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In India, spinach is used in so many ways for so many types of dishes. There are hundreds of varieties of spinach that are grown here, and each is grown and therefore used during a particular season, and usually cooked in a certain way depending on the household or region. I have shared many recipes that use different kinds of spinach here on this blog in the past – from moringa (murungakeerai) in an omelette to amaranthus (araikeerai) in a savoury vadai and palak (Spinacia oleracea, what is known simply as “spinach” in the West) in a corn bake. This is a dal that utilises common purslane, or paruppu keerai, which is abundant in summers. This green grows at this time according to Nature’s wonderful logic: its thick leaves hold water and provide added hydration for us who consume it now.

Purslane is a kind of weed that has a range of health benefits, including reducing the risk of cardiac and digestive ailments. It is rich in antioxidants and minerals. Coupled with lentils, which are great for protein, this spinach dal becomes a nutritious dish that can be paired with rice or rotis. The Tamil word for this green, paruppu keerai, literally translates to “dal-spinach”, as that is its primary form of preparation.

I would call it my good fortune to be a Gujarati who was born and brought up in Tamil Nadu, so I am able to understand the cuisines of both states. This is a typically South Indian recipe, and I enjoy it alongside my Gujarati-style vegetables, some rice and a dollop of ghee. This combination is a standard on my plate. I realise that my particular upbringing is what brings these eclectic dishes together, and I think about how that’s one of the things that is beautiful about India. Just like all kinds of distinct cuisines can appear within a single thali and complement each other, so too can we as diverse humans enjoy being together.

Speaking of being together and enjoyment, we just had a huge celebration in the family. As with any such occasion, we ended up eating so much rich food, and of course, lots of sugar. The time has come for us to eat light and healthy, to detox our bodies. Spinach features at home a lot right now, and it was only natural for me to want to share with you this particular dish that I’m making frequently. My daughter is here for a few days, post-celebrations, and eager to learn more recipes, and I’m teaching her this one on this visit too.

I went through a phase once when I wanted to have greens every single day. My understanding is that when a person has a craving like that, the body either has a deficiency or is heading for one. At that time, I heeded that craving without guilt, especially as greens are always good for us. Imagine if all our cravings were only for the most nourishing ingredients!

Nowadays, some kind of spinach appears on my table at least thrice a week, in one form or another. As I said earlier, there are varieties available year-round and interesting recipes from different parts of India to keep trying out. I’m thinking about the assortment that I know, and the new ones I want to learn, and also marvelling at how innovative it is that there is even a spinach pickle (using sorrel leaves or gongura, which are very popular in Andhra Pradesh and Telangana).

Right now, of course, it’s purslane that is popular in my own home, so to return to this spinach dal: the fragrance of this dish somehow always reminds me of being in the kitchen as a child when it was being cooked by my mother. I am not sure why, but I associate this dish with South India to the extent that even when I cook it myself in Ahmedabad or somewhere else, it just seems different. Despite that, I do enjoy it anywhere. It always brings me back to a sense of home, and when cooking and eating it while away, I can’t help but think, “Gujarat in the air, but South India in my thali.”

Spinach Dal

(Yield: Serves 4)

½ cup toor dal (pigeon pea)

Water to pressure cook

2 cups spinach leaves

2-3 tablespoons finely chopped onion

1 tablespoon finely chopped tomato

2 cloves garlic

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1 teaspoon mustard seeds

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon turmeric

1 green chili

 

Rinse the dal, then pressure cook with the required quantity of water. Set aside.

Heat a pan and add the oil. Now, add the mustard seeds and let them splutter.

Next, add the onion, garlic, tomato, salt and turmeric. Sauté for a few minutes on a medium flame and immediately after, add the green chili.

Finally, add the spinach and sauté again.

Once the spinach becomes tender, add the dal and allow it to boil for a few minutes until the flavours come together.

Your purslane dal is now perfect, and ready to be served hot alongside rice or roti. It will give you a great boost of nutrients. Perhaps it will even become one of your own most craved comfort dishes!

