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Festivals are a big part of Indian culture and making a sweet (or many!) at home during special occasions is almost mandatory.  Growing up, my mother would make an array of them, along with savouries, and we would wait to devour those goodies. I prefer to keep some of those traditions alive so that future generations may understand and value our heritage. Even today, I make sweets and savouries at home, although less than my mum used to. However, with the festive season having begun, and orders pouring in, I’ve been making so many lately that I really felt  I needed to make a dish that was just for me. Although most of the members of my family are not fans of this one, and it being a quickly perishable item means that it isn’t ideal for my clients at re:store, this soft sandesh is something I simply had to make for myself the other day. I’m a huge fan of this delicate milk sweet, and I relished having it to myself.

Typically from Bengal, sandesh is prepared in myriad ways and each version seems tastier than the other. While there is a popular version where the mixture is heated and stirred until dry, I prefer this one. During my trial for the perfect recipe, I made a small batch of the dry version. I dry roasted the chenna in a non-stick pan until it was about to become grainy and then shaped it. While it did taste fine, I prefer the softer version, and that is what I am sharing below.

Chenna is essentially a milk solid, with the whey removed. Also known as paneer or Indian cottage cheese, it is high in protein and calcium and is popular in so many Indian dishes, from sweets to curries.

As I have mentioned in my blog before, milk is considered an important food for the gods and almost all communities use milk to prepare sweets as offerings. Milk is considered sacred in India, perhaps because of its relationship with the cow. Veganism is beginning to catch on here, but milk remains a key ingredient in our sweets. As you know, I have been going more and more vegan myself, and I feel that it’s high time that almond milk or coconut milk become more popular here. Below is a traditional recipe, however.

This delicious sandesh is very quick and easy to make if you have chenna/paneer handy, which most Indian homes do. I recall how on one of my Kolkata visits, I happened to get to see an entire chenna market. Huge piles of it were sold there. Just like there are exclusive flower markets and so on, an exclusive chenna market made sense because of the popularity of the ingredient. I had noticed how the famed Bengali sweet culture was dairy-based, and clearly there are reliable sources where stores can purchase their key ingredient daily.

This chenna vendor posed for me that day, and I watched him work for a while. I was intrigued by how the chenna is wrapped in leaves and newspapers instead of plastic packaging, a wonderful way to use biodegradable materials.

A Spanish friend of mine whom I met on the day of the photoshoot had a serving of my sandesh and remarked that it tastes a bit like cheesecake! I would think it’s somewhat lighter than cheesecake, both in terms of richness and how it sits in the stomach.

Not long ago, I mentioned panch-phoron and wanting to explore more of Bengali cuisine on my blog, and this soft sandesh is an auspicious start to more such culinary journeys…

Soft Sandesh

(Yield: 15-20 pieces)

 

1 ½ cups chenna (paneer)

¾ cup powdered sugar (coconut blossom/sugar)

½ teaspoon rose water

 

I made this soft sandesh from scratch, and the chenna or paneer is easy to make it at home. In many Indian homes, we prefer homemade paneer so as to ensure quality. The following is my method to prepare it.

Boil 1 litre of milk over a medium flame in a pan, stirring occasionally. Once it reaches close to boiling stage, add 1-2 tablespoons of lemon juice. This will help the milk to curdle and the whey to separate. Do not stir too much at this point. Only ensure that it does not stick to the bottom. The milk solids will appear evidently separate.

Now, pour the mixture into a large-sized cheese cloth. Gather the ends of the cheese cloth and tie them into a big knot. Place a container below the bundle to collect the whey. I usually tie it to the kitchen sink (something you may remember from my lavender shrikand recipe). Allow it to drain for about 1 hour.

Next, place the bundle onto a plate and add some weight on top of it to ensure that it drains completely. Once drained, open the bundle. Rinse the chenna under running water, to ensure that the lemon which was added earlier is removed. Allow it to drain again (add more weight on top of it to help the process). Your chenna is now ready to use. Due to the weather in Chennai, where it’s mostly warm, I usually put it away in the refrigerator for about half an hour before preparing the sandesh.

Since the whey is high in protein, I use it to make roti dough or add it as a gravy to any vegetable being cooked that day. Very little goes to waste in most Indian kitchens!

The next stage is very simple. Place the chenna on a plate and add the sugar. With your palm, blend the sugar and chenna well together. It should be soft and pliable at this point. I’ve found that using less sugar, as I have, or using a substitute like jaggery or any other form of natural sweetener, makes it all the more delectable.

