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Recipe: A Good Breakfast – Bajra Ghensh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bajra Ghensh

(Yield: 2 persons)

 

½ cup broken bajra (pearl millet)

1½ – 2 cups water

½ cup thick yoghurt

Salt to taste

20 grams kharek (dried dates)

10 grams dried coconut slices

10 grams cashew nuts

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven-Grain Khichdo

(Yield: 2-3 persons)

25 grams whole wheat (chaffed)

15 grams broken bajra

50 grams rice

15 grams green whole mung

15 grams yellow split mung dal

¼ cup green peas

¼ cup fresh green pigeon peas

Water to cook

2 tablespoons ghee

½ teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

¼ teaspoon asafoetida

1 crushed tomato

¼ teaspoon turmeric

Salt to taste

1 – 2 cups hot water

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: Navaratri Happiness – Handvo

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Handvo is a savoury cake made with lentils, from the Gujarati repertoire. Growing up, I would see it being made by my mother in the traditional way: in the backyard, she would prepare it in a heavy-bottomed brass pot placed on charcoal. She would pour the batter – containing lentils, rice and vegetables – into the vessel, then cover it with a heavy iron lid and let it cook. This was how it was made in most Gujarati homes back then. The funny thing is that although I enjoyed watching the elaborate process outside the kitchen, I found the dish itself quite boring. My mother had given herself a culinary education, learning baking and international cooking styles at a time when such classes were considered unusual, and as a child, I much preferred the foreign dishes she was learning to whip up. Over time, my appreciation for traditional cuisine blossomed, and this is why I am sharing the recipe for this handvo today, during the auspicious period of Navaratri.

I recall that my mother would make a large pot of handvo only about once a month or so. She would bake it in the evening and we would have it fresh for dinner, with the leftovers becoming our breakfast. The baked handvo comes out looking like a cake in height and shape, with a beautiful crust on top, which as kids we prized and fought over (for a dish I had thought dull, that was my favourite part!). So our mother had to divide it equally amongst us all. During Navaratri, however, handvo became our nightly staple. There’s no real link to the festival itself, except that this was my mother’s go-to during that very busy time of year. Even though the process seemed complicated to a watching child, it is actually a simple one-pot meal. It’s also lovely to have during the monsoon season, which usually coincides with the festival.

For us, Navaratri meant having a quick dinner and then heading out for the garba, a wonderful celebration that my siblings and I looked forward to with great anticipation. In those days, those nine nights of dancing, feasting and prayer were one of the major highlights of the calendar for us Gujaratis in Chennai. No more than 50 to 70 families would get together over the nine nights, and some of these families we’d only get to meet annually, so it was a very special occasion for the whole community. I remember how the fathers would be responsible for blocking the hall and all the event logistics, while the mothers would make the prasad  for the Goddess. Each evening would begin with a prayer, followed by the distribution of prasad, and then… the moment most of us would be waiting for: the dancing would begin. First, the women would begin dancing in a circle. Then, the children would come in, and finally everyone else would join. There would be competitions too, and I would always win a prize.

Garbas and dandiya these days don’t bear much resemblance to how they used to be while I was growing up. Now, they are just another party. The ones in my memory were very graceful and traditional, with a sense of propriety. The whole family used to be involved in those days, and the occasion was about keeping our culture alive. Even the little love affairs and marriages that used to come out of these events all happened under the watch of the parents, and with their blessings. Everything was about a sense of family and community back then, and I cherish those memories. Something about the handvo, which always preceded those evenings of fun, invokes them for me.

There are many varieties of handvo, which use different kinds of grains and dals based on what is in season; warmer grains like bajra are used in winters, while lighter rice and millets are used in summers. Rice leftover from lunch is also used, as are seasonal vegetables, the most common of which is the bottle gourd.

Over the years, the brass pot in the backyard kind of disappeared, and nowadays we see handvos being made in casseroles and glass containers that can be stuck in the oven. This year, I’m making my handvo the same way too, especially as I know that this is how most of you will try out this recipe. In fact, I felt tempted to modernise the method a step further and try out a batch in my waffle pan, as well! (If you’re one of those cooks who uses such tricks-of-the-eye to convince your fussy eaters at home to eat simply and well, this may be something to try out too!)

There are a few other keynotes that make my re:store style handvo distinct from the traditional kind. Firstly, I’ve eliminated the usage of rice, so as to ensure that the dish is carb-free. Most importantly, rather than bake a single large cake-like handvo and cut it into pieces, I’ve experimented with preparing individual portions, similar to dosas or crepes. I find that making the handvo in this method makes the cooking process easier and faster. The fermenting and soaking still require a day’s advance planning (unless you use readymade dal powders), but the actually frying up happens much faster than baking.