I recently travelled to see my son, and spending time with him reminded me of a conversation that we had a few years ago. He manages his own home and kitchen – as all my kids do, now that they have all stepped out to live their own lives as adults. Around five years ago, I had brought some grains along on one such visit and kept them in this son’s home. Subsequently, he told me, “Ma, these are very old. I’m going to throw them out.” I was not happy about this. I explained to him how every seed has a life of its own. Even a thousand years later, you could plant it and it would grow, and you could cook the pulses or dals. Seeds and grains have a power that is ingrained – pardon the pun – in every aspect of our life. From metaphors of sustenance and growth, as I have spoken of earlier to giving us our staple nutrition, they offer us so much. These thoughts inspired me to share another dal-based dish with you. This is a moong dal chilla, rich with the nutrients of green mung.

I’ve shared a recipe for chilla on this blog before, which you may have tried out. A chilla is a kind of Indian crepe, known by different names. I first encountered green mung chilla in Andhra Pradesh, when I was visiting cousins in Vijayawada as a child. There, it was known as pesarattu, and was eaten with upma or onions within its fold. When I think about it, the fact that this dal is a native of South India means that it has many different uses across the cuisines of this region. I take pride in the many wonderful ingredients, including rice and turmeric, that have been cultivated here through history.

Now of course, green mung sits on the world map as a superfood. Not only is it high in protein and iron, but it also has numerous healing properties and other benefits. When you’re recovering from a sickness, boiled mung water consumed in sips can help. It’s easy to digest. It doesn’t create a heaviness in the stomach, which makes it great for light meals.

More often than not, there’s sprouted mung as well as raw mung dal in my home. I sometimes sauté the sprouts for breakfast. At other times, I just grind the raw, soaked dal and have chilla for dinner – especially on evenings when I just want something light. Which brings us back to this recipe. You can make a chilla out of anything. Chickpea flour is an easy base and a quick fix. Green mung chilla takes longer as you have to soak it and grind it. I feel it is worth the extra time as due to the many health benefits described above. It also tastes great, as I think you’ll find out when you try it out yourself.

Green Mung Chilla

(Yield: 6-8 pieces)

1 cup raw green mung

Water for soaking

Salt to taste

1 inch piece of ginger

2 green chilies

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

Oil for frying

¾ cup water (approximately)

 

Soak the green mung overnight in sufficient water for 8 hours.

When ready to prepare the chillas, drain the green mung.

In a blender, add the soaked mung, ginger, green chili, cumin seeds and two tablespoons of water. Grind coarsely.

Remove the batter into a bowl. Add salt and add enough water so that it still remains a thick batter. Let this batter sit at room temperature for an hour.

Then, heat a griddle, and splash a few drops of water to test that it’s hot enough. If it sizzles, the griddle is ready.

Mix the batter gently and drop a ladle-full onto the centre of the griddle. Using the back of the ladle, spread the mixture in a circular motion such that it spreads evenly. This is just like how you would make a dosa or a crepe.

Drop some oil to help the chilla fry up. Cook well on a medium flame until slightly golden. Flip it and allow it to cool for a few seconds. Then flip back, fold into halves and take it off the griddle.

Enjoy your green mung chilla hot, and serve it along with chutney or sambar. You may also want to add some toppings or vegetables, to round the meal out more and increase the nutrient and taste quotients. While it requires some prep, the green mung chilla is a simple and satisfying dish. I hope you’ll try it out!

Dal is the daily staple in practically every Gujarati home, and it’s no different in mine. The classic style is slightly sweet and slight sour, and I shared the recipe for it a few months ago. I try to use a range of lentils, so that we get a good mix of nutritious elements as well as variety of tastes over the course of a week at home. Other dal recipes that I’ve shared earlier include this horsegram dal and this mixed dal. There are hundreds of varieties across India, and I’m happy to share one more recipe that I hope you’ll be able to add to your repertoire too.

Just like there are hundreds of varieties of dal in India, there are also hundreds of varieties of mangoes. Other than the parrot-beaked, sweet-sour killimooku, I also have the not-sweet-at-all sindura growing in my garden. This won’t begin to fruit properly until May, however, and I had been eyeing it daily, wanting to make some amchur (dry mango powder), which requires a sour variant. Finally, I decided to put out an enquiry in a local resource group, asking if anyone had organic raw mangoes I could use for the same. Shefali, whom I had known through mutual friends, came to my rescue. She sent across a beautiful bounty from her own tree. Sour mangoes – and one very sweet gesture.

This vegan raw mango dal recipe came about because I had wondered whether raw mango would be a good substitute for the kokum or lime that I was using to add some tang to our daily dals. Since I had Shefali’s mangoes on hand for the amchur, I decided to give this a try. It worked out spectacularly – raw mango here isn’t just a condiment, but is in fact a vital component of this dal.

