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We don’t believe in wasting food in India. What had once been a pragmatic necessity – there could be no leftovers, because there were no fridges! – has settled into cultural practice. Respect for food is also an important part of our culture, so you’ll find that most families, regardless of economic background, will try their best to never let a meal go to waste. From practical concerns like the lack of cold storage or having to be sparing with expenses, a whole sub-genre of cuisines was developed. Dishes that exist because of other dishes – and which some say taste even better in the second round.

The traditional Gujarati lunch is known as a thaali, and comprises of rice, rotli, dal and a vegetable. This is the basic variant – to this, some may add a sweet or a second vegetable as a staple. If there was a sufficient amount of dal and rotli left over from lunch, you could be sure that dinner that evening would be dal dhokli.

Dal dhokli is a meal in a bowl, a stew-like dish. To make it using leftovers, simply tear the rotli into pieces, add it to the daal and heat them up. What I’d like to share with you today, however, is a from-scratch variation on the classic.

“Dal” (or “daal”/”dhal” if you prefer) is a catch-all term for split pulses, which are notably protein-rich and therefore a vital part of vegetarian diets in India. Lentils and legumes have made several appearances on this blog, such as rajma in this vegan chilli recipe and  green moong in this street food-inspired chaat recipe. For this re:store style dal dhokli recipe, the dal I’ve used is the popular toor dal, also known as pigeon pea. Toor dal is available year-round, while some other dals are eaten seasonally, such as the heavier channa and urad dals in winter. It’s the main ingredient of sambar, which makes it a staple in South Indian kitchens, and is known as thuvaram paruppu in Tamil.

My version of dal dhokli, made fresh and with a stuffing, is what my sister calls “Indian ravioli”. Despite this chic comparison, it is made of the simplest ingredients – accessible, affordable and always familiar.

 

Dal Dhokli

(Yield: 3-5 servings)

Ingredients

Dal

¼  cup dal
4-5 cups water
2 teaspoon cumin powder
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon coriander powder
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
Approximately 1 tablespoon jaggery
Juice of 1 lemon
Finely chopped coriander leaves
2 tablespoons peanuts
1 tablespoon ghee
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
A pinch of asafoetida
Salt to taste

 

Wheat flour dough

½ cup wheat flour
1 tablespoon oil
2-4 tablespoons water
A pinch of salt

 

Green peas filling

1 cup green peas
1 teaspoon oil
1 tablespoon grated coconut
¼ teaspoon garam masala
Salt to taste

 

Cooking my ravioli-style daal dhokli requires the preparation of three items – dal, pastry dough and pea stuffing – followed by their assembly. Please note the separate ingredients for each part, above.

Make a dough with all ingredients listed for the same. It will be a little tight to the touch and smooth. Keep aside.

Crush the green peas partially. In a hot pan, pour the oil then add the crushed green peas. Stir the peas on a medium flame so that they do not stick to the bottom. Add the salt and masala and stir for 3-4 minutes. Now switch off the flame and finally add the coconut. Stir gently and keep aside to cool.

Roll out the dough into small discs. Do not make them too thin as they may tear while cooking. Take a spoonful of the green peas filling and place it at the centre of the disc. Join the edges together and once sealed, roll it gently into a flat round. Essentially, what you’re making is a kachori, a South Asian fried pastry. For a more detailed explanation about how to fold this pastry, with a video demo, see my earlier post here. Prepare all the kachoris and set them aside.

To make the dal, add the lentils and 2 cups of water in the pressure cooker and boil until soft. Allow to cool, then mash the dal. Now add 2 cups of water as well as the cumin powder, coriander powder, turmeric powder and salt to the dal. Allow to boil for approximately 5 minutes. Then add the jaggery and peanuts, letting the flavours blend, simmering on a medium flame. Stir occasionally.

As you do this, add ghee or oil to a small pan to lightly fry the mustard and cumin seeds. Once they start to splutter, add the asafoetida and immediately pour the sauté into the dal and stir.

The dal will be boiling by now. Make sure the flame remains on medium, and begin to gently introduce the kachoris into the dal. Once they are added, carefully stir. Allow to cook for 10-15 minutes.

Turn off the flame. Garnish with coriander leaves. You may also wish to add a sprinkling of something crunchy, such as finely chopped nuts. Serve while hot, as it is best enjoyed that way.

Many of you may have grown up eating dal dhokli at home, and I’d love to hear what you think of this modern twist, re:store style and ravioli inspired!

This post is the first of a three-part series on Gujarati dishes that are traditionally made from leftovers. Stay tuned for a sweet follow-up in a fortnight…

What’s the go-to dish in your home when you don’t want to think about what to make? For me it is the chilla, and it was also my mother’s staple dish. Once I began to cook, I saw that it was not a lack of inspiration but ease that makes certain dishes a part of cooking-on-default mode. Whether the dish in question is idli, upma, macaroni – or in my case, chilla – it’s something you’re so good at that you don’t even have to spend a moment mulling it.

Chilla was what we had for dinner whenever my mother was busy or tired, or if we were in a post-festive feasting slump. Chilla is a kind of crepe, made with powdered pulses and flavoured with vegetables and spices. Like all staples, each cook will have her own variations – and her family will definitely grow up on the same. My mother made two: a moong dal chilla and a sweetened variant. The deal was that only if I ate the savoury one would I be given the sweet one – which itself was quite healthy, considering it was made of jaggery and whole wheat.

Instead of moong dal, which is most often used, I prefer to make savoury chillas using chickpea flour, also known as besan. I love chickpeas because they are so versatile and so easily accessible – they’re found everywhere from Mexico to Lebanon (hummus!) to right here in India, and have been cultivated by humans for at least 7,500 years. The many names this humble and popular legume has attests to this fact: Bengal gram, garbanzo bean, channa and Egyptian pea are but some. Did you know that in the 1700s, a German writer brewed them to drink instead of coffee, and Germany cultivated them for the same purpose during World War 1?

Chickpeas are widely loved as a healthy ingredient, for they are rich in protein, which is one reason why they are so popular with vegans.

