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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: A High-Powered, Low-Profile Legume – Horse Gram Dal

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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!

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Recipe: Love At First Sip – Nandi’s Special Chai

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The new year has dawned, and with it much hope and optimism for what is to come. As I said in my previous post, which was a recipe for a festive boozy hot chocolate that I hope you enjoyed, every one of us has learned so many lessons recently. If we would just take time to reflect on them, we would all see how much we have to be grateful for. As for me – and if you’ve been on my journey here right from the start, you may already know this – I do a lot of my reflecting over a cup of delicious, hot chai. As I was doing so the other morning, enjoying the gentleness of that early hour and my solitude in my garden, my thoughts drifted to the tea itself. I had been making it in my special way for so many years that I had almost forgotten how unique it is. It’s my pleasure to share it with you today, and perhaps it will become your special way too.

Even though tea is now a ubiquitous part of my life, this wasn’t always the case. The humble beverage was once an aspirational one for me, as it often is for children. Growing up here in India, neither caffeine nor sodas were permitted for children in most families of my generation. We were always given milk instead, or a milk-based healthy drink such as Bournvita. Tea or coffee were drinks we could only watch adults consume, knowing they were forbidden to us!

For me, the most vivid childhood impression of tea was always from the summer holidays when my mother’s entire clan of nine siblings would meet along with all of their own children. From wherever we were in the country or the world, we would descend on their sleepy little hometown. That meant that 50 or 60 cousins would be under the same roof, and you can imagine what happy times these were. As for the adults, I would often notice how they would chatter all night long over cups of freshly-made tea. To me, tea represented their bond. I always associated it not only with grown-upness, but with a sense of camaraderie.

Funnily enough, both of my siblings grew up to reject caffeine, even though as kids all of us and our army of cousins were constantly asking when we would be able to try some chai for ourselves. This meant that I only became properly introduced to it in my mid-20s, once I’d gotten married. It was love at first sip, happily infused of course with the knowledge of fulfilling a long-held childhood wish.

Over time, I began to infuse my cuppa with more than just memories. Playing around with different flavourings over the years, I found a version that is perfect for me. My special chai uses both lemongrass and ginger. I have one cup of it every morning, and a half cup every afternoon. The time I spend with my tea is always a pleasant and even meditative few minutes, with and without company.

It won’t surprise you to know that I’m quite particular when it comes to each ingredient in this tea. I tend to use homegrown lemongrass, but I am also partial to Maharashtrian lemongrass. Lemongrass tea is extremely popular in there, where it’s called “leelee cha” or “green tea”, in reference to the colour of the leaves, not to be confused with the other variant of green tea. So whenever a dear one is coming via the state, I insist that they bring me some. My husband is in Mumbai at the moment, and I’ve told him he isn’t permitted to return home without some lemongrass leaves from a local vendor! I’m so obsessed with having lemongrass in my tea that whenever I’m falling short of the ingredient, I tell the rest of my family that they’re just going to have to go without it and hoard it all for myself.

Complementing the spicy lemongrass is the equally piquant ginger, which is always freshly crushed. As for the tea leaves themselves, I used to have a fondness for the citrusy tang and rich colour of orange pekoe, but later it was several variants of tea sourced from the Nilgiris mountain range that became my favourites. Lately, with travel and access being more restricted, I’ve discovered some lovely Indian supermarket brands for good quality tea leaves too. I’m not a fan of tea bags, and believe that powdered tea leaves are one of the secrets to a great chai.

That reminds me of another cherished tea memory of mine. I’ve spoken many times about my travels to the Nilgiris (such as in my harra bhara kebab recipe, vegan passionfruit shrikand recipe and plum chutney recipe). Many lifelong Chennaiites like myself will have decades of holiday reminiscences from time spent in the coolest climes of Tamil Nadu. Among these for me are memories of a dear family friend who lived in the hills, Mrs. Bosen. She ran a kindergarten school, and my kids too have fond recollections of going there to play with the little ones and teaching them the alphabet. She represented the summer holidays to us, and we loved spending time with her. Her tea was so legendary that whenever she invited us over, we would adjust our entire schedule for the day around arriving just in time to have it. It was simply incomparable, and continues to be our benchmark for brilliantly-made tea even though the lovely lady herself is long gone. Sometimes, when the evening tea has come out exceptionally well, one of us will still remark, “Doesn’t this taste like Mrs. Bosen’s tea?”

