Call it a tale of two cities, or a tale of two cups! Like many who love travelling, I form bonds with now-familiar niches all over the world. And between two such niches, I found a particular connection. A connection that smells like heaven and tastes like perfection… Coffee.
Do you ever have that feeling, returning from travels or even just from a demanding day, that you simply must bake something that makes you feel good?
It’s a feeling I have often – which means that the emotion that follows, as I gently remove my creation of the day from the oven, is also one that I frequently get to enjoy. Many things inspire the baking itself. A craving, for instance. Or a memory. Sometimes, the creativity comes from cookbooks. A recent one I picked up is Love, Manuela. I lost myself for hours in the pretty pastels and luscious desserts that filled the pages of the book. Another favourite is Under The Walnut Tree by Fanny & Anna Bergenström, which features ingredients and recipes from around the world.
And sometimes, everything begins with a single ingredient.
When my friend Lucy visited recently, she brought me a beautiful batch of Meyer lemons, garden-grown and gorgeous. I know the tree from which she plucked them, from her home near a cove in Wareham, close to Boston. I love Lucy’s garden, unmanicured and filled with a wild charm. It was where her son’s wedding was held, with a Star Trek theme, and I vividly recall the funky geometric necklace I wore as per the dress code! Lucy came to visit in India bearing good tidings, kind comfort… and sweet, gently-raised lemons.
What is the most descriptive collective noun for coconuts? A cluster? A clump? A crowd? None of them quite sufficed for the copious numbers I found myself with! With five thriving trees in my garden, dangerously dropping their heavy drupes at any given moment, I responded to this abundance in the best way I know how: by bringing them into my kitchen.
So I hired a nimble man to climb up the trees to cut most of the coconuts down, and then we segregated them into tender ones, which yielded nutritious coconut water, and ripe ones with flesh that could be shaved. One of my coconut trees is also the site of an experiment of mine. I have a little basket on a lovely pulley system which takes pieces of papaya up to a nice altitude for the parrots that often flit about. It took a while to convince them that this odd contraption was actually a friendly gesture, but as with people and animals both – at the end of the day, appetite always wins!
The shaved coconuts found themselves in many of my recipes: from coconut rose cupcakes (which you can order here if you’re in Chennai) to sweet-savoury kachoris (which you can make in your own kitchen, with my recipe here) and more. And in the late afternoons, those pristine white shavings of coconut were perfect for a local lentil dish: sundal.
Somewhere between 5am and 6am, lights come on in kitchens all over India – and in a particular nook in Chennai, you’ll find me inhaling deeply from my cup of freshly-brewed lemongrass tea. This is how every morning in the re:store kitchen begins. I spend half an hour in contemplation, relishing my tea and the company of my setters, Max and Coco.