In Indian cuisine, chickpeas are eaten whole in dishes such as sundal, a fun salad that is popular on Chennai’s beaches, and in dough form to make the pastry for fried goodies like fritters, among other variations. The ingredient works perfectly in both sweet and savoury items, and is also a thickening agent like cornflour or agar-agar.

I now have great respect for the humble chickpea, but it must be said: growing up, I’d argue with my mother about having to eat it. My reasoning was that: since I used powdered chickpea to wash my face (it exfoliates the skin gently and is an ancient beauty treatment), I should not also have to consume it!

Of course, I love to have my ingredients be made or processed at home as much as possible, and by “home” in this case I mean Arumugam Chettiar’s quaint flour mill. Established in 1939, the mill uses a 10hp machine, with two grinding plates, that was imported from England by his grandfather. These machines are no longer available, and what you get now are pulverisers. But there’s nothing like old-fashioned, time-honoured methods when it comes to food. Along with chilli, ginger and other dry powders, I buy channa dal and have it ground to make chickpea powder.

 

I’m going to share both the recipes for savoury and sweet chilla with you, so that you can strike a version of my deal with my mother – whether that’s with your own kids, or just your diet plan!

 

Chilla – Savoury

(Yield – 4-5 crepes)

Ingredients
1 cup chickpea flour

2 cups water

½ teaspoon cumin powder

½ teaspoon grated ginger and garlic paste

½ cup finely chopped fenugreek (methi) leaves

½ teaspoon salt

Blend the water with the chickpea flour until there are no lumps. Add the salt, turmeric, cumin powder, grated ginger and garlic paste and fenugreek leaves, and mix the batter well. The consistency should be a little thicker than crepe batter.

Fenugreek in batter may remind you of theplas, one of the many types of Indian breads. A note about the ingredient: most people soak fenugreek leaves in water with salt, to remove the bitterness. This is something I don’t like to do because I don’t see why the flavour should be removed. With regards to these chillas especially, the taste of the savoury one is offset by the sweet one beautifully.

You may replace the fenugreek with another spinach available to you, or even with finely chopped vegetables like onions, grated carrots, bell peppers or coriander leaves.

Heat an iron griddle or a non-stick skillet and pour a few drops of oil on it. I make both my savoury and sweet chillas on an iron pan. Mine is a seasoned one, hence it does not stick. But if you do not have one, use a non-stick vessel.

Wait till the skillet is hot, then turn the flame down. This is a delicate moment, because if the batter falls on a too-hot pan, it will spread unevenly. My trick for this is that when the skillet is very heated, I sprinkle a little water on it and allow it to sizzle. This cools it down just enough so that I can pour the batter.

Spoon the batter onto the skillet. Spread it in a circular motion, much like you would a regular crepe. The video below gives you a look at the technique, if you’re unfamiliar with it. For those who make dosas, you will already be experts at this.

As the chilla fries, drizzle a few drops of oil around (not on) it, so that it can be removed easily. Increase the flame. You will know when it’s ready to be flipped when the edges begin to rise and turn golden. Do not attempt to flip the chilla earlier, as it will tear.

Using a spatula, flip the chilla and allow its other side to cook as well. Both sides should be a lovely golden colour before you take it off the skillet.

Then make the next one, and so on, until you have enough. Fold each chilla in half and serve with green chutney or date chutney, both of which I’ve shared recipes for earlier on this blog. I also top these savoury chillas with finely chopped vegetables, with gives the health factor an extra boost, and makes them even more filling. Just a couple will give you a light but complete meal – provided you’re able to stop eating them, that is!

 

 

Chilla – Sweet

(Yield – 5 small crepes)

Ingredients
1 cup whole wheat flour
½ cup jaggery
1 ½ cup water
1 teaspoon ghee per crepe (oil for a vegan option)

Warm the water a little and allow the jaggery to melt into it. Stir well until all the lumps are removed.

Wait till the jaggery-infused water has cooled, then strain it so the sediments are removed.

To this, add the whole wheat flour and blend it so it’s a little thicker than regular crepe batter. You may have to adjust the quantity of water added to make it just the right consistency.

Now, pour a drop of ghee or oil on a non-stick skillet. When it is hot, lower the flame. Start spooning out about half the batter onto the skillet, in small and well-spaced quantities. These sweet chillas are ideally dessert, so they are smaller than the savoury chillas.

Using a circular motion with the spoon, make small crepes on the skillet (as shown in the video above). Keep the flame on medium, so as to ensure that the chillas don’t burn. When one side has begun to turn golden, flip it over. Both sides will be thoroughly cooked in about 2-3 minutes.

The process of frying the sweet chilla is almost identical to making the savoury one, so do refer to the above recipe for more extensive notes and tips. They do not need to be served with an accompaniment.

These delicious chillas are very much comfort food to me, and I hope they find the same place in your cooking repertoire. The sweet ones are especially popular with kids, and as I said earlier – if they crave it, offer it to them as a reward for eating the savoury one!

I’ve come to understand that most Indian palates require something sweet and something savoury in order to feel satisfied. Life is all about both the sweet and the savoury isn’t it? And sometimes, like in the fenugreek-flavoured chilla, a hint of the bitter too. But that’s why the order of eating makes such sense: after everything else, one is always assured of sweetness.

Here in Tamil Nadu, while the Tamil New Year is still months away in April, we celebrate a festival full of joy, renewal and fresh possibilities – just like how the turning of the new calendar year feels. Two weeks into every calendar year, beginning on January 14, Tamil households everywhere observe a series of rituals. Like any Indian special occasion, food and bonding play a huge part of this festival.

Pongal is spread over four days, which when we were growing up meant… school holidays! Despite being a Gujarati family, our neighbours and friends would observe the festival with delight, which meant we too participated. For me, Pongal always brings to mind sugarcane. As a harvest festival, sugarcane is an important part of the décor at this time – but it is also exactly the kind of thing a child loves to eat! My mother encouraged this, as she said that eating sugarcane made the teeth stronger. Those of you who remember those simpler times will know just what I mean. There’s a technique to it. You peel the cane sideways with your teeth, then scrape the sweet juice from it. I loved the fleshier parts between the joints of the cane.