I know that many communities across the country make dals using either raw mangoes or ripe mangoes, and that this is especially common in Bengal and Kerala. The harvest in my home aside, I was already in ideation mode about what kinds of recipes to share with you through the season, and I knew I wanted to do something that would accompany rice or rotis. Having given you this ripe mango rasam a few summers ago, I was keen to offer a raw mango accompaniment this time. I had been thinking over how to, when this recipe grew organically from the kokum-substitution I’d mentioned earlier. Don’t you just love it when something simple clicks in a surprising way, and you realise that you’ve innovated something special? I’m all the more excited these days when I discover I can make something the vegan way, and this recipe is vegan too.

Raw mangoes are nutritious, as they are high in Vitamins A, B and C, as well as magnesium and calcium, thus offering health benefits ranging from the cardiac to the dental, with some heat-busting and hydrating properties to boot. They’re great for summers as they can prevent water loss, replenish the thirsty body, as well as help against stomach ailments arising from the heat. Digestive detoxification, lowering cholesterol levels and improving hormonal functions are some of the other qualities they are known to have.

As for the lentils I’ve chosen to use in this recipe, they are combination of split yellow mung dal and toor dal (pigeon pea). The former are lighter on the stomach than the latter, hence the mingling of the two to create a dish that’s easier to digest while still giving you the benefits and taste of both lentils. Since we mostly eat this dal at lunch time, I also avoid the use of garlic on weekdays as most of us have to get back to meetings and so on during the rest of the afternoon. If you make a thick preparation, this dal is ideal for rotis, whereas a thinner preparation is best enjoyed with rice.

As for me, being a carb-observant eater, I often consume a bowlful of dal with just a tablespoon of rice, topped with a liberal tempering of ghee (not vegan, I know – but this is completely optional). This becomes such a healthy, delicious meal all by itself. I am still light on my feet afterwards, and that little extra kick that comes from the raw mangoes when I’ve made this particular recipe that day is so satisfying in itself.

Raw Mango Dal

(Yield: 4 cups)

¼ cup toor dal
¼ cup split mung dal
½ cup cut raw mango
1½ cups water to cook
Salt to taste
1 tablespoon oil
½ teaspoon mustard seeds
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon green chili/ginger paste
¼ teaspoon asafoetida
½ teaspoon coriander/cumin powder
4-6 curry leaves
2 tablespoons finely chopped coriander leaves

Rinse the dals together and place them into a pressure cooker, along with the cut raw mango and turmeric.

Let this cook until tender. Mash the dal with a masher and set aside.

In a kadai, add the oil, and once it has heated, add the mustard seeds. You may substitute the oil with ghee if you are not making a vegan preparation. Once they begin to splutter, add the cumin seeds, curry leaves, asafoetida and finally the chili/ginger paste. Sauté for 2 seconds and add the mashed dal. If you like the flavour of garlic, you can add some during the sautéeing.

Add salt and coriander/cumin powder. Mix well and serve hot with the garnish.

If the mango is not sour enough you can add more chunks of it or even squeeze in some lemon or lime.

If like me or any Gujarati you know, you have a sweet tooth, you could also add some jaggery to compete with the tang of the raw mango. This would make for a most delicious dal, with a medley of tastes.

As it is, this is a very simple and appetising dal, with the flavours of the mango and the lentils evident because it is not overloaded with spices or condiments. It’s not the kind of dal one makes when a burst of masala is preferred; instead it is the comforting, homemade kind, albeit with a little kick from the raw fruit.

I hope that this vegan dal made with sour mangoes adds nutrition to your diet, gives you energy and strength, and as strange as it may sound – sweetens your day during these challenging times with its sheer deliciousness.

Rounding off this series of grain-based, khichdi-like dishes is the simplest, most quotidian version of all: a frequent-use Gujarati-style khichdi. If you’d like to catch up first, we began the series with the work-intensive and tummy-filling seven-grain khichdo and then went on to the versatile breakfast/dinner meal of bajra ghensh). Today, we come to an extremely basic dish, one that is sheer comfort food. What I’ve come to see over the years is that meals that one takes for granted in one’s own home are sometimes novelties in another’s. This is why I often share unassumingly familiar recipes alongside original and unusual ones. This classic khichdi is one among the former category.