I often feel that the water used in tea, an ingredient we take for granted, also makes a difference. Does tea sipped in the Nilgiris taste so much better because of the water there, in which leaves grown there are steeped? Or is that just the taste of nostalgia? Either way, I always make my tea with mineral water. Chennai has hard water in the taps, and soft water is certainly preferable for tea.

That said, I’ve certainly enjoyed a pan-Indian experience when it comes to tea. While I like mine with just a little splash of milk, in many parts of the country it’s made so that it’s often more milk than tea. Once I learned the reason for this – i.e. milk used to be a symbol of affluence, and from being a status marker it simply became a preference in many places – I understood that it’s all about the context. I may not have liked the variants with over-heaped chai masalas had I made them at home, but having those in North India in the winters where the extra helping kept me warmer made sense. Similarly with sugar, which I personally take less of, but I could appreciate in situations where it was used to turn a tea into a type of dessert too.

A confession: wherever I travel, no matter where else and how else I drink my chai, I always carry powdered tea leaves and some lemongrass with me, because I simply must have it my way at some point in the day. I’m sharing this recipe with you in the hope that it becomes your most trusted style of tea too.

Nandi’s Special Chai

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 full cup water

¼ inch ginger piece (crushed)

2 pinches of lemongrass leaves

1 teaspoon tea leaves

2 tablespoons milk

Honey/sugar to taste

Boil the water along with the fresh ginger and lemongrass leaves in a pot. When it begins to boil along the edges of the pot, add the tea leaves. This will happen within approximately 2 or 3 minutes.

Once it’s properly boiling, add the milk. As I said, I use just a splash, but you can adjust the quantity as required. You can certainly make this recipe with almond milk too. I often do, whenever I’m in a vegan mood myself.

After about 30 seconds, switch off the flame and cover the pot with with a lid. Covering it ensures the flavours will blend nicely. Let it sit for another half minute.

Now, strain the tea. Enjoy your cup with honey or sugar or neither, depending on your preference. If you’re like my husband, who hates mugs, I’m sure that proper tea cups are a must in your serving style. If you’re like anyone in my home, a slice of cake may tempt you too!

That first sip – ah, so satisfying. Tea is one of those things that anyone can learn how to prepare, but which becomes simply sublime when someone has a knack for getting it just right. I happen to be that person in my household, by unanimous vote. Although I’ve taught every single one of them the very same recipe I’m sharing with you today, they insist that I make it best, and so I’m always the designated tea-maker. Perhaps that’s because of the special ingredient, which is not so secret at all – love.

 

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Recipe: To Bright New Beginnings – Boozy, Orange-Kissed Hot Chocolate

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Christmas was always a very special occasion in our home when my children were growing up. They would be so excited about setting up the Christmas tree, going shopping to find beautiful decorative ornaments, and simply enjoying the festive atmosphere. While Diwali always held its own importance as as our main religious event, Christmas was something we enjoyed as pure celebration. We had our own little Christmas traditions, and as the kids started leaving home, these slowly disappeared. But this year, for the first time in a while and with nothing but this pandemic to credit for it, we are all at home together. And once again, Christmas feels just like it used to, full of camaraderie and deliciousness – except, now that my kids are adults, we’re all raising toasts together. The beverage we’re clinking glasses with? This orange-kissed, boozy hot chocolate!

There are scores of recipes for hot chocolate all over Instagram this time of year. But this is my version, and I can assure you that it’s absolutely delicious. I first tried hot chocolates like this one abroad, but these days you not only find excellent brands here in India but also have homegrown confectioners who work with small-scale farmers, are eco-conscious and create locally-made chocolates of a high quality. You can use the dark chocolate of your preference for this recipe.