Handvo

(Yield: For 3-4 people)

1 cup toor dal

¼ cup urad dal

¼ cup moong dal

½ cup channa dal

¼ cup dahi + 2 teaspoons lemon juice

¾ cup grated bottle gourd (+ optional methi leaves)

¼ cup coriander leaves

2 teaspoons oil

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon green chili paste

½ teaspoon ginger paste

1 teaspoon sugar

Salt to taste

 

Tempering:

2 teaspoons oil

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon sesame seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon carom seeds

A few curry leaves

 

Clean the dals and soak them in sufficient water for 5-6 hours.

After this, remove the water and blend the dals coarsely. Add the dahi and lemon juice. Allow to rest for 3-5 hours.

Once the soaking and fermentation processes are completed, add the vegetable of your choice and the remaining spices to the batter. While I’ve made the batter from scratch, you may wish to use readymade dal powders instead.

Heat the oil in a flat pan. Add all the different seeds. Wait till they splutter and then add some curry leaves. Immediately, add 2 cups of the batter. Spread it a little, as you would a thick dosa or uthappam, then lower the flame. Cover the pan with a lid. Allow to cook for about 5-7 minutes. Now open the lid, and be careful as it would have trapped a lot of steam. Flip the handvo. Repeat the same process on this side.

After the handvo cooks and turns golden on both sides, remove it from the pan and make the next one. Cut into pieces and serve with green chutney or sweet mango pickle.

Over a few trials, this was the easiest method of preparing handvo that I discovered. You may of course choose to bake it instead. In that case, put all the batter in a bake-proof bowl. In a small pan, sauté the oil and seeds. Once they splutter, use a spoon to gently drizzle the tempering evenly on top of the batter. Bake at 160°C for half an hour, then slice and serve with the condiments.

The days of brass pots in the backyard and wholesome garba gatherings may have gone by, but the great thing about food is that it lets you keep making new memories. I wish you and your loved ones an auspicious Navaratri. I’d love to know if my easy, uthappam-inspired handvo finds a place in your festivities!

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Recipe: Mum’s Memories – Gujarati Potato & Brinjal Curry

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Here in lockdown mode, due to the global pandemic, I feel now more than ever that memories, bonding, love and food are what keep us going and make it possible to manage this difficult time. I sincerely hope that you and your families are keeping well, and that my recipes will offer you some comfort.

Ever since I can remember, this traditional stuffed vegetable dish has been a part of my life. It’s typically Gujarati, in the sense that every Gujarati household makes it. Some use onions and garlic, while for others these ingredients are not permitted religiously. Some use peanuts to add more texture. This dish is true to its region, so the taste and style you experience will also vary depending on where in the state the family originated from. No matter the variant, the base recipe for this Gujarati Potato & Brinjal Curry, which can be made either as a gravy or dry, is the same.

Needless to say, it’s a favourite and frequent dish in my home today, just as it was when I was growing up. It was a trademark preparation of my mother’s. When I first got married, she would speak to me often on the phone and if she sensed that I was feeling down, she would always say, “Come home for a meal. I made your favourite vegetable dish today.” Till she was 84 years old, she cooked this sabzi regularly for me. In that last year when she was unwell, it became my turn to. I would cook it and send it to her, made with all the love I have for her and the memories she had given me, and she would enjoy it just as much as I did.

And how many memories I have of this dish! Memories of eating it at home as a child, memories of making it for my own family once my kids were born, memories of visiting Gujarati relatives and friends for a meal and almost invariably being offered their own personal rendition of it. Perhaps there was something extra special about it to me always, and maybe this was the reason why my mother recognised that it was my favourite. That was because it was always served during our Sunday lunches when we were growing up. We would all be glad for the weekend, enjoying our leisure, and this delicious concoction of potato and stuffed brinjal would fill our tummies and become associated with the joy of a day of rest itself. Funnily, for such a quintessential and ubiquitious dish, Gujaratis don’t have a special name for it. We just call it “potato-brinjal curry” in our language too!

There are certain dishes which, even if one usually dislikes the main ingredient, the magic of the preparation always sways the eater to relish it. I’ve heard quite often that people who don’t enjoy eggplant in other ways do so when they have a bite of this. (People not liking potatoes is much rarer, of course!). Whether you call it brinjal, baingan, aubergine or eggplant, it’s a vegetable that has a host of benefits, and which can be made in delicious ways so that your family receives these. This Gujarati curry, for which I will provide both the gravy and the dry options in the method below, is the perfect way to bring the antioxidant-rich, fibre-rich, nutrient-rich vegetable into your regular diet.

Gujarati Potato & Brinjal Curry (Gravy/Dry)

(Yield: 1 bowl)

½ cup grated coconut

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

2 tablespoons cumin/dhania (coriander) powder

1 teaspoon amchur (mango powder)

1 teaspoon garam masala

2 tablespoons jaggery

1 teaspoon chilli powder

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon grated ginger/green chili

½ cup finely chopped coriander leaves

2 tablespoons oil

6 baby eggplants

3 large potatoes

3-4 cups water

First, let me share the gravy version of this dish. The dry version is provided further below.