As this is the season to give thanks for the harvest all over India, similar festivals include Lohri and Sankranti. If we happened to visit Ahmedabad at this time of year, the lasting image I have of the celebrations is of seeing the skies fill with kites on the occasion of Uttaran, as people on terrace rooftops would battle to bring the others’ down, in order to be the owner of the sole reigning kite of Gujarat.

“Pongal” literally means “the boiling over”, and the festival is all about the spirit of abundance. The pivotal moment of the day is when a pot of milk, into which every family member puts three handfuls of rice, boils over. The milk spilling over the brim of the vessel is taken as a sign of auspiciousness. As this happens, the family shouts, “Pongal-o-Pongal”!

During Pongal, a dish bearing its name is also eaten. Chakkara pongal literally means “sugar pongal”, but it is jaggery that is used – and which gives the dish its rich colour. Chakkara pongal is also popular year-round as a prasadam  in temples, which is offered to the gods and then eaten by devotees. And the sweetest, tastiest chakkara pongal I’ve ever eaten has always been served on a banana leaf at a temple.

Chakkara pongal will taste different at each temple, and each home, that you eat it in. Like all traditional staples, it will contain the memories and idiosyncrasies of the hands that made it. How is tradition formed? One ancestor would have done something a particular way, and generations to follow then say, “Our family does this”. Whenever I cook something that carries cultural attachments, I wonder: if I don’t do it, will my kids?

As you may know from following this blog, millets and not rice are the original (and Macrobiotic) staples of this region. This is why a millet known as varugu, which you may know as kodo, is the main ingredient in my variation of chakkara pongal. Varugu is rich in protein and polyphenol antioxidants, and is a better source of fibre than both rice and wheat. It is also gluten-free, which makes it suitable for those with dietary sensitivities. Like all millets, its list of health benefits is long. But make no mistake, as wholesome as its ingredients are, this chakkara pongal is a sweet and sublime dessert.

 

Chakkara Pongal

(Yield – 5-6 servings)

Ingredients
3-4 tablespoons moong dal
½ cup varugu (kodo millet)
3-4 cups water
½ cup jaggery
1 tablespoon ghee
1 tablespoon cashew nuts
1 tablespoon raisins

The secret to chakkara pongal is simply allowing it to cook properly, with the occasional stir. It is a boiled dessert that is so easy to make that you’ll be preparing it from memory in no time!

Soak the moong dal for about half an hour. Meanwhile, wash the millets well and keep aside,

Add 2 cups of water to the dal and cook until par boiled. Now, add the millets and allow both to cook completely. This will take approximately 15-20 minutes. The boiled dal and millets will become and remain soft.

In a pan, roast the cashew nuts and raisins in ghee. For a vegan variant, substitute ghee with oil. Once roasted, add the jaggery, along with a ¼ cup of water. This will help the jaggery melt, releasing its flavours quickly into the pan.

Once the jaggery has melted into the concoction, add the soft mixture of millets and dal and stir well. Add some more water to loosen the consistency as you prefer. Pongal generally is not meant to be in too liquid a state. What you’re aiming for is a congealed texture. Serve hot as soon as it’s ready.

Glistening with ghee, sprinkled with cashews, glittering with raisins, and with a rich dark colour full of the goodness of jaggery… So simple to make, so good to eat. I hope you’ll enjoy a small bowl or two of re:store style, millet-based chakkara pongal with your family this weekend. As you do, just imagine us here in Tamil Nadu, doing exactly the same. Pongal-o-Pongal!

As a child, I was fascinated by the gingerbread man. Who was this entity that was half-story and half-food? Christmas in Chennai was not like Christmas in the West while I was growing up, and so there weren’t too many of these “traditional” motifs around me. Instead, the rituals of friends, neighbours and the convent school I attended are what are most memorable to me. Still, when I enjoyed a perfect Christmas visit with my friends Sujatha and Michael in Delhi two years ago, something tickled the memory of that fascination with the gingerbread man.  Sitting out on the lawns of their beautiful house, enjoying the crisp winter weather, we shared a plate of homemade ginger snaps. A festive classic, made to perfection. This year, thanks to a bounty of presents with just the right ingredients, I’m celebrating the season with these ginger and jaggery cookies.

This recipe contains gifts from many friends. The method of course, belongs to Sujatha and Michael. The cloves are from Asha, the Sri Lankan ginger and sugar syrup that also partly inspired this recipe is from Anna (this had been introduced to me by Ramani), and the cinnamon (also from the island) from Sharanya. So in many ways, this recipe fits the Christmas spirit of giving and camaraderie perfectly. And of course: the love, inspiration and encouragement from friends, family and fellow bloggers are what make me want to share it!

I love to make blends and powders at home, as you may have noticed from earlier posts. They give my baked goods a fresh, authentic flavour. So I ground the cloves and cinnamon especially for this batch of cookies, and used the ginger powder I had prepared in the summer, as I do every year. Ginger powder is used often, and in versatile ways, in my kitchen – you’ll find it in everything from a flu remedy to a sacred dessert.

I always like to bring familiar ingredients even into fusion or foreign dishes, which is why the jaggery and the ginger feature so prominently in this recipe. Both are intrinsic parts of local Tamil cuisine, and not only taste delicious but are quite good for you too. Aged jaggery, like wine, is said to be the best. It is rich in iron and other minerals, and is a healthy sweetener. Ginger is great for digestion (always a good thing during a holiday feast!), clears congestion and has such a divine aroma!

You’ll find these ginger-jaggery cookies have a chewy centre, and the jaggery gives them an unusual flavour, just like how the sweetness of honey differs from that of sugar. While the taste will certainly differ, if you’re unable to find good jaggery to make these cookies, you can substitute it with brown sugar.