Like many staples that are good for our health, khichdi is the kind of dish that kids turn their noses up at. At least, my siblings and I just hated it were growing up. So our mother would negotiate a lot of deals to work around our aversion. In those days, all our food was homemade, so this would take some extra effort on her part. If there was going to be khichdi for dinner, she’d serve something exotic that she learnt at her Continental cuisine or baking classes for lunch. We also cottoned on to the strategy: if there was a special snack in the evening without it being an occasion or a holiday, we knew she was going to put a bowl of khichdi on the table for dinner!

As adults though, it’s a different story. Our palates change and we begin to enjoy food that is good for us, feeling the difference in our bodies when we consume it. In fact, this subcontinental staple (which is eaten in similar forms like pongal in South India) is so relished that it even caught the fancy of the British during the colonial era. They enjoyed a version with fish, a dish they called “kedgeree”, and popularised it in England for a time. It was an import similar to mulligatawny soup, which came from the Tamil dish called molaga-thanni. Some form of khichdi is believed to have been eaten in this part of the world since ancient times, but the recipe reached its pinnacle in the kitchens of the Mughal empire, where its richly spiced and garnished versions are recorded as having been among the favourites dishes of various rulers.

For us at home though, khichdi is neither fancy nor fishy. Every single Gujarati household consumes this khichdi as a comfort food, as well as a frequent meal. During festive seasons or after important occasions like weddings, when the feasting is in full flow, someone or the other will finally say, “Bas (‘enough’), make khichdi today.” That is shorthand for being done with heavy meals, and wanting something that will make the gut smile.

In fact, when I say it is comfort food, I mean that quite literally. It’s the dish that is most commonly made in a home that has just undergone a bereavement, when the family just needs something basic to meet their nutritional needs as they tend to the necessary rituals. Most likely because of its association with grieving, khichdi is never served during celebrations. After them, certainly, as I mentioned above. But never as part of a special event. Neither is it served while entertaining guests. It is very much something that is all about family and simplicity. As we rarely get to encounter another family’s khichdi, I can only guess that the variations between recipes must be innumerable.

So no, khichdi is not special. That’s the best thing about it. It’s a brass tacks dish that gives the body the basics, and uses ingredients that are likely to be in the kitchen at all times. It is comprised mostly of moong dal and rice, with a bit of salt, turmeric and ghee. If it is served with accompaniments, crispy pappads and a bit of kadhi are usually enough. Some potato curry or other vegetable may round out the meal more, if desired. I’ve mentioned kadhi, a type of gravy, a couple of times recently. I’ll be sure to share the recipe for that soon.

Another recipe I will share soon will be for theplas that use leftover khichdi. As I’ve said before: cuisines across all communities in India are innovative when it comes to leftovers. We see poverty everywhere in our country and respect food, acknowledging it as a blessing from God. This in turn becomes a part of our religions too, which discourage food wastage.

Simple Khichdi

(Yield: 2 persons)

 

75 grams rice

25 grams split mung beans

3 cups water to soak

2 cups water to cook

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

2 tablespoons ghee

 

Wash and soak the rice and dal together for approximately ½ an hour to an hour. I have used split mung beans, but you can try this with other variants including pigeon pea/toor dal. Doing so will change the khichdi somewhat. Toor dal grains will separate like rice does, whereas split mung beans will create a thicker concoction.

Once soaked, discard the soaking water. Place the rice and dal in a pressure cooker along with the cooking water. Use a medium flame. Allow to cook for approximately 20 minutes or 3 whistles, or until the grains are tender and soft to touch.

Allow the pressure to decrease, then open the cooker.

In a small pan, add ghee. Once it is hot, add the cumin seeds. Let them fry until they change colour. Add this cumin-filled ghee to the khichdi. Stir gently and serve hot.

This grain series concludes with this simple and flavoursome recipe. I hope you’ve enjoyed trying out the gamut, from the work-intensive, “holiday special” seven-grain khichdo to the nourishing breakfast that is bajra ghensh, to this basic khichdi that is the ultimate go-to dish. Traditional Gujarati cuisine is something I’ve delved into many times on this blog, and I hope you’ll have a delicious time exploring a wide range of meals, snacks and desserts that I’ve shared here over the years.