The booze quotient here comes from Cointreau. A French liqueur containing bitter orange peels, it adds a wonderful citrusy kick to the beverage. While I’ve used whole milk, you can try this recipe with almond or coconut milk too – let me know what you think of the results, if you do? You can also play around with the liqueur, perhaps substituting a mint-based one or some other flavour. But for me, chocolate-orange is an unbeatable combination, and that’s why this is my favourite version of this festive drink.

Every day during this pandemic, we’ve been drinking tonics that boost our immunity: warm turmeric, herbal anti-sniffle concoctions and more. I’m sure you’ve been doing the same at home. Hot chocolate – hot, boozy chocolate, to be accurate – is a nice change! The weather in Chennai has also been changing for the better, and there’s a nice nip in the air and the season of heavy rains has passed. This is such a lovely and appropriate dessert for this time of year, especially as we reflect on all that has passed and all that is to come.

The theme of hope is on my mind constantly of late. I believe hope is what separates us from others in the animal kingdom, and is the only thing that has kept and still keeps us going through the pandemic. “Hope, gratitude and good health” is truly going to be our mantra for the coming year. I wish for you that all three are in abundance always.

The lockdowns in various parts of the world have taught us all so much. We have changed and we have learned. We’ve understood what bears meaning, and what doesn’t. For me, one of the most important learnings is that Nature rules us all. We have to be mindful and respectful of the health of the planet and the co-existence of all living things. Our interconnectivity has never been clearer than through the spread of the pandemic. I believe that now that we have seen this, we must change our individual habits. I also believe that it is never too late to start doing so. Even though the planet is on the brink of climate collapse, we can still do our part to contribute to its healing. I have hope. I have hope that hope itself, combined with a strong sense of responsibility, can save us.

Just look at how much we have overcome already. We are no longer scared and confused. We’ve figured out how to cope, and we’ve also been able to bring little rays of sunshine back into life.

The beginning of a new year usually inspires optimism, but this year I’m feeling it all the more. I truly feel like I’m seeing everything in a fresh light, and I am looking forward to good things to come

It so happens that even our home has also undergone a bit of a transformation, and has been repainted and rejuvenated. It’s also our wedding anniversary in late December, so there’s a double reason to celebrate. We have had decades together, with all the ups and downs, and thick phases and thin ones, that such a duration invariably brings. It has been a beautiful journey, and has contained so much. I hope that you too have something to toast as this year winds down.

 

Boozy, Orange-Kissed Hot Chocolate

(Yield: Serves 2)

 

1 ½ cups whole milk

¼ cup cream

75 grams dark chocolate

1 tablespoon cocoa powder

1 teaspoon corn flour

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon sugar

1 star anise

1 tablespoon Cointreau

 

Garnish options (pick any, or all!)

Dried or candied orange slice

Cinnamon stick

Whipped cream

Caramel sauce

 

In a ¼ cup of milk, add the corn flour and whisk until the mixture is smooth.

Add the remaining milk and cream to this and stir. The cream is optional, depending on your tastes. Vegans – you may replace the milk with almond milk, and eliminate the cream. Next, add the cocoa powder and mix it all up.

In a heavy bottomed pot, place the concoction on a low flame and stir constantly.

You can now add the star anise. Do not allow the milk to boil, but once it is heated up, turn off the flame and then add the chocolate, sugar and cinnamon powder. We like our boozy hot chocolate only lightly sweetened so I use just a tablespoon of sugar, but you may double this quantity if you prefer. Stir constantly at this time, making sure the chocolate melts and the milk turns silky smooth.

Add the Cointreau. Use more liqueur if you want to make it boozier. Garnish as you wish to and serve immediately.

I believe that thoughtful portion sizes are very important, both aesthetically and as well as in terms of what is good for us. I always say that the eye feasts first, and I knew this from a culinary perspective even before I understood it as a photographer. Serve this beverage in small cups or glasses. It’s a heavy, filling drink that keeps you warm and cozy and you will not need a whole mug of it to enjoy it. What a perfect symbol for the year that has ended too, which has taught us all to be grateful for the little things. Look more closely at what you have, rather than take it for granted, and you will cherish it all the more.