Wash the baby eggplants. Slit them lengthwise (so that they can be stuffed; be careful not to cut completely) and keep the slices in water.

Peel the potatoes and cut them into big pieces. Set aside.

In a plate, prepare the stuffing by adding together the coconut, salt, spices, coriander leaves, ginger chili paste, and jaggery. Mix it well with your fingertips and set aside. Now, take each eggplant and stuff it with this prepared masala. Keep aside.

Heat the oil in a pressure cooker and gently add potatoes, making sure the oil doesn’t splutter. Next, gently add the stuffed eggplants over the potatoes. You will find that there is a lot of masala left over. Sprinkle this over the vegetables, leaving just a little on the plate for later. Again, gentleness is key so that the stuffed eggplants don’t break.

Now, add the water and mix the concoction – again, gently! Cover the cooker and wait for three whistles. Allow to cool, then open the lid and add the remaining masala. Stir once again. Your gravy Gujarati Potato-Brinjal Curry is ready to serve.

If you prefer a dry version of the same, follow the first three steps as above: cleaning and preparing the eggplants for stuffing, cutting the potatoes, and preparing the masala.

Then, add the oil in a kadai. Once it has heated, add the potatoes. Stir them, then cover with a lid on a slow flame. Stir occasionally, making sure they do not stick to the bottom. Once the potatoes are slightly tender to the touch and not overcooked, open the lid and add the stuffed eggplants. Remember that potatoes take longer to cook than eggplants so gauge the time well.  Cover again.

If required, especially if the vegetables are sticking to the bottom of the pan, sprinkle some water and cover. Continue to allow the dish to cook until all the vegetables are well-done. Finally, add the masala and stir gently. Cover again and allow it to sit. The dry version of this dish is now ready to serve.

As you prepare the dish, adjust the spices as per your preference. If you don’t like the standard Gujarati-style touch of sweetness, don’t include jaggery. If you want to spice it up while maintaining colour, chopped green chillies will do the trick. Don’t forget the versions mentioned at the beginning, which incorporate peanuts, garlic or onions.

No matter which way you choose to make it, I hope this Gujarati Potato-Brinjal Curry brings as much comfort and deliciousness to your home as it does to mine. As with all Indian curries, it’s perfect with rice and a range of breads. It’s got the spiciness of our masala, is tummy-filling thanks to the potatoes, and just has such a feel-good effect on the heart. Trust me: generations of Gujaratis have been turning to this dish as nutritious comfort food!

 

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Recipe: Traditionally Tasty – Red Rice & Jaggery Pongal

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The revival of traditional ingredients and culinary methods is something very close to my heart, and you may have noticed this passion in everything from the cookware you see in my photographs to the recipes I’ve shared on this blog over the years. This is also the reason why I celebrate so many festive occasions, and believe in passing on traditions to my children, be they cultural (such as certain Diwali or raksha bandhan rituals) or sentimental (such as heirloom recipes). This return to a time-honoured way of life is very valuable to us. It was in this spirit that I accepted the opportunity to create a recipe over the Pongal festival for a special feature in The Hindu. Although Pongal has now passed, any time is a good time to try something delicious, and I hope you’ll like this recipe for traditional South Indian red rice and jaggery pongal.

When I discovered an organic store in Chennai, Spirit of the Earth, I really enjoyed looking at the hundreds of varieties of locally produced rice from around India. I especially love black rice, which has a nutty flavour and appealing colour as well as being nutrient-rich. As someone with Vitamin B12 deficiency, it provides a source of iron that I’m glad to incorporate into my diet frequently. It’s also a very versatile grain, and I enjoy using it in dessert, specifically in Thai-inspired sticky rice with mango pudding. The red rice varieties were also very intriguing to me, and one of them is the key ingredient of this recipe.

Having experimented with growing organic produce on our farm over several seasons now, I now truly understand why turning away from chemical-heavy and industrialised agriculture is good for us. What we do is on a small scale, and mostly for our own sustenance, although we do sell to selected organic stores as well. We cultivate traditional varieties of fruit, flower and produce, and the only kinds of rice and millets we usually eat at home are from our own fields. Among the produce we grow are: ragi, green moong, black rice, barnyard millet, samai and thinnai. Even taste-wise, I find that hybrid varieties of fruit simply don’t taste as sweet. The sight of blossoms like the manoranjitha, which I grew up with but hardly find in Chennai anymore, warms the heart.

It is deeply meaningful to me to be able to provide all these forms of a sense of belonging to my children, who are grown up and live in different parts of the world. They know that they have a home to return to, which will be filled with love and tradition, where meals will be served with ingredients we have carefully cultivated ourselves. When they are not here, they have the recipes on this blog, which will teach them (no matter what time zone they’re in!) how to whip up their favourite comfort foods for themselves. This was one of my core reasons for beginning this blog. While it may look like a motley collection of recipes, that is only because I want it to speak to many generations and tastes, and span influences that reflect all our travels and dreams. We are all multi-taskers with many interests, which is why I keep things varied.