Sometimes it happens that I chance upon a wonderful dish somewhere, and as I’m never shy about asking for recipes, I decide to find out exactly how to replicate it myself. But then, the story of how that dish wound up at that table turns out to be more complicated, and I’m unable to get to the source. There was a horse gram dal that I had at a friend’s house once, but it had been made by someone else and I didn’t have access to the original recipe. I was intrigued not just by its fine taste, but also by the use of a legume that I’ve encountered relatively rarely. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that dal since, and between my inability to obtain a recipe and my own culinary inquisitiveness, I set forth on a series of trials to create a version that I would want to serve – and to eat! – again and again.

Fortunately for me, I had an accomplice in this endeavour. We have a new cook at home, Prem, who shares the kitchen space with me. He is a wonderful chap, and we’ve been getting used to each others’ styles and quirks. I am very particular about who enters my kitchen, and the cryptic but tangible measure of “good energy” is extremely important for me. He definitely has that. The problem though? He is as meticulous as I am, maybe even more so. He talks constantly and questions everything I do, because of which I call him my second mother-in-law. He rattles off 25 questions about each thing, and nags me about certain details, with food wastage being a pet peeve of his. When I arrange something on the shelves, he’ll come in two minutes later and rearrange it to his own preference. I tease him for his pedantic nature, and he teases me back. I’m not complaining; the kitchen has not become a battleground at all, but is now a space for shared experimentation. We came up with this horse gram dal recipe together. In fact, to give credit where it’s due, it’s more his than mine.

I must add this suspicion here: I think there may be a secret ingredient that he adds to this dish once I’ve stepped out of the kitchen, but you know how determined I am when it comes to cracking a recipe! I think I’ve done it, and between him and I, we have pretty much perfected it. This wonderful dish has actually made me forget what the original horse gram dal I enjoyed at my friend’s home tasted like. Now, this is the only rendition I know, and it’s served in my home several times a week. You may recall from my recent Gujarati dal recipe that toor dal is very beloved in my home. It’s been quite exciting to introduce a new dal that actually challenges the multi-generational staple!

While doing a little research on horse gram, especially since it’s an ingredient that strangely enough isn’t a staple itself, I was tickled to find that it is also called Madras gram! In Tamil, it’s known as “kollu”, and it seems that it is native to the subcontinent and has its own names in various Indian languages (it takes its English name from its prevalence in horse feed, where it was used because it gave the animals such a boost of energy, just as it does for us). In terms of health quotient, horse gram is high in iron and protein, and is used in traditional medicine systems to help treat kidney ailments, mumps and jaundice. It’s certainly a legume that we could all be eating more of. So I would also like to use it in more dishes, and if you’re open to sharing your recipes, you know that I’m all ears!

Perhaps it is just like so many other traditional foods that have slowly been declining in common usage. As a sustainability and authentic food revival enthusiast (as I’ve discussed various times on this blog, such as in this black sticky rice pudding recipe) this has me very intrigued. Do you use horse gram in your cooking? I’d love to hear about your memories, experiences and theories about why it’s become less popular.

Horse Gram Dal

(Yield: Serves 3-4 people)

½ cup horse gram dal

3 cups water

2 tablespoons oil (+ 2 tablespoons)

¼ tsp cumin seeds

1 finely chopped onion

3 blended tomatoes

1 teaspoon garlic-ginger paste

1 teaspoon dhaniya-jeera (coriander-cumin) powder

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon rajma masala

1 teaspoon Kashmiri chili powder

1 pinch asafoetida

1½ heaped teaspoon besan (chickpea flour)

Salt to taste

Soak the legumes in water, overnight. Make sure that they are completely immersed. In the morning, the dal will double in size.

Rinse the soaked dal and put it in a pressure cooker. Add 3 cups of water and allow to cook until the legumes are soft and tender to the touch.  Allow to cool slightly.

In a kadai, add the oil and cumin seeds, and allow them to splutter. Then, add the onions. Sauté until they are brown.

Next, add the garlic-ginger paste. Sauté again and add the chickpea flour. At this point you will need to add more oil, about 2 tablespoons, until the concoction looks like it does in this video.

Next, add the chili powder, coriander-cumin powder, turmeric, salt, asafoetida and rajma masala.  Mix, and then add the blended tomatoes. Now, sauté for about 3-6 minutes or until the oil separates.  Finally, add the dal, along with the water it was cooked in, to the mixture.

Stir and allow to boil for no more than 5 minutes. Serve with roti, rice or however you usually take your dal. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!