I am cherishing having my family around, and having the joy of my work to keep me busy. The re:store kitchen is always especially busy and beautifully aromatic at this time of year as I bake an array of goodies for the year-end festivities. I would love to bring some deliciousness and warmth to your home as well. If you are in Chennai, please take a look at my product catalogue  and see if anything catches your fancy. May I draw your eye to the almond cakes, available in a range of flavours and with an eggless option, to complement this wonderful beverage? Or how about my latest addition to the menu: a caramel-pecan cake that simply uplifts everything through its sweetness? I can’t wait to hear from you, and to place something special into the oven for you and your loved ones…

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Recipe: Traditionally Dal-icious – Gujarati Dal

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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!

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Recipe: An Italian Soup, My Way – Minestrone

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Minestrone is one of my favourite soups of all time, and the recipe was promised to you not once but twice, when I shared this sourdough toast post and this all-purpose tomato purée post some months ago. I think this is the perfect time to give you this one too, as the weather has turned cold even here in Chennai and we could all use a little more warmth.

This simple and nourishing soup is an Italian dish, but one which has changed through the centuries. It is believed that it has ancient origins, from before the Roman empire came into being, and that various trade influences led to more ingredients being incorporated to the base. Knowing that there is no one version of a strictly traditional minestrone makes me confident about sharing my version. It was a dish that I used to enjoy when I travelled abroad, but later started making at home too – a combination of wanting to be more self-sufficient, missing my travel experiences during lockdown, and a little bit of culinary FOMO. I now make it once or twice a week at home. Not only is it a very healthy dish, but it also helps to clear out excess vegetables in the fridge. This means it’s a great way to get the family to eat better. A big bowl of veggie-rich minestrone with some freshly-baked bread is a complete meal in itself. You can make it even more filling by adding quinoa, brown rice or pasta too.

Most minestrones that you may eat in Europe will contain borlotti beans (also known as cranberry beans) as their base, but these were in fact first cultivated in South America. This tells you that they must have been a later addition to the popular recipe, brought in during colonial times. This being the case, I am personally very happy to use any bean I have on hand. Here in India, we have a great variety. At home, we eat a different kind of bean daily – moong, channa and so on – as it suits our mostly vegetarian diets. For this recipe, I’ve chosen to use kidney beans as they are widely available everywhere. You can substitute them for your preferred local bean.

The secret to a great minestrone is in allowing a bit of the rind from Parmesan cheese to simmer in the soup as it cooks, which gives it a nice, nutty flavour. This plus the measured use of white wine retain the European-ness of the dish. Another ingredient that elevates it for me is my homemade tomato purée. A dollop of it makes a huge difference.

I’ve shared this recipe with various friends before, all of whom seem to love it just as much as we do at home. I hope that you will too. It’s very healthy, very tasty, and while it’s no ordinary vegetable soup, it’s just as easy to make.

Minestrone

(Yield: 2 large bowls/2 persons)

 

20 grams leek

25 grams celery

25 grams spring onions

100 grams zucchini, carrot, mushroom

4 cloves garlic

2 tablespoons olive oil

3 tablespoons fresh chopped parsley

2 tablespoons fresh chopped basil

2 tablespoons tomato purée

75 grams boiled kidney beans

1 cube/2 cups vegetable stock (i.e. 2 cups of boiling hot water added to one organic cube)

2-3 tablespoons white wine

1 or 2-inch Parmesan rind

Pasta/brown rice/quinoa (optional)

 

Sauté the garlic cloves, leek, celery, spring onions, zucchini, carrot and mushroom for a few minutes.

Add the tomato purée to this and stir well.

Next, if you are using pasta or brown rice in this soup, add that as well.

Add the kidney beans and the freshly chopped herbs. Then, pour in the vegetable stock. Freshly-made stock is always best, but cubes will work well too. After this, add the Parmesan rind to the pot and let it impart its flavour to the soup.

Add the white wine and salt to taste. Be careful with the quantities of both. Just a little more wine than you need, and the whole soup is spoiled. The tomato purée already contains salt so you will need less of it than you think.