 

Ginger & Jaggery Christmas Cookies

(Yield – 12-15 cookies)

Ingredients
325 grams maida
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon ground ginger
115 grams powdered jaggery
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon clove powder
200 grams butter
50 ml molasses
½ teaspoon vanilla essence
1 egg

Pre-heat the oven to 160°C/320°F. Line an oven tray with foil and keep aside.

Mix all the dry ingredients, except the jaggery, in a bowl and set aside.

Now, beat the butter and the jaggery together until the mixture turns creamy, then add the egg. Beat some more. Add the molasses and vanilla essence and blend well.

Fold all the dry ingredients into the mixture and knead, using your hands. The dough will feel sticky at this point. Once all the ingredients have been incorporated and blended well, refrigerate the dough for an hour.

After it has chilled, remove the dough from the fridge and make balls, gently using your hands again. Place them on the lined tray, ensuring they’re arranged well apart so that they don’t overlap while baking. Sprinkle with some sugar crystals.

Bake for about 12-15 minutes or until golden on the sides and bottom.

When the cookies have baked, decorate as you desire. As you can see in the photos above and below, I decided to draw delicate designs using white icing – a homage to my culture. In many places in India, intricate rice diagrams are drawn by hand on the front porch in the mornings and before special occasions. They are known as ‘rangoli’ in North India and ‘kolam’ in Tamil Nadu.

Some say a kolam is a prayer in the form of a painting, inviting the goddess and her auspiciousness into the home. Others say it is a practical thing: keeping insects away by feeding them outside the door itself. Either way, without doubt, it is a beautiful thing. I hope you’ll enjoy these photos of chewy, spicy, sweet homemade Christmas cookies – with a quintessentially South Indian sentiment. And I hope the scent of ginger fills your own kitchen soon, and that your life remains as sweet as jaggery – through the festive season and well beyond.

We would clamber up the sitaphal tree, pluck one right off the branches, and in our greedy delight not even check whether the fruit was ripe enough to eat before we tore it open with our hands and devoured the sweet white pulp. Then, we would spit out the shiny black seeds and collect them, for they were perfect for playing pallanguzhi, a traditional Tamil mancala game! Whenever I think of sitaphal, I think of these moments from my childhood. They were filled with joy, and I taste it again each time I taste the fruit.

 

Recently, I visited our organic farm a few hours’ drive from Chennai – and the sight of the abundant green harvest of the sitaphal trees brought back those childhood memories.

I will tell you more about our organic farm soon, where we grow paddy, varieties of gourd, numerous other vegetables, fruits – and a thoughtful selection of gorgeous native flowers that are fading from public memory. Hardly anyone wears or sells them anymore, but I take heart from the fact that there is one lady who sits by the Kapaleeshwarar Temple in Mylapore, with a colourful array of blossoms for purchase. Among them are the shenbagha and the manoranjitha. When I was a little girl, the teachers would wear beautiful manoranjitha flowers in their hair, and the classroom would be filled with their fragrance. And I would often think to myself: one day, when I am grown, I will have a house of my own with a tree that bears those flowers.

With the sweetness of all these memories in mind, and with the fruit in season in the serene landscape I dreamed of as a child, I remembered and craved a recipe that I had introduced into our family repertoire. When I got married and moved into my new home, I had enjoyed learning certain dishes from my mother-in-law that I found unusual. Among these was a fresh orange kheer. If you remember from this rose-coconut recipe, kheer is a kind of Indian pudding, with milk as the primary ingredient.

My mother-in-law’s citrusy dessert inspired my own variation. Perhaps I had wanted to bring the sitaphal I had plucked and gorged on in my childhood into my matrimonial home. And that’s how this sitaphal kheer was created. Even decades on, it remains a favourite of mine.

Sitaphal (Custard Apple) Kheer

(Yield – 8-10 cups)

Ingredients
1 ½ litres whole milk
2 large custard apples
1 ½ tablespoons corn flour or custard powder
½ cup sugar

You may know the sitaphal as the custard apple. I cannot recall seeing sitaphal sold abroad, which made me think it must be an indigenous Indian fruit, but it seems it’s actually native to the West Indies and Central America. Nonetheless, it thrives on our farm, and is popular throughout India. I wonder why it is not as well-known elsewhere as the mango. If you ask me, sitaphal is under-rated, and deserves renown.

One of the English names of sitaphal is sugar apple, attesting to its sweetness. Another is sweetsop. That tells you a lot about the taste of this fruit, if you haven’t had it. While it is not at all cloying, and in fact is quite subtle given its names, it is slightly higher in calories than other fruits too. Which means that I won’t sugar-coat it (pun intended): this recipe is a treat, and a bit of an indulgence! Still, sitaphal is also rich in potassium and magnesium, which protect the heart from disease, and Vitamin A and C. Fruit of any kind can never be truly bad for us, and sitaphal is no different.

Open up the soft, patterned green skin of this beautiful fruit, and begin to remove the seeds patiently using a spoon and clean hands. Keep the pulp in the refrigerator, covered.

In the meantime, boil the milk until it reduces partially. Vegans, you may want to try either coconut or almond milk. Keep stirring it on a low flame, making certain it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pot.

Put the corn flour or custard powder into a small cup, and add 2-3 tablespoons of milk at room temperature. Stir this mixture well, until it is smooth. Now, gently add this mixture to the milk in the pot. You have to be careful now to stir continuously, so that it doesn’t stick to the bottom, which it is very likely to.

I like my kheer not too thick, but you may like yours thicker. In which case, simply add an additional 1 teaspoon of the corn flour or custard powder. Or reduce the quantity, to thin it further. Adjust according to the consistency of your preference.

Add the sugar. The taste of the sitaphal is so gentle and distinctive that I find the addition of cardamom, nuts or saffron – classic elements of most kheer recipes – takes away from this flavour. But you can always add these if you wish.

Once the milk thickens to the consistency you prefer (this will take approximately 15-20 minutes), turn off the flame and cover the pot with a lid. Allow this to cool, then refrigerate for a few hours.

Add the seeded sitaphal pulp into the refrigerated mixture and blend well. Serve this chilled dessert in small bowls.