Beginning with my love of cooking for others, I then also started taking photographs. After early trials and errors, I attended workshops to hone my skills, and practiced hard. I think the results of these efforts will be clear even if you look back at old posts. I am proud to have come a long way since then, and especially that I took the step to establish Nandi Shah Photography in 2019. I think it’s still early enough in the year to share again this calendar, which showcases the combination of two of my great loves: baking and photography.

Another very important component of this blog is the health aspect, and whether it’s vegan, Macrobiotic or simply a smarter ingredient substitute, I am always on the look-out for how to create the most nutritious recipes. This red rice and jaggery pongal checks all the boxes here.

Pongal is a traditional South Indian rice porridge, and red rice is a perfect substitute for white rice. I like using Onamatta rice in this recipe as it has a beautiful fragrance. It also tends to cook faster and is a soft rice variety. Originating in Kerala, it is also known as Rosematta rice. A highly nutritious and filling grain, it keeps you full for a long time, making it an ideal appetite-curbing dish during dieting or fasting. I find that red rice also has a way of uplifting the flavours of local vegetables and dhal. It tastes delicious with palm jaggery, which is great sweetener. I’ve had the opportunity to see it being made as well, and I highly encourage it as a sugar substitute. Jaggery has long been the traditional sweetener in Tamil Nadu cooking, and I believe that ancient pongal varieties would have also been made with millets and older grains.

What I am sharing today is a traditional recipe, relished for centuries. You’ll see why when you taste it.

 

Red Rice & Jaggery Pongal

(Yield:  3-4 cups)

½ cup red rice

½ cup jaggery

6-8 cashews

2 tablespoons mung dal

2 ½ cups water

3 + 1 tablespoons ghee

1 pinch of cardamom powder

1 handful of raisins

 

Roast the cashews in a ½ teaspoon of ghee. Add the raisins and roast until they bubble up. Set aside.

Roast the mung dal in a ½ teaspoon of ghee until it releases an aroma. Now, add the cleaned and washed Onamatta rice to it. Add water and allow the rice and dal to cook until tender in a pressure cooker on a medium flame.

In a pan, add ghee. Now, add the palm jaggery. It will begin to melt in a few minutes. Then, add the rice mixture and blend well.

Add the cardamom powder, raisins and cashews, mix well and top it off with a drizzle of ghee before serving.

Preparing a traditional dish like this, no matter when, always has a comforting feeling to it. I truly believe in the adage “We are what we eat.” Food has a unique way of expressing this. Four generations of my family have lived in South India now, and it’s a part of who we are. This red rice and jaggery pongal is a beautiful way for me to honour that connection, as well as my personal appreciation for all things organic. I’d love to know what you think when you try it out!

 

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Recipe: A Medley of Lentils – Mixed Dal

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Every day in a Gujarati household, you can be assured that there will be a big bowl of dal on the dining table at lunch. We always eat some version of a spiced lentil concoction with rotlis or rice, feasting on a fragrant dish that will give us a good boost of protein, folate and fibre. Pigeon pea or toor dal used to be a staple in my home, but now that I’m cooking for my dad as well, I had to find an alternative as he dislikes this dal. This gave me the fun challenge of finding different varieties which would please the palates of everyone whom I cook for. In these explorations, I hit upon an exciting compromise: mixed dal.

Mixed dals are made by most communities, and as I keep reiterating, the exact version will vary in each kitchen. They are a resourceful way of making use of whatever is in the pantry, through combining a selection of uncooked dals which may be in excess or the last dregs of which need to be finished. My sister, for instance, is an expert in a Jain version made with tomatoes, cumin and very basic spices. I’m never sure whether it’s the simplicity of the ingredients that makes it so nice, or the fact that she makes it for me with such love. The version I make is neither a Jain nor a traditionally Gujarati one, as it uses both onion and garlic, which are generally regarded as either taboo or sparingly used in our culture. In some ways, mine imitates the Punjabi version in its use of spices and condiments.

The recipe I am sharing today is a medley of six types of dals: masoor, split moong, regular/whole moong, urad, split black urad and toor. You can include any other variety you prefer, as well as deduct any that you don’t have on hand or dislike. This particular combination came about through a mix of practicality (I felt some of these dals were being used less than others in my kitchen) and health-consciousness. These humble lentils are powerhouses of nutrients.

I tend to buy each dal separately and then store them all mixed in even proportions. I have noticed that shopkeepers even sell them mixed these days, which you may find even more convenient. If you are wondering if this dish is a part of the “second helpings” series I had some time ago on my blog, the answer is that it’s not. This dal is prepared fresh using dry, mixed lentils.