Finally, add some chilli flakes, and garnish with chopped parsley and spring onions, and a squeeze of lemon. Remove the Parmesan rind before serving.

Serve warm. This soup works beautifully as a side, and if you have added brown rice or pasta, it can become its own meal-in-a-bowl too. I often bake a garlic pull-apart roll to go with this. My kids are tempted as soon as they see that soft, fluffy pastry, straight from the oven and tantalizing them on the table, and it draws them to sit down with a freshly-made bowl of soup too.

I hope this lovely minestrone brings you much deliciousness this December, as this year winds down and we take stock (no pun intended) of all it has contained. I wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes prepared as often in your home as it is in mine. Try it, and tell me if that’s the case! As always, I love hearing from you.

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Recipe: Perchance, Passion Fruit – Vegan Passion Fruit Shrikhand

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A friend and I were on a weekend getaway in the hills when another friend, who coincidentally had embarked on the same idea of a little escape to the same sleepy town, dropped by to visit us. We were enjoying each others’ company and trying to pep up the meal we would share, wanting to make it as fancy as possible with the simple but fresh ingredients at our disposal. There was a lot of yoghurt on hand, and perchance, some luscious passion fruit. Voilà, inspiration struck! We were quick to leap into action and put together a beautiful shrikhand for dessert, and even quicker to polish it off as we caught up on our conversation.

Both passion fruit and shrikhand have been celebrated on this blog before, and bringing them together felt like a lovely stroke of luck. Passion fruit always has a short season, so I suggest that you take advantage of the same and try this recipe as soon as you find the fruit. It truly is one of the most beloved fruits in my home, as you may remember from this recipe for a passion fruit salad dressing that I still make as often as possible. At the very least, sliced passion fruit or passion fruit juice is a daily feature whenever we’re able to get a fresh harvest.

While I had prepared this dish using dairy while on the getaway, once I got back home I tried it again in a vegan preparation. I had initially wanted to make a vegan version of the coconut pudding that was shared last week, but wasn’t able to do enough trials due to the festive rush. So this time, what I am sharing is a tried and tested vegan dessert, made with coconut yoghurt.

Quite like the sitaphal kheer that needs very little to enhance it, being so flavourful on its own, the passion fruit shrikhand too does not need the the usual frills of a typical or traditional shrikand. It doesn’t need saffron or slivers of almond or pistachio to elevate it. All I used was a little bit of cardamom. The focus is very much on the taste of the fruit, which happens to be quite sweet, and this means that you can cut down on the sugar quantity used in the dish.

Gujaratis take pride in our shrikhand, and it is even eaten as part of a main meal in a great combination known as shrikhand-poori (I’ve written many times on this blog about that famous Gujarati sweet tooth!). So while I don’t want to make an easy comparison to flavoured yoghurts you can get in supermarkets, I can definitely say after this experiment that it’s very easy to flavour your shrikhand too, using different kinds of fruits. It’s very easy to prepare overall, too. The best part of it is that being homemade, we know exactly what goes into it. A flavoured shrikhand is a healthy treat, and a fun and simple way to add a twist to this immensely popular Gujarati dish.

 

Vegan Passion Fruit Shrikhand

(Yield: 4-5 cups)

5 cups coconut yoghurt

½ cup icing sugar (substitute: ½ cup honey or maple syrup)

¼ teaspoon cardamom

Pulp of 2 passion fruits

 

Take a fine muslin cloth, put the 5 cups of coconut yoghurt into it and tie the cloth. Use plain yoghurt if you prefer a vegetarian rather than vegan version. Hang this yoghurt for about 2-3 hours or until all the whey drips out. You can use this whey to bind dough for rotis.

Then, put the yoghurt into a strainer and add the sugar to it. Sieve the yoghurt with the help of a spoon and collect it into a bowl. Add the cardamom powder and passion fruit pulp. Mix well.

You may garnish the bowl with a pinch more of cardamom and some lovely passion fruit seeds. Serve chilled.

While you can use almost any fruit as flavouring, there’s just something about a naturally sweet one such as passion fruit that brings this dessert together so beautifully. Do be sure to take advantage of the season for it.