Just as I substituted my mother-in-law’s fresh oranges for sitaphal, the lovely thing about this recipe is that you can use any fruit of your choice, based on your own tastes and seasonal availability. It is a luscious dessert, and it’s equally perfect for summers (when it has a cooling effect) and for the year-end festivities (when it’s also in season). I’d love to know what you think of it – and what variations you’ll spin up in your kitchen.

 

When it comes to Indian street food, the first and last word is always “chaat”. Yes, the vendors of sundal and cotton candy on my beloved Marina Beach will put up a fight, but when it comes to tastes savoured throughout India, chaat wins hands down. Chaat is a catch-all term, and extends from fried breads like pav bhajji to pastries called puris, filled with everything from potato to spiced water. Among the popular ones is bhel, also known as bhel puri.

Bhel is usually made with puffed rice as the main ingredient. As I’m always trying to make all the food we enjoy healthier, without compromising on taste, I substituted the puffed rice for the humble and very nutritious mung bean, also known as green gram or moong.

 

 

Moong is a versatile legume, used extensively in Asian cuisines. It can be eaten sweetened as a filling in pastries like mooncakes, stir-fried with vegetables, soaked and softened into a dal, ground into paste for crepes like dosa, and even made into noodles once starched. Moong beans are high in protein, low in carbs as compared to other legumes and pulses, and rich in antioxidants, phytonutrients and fibre. Unlike various other kinds of beans, they are also easy to digest, meaning you won’t feel bloated after eating them.

This Green Moong Bhel brings the tanginess of authentic streetside chaat, thanks to a blend of two chutneys, to the wholesomeness of mung beans. Like all chaat, it’s an anytime dish – and like all chaat, once you’ve enjoyed it, you’ll always have a craving for it.

 

Green Moong Bhel

Ingredients
Bhel (Yield – 4-5 small cups)

½ cup moong beans
½ cup finely cut cucumber
¼ cup finely cut onions
¼ cup cut tomatoes
¼ cup cut raw mango
¼ cup finely chopped coriander leaves
¼ teaspoon roasted cumin powder
3 cups water
Salt to taste

Date Chutney (Yield: 3 Cups)

1 cup jaggery
1 cup chopped dates
1 cup tamarind
¼ cup sugar
1½ + 1 + 1 cups water
2 teaspoons roasted cumin powder
1 teaspoon black salt
¼ teaspoon chilli powder
Salt to taste

Soak the moong beans overnight, or for 6-8 hours. They will triple in size when they have been well-soaked.

On a medium flame, add 3 cups of water, ¼ teaspoon of salt and a pinch of turmeric to the beans and allow to cook. This will take 15-20 minutes. The beans should be soft to the bite.

 

Strain the beans and allow them to cool.

 

 

In the meantime, put all the cut vegetables and the raw mango into a bowl. You can add any vegetables of your choice, whatever you find handily available, and increase or decrease the quantities to your preference. My selection here is a very typically “chaat” selection of fresh, affordable local produce. Keep aside some coriander for garnishing.

 

To this bowl of vegetables and fruit, add two chutneys. You can find the green coriander chutney recipe here (if you’re on a health kick, try not to get distracted by the banana-methi fritters recipe!). It’s an extraordinary simple just-blend-it-chutney, and you can use it in versatile ways.

The date chutney requires just a few more steps. Soak the jaggery, chopped dates, tamarind and sugar in 1½ cups of water for at least half an hour. Then blend this very well with 1 cup of warm water. Sieve the mixture to remove any sediments. Now, add the roasted cumin powder, black salt, chili powder and salt, as well as an additional cup of water, and boil for approximately 15 minutes. You will notice the mixture thickening, and you can adjust this to the consistency you desire by adding more water. This recipe yields a generous three cups of date chutney. Use only as much as you need for the green moong bhel dish, then save the rest in the fridge.

Blend 2 teaspoons each of the two chutneys into the bowl of cut vegetables and raw mango. Then add all the spices as well as the cooled moong beans to the bowl. Mix all the ingredients together nicely, making sure the chutneys coat them well.

Now, serve the green moong bhel in smaller bowls, garnishing with the coriander leaves. I often like to add a bit of crunch on top too, such as crushed peanuts, pomegranate, fried crisps or the puffed rice that is reminiscent of traditional chaat.

You can put this healthy snack on the list along with sundal, pea-pomegranate kachoris, sweet ghugras and, of course, banana-methi fritters and enjoy it with some piping hot chai or coffee. Or have it as an alternative to salad or quinoa, and enjoy a big bowl as a full breakfast or a light lunch. As simple as the dish looks, it’s absolutely loaded with flavours. Healthy can taste so good, sometimes!

 

Standing at that quaint tea shop in Kolkata that early November morning, I realised that the city had been awake for hours. We were on a guided tour, and as we found ourselves there for our first cup of the day, I noticed how around us were people who had taken a pause during their work. All of us – locals and tourists, at leisure or on the job – were treating ourselves to a small terracotta or glass cup of warm chai. In just five minutes, I saw not only a classic street-style chai-making procedure, but faces from everywhere – each of them enjoying a rejuvenating sip of this quintessential beverage.

I couldn’t resist picking up my camera. I was so pleased that these men, for whom this particular stall is a routine, were happy not just to be photographed but also to chat! They say a cup of tea brings people together – and for a few minutes on a morning in Kolkata, that’s exactly what happened.

 

 

It was this man’s mashk – a goat-skin bag – that caught my eye. He sells water from it, at ₹10 a serving. He proudly told us that the neighbourhood we were in is colloquially known as Bheeshti Para, an homage to the traditional occupation of the water-carrier (known as “bheeshti”). He also shared that the etymology of “bheeshti” comes from the Persian word “bihisht”, which means “paradise”). How poetic – the water-bearer from paradise, bringing succour to the thirsty.

 

 

We also met this money-lender whose family is from Afghanistan – one of the many communities who settled in Kolkata, who have carried the trade on for generations. In fact, Afghani money-lenders were popularised in Rabindranath Tagore’s short story “Kabuliwala” (literally, “the man from Kabul”), which was also made into a number of films.