Dal is made in every single Gujarati home almost every single day. Literally. No exaggeration. Dal is the staple, the tradition, the go-to, the “I must have my daily dal”. It is made the same way every afternoon, and we never get bored of it. Come what may, there’s a bowl of dal on the table for lunch, alongside a vessel of hot rice. Given what a fundamental part of our palate it is, it’s funny that it’s taken me over four years of blogging to share the recipe, especially when so many of you have also requested it from me. But here it is, finally! I can say for certain that it’s been worth the wait.

While I’ve asserted repeatedly over so many recipes that every dish tastes different based on the cook, the kitchen and the place it’s being made in, this one somehow always tastes the same. Which is to say: it tastes perfect. It’s a mainstay, made exactly the same way no matter who is making it or where. I have enjoyed it everywhere I have tried it and have never tasted a difference. So what you are getting today is an absolutely authentic, time-honoured recipe for quintessentially Gujarati dal.

It’s funny how the stereotype as far as food is concerned goes “dhokla!”, when dhokla isn’t quite the backbone of the cuisine the way that dal-bhat (dal and rice) is. It should tell you so much about stereotypes versus the real experience because while we may not be famously associated with dal-bhat, it’s such a part of our culture that the dish even forms part of our pleasantries. When one Gujarati person meets up with another, we often say these words: “dal-bhat, rotli, shaak?” The phrase means: “dal and rice, rotli and vegetables?”. The question is a way of saying, “Have you eaten?” – a typical and pan-Indian form of polite chatter. If you notice, dal-bhat is the first term even though it is actually served later in a meal. In a traditional meal, it is rotlis that are served first, and once the rice comes out you know that there are no more rotlis left. Still, in our greetings, the importance is accorded to dal-bhat, because that’s the place it has in our hearts.

The Gujarati dal and rice combo is one that has been relished for generations in my home. When my husband was little, his grandpa nicknamed him Dal-Sukh Dal-Bhat (“sukh” means “happiness”) because it was the only dish that always satisfied him, without fail. My husband’s grandpa also lived to the ripe old age of 99, very fit and healthy on a daily diet of dal and rice – and happily watching his great-grandchildren eat this beloved dish every day too. The very first solid food that my children all ate was dal and rice, and it is still their comfort food. Just as in some South Indian homes, when kids come home after eating out somewhere, they’ll head to the kitchen and say, “Ma, do you have any thayir sadam (curd rice)?”, a bit of dal-bhat is the dish that most Gujaratis will crave in order to feel like a meal is truly complete.

Never come between a Gujarati and their dal rice. Trust me, no matter what other traditions are parted from, this one will stay true for the ages!

While dals are eaten everywhere in India, what makes this one unique to our community is that it panders to our famous sweet tooth. It contains jaggery, which sweetens it, and is also made tangy through kokum. It should only be made with toor dal (pigeon pea), and there is no substitute for this ingredient that won’t alter the entire recipe and the entire experience.

Gujarati Dal

(Yield: Serves 4-5 persons)

 

½ cup raw toor dal

2 cups + 2 cups water

2 tablespoons ghee

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

1 dry red chilli

A pinch of methi seeds

A few curry leaves

A pinch of asafoetida

½ cup finely chopped tomato

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon red chili powder

2 tablespoons unsalted peanuts

3 tablespoons jaggery

4-6 stems of kokum flowers

¼ cup chopped coriander leaves

 

Wash and strain the dal. Pressure cook it in 2 cups of water. Then, blend the dal with a handheld blender and set it aside.

In a kadai, add ghee. Once it has heated, add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds and fenugreek seeds and allow them to splutter. Next, add the dry red chili and the salt, chili powder, turmeric and asafoetida. Finally, add the curry leaves, peanuts, chopped coriander leaves and chopped tomato. Sauté. Cover with a lid and allow this to cook on a slow flame until all the spices and the tomato come together and look mashed, as in this video below.

Now, add the jaggery. Then, add the blended dal that was set aside earlier. You will need to add more water at this stage, based on the thickness you prefer. I’ve added 2 cups. Remember that once cooled, the dal will thicken a little more.

The final touch is to add the kokum to the kadai. If you don’t have this ingredient, you can use a little lime juice as a substitute. Allow the concoction to boil for approximately 4-5 minutes.

Then, serve hot alongside rice or rotli, or both – as in a traditional Gujarati thaali.