We returned from our trip to the hills with lots of fruits, bringing bags of avocado and passion fruit back to our urban lives. The cooler climes really do have such an interesting variety of produce, and if you have access to these at the moment, I’d love for you to check out some other posts using peas, plums, strawberries and peaches. Fruits had been such an integral part of our meals on our getaway, and usually made up our entire breakfasts too. Given the nutrition quotient of this food category, I think I’m going to keep looking more deeply into bringing more fruits into more dishes, innovatively…

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Recipe: A Sweet Finish – Coconut Pudding

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And so, the coconut series comes to a sweet finish with a dessert, just in time for Diwali! The first time that I had this coconut pudding was at a friend’s potluck, a long time ago. I had not yet started re:store then or become known for my baking, and so my standard contribution was always some kind of traditional Gujarati fare, like a kachori or a dal dhokli. Each of us would bring something, and we would partake in a lovely and diverse feast together. It was at one such gathering that I first encountered this sublime coconut pudding. Whose preparation it was, and at whose house, blurs in my mind. Every one of the posts in this series (podi, oil and stew) has involved the inspiration of one or several friends of mine, and while I wish I could recall exactly who inspired this one, I can say with certainty that my friendships were a big part of it too.

Despite forgetting the other details, I still remember vividly that first coconut pudding itself. It looked very pleasing to the eye, giving off a sense that it would be cool and refreshing. The first spoonful confirmed my expectations. It was just fabulous, and tasted so light. I can recall that it was summer at the time, but the elements and sensations of the dish are the same no matter when in the year you have it. It is simply a delight.

Every Diwali, I usually prepare the ghugra that my mother taught me, as well as boondi. This year, given the circumstances, I wanted to create something lighter, something that would not only have a subtle flavour but would also feel more breezy overall. I also wanted something that would be consumed quickly, given that we cannot have guests for days on end as we usually do. The coconut pudding was perfect on all counts. With the exception of the ceremonial laapsi, there are no other sweets at home for Diwali this year.

But rest assured that we are, finally, in a celebratory mood, and I hope very much that you are too. I have had an instinct for a while now that November would be the turning point when things would begin to get better. The news of Joe Biden being elected the next President of the USA seems to usher the good times in, and as I have American family members, the feeling of hope is quite close to home. Moreover, our Gujarati New Year is also around the corner. This time of year is always a new chapter for us, and the number of lovely traditional dishes I’ve linked from my native cuisine in this post also honours the same.

To return to the uplifting and delicious star of our Diwali this year, this coconut pudding… While I can’t remember who brought this dish to the potluck where I fell in love with it, or who shared their recipe with me afterwards, I’ve been making it for years. You may recall an earlier rendition, with chia seeds, here. This is a different version, and the twist here is rose – re:store’s most preferred flavour, as many of you who have made orders with me know. Somehow, a rose represents so many things at once: love, coolness, fragrance, birth, death, celebration and more. It is a universal symbol, and a timeless flavour. One of the things I love most about roses is that they are locally available and very accessible. It’s so easy for me to bring that aroma and those soft petals into my day.

 

Coconut Pudding

(Yield: Serves 4-6)

1 cup condensed milk

½ cup cream

1½ cups coconut milk

11 grams agar agar

¾ cup water

1½ tablespoons rose water

 

Place a saucepan with the water and the agar agar on a double boiler. Stir until the agar agar melts and becomes translucent. Cool and strain.

The method for this dish is quite simple, but agar agar – which is a vegetarian substitute for gelatin – is a bit tricky to work with. If required, add another cup of water while melting it.

Making sure that all the other ingredients are at room temperature, mix them well together. Add the strained agar agar at the end. Pour into cups or moulds.

Leave to set in the refrigerator, and serve chilled. I hope that this dish uplifts your mood as much as it does mine.

I am lighting a lamp this Diwali to wish you all the best for a hopeful and healthy 2021. Even though we have not yet become able to open our homes in the ways we used to, let us open our hearts even wider to make up for it. May the festive season bring you and your family joy!

