offered a meal. Our friend’s mother made us some hot, crispy bottle gourd doddaka – and from then on, the conversation stopped being about my cooking and became about hers. It tasted marvellous, and I thought it was quite interesting from a culinary perspective too. I enjoyed it thoroughly. When I think of that evening, I remember feeling like I was at home. That was truly a comfort food experience in every way.

Whenever I go somewhere and try out a new dish, I am curious – to the point of being painful, according to my children – about how to prepare it. I will immediately want to find out what the cook did, why they did it, and how they did it. Usually, I will then try to add my own twist as well. This is not always necessary. With this traditional Kannada doddaka for example, I thought the original recipe – as shared by our friend’s mother – was just perfect, and I didn’t feel the need to change it at all.

Isn’t it beautiful how you sometimes meet a person in passing and then strike up a conversation with them that just stays with you in some way? To me, the fact that I have a recipe from that evening, and will probably always think of that family and their home when I make it, really means a lot.

Bottle Gourd Doddaka

(Yield: 8 pieces)

1 cup rawa

½ cup coconut grated

¾ cup thick curd

1 cup water

½ cup grated bottle gourd (substitute: cucumber)

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon green chilli + ginger paste

¼ cup chopped coriander leaves

Oil for cooking

 

In a bowl, add all the ingredients and mix well. Set aside. Adjust the water quantity as required – keep the batter thick yet of a pouring consistency.

Heat a griddle and add a few drops of oil. Now, pour a ladle full of the batter onto this. You will see that it spreads by itself. Allow the doddaka to cook on a low or medium flame, making sure it does not get burnt. Flip and allow to cook on both sides until well done. Continue to prepare more doddakas with the remaining batter.

Serve with a chutney of your choice. I have a range of these that you can explore, and I hope you’ll find a few in the archives that you like and can mix and match with various dishes. As this bottle gourd doddaka has quite a bit of flavour already, it can also be eaten plain if you prefer.

As you would have noticed in the ingredients, I have suggested cucumber as a substitute for bottle gourd. Both are water-based vegetables that grow through the year in South India, where we have no seasons other than summer, summer and more summers – and some monsoons. Thus, they are ideal for staying hydrated. Bottle gourd in particular doesn’t have much flavour by itself, and takes on the flavour of whatever you add to it (which makes it perfect for sneaking into soups for fussy kids). Nutrition and hydration together are an excellent combo, and when you add taste to it – as you do with a doddaka – it’s unbeatable.

Being Gujarati, I think it’s only fair that I give you another detailed description of and a special blog post for theplas, even though the standard recipe for them has already made an appearance in my comprehensive post on rotis of many kinds. After all, Gujaratiness goes hand-in-hand with theplas and dhoklas, as stereotypical jokes go – in which there is a kernel of truth, for these really are essential parts of our cuisine. The thepla is particular, in fact. You may also recall a khichdi thepla shared earlier, which is a nifty way to turn what’s left of lunch into dinner. This time, I’m sharing with you a particular recipe that I happened to mentioned in that post – dudhi thepla, which adds the goodness of bottle gourd to the basic bread.

We make all kinds of flatbreads and rotis in India. Each state and each community will have distinct versions. For instance, farmers and people who labour outdoors will tend towards breads that use bajra or pearl millets, or other kinds of seasonal millets. As millets are slower to digest than wheat, this ensures that the body has energy for longer. The roti itself will usually be thicker, larger and drier. A garlic chutney is often the preferred condiment for this dish.

Within the thepla category itself there is great variation. In terms of adding vegetables and herbs, methi or fenugreek leaves are commonly used, and spinach may also be used. Those are among my favourites too, and I’ve put some methi into this recipe as well. If you thought the khichdi thepla was innovative, how about a thepla taco? It’s a fun way to dress up a staple and make it even more appealing to a variety of palates.

My children, despite their greater exposure to other cuisines, still consider as a cherished comfort food a roti or a thepla made at home. It’s the same for my husband. Whenever any of them return for a visit or after a long journey, some delicious theplas are always waiting for them, and I’ve watched time and again as their exhaustion becomes happiness quickly as they tuck in to the meal.

As I have mentioned before, the plain theplas travel very well and last long. They are a very popular work and school lunchbox item, as you may have seen if you’ve had Gujarati colleagues or classmates. My mother would carry them whenever we took trips, and many years later, I do this myself too. Do note that the bottle gourd thepla does not keep for as long as the plain ones, because of the vegetable used. However, it is much softer, and this is once again attributed to the vegetable. Bottle gourd has a very high water content, so much so that I do not add water at all when making the dough. When you are preparing it, if you feel that you’ve added a bit more flour, a few sprinklings of water will help. Otherwise, with practice, the flour, spices and grated bottle gourd will come together easily in a dough.

Whenever I entertain at home, if I’m planning an Indian menu, you can be assured that thepla is the chosen bread. It’s comforting, delicious, versatile and funnily enough, both light and filling. I’ve noticed this: when you’re eating theplas, you feel kind of full, but you seldom feel bloated or heavy afterwards. Have you observed the same too?

Bottle Gourd Thepla

(Yield: 9-10 theplas)

 

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons yoghurt

A handful of methi (fenugreek) leaves

Salt to taste

1 cup bottle gourd (to grate)

½ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon cumin powder

1 teaspoon coriander powder

1 tablespoon ginger green chilli paste

1 tablespoon oil

2-3 tablespoons water (if required)

Clean and chop the methi leaves. Wash and set aside. Peel the bottle gourd and grate the flesh. Keep aside, but not for too long.

In a bowl, add the flour and then add all ingredients, except water. The grated bottle gourd releases water, as explained earlier. Hence, add water at the end, and only if required. Knead well and make a stiff yet smooth dough.

Now, make small balls with the dough. Dust a ball with flour. Using a rolling pin, roll it out into a circular shape.

Heat a pan, and place the rolled disc onto it. Allow to roast on one side and then flip the thepla. Allow a few seconds to roast again and then add a few drops of oil onto both sides. Allow to cook until golden.

Repeat the process for all the rolled dough balls. Collect each as it’s done in a box so that they remain soft.

Theplas go well with pickles or potato roast (i.e. aloo sabzi). I’ll be sharing the recipe for the latter in my next post, so do stay tuned!