While I add garlic and onions, giving it that Punjabi-style punch, I also use a North-Eastern and Bengali way of tempering known as the “panch-phoron”. The panch-phoron is a delectable five spice blend which consists of mustard seeds, cumin (jeera), fennel (saunf), fenugreek (methi) and nigella (kalonji). I love the richness of the flavours together. You may know that Gujaratis often add a pinch of methi to our dal. This is to counterbalance the sweetness of the jaggery in the traditional recipe, which is an ingredient I have opted not to use here. I prefer this mixed dal spicier. I also notice how the fennel in the panch-phoron works as a counterpoint to the garlic. There’s a purpose in every small thing that we do in cooking. To everything, there is a method and a reason.

I decided to try the panch-phoron tempering method as I particularly enjoy the Bengali dals when I’m in Kolkata. The flavours of mustard paste and this fine blend of spices are delightful, and theirs is a cuisine which I would very much like to explore more. This mixed dal of mine is one delicious step in that direction.

 

Mixed Dal

(Yield: 1 pot)

1 cup mixed dal

4-5 cups water

2-3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon panch-phoron

2 dry red chillies

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ cup finely cut onions

½ cup finely cut tomatoes

3-4 cloves garlic

A pinch of asafoetida (hing)

½ teaspoon garam masala

⅓ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 stick cinnamon

Juice of 1 lemon

¼ cup finely chopped coriander leaves

Clean and wash the dal and place it in a pressure cooker. Add salt, turmeric and 4 cups of water. Allow it to cook until tender, for approximately 4-6 whistles. Once cooked, keep aside.

In a kadai, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the panch-phoron and the hing/asafoetida. Next, add the dry red chillies and then add the onions and garlic. Sauté for a minute and then add the tomatoes.

Add the remaining spices and sauté once again until the kitchen is fragrant with the scent of roasting spices.

Now, add the cooked, tender dal to the pan and stir evenly. If you prefer a thinner consistency, add more water.

Top it off with the lemon juice, and garnish with the finely chopped coriander leaves.

Serve this mixed dal while it’s still hot. For a simple yet complete meal, it’s perfect to be enjoyed with rice or breads such as paratha, naan or rotli. When serving a slightly more elaborate meal, it also works very well when accompanied by an Indian-style stir-fry.

As I mentioned earlier, not only is this dish a combination of mixed dals, but it’s also a medley of culinary influences. Bengali, North-Eastern and Punjabi seasonings come together and surprise the Gujarati palate with their spiciness. I’d love to know what you think of it, and how you choose to bring your own tastes and journeys to this simple and satisfying preparation.

If you’re a fan of lentils, here are a few more lentil-based favourites from the recipes I’ve shared earlier: khatta mung, dal dhokli, green moong bhel and green moong dhokla. It’s the versatility, simplicity, nutritiousness and sheer deliciousness of lentils that make them such a staple in our meals.

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Recipe: Celebrating The Bond Of Siblings – Delicate Dahi Vada

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It was Raksha Bandhan a few days ago, and my home was reverberating with boisterous laughter and shouting, filled with the joy and commotion of having all three of my children visiting. This was no coincidence, as Raksha Bandhan is one of the special occasions on which I enforce a very strict rule: no matter where they are in the world, they must return to Chennai to be with their parents and each other.

Raksha Bandhan is doubly special as it is in honour of their relationships to one another. This North Indian festival is a unique one that celebrates one of the most important bonds of all, the one between a sister and her brother. My daughter is fortunate to have two loving elder brothers, and the older they all get, the more precious this day has become to my family. It’s a delight for me as a mother to have them all come home at the same time, as well as a wonderful opportunity for me to fully express my “love language” – cooking!

This time, I chose to make dahi vada, a simple yet important traditional dish. A vada is a kind of deep-fried doughnut or dumpling, made from ground lentils (sago or potato may be used in some varieties). You may remember that vadas have ritual symbolism to Gujaratis during our new year.  Dahi vada is made by soaking the plain vada in yoghurt (“dahi”) and serving it with light toppings ranging from basic curry leaves to more elaborate garnishings like pomegranate.  There are innumerable versions of the dish varying from state to state, community to community, and kitchen to kitchen. In Tamil Nadu, it’s the popular snack item known as “thayir vadai”. The Gujarati variant is made in an exciting way, almost like a chaat, with an added tangy flavour thanks to the use of date or tamarind chutney. It is one of my favourites to prepare on auspicious occasions.

On Raksha Bandhan, the traditional ritual is for the sister to place a sweet in her brother’s mouth so that his life will be blessed. In turn, he promises to protect her and take care of her for the rest of his life, and she ties an amulet called a “rakhi” around his wrist to seal this. At home, we love renewing this vow annually. There is a cheerful feel in the air, and we enjoy catching up over the delicious feast that I always prepare. But more than that, it’s the kind of vow which I take very seriously. I know that my children, who are young and full of ambition and who crib about having to shuffle their schedules around to be here, will some day understand why I insist on observing this occasion. I tell my daughter that I don’t care if she has to take the last flight out after her tough day as a law student, and ensure that both my sons (especially the one who must come from abroad) have planned their schedules around the dates that I insist that they spend here together. I am confident that they will carry this ceremony forward even decades into the future, and will continue to meet across continents to celebrate special occasions.