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Recipe: Cherished and Relished – Coconut Stew

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What is it about the food we taste while we are growing up that somehow, no matter how far we go, becomes the basis of our most important culinary memories? So it is for me and a very special coconut stew (or to be authentic, “ishtew”), which would be served at my friend Girija’s house. We met in the 8th grade and were neighbours, and her mother prepared wonderful Keralan fare. Her ishtew was the first I’d ever had, and fortunately for me, Girija learnt how to prepare it exactly the same way. I’m so delighted to share this love-filled, coconut milk-based deliciousness with you today, as part of the ongoing coconut series.

“Ishtew” is possibly the Malayalam-ised word for “stew”, which I suppose is what the British must have called this dish when they first encountered it. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, and it’s the English word that is derived from the Indian one? Made with vegetables or meat and warmly spiced, it is usually served alongside aapam, a kind of rice-and-coconut-milk pancake that is also known as hoppers. You can also have this coconut stew with rice, idly or dosa.

The only recipe I have for this dish is the one that Girija shared with me, and to me it’s absolutely the best one. As with any food item, there will be variations from kitchen to kitchen and community to community, and I know of many who prepare it in different ways. The core of this dish, as with most very popular and commonly consumed traditional ones, is that it is quite simple to prepare and uses ingredients that are easily available. Coconut, of course, is the star.

Girija and I were such tight friends as teenagers that it was a given that if I was not at my home, I could be found in hers, and vice versa. Decades later, we remain close, and now, whenever I visit her in Singapore, there is always a large bowl of coconut stew being prepared for me. The photo below is from a few years ago, from one of the times when she prepared it for me and I happened to have my camera on hand. Somehow, over the decades, it’s her stew – not even her mum’s – that is most vivid in my mind. We create new memories and reminisce about old ones whenever we enjoy a meal together, and I hope that this dish becomes a part of yours too.

 

Coconut Stew

(Serves 2-4 people)

50 grams onion

125 grams potato

20 grams ginger

A few curry leaves

2 teaspoons coconut oil

½ cup water

Salt to taste

One coconut

 

Cut the onion and potato into thick juliennes. Set aside.

This recipe requires two cups of fresh coconut milk – a first press cup, and a second press cup. Prepare the first press by grating the coconut flesh and grinding it in a blender with a ¼ cup of water. Strain this and set aside. The first press milk will be thick.

Now, repeat the process using the same grated coconut flesh – this will be the second press milk, and it will be thinner in comparison to the first press. Set aside.

Take the second press milk and boil the julienned potato and onion in it until they are soft. Ensure that you add the onions after the potatoes, as they cook faster. Add the ginger too. You can press down on the potatoes a little using a masher.

Once this is done, add the thick first press coconut milk to the pan. Add the curry leaves and coconut oil as well. Stir well. Your coconut stew is now ready to serve, and a plate of aapams, idlies or dosas will go perfectly with it.

This stew evokes for me one of my most cherished friendships, and so many childhood memories. Although Girija and I are in different countries at present, perhaps one of the many reasons she and her stew have been on my mind is because the lockdown this year has meant that meeting at home has become how most of us socialise now. Here in Chennai, my friends and I often discussed wanting to meet but felt it wasn’t safe to go out to restaurants like we had in the past. Instead, what we now do is something that we had quite rarely done in the past: meeting in each others’ homes over home-cooked meals. It’s so nice to get together this way, knowing that everyone is comfortable and care has been taken.

The lovely thing about old friendships is that even if we don’t see each other often, the bond is absolute. I truly feel relaxed and comfortable when I am with dear friends like Girija. It’s easy to put my feet up with her, and that is the kind of ease that can only come with knowing how much love is given and shared between oneself and another. That love speaks in the food that she cooks for me. We have an understanding that she cooks for me, and I cook for her. The “trade” for this Malayali coconut stew is always a Gujarati dal. Perhaps I will share that recipe some day soon too…

In the meanwhile, don’t forget to check out the previous posts in this coconut series: coconut podi and coconut oil. Stay tuned for a lovely Diwali dessert next weekend, to round the series off!

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