Not only does this dish have the charm of simplicity and familiarity, it is also downright delicious. It’s truly such a pleasure to share this recipe for this deeply-loved Gujarati dal with you. I would not be surprised to hear of it being made in your own home daily from now on, just as it has been in mine since time immemorial!

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.

Come summer, every family in India uses the mango in their daily cooking. It can be found in literally every dish: dals, sabzis (cooked with vegetables), pickles, curries, desserts and more. Everybody wants to get creative with the mango, and why not? With 1,500 varieties said to grow in the country, each one sweeter than the other, we are rightly proud of the fruit and look forward to the season eagerly. The different varieties have such beautiful names too: the neelam in Gujarat, the alphonso in Maharashtra and the nectar-sweet imam pasand of South India are but some. While we are unfortunate to not have the pleasure of berries here, the mango more than makes up for it.

Mangoes are popular globally, though they originated in the Indian subcontinent, and are cultivated everywhere from Andalusia to the Caribbean. They are the national fruit of three countries (India, Pakistan and the Philippines) and the national tree of Bangladesh. I have yet to meet a single person who doesn’t like mangoes!

Even if it wasn’t my national fruit, I would consider it a star among fruits. And it’s the star of a recipe my family has been simply loving this summer: mango rasam. Rasam is a thin, spicy South Indian soup which is usually eaten with rice or consumed as a beverage. This mango rasam is a seasonal staple, and is similar to the fajeto, which is also a staple in the typical Gujarati thaali in summers. A summer thaali comprises of layered rotli, a vegetable, dal, buttermilk, aamras or mango pulp in a bowl, raw mango pickle and fajeto. You’ll notice that half the plate is filled with mango in some form! After such a big fat meal, a siesta is also a part of the traditional lunch!

As you may know, I am all about growing my own produce, and this season I am happy to say I’ve been plucking mangoes in my own backyard. You really have to nurture your garden with love and care, and I am a big believer in spending time there, talking to the plants. They do respond, as I have seen for myself. I have learned how to tend to two variants, the killimooku, so named because it is shaped like a parrot’s beak, and the sindura, which is so sweet it is also known as the honey mango. Looking after these trees is an ongoing process. A few months ago, I used a neem spray to prep them for the harvest season, and learned from an organic farmer how to dig a pit a few feet away from the main trunk and fill it with mulch. Dried leaves, coconut husk, a little soil and other compost ingredients decay into fertiliser, giving the tree nourishment. These methods have really worked, as the bounty of fruit from my garden have proved. I knew a couple of months ago when I saw the young, tender leaves come out that the harvest this year would be good. And so it is.

I was making aamras when the idea for mango rasam came to me. As I squeezed the mango pulp and put the seeds in water, I recalled how my mother – who taught me how to never waste food – uses this water to make fajeto. I decided to make it the South Indian way, with garlic and curry leaves. These are not used in the Gujarati version, which utilises yoghurt.

 

Ripe Mango Rasam

(Yield: 3-4 cups)

Ingredients
Rasam

½ cup ripe mango pulp

½ cup cooked, boiled and mashed toor dal

2 cups water

1 crushed tomato

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

1 teaspoon black pepper

2 dried red chilies

4 cloves garlic

¼ inch piece of ginger

1 tablespoon tamarind pulp

Salt to taste

Sauté
1 teaspoon oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

A few curry leaves

A pinch of asafoetida

 

In a pot, mix and stir the mango pulp and dal. I have used the alphonso variant, but you can use any ripe mango. Add the water.  Now add the salt, turmeric, asafoetida, crushed tomato and tamarind pulp.

Crush the cumin, ginger, garlic and black pepper coarsely together. Now add this to the mango pulp mix. Place on the stove and allow to boil for approximately 10 minutes. Do not allow it to over-boil – take it off the stove a minute after it starts to bubble.

Separately, heat the oil. Once it’s hot, add the mustard seeds. When they splutter, add the curry leaves. Finally, pour this sauté into the pot of boiled rasam. Serve hot with rotlis or rice.

Look at that colour – simply irresistible. Every time I set up a photoshoot, I am dying to finish it so that I can eat whatever I’ve been shooting! All the more so when it’s something that should be eaten hot, like this rasam. There’s a particular joy in the question of whether to eat a little, then shoot, or shoot first and eat later. As I was pouring this vibrant, fragrant rasam into the vessel and styling it for my shoot, I decided I would wait. This time, anyway!

 

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…