The recipe I am sharing today is from my own sister, who loves to spoil me every time I visit her in Mumbai by making these traditional dishes that I so enjoy. In exchange, she asks me to bake some kind of bread or to teach her how to make an eggless cake, and in this way we deepen our bond and expand our culinary repertoires too.

I hope this recipe below is also a healthier version of the usual vada, as it uses split mung, also known as moong beans, instead of urad dal or black grams. I prefer this lentil for its many nutritious benefits, especially its richness in minerals, vitamins, fibre and protein.

Although dahi vada is commonly seen as a snack or side dish, we love it so much at home that with enough servings, it simply becomes our dinner. As it uses ingredients which are always on-hand in the Indian kitchen, and combines two basic staples (vadas and yoghurt), it’s a great dish to serve to unexpected guests and as a light festive dish for upcoming occasions like Ganesh Chathurthi and Diwali. It’s also ideal for those who have senior citizens at home, as it’s soft to chew and yoghurt always has a soothing effect. Given the mix of ages in my household, especially during festivals, I find it works very well to please everyone. The young ones find it tasty and chatpata (tangy and flavourful), while the older people enjoy it as a type of comfort food.

Dahi Vada

(Yield: approximately 15 vadas)

For the vada

1 cup split mung

½ teaspoon asafoetida

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon green chili paste

Other ingredients

4 cups water

Oil for deep frying

3-4 cups yoghurt

Coriander leaves

Green chutney

Sweet date chutney

Roasted cumin powder

 

Wash the split mung and soak it in water for 4-6 hours until tender.

Rinse and then grind the soaked mung coarsely, without adding water, in the idly grinder.

Then, beat the batter in a bowl. Make sure that it is nice and frothy. This will ensure the fluffiness of the vada.

I like to add all the spices and other ingredients in the last whiz of the batter and fry the vadas immediately after.

In a wok, heat the oil and make small vadas by shaping and then dropping the batter into the hot oil. These vadas are dumpling-shaped, and you can make them in your palm.

Once golden, remove the fried vadas and sink them in the 4 cups of water. This will ensure they become softer. Once all the vadas are fried and soaked, remove them individually. Gently squeeze out the water and arrange them on the plate for serving. I like to serve individual portions.

In the meantime, beat the curd, adding the salt and roasted cumin powder and mix thoroughly. Many Indian families eat homemade yoghurt, and the recipe to make the same is here. You can use store-bought curd as well. If you have access to coconut yoghurt or soy yoghurt, feel free to substitute accordingly. In India, these innovative items have yet to hit the market, so I’m afraid this is very much a dairy post, with apologies to my local vegan readers!

Pour the curd over the vadas, just enough to cover them.

Finally, top the curd with the green coriander chutney and sweet date chutney. Sprinkle some more roasted cumin powder and garnish the dish with some finely-cut coriander leaves.

When the weekend after Raksha Bandhan ends, my house will slowly quieten down as one by one, each of my children return to the places where they are establishing their own lives. Eventually, if they get married or have kids, I will look forward to them all coming home with their families. I can already imagine how Raksha Bandhan and Diwali will be exuberant get-togethers of the entire clan, giving us a chance to rekindle our bonds as well as get to know new members. There is already so much warmth and love between the five of us now, and I only want it to keep growing.

This warmth and love is something that we strive to build and to keep, and we never take it for granted. You have to learn how to tide over difficulties and manage practical struggles like living far apart. This is a choice. I believe that families with close ties exist because someone chose to take on the responsibility of creating and maintaining those ties. In mine, I am that person. My grandfather used to call me “the Lady of the House” for this reason. He would say that the entire family bond was in my hands, because I take my role as the one who holds it together seriously. Many women of my generation do, and I am sure you may feel the same way. We hold the bond together through tradition, love – and always – food. Here’s to all the joyous feasts in my home and in yours, right now and far into the future…

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Recipe: An Indo-Mexican Medley – Peach Salsa

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When my sister sent me a huge batch of peaches, brought down from the hills of Himachal Pradesh to the markets of Mumbai and then finally to my kitchen, I was simply bursting with joy. The possibilities were endless. I couldn’t decide between making peach juice for breakfast, or perhaps peach melba accompanied by some classic vanilla ice cream, or maybe baking a fruity cake as a delightful tea time accompaniment. Needless to say I did all of the above and then some more. This vibrant peach salsa, bursting with luscious flavours, has been a frequent feature at my table during the past few weeks.