Kolkata is home to many such communities of foreign origin, who have enriched it. For instance, it is the only South Asian city with a Chinatown, thanks to several generations of people originally from China who have made it their home. There are also Anglo-Indians, Parsis and numerous other uniquely Indian cultures. And there I was, a Tamil Nadu-raised Gujarati, sipping from my terracotta cup too.

 

 

It’s always a pleasure for me to watch another culinary expert at work. Look at the precision of this chai-maker’s tea-pouring technique!

 

 

The street was abuzz with life that morning, as the fogginess gave way to bright sunlight. A recycling truck was passing by. Right next door to the tea stall was a food stall selling breakfast: pooris, pickles and savouries. Somewhere nearby, I am sure that the famed Bengali milk sweets were being made and sold too.

And how amazing is it that one morning I was drinking Bengali tea at a street-side stall in Kolkata, and the next morning I was back here in Coffeeland aka Chennai, a land famous for its filter coffee? I love my coffee anywhere in the world, but the moody monsoonal rain and my recent trip inspired me to recreate that hot, spiced tea here at home.

 

 

Masala Chai Powder

(Yield – approximately 100 grams)

Ingredients
¾ cup black pepper

½ cup cloves

3 tablespoons peeled cardamom

½ cup cinnamon sticks

1 tablespoon ginger powder

1 tablespoon pipramul powder

 

Tea is so quintessentially Indian that it’s easy to forget that it was actually introduced to India by the British. Originally from China, the tea shrub was found to grow well in hilly regions like Darjeeling and Assam, and closer to my home, in the Nilgiris. In fact, the word “chai” is from the Mandarin word “cha”.

I grew up watching masala chai powder batches being made for a year at a time during the hot summers.  This is what is now known as a Macrobiotic approach, making use of the logic of the seasons, in this case the heat. I have found that sun-drying makes the flavours bloom. But masala chai was originally had in the winters, as the herbs and spices had a warming effect – even roasting in the winter sun was sufficient, provided there was no rain.

If you’re trying this method on a warm day, roast all the ingredients except the ginger and pipramul powders in the sun. If you’re in a rainy or wintry season like I am right now, simply roast the ingredients (except the ginger and pipramul powders) on an iron pan for less than five minutes.

If you’re a fan of spices, the other ingredients will all be familiar to you, but if you’re wondering, pipramul is also known as Indian long pepper or ganthoda, and is a rhizoid similar to ginger. It aids digestion and helps with any kind of gastric trouble.

Once the ingredients have cooled, blend them into a powder. Add the ginger and pipramul powders and mix thoroughly. Store in an air-tight container.

If kept dry, you can use this powder for months at a time. It’s used only for chai and added into the boiling process of tea making, as is the Indian way.

My few minutes at that chai stall in Kolkata that morning made me ponder what a privilege it is to have tea at home, and not on the go while on the job. Tea is said to be a contemplative beverage, and is such a wonderful companion to both conversations with others and moments of musing alone. I’m contemplating the people I met that morning as I savour this cuppa. What’s on your mind today?

As I write this in the days after Diwali, the home and the kitchen table are empty. For a few days, the house was abuzz with visiting friends – all we did was eat, compare notes on each other’s specialties, learn, devour and enjoy our time together. Now, even the family have all gone back to their respective workplaces – and it’s me time. How do you re-enter the kitchen after the busiest time of year has quietened down? I cleaned up the home, missing everyone deeply, while contemplating food, love and life. And then I decided to follow the order of the typical restaurant menu, and start with a soup.

A soup is the perfect post-festive dish both as a detox for the infinite quantities of sweets consumed, and as comfort food that beats the empty-nest blues. As the monsoon continues, I’ve made three things a part of my regular intake: lots of water, this remedy for the sniffle season, and this delicate yet flavourful broccoli and almond soup.

Occasionally, I like to shift from my mainstay local, seasonal vegetables and bring a little bit of the exotic into my kitchen. In Chennai, it is quite rare to find organic “English” vegetables, as we call them here, so when I came across some organic broccoli at my grocer’s, I picked up a few fresh bunches. To these, I added another ingredient from afar: organic almonds from Kashmir. If you’ve been following this blog, you’ll know that even when I go adventuring in my culinary repertoire, I like to add a homegrown twist to anything foreign. And this is where my trusted curry leaves, packed with nutrients and not just a spicy flavour, come in.

Almonds are well-known for their benefits, and are one of the first types of nuts that are recommended as substitutes for unwholesome snacks. Rich in healthy fats, vitamin E, magnesium, antioxidants and other nutritious elements, they reduce blood sugar, blood pressure and cholesterol levels. They happen to be a favourite in the cakes that are baked in the re:store kitchen, so there are always some on hand – whether to pop into my mouth on the go or to toast and drizzle over a blues-busting soup like this one.

Broccoli is so healthy a vegetable that you may have noticed that it’s almost a synonym for so-good-it-has-to-taste-bad for children’s characters in films and books! This is of course simply untrue, for it’s a tasty ingredient that can be used in versatile ways. From vitamin C to anti-inflammatory Omega 3 fatty acids to antioxidants and studies that support its consumption as being preventative of cancer and heart disease, a bunch of broccoli really is a bouquet of benefits. And as it is rich in fibre, it promotes detoxification – which is what makes it ideal for a post-festive diet.

 

Broccoli-Almond Soup

(Yield – 4-5 cups)

Ingredients

2 tablespoons + 1 tablespoon virgin olive oil

150 grams diced broccoli florets

3 tablespoons chopped onions

1 small cup washed, finely chopped coriander leaves

3 garlic cloves (smashed) + 3-5 garlic cloves (sliced)

2 cups vegetable broth

2 cups water

½ tablespoon ground black pepper

Salt to taste

2 sprigs curry leaves

3 tablespoons + 1 tablespoon slivered, toasted almonds

1 teaspoon lemon juice

 

Heat the oil in a medium-sized saucepan. To this, add onions and garlic. Allow them to sauté till golden, before adding the broccoli. Continue sautéing for a few minutes.