While peaches aren’t a tropical fruit, they are abundantly available here. I can remember a time when this was not the case. We would encounter a country variety only when we went to the hills, when we would visit Ooty every year through our childhood summers. While we took our familiar fruits like mangoes, guavas and coconuts for granted, the summer fruits of the hilly region were a novelty. I remember the first time I saw pear trees in those hills, for example, and how exciting that was. During these holidays, we became familiarised with various homegrown but somehow exotic produce, including “English vegetable”. As well as local peaches, of course. They were smaller, rustic-looking, greenish in colour and a little more sour in taste than the large juicy imported ones (and even the ones from North India), but they were peaches just the same. The season was short, and as they were a slightly rare fruit, we treated them as a delicacy. In addition, peaches were associated with the holidays in the hills. They are still reminders of a time when things were simpler and carefree. A time when that cool climate was a yearly escape, far from school and the sweltering heat of Chennai.

Peaches are a luscious, sweet fruit which are native to China, which are believed to have made their first appearance in India during the Harappan period. They became popular in Europe via Persia, and are grown in numerous places around the world today. As with all fruits, peaches help regulate body weight. They are also good for cardiovascular health and improve gut function. They are beneficial for the skin, and the phrase “peaches and cream complexion” is derived from this fact.

Now, the world has become a smaller place and we get all kinds of exotic fruits from places like Thailand and beyond. Peaches, too, are now available everywhere in India. They come to us from cooler climes like Ooty and Himachal, as well as from abroad. They are currently in season, but bear in mind that the season is brief. If you’d like to try this peach salsa, there’s no time like the present.

During the recent mango season, in which I made a profusion of fruit-based dishes, a mango salsa was also served during several occasions. The simplicity of a salsa lends itself to quick, easy and usually successful experiments, so I often whip one up using whichever fruit happens to be in season, or on hand. Melbas, cakes and milkshakes aside, the abundance of peaches that arrived in my kitchen were inevitably going to receive this treatment too.

My first exposure to salsa was through Mexican food, which is hands-down my favourite cuisine in the world. Salsa is one of their staple dishes, and made in a versatile number of ways. There are liquidy sauces, creamy dips and coarsely-chopped mixed ingredients which all bear this name. I think the recipe I am sharing today is closest to a pica de gallo (literally “rooster’s beak”) rendition, which is crunchy in texture.

I must confess that I usually get to enjoy the American versions of tacos, enchiladas and the like, and I hope that my travels will take me to South America some day so that I can have an authentic experience of these beloved dishes of mine. My own attempts at recreating these dishes at home have always been warmly received, but perhaps my kids are biased. Others have told me that what I make are Indianised versions of Mexican-American food, but I can take that as a compliment. That’s what we human beings are all about, no? We share our stories and our lives, and keep creating new experiences that are influenced by everything we see and feel… and taste!

 

Peach Salsa

(Yield: 1 bowl)

2 full cups cut peaches
¼ cup chopped onions
¼ cup cut green bell peppers
1 tablespoon cut jalapeños
Handful of fresh mint leaves
Handful of finely cut coriander leaves

Dressing:
Salt to taste
A pinch of pepper powder
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
A pinch of pepper powder
1 tablespoon honey (optional)

In a bowl, add all the freshly cut vegetables and fruit. Feel free to improvise and add some of your own choice, to enhance the flavours you prefer. I like a bit of spice, so I added jalapeños. Since there was some fresh mint available at home, I used a handful of that too, and I found it gives a lovely flavour to the whole salsa.

In another bowl, add all the dressing ingredients. Stir well and pour over the fruit/vegetable mixture just before serving. Nacho chips are a traditional accompaniment. Any Gujarati kitchen will have the perfect substitute in one of our preferred snacks – in lieu of nachos, I often fry up some crispy pooris!

While preparing this salsa, I observed that the cutting technique is crucial. When the fruit slices are larger, they become a salad ingredient, and go well when mixed with greens. When they are finely chopped, as they are here, they become a salsa. Both styles were a big hit at home. If you’re incorporating more salads into your diet, try the former, and add some diversity and sweetness to your menu with a nutritious fruit-loaded salad. If you’ve cut the ingredients finely and have prepared a salsa, serve it with something crunchy, as suggested.

The fresh, ripe fruit and the crispy pooris, laced with the spicy flavours of jalapeño chillies and raw onions, come together to form a dish which may be Mexican, may be Indian, may be neither… but is most definitely one of our favourites at home! I’d love to know what you think of it. For a few more similar dishes, check out my sundal and moong bhel recipes too.

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Recipe: Scrumptiously Guilt-Free – Sugar-Free Almond Cookies

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Every day, I wake up thinking: “What shall I bake today?” My work schedule begins with this question. By the time I walk into my kitchen, I am already excited about conducting a new trial of some kind. Whether on a whim, because of excitement over an item freshly in season or gifted to me by a friend, or thanks to setting a challenge for myself, I’m looking forward to an experiment. Often, I’ll already be thinking of how the finished dish can be styled for a shoot, even before I make it. These culinary experiments are a great source of pleasure and learning for me. In this way, the re:store repertoire constantly grows.

When the day is not cluttered with a hundred things to do, I can bake especially peacefully. I pull out cookbooks and pore over them. Sometimes it’s the beauty of the photographs that pulls me in. Sometimes it’s a single ingredient, either something exotic or a familiar one that I want to use in a special way. Most mornings, it’s something new. Something different. Even the beauty of a book on architecture or on art can excite me, reminding me of my travels and my memories. Or it could be words from a poem. Or even the colours worn by a group of people I may have seen on the street on the previous day. Something will make me reach for certain ingredients or search for certain recipes. It doesn’t always work, but even then, I enjoy the challenge of going, “Damn, what went wrong?” and finding a way around the snag during the next trial.

As I was raised in a household which observed the tradition of never eating food before it was offered to God (which meant that there was no dipping a spoon or a finger into the pot as we cooked), I learned early on how to tell on sight if a dish is ready. I can gauge if it will taste good, or otherwise. So I usually have a strong sense of how an experiment will turn out even as I’m in the midst of it. Of course, there are occasional dull moments when I feel like I’m dragging my feet, and I think something is doomed to fail, and that’s exactly when it doesn’t work at all. I’ve come to understand that space and mood are vital components for these culinary experiments. And when I get it right, I want to share the results immediately – with everyone! My friends and family get the first slices, scoops and sips. And then, there is this blog…

In addition to books, photos and memories, a well-stocked kitchen is often the beginning of inspiration for me. Many Indians love almonds, also known as badam, both for their taste and for their nutrition benefits (which include skincare, lowered cholesterol, weight management, improved eyesight and much more). In my case, there’s always almond meal or almond flour in my house, and it’s an ingredient I reach for liberally. As I’ve said so often, a belief in the goodness of homemade food is at the heart of everything at re:store. Most of the flours and powders I use in my kitchen – from turmeric to chillies to chickpeas and more – are sent to be ground in small batches at a trusted mill. The same goes for almond flour and all the others that I use in my baking.

One recent morning, my brainwave was to conduct a trial for a sugar-free version of the almond cookies that are a staple in my home. As we get older, we have to be more watchful of our food intake both in terms of quantity as well as where problematic ingredients are concerned. Sugar is a big culprit when it comes to health issues, and often the first thing that experts recommend eliminating or cutting down. Ever conscientious of eating well, I find myself increasingly attracted to desserts which use other natural sweeteners. These include maple syrup, coconut sugar, barley malt, honey and jaggery. That famous Gujarati sweet tooth can’t resist temptation. These days, I try to make sure that when my cravings hit, the treats within reach are sugar-free.

 

You know how much I love my tea-times and simply must have a crunchy bite to go with my hot drink. This is true not just for me, but equally so for my Max. The moment he sees the cup in my hand, he comes bounding up, salivating for his own biscuit.

This is what we’ve been enjoying over the past few days. An almond cookie is a classic – and this sugar-free, eggless version is one that will capture a lot of hearts. And I can assure you that it comes with Max’s stamp of approval!

 

 

Sugar-Free Almond Cookies

(Yield: 15-20 cookies)

 

1½ cups oats flour

¾ cup whole wheat flour

¾ cup maida

1 cup almond flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup oil

½ cup honey

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon rose extract

¼ teaspoon rose water

Preheat the oven to 150°C. Prepare a baking tray and keep it ready.

In a mixing bowl, add all the dry ingredients and whisk well. Then, slowly add all the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Mix them all together with your hands gently until they become one whole mass of dough.

Now, make small flat discs and place them in rows on the baking tray. Bake in the oven for 10-12 minutes or until they turn golden on the edges. Remove and allow to cool on tray for about 5 minutes. Remove them onto a cooling rack.

They are ready to serve, and if you wish to, you can decorate them with any toppings or icing of your choice.

On one of my recent Instagram posts, you would have seen another one of my successful latest experiments: pista-rose cookies, which combined two of the more popular flavours on the re:store menu. The next time I make it, I’m going to try and adapt this recipe to do so, replacing almond meal or almond flour with pistachio meal or pistachio flour.

With the kinds of cravings for sweetness that I have, finding and incorporating sugar-free desserts into my meals is a necessary, healthier choice. These sugar-free almond cookies are also eggless, as you may have noticed, which makes them the perfect choice for vegetarians. Vegans may opt to substitute honey with a sweetener of their choice. As I said earlier, this recipe came about through a process of experimentation. What next? As I write this, I’m already wondering: what about an almond kachori? Innovative uses of readily available ingredients are practically a daily adventure for me now.

Since I’m not giving up the crunchiness that I need with my cup of tea anytime soon, I’m delighted to have these sugar-free almond cookies around. After all, they are not only free of sugar, but in being so, also free of guilt!

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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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