Next, add the vegetable broth, cover the pan with a lid and leave to cook for 10 minutes. Then remove the lid and let the dish cool a little. Blend in the coriander leaves with the rest, and add more water to adjust the consistency of the soup to your preference. Finally, add salt and pepper as well as the slivered, toasted almonds.

In a separate pan, heat 1 tablespoon of oil and fry the sliced garlic cloves. As they turn golden, add the curry leaves and turn off the flame. Just the rich, warm aroma of this garnishing as it is being prepared will lift your mood!

Just before serving the soup, pour the cloves and curry leaf garnishing on top. I added a dash of lemon too. Sprinkle the last of the slivered, toasted almonds as the final touch.

I love my soups with a bit of crunch, and the broccoli and especially the almonds bring texture to this simple dish. Perfect for when you aren’t up to making full meals, when you’re feeling under the weather, or when you just need to cut back on the sugar and carbs, this lovely one-pot meal is light and healthy yet so filling. A cup or two of this broccoli-almond soup with just the sound of afternoon rain for company is so satiating. Please try it. I’d love to know what you think in the comments.

I want to begin with a word of thanks to all my readers around the world. Many of you have stayed with this blog for a whole year! I hope you’ve loved peeking into my kitchen, and I’m so glad to have you here as re:store grows. As the festive season is in full swing here in India, I thought this would be the perfect time to share my mother’s recipe for sweet ghugras, which was promised many posts ago when I gave you my mother-in-law’s recipe for pea-pomegranate kachoris.

Whether you know them as samosas, kachoris or ghugras, these fried stuffed pastries are a timeless favourite. It’s the fillings that make the difference, and the one I’m sharing today fills my heart with so many beautiful memories of childhood. It was one of the food items that my mother reserved exclusively for Diwali. In the same way that most people make modaks only on Ganesha Chathurti, she made these sweet, nutty ghugras only on Diwali.

Let me paint you a picture of just what these ghugras evoke in me. It’s amazing to recall now just how consistent the scene was: coming home from school year after year the day or so before Diwali to my mother standing in the kitchen, preparing the sweets. The anticipation, and the enjoyment. How does it feel like it was the exact same sight every year, even though both she and I grew older? The scents of that kitchen, the sheer delight of it all!

In those days, all the sweets and savouries were made at home. Each family would make 3 or 4 variants, depending on their status. The preparations began a couple of days before Diwali, and the treats would last for a week – and therefore, in a sense, the celebrations too. It was customary to visit one another’s homes, where we would eat versions of the same sweets. Back home, those who cooked in the families – usually our moms and aunts – would trade notes. Did that person’s cardamom twist suit the sweet? Was her own ghee-rich version of a treat the tastier one?

I grew up in a middle-class home where everything was rationed. Two sweets per child, and the rest for guests – but first, if you remember from my jaggery-whole wheat prasad recipe, to God. Those two sweets each were so relished, and to this day I believe that fulfilment and gluttony are two different things when it comes to dining.

The day after Diwali is the Gujarati New Year, and these two festivities are indelibly linked in my mind. Growing up in Chennai, the latter was not a public holiday, so school remained open. I remember the mix of restlessness and excitement I’d feel through classes all day, waiting for 3pm when our parents would come to pick us up. For that one day of the year, we did not have to take the school bus home – and just having our parents come to collect us to take us for our New Year prayers was such a thrill!

There is a beautiful old haveli, a traditional mansion, in Chennai’s Kilpauk neighbourhood that I still go to every year, and this was where we would drive to – still in our school uniforms, so happy to be celebrating this special day with our extended family and community. Dedicated to Lord Srinathji, the haveli observes an annakut darshan – an unlimited offering – made to the deity on New Year. In the spirit of abundance, it is forbidden to count the number of food items given as prashad. In order to achieve this, the cooking tasks are divided amongst several people. Each person makes a different kind of sweet or savoury, and the total collection is presented to the deity at once. It was always such a wonderful experience, a time when so many families came together and enjoyed ourselves – praying, playing and eating together, keeping our traditions alive through simply being joyous.

Diwali is in fact only one day in a string of special occasions. For us Gujaratis, the season began with Dhanteras (in which goddess Lakshmi is worshipped for prosperity), followed by Kali Chaudas (where a fried vada, a lentil doughnut, is thrown over one’s shoulder at a crossroads; my modern version of this custom is to serve thayir vada, curd-soaked vada, at home on this day), then Diwali (the festival of lights, which invariably falls on a new moon – on this day I make a broken wheat and jaggery dish for good luck). Diwali is followed by the Gujarati New Year (on which I make specialties like kesari or lapsi), and subsequently by Bhaibeej (the day when brothers visit their sisters’ homes to feast, the reverse of which happens on a day in August known as Raksha Bandhan). As you can see, feasting is an integral part of our festivals!

And to your own feasts, this year and for all time, I hope you’ll add this heirloom recipe of mine…

Sweet Ghugras

(Yield – 15-20 pieces)

Ingredients:

Filling

½ cup white raw almonds (with skin)

½ cup shelled pistachio

½ cup powdered sugar

2 tablespoons ghee

1 – 2 pinches of saffron

½ teaspoon cardamom powder

 

Pastry

See here.

 

If you tried your hand at my sweet-savoury pea-pomegranate kachori recipe, you’ve already had practice at making the pastry for these ghugras too. The ingredients and technique can be found by clicking through to that post.

Here, let me share the recipe only for the filling of the sweet ghugras. It is the filling that makes each samosa, ghugra or kachori different.

Roast the nuts until they turn into a light golden colour (you may replace the pistachio with cashew nuts if you wish). Allow to cool. Once cool, blend them to a coarse powder.

Now, add the powdered sugar and ghee. The ghee binds all the flavours together. Next, add the cardamom and saffron. Using your hands, gently blend the ingredients together.

The filling is as simple as that. Most Gujarati households will have a similar recipe for sweet ghugras. Many will use mava (known in Tamil as palkova), which is a sugary milk reduction. The mava version was my brother’s  favourite, and my mother made it for him for over five decades of Diwali celebrations – even the one in the hospital. But if you don’t like extreme sweetness in your desserts, you will prefer this nutty variation I’ve shared.

If you made the pea-pomegranate kachori recipe given earlier, making, rolling out and delicately folding the dough into a pretty shape should be very easy for you.

If this is your first attempt, do watch the video below to see how to stuff and fold the pastry casings. You will be able to make between 15-20 ghugras using this recipe, depending on the size. I like mine small and dainty, so that you’re both satisfied in a bite and have a slight craving for one more.

Once the pastries have been filled with the sweet, nutty stuffing, they must be fried.

I prefer the traditional method of deep-frying them in ghee over a low flame, but you can use oil if you wish. After a couple of minutes, increase the flame for about 15 seconds then lower it again for a minute. Continue alternating high and low flames. The ghugras will take 12-14 minutes to turn to a light golden colour. And then they are ready to serve.

These sweet ghugras have travelled a long way with me, from childhood. Isn’t it funny how we take our mothers’ food for granted? I’m so glad I made the effort to absorb her culinary wisdom. Now, during special occasions, my kitchen smells just like hers did when I was growing up – and I am filled with all the love she raised us with.

Heartfelt festive wishes from re:store to you and your family!

Once upon a time, before I decided to turn completely vegetarian again, I used to enjoy the very occasional meat dish. And more often than not, the particular dish that would kickstart my cravings was the chili bowl I discovered in L.A. some decades ago while pregnant. A rich, spicy stew with Tex-Mex origins, it’s a quintessential part of the cuisine of the southern American border regions – and something which reminded me of Indian food whenever I was homesick or longing for comfort food while travelling in the States.

Chili is a meal-in-a-bowl, although you can eat it with tortillas, rice, nachos, fries or other accompaniments if you like. Did you know that the Nahuatl (indigenous Mexican) word chīlli is what gives the chilli pepper its English name too? The dish too takes its name from this most vital ingredient. If you’re interested in a history of the dish, do read this comprehensive article with various legends and records.

Chilli fruits – yes, fruits! – were cultivated in ancient Mexico, and were introduced to the rest of the world through European colonists and traders. Then, based on different climactic conditions, certain places grew famous for particular cultivars: e.g. bhut jolokia (or “ghost peppers”) in India and Malawian kambuzi. In fact, the chilli powder I use to make my chili (yup, the spelling of the two words is close but not exact!) is a ground Hungarian spice known as paprika, made of sweet bell peppers and occasionally cayenne peppers. Each cultivar varies in pungency and intensity, and chillies are eaten in red, green, dried or capsicum/pepper variants. I also use capsicums in this dish.

The festive season has found me inundated with cupcake orders. Despite seeing so many in my kitchen every day now, I haven’t grown tired of stealing one now and again – all under the claim of checking the sugar level of course! Between some recent travel abroad and the sugar buzz around me now, I’ve missed the flavours and smells of Indian spices. Inspired equally by the memory of those long-ago chili bowls and my ongoing delving into the super-foods and smart-foods in our own Indian fields and forests, I decided to make a vegan millet-based chili. I tried and tested this recipe a few times before perfecting it. Fusion food can sometimes be a blunder, and sometimes be a wonder. I’d love to know what you think of this!

 

Vegan Chili Bowl

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon oil

1 teaspoon cumin

¾ cup carrots (chopped)

½ cup rajma/kidney beans (soaked)

½ cup onions (finely chopped)

½ cup capsicum (finely chopped)

½ cup green beans (finely chopped)

2 medium size tomatoes blended into a puree (approximately 1 cup)

3 pods garlic (grated)

1 piece ginger (grated)

¾ cup kodo millet

½ cup corn niblets and/or peas

Salt

Paprika

1 tablespoon lemon juice

4 cups of hot water

Chili may be Tex-Mex in origin, but the ingredients of my Vegan Chili Bowl are all easily available and highly affordable in India and elsewhere.

Take a pot and add oil to it. Once it is hot, add the cumin, followed by the grated garlic, ginger and onions. Sauté till golden brown.

Boil the green beans, peas and carrots and strain these. Keep the water aside.

Kidney beans take longer to cook so pressure cook or par-boil them before adding them to the pot. You may substitute the kidney beans for a lentil of your choice. Please note cooking time will differ based on which ingredient you use.

Add all the cooked vegetables to the onions along with the tomato puree, corn, capsicum (I used green capsicum, but you can use yellow or red too), millets, paprika and salt.

Now, add the strained water (approximately one cup) and the cooking water to the above ingredients. Cover with a lid and lower the flame. Allow this to cook for 20-25 minutes, stirring occasionally. I have used kodo millets, known in Tamil as varagu, which like all local millets has an extensive range of health benefits when eaten regularly. You can just as well substitute this with broken rice or wheat if you have them on hand, if you prefer. However, the cooking time will depend on the grain you’ve used.

Also remember that you can add all sorts of leftover vegetables to this chili – don’t feel restricted by the list I’ve suggested. They will only enhance the flavour and health quotient.

Once the grains are cooked well and tender, add the lemon juice and stir. Then, transfer the hot chili to small bowls and serve with some freshly chopped coriander leaves, fine slices of spring onions and other garnishings like roasted garlic or a handful of nuts. Chili is best eaten warm and fresh.

I love collecting beautiful crockery, and considering that this is a meal-in-a-bowl, I always take a little extra moment to choose the bowl itself well. When I made this the other day, I chose this pretty one with concentric blue circles on the bottom. It’s always a compliment to the cook when something is relished to the very last spoonful, and a nice design on the tableware is revealed.

As more people explore healthy or ethical dining options like turning vegan, our kitchen repertoires should also expand beyond serving and eating obvious items. This Vegan Chili Bowl is just the kind of unexpected dish that will make a vegan guest feel welcomed by your thoughtfulness. They are sure to enjoy it far more than picking at an ordinary salad or an unimaginative dressed-down version of the main course. The best part is that as it is a meal-in-a-bowl, you can be assured that they will be fully satisfied.