Finally, add the rose water and blend once again. Make small balls with your palm and decorate with rose petals. Store in a container. Sandesh needs to be refrigerated and consumed within 3-4 days.

You may add any flavour of your choice. Sometimes, I add saffron to the chenna and decorate it with a slice of almond. You may sprinkle cocoa powder on top after rolling it with a small piece of chocolate at the centre. You can decorate it as beautifully as you wish to, or keep it plain. There are many choices, as the light flavour of this sweet can be adapted in versatile ways. I’d love to know how you get creative with this recipe. Please tell me more in the comments!

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

 

Sugar-Free Almond Cookies

(Yield: 15-20 cookies)

 

1½ cups oats flour

¾ cup whole wheat flour

¾ cup maida

1 cup almond flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup oil

½ cup honey

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon rose extract

¼ teaspoon rose water

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The beauty that we see all around us, we take for granted. This is why I love flower exhibitions, which put that beauty at the centre and let us appreciate it fully. Flowers represent inner peace to me. Amongst other things, the Chelsea Flower Show, was on my wishlist. And I recently had that dream fulfilled. It was like the experience of so many flower market visits, multiplied.

One of my favourite things to do in London is to wake up early and go to the flower market, which I enjoy just as much as I do a flea market or an antique market. It was a dear friend who first took me to the Columbia Street Market, which soon became one of my favourite London experiences. It begins with a coffee at any of the quaint shops alongside the flower sellers, sipping leisurely while watching them set up their stalls. They bring their fresh flowers in and I watch them at work while I have my coffee, which is always so lovely and which sets off the mood. I could sit there all day, between the taste of the coffee and the sight of the blossoms.

Amidst the abundance of peonies and a variety of English greens, I was taken aback to see a jasmine plant in a pot. It was simply laden with flowers which reminded me of the oosi malli back home. I was surprised to see it blossoming when the climate was not conducive for it, and it gave me fresh inspiration to continue working in my own gardens. I was reminded of my own home and the manoranjithas I’m trying to revive. The dedication of those London florists, and the sheer variety of flowers they cultivate, are lessons to inspire us to look at the diversity and beauty that exists around us.

 

 

Sitting in one such market not long ago, taking impromptu images on my iPhone camera, my eyes were wandering around looking for those flowers which were dried, so I could carry them back with me. This was when this exquisite batch of lavender caught my attention. Since I brought this beautiful lavender back with me, my entire home is carrying its fragrance and I’d do anything to keep it lasting. If there was a way I could capture its fragrance, I’d easily share it with you. But since I can’t, this vegan lavender cake with coconut icing is the next best thing.

As you may know, lavender is one of the flowers/ingredients that most inspires me, and you may have enjoyed several of my previous recipes featuring it. Some of my experiments have yielded such delights as this lavender shrikand and this vegan lavender panna cotta.

This cake is made for the vegan palette. Veganism is becoming increasingly popular, and rightly so. Among other reasons, the treatment of animals to procure ingredients for non-vegan meals is a big factor as to why people choose it. I am increasingly becoming aware of veganism and trying to include it in my food journey, and you can see several of my recipes here.

Vegan Lavender Cake

Cake:

190 grams flour

30 grams desiccated coconut

200 grams sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

1 cup coconut milk

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

80ml sunflower oil

1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar

½ teaspoon lavender

 

Icing:

400 grams icing sugar

40 grams vegan butter or margarine

2 teaspoons coconut milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

 

Decoration:

¼ cup desiccated coconut

I’ve talked so often about the pleasure of baking that whenever I share a recipe like this – something from the re:store menu – it makes me happy to know that you can have that same experience of the joy of preparation, not just the satisfaction of the final product!

 

Preheat the oven to 160°C. Grease and dust two 7’ cake tins and line them.

Sift the flour.

Add all the dry ingredients – flour, desiccated coconut, lavender, baking soda and salt – into a bowl and whisk. Now add the sugar. Keep aside.

Now, put all the wet ingredients – coconut milk, oil, vanilla extract and vinegar – in a separate bowl, blend, then add these to the dry mixture.

Whisk the wet and dry ingredients together gently. Once you have a batter, divide it equally between the 2 cake tins.

Bake both tins for approximately 30 minutes or until a tooth pick comes out clean.

Allow to cool for 10 minutes before removing the cakes onto a cooling rack. Once they have cooled completely, they are ready to be decorated with icing. So it’s best to make this as they cool.

This vegan lavender cake is garnished with a coconut milk icing. In a mixer, add the butter, vanilla extract and sugar. Beat on a low speed. Slowly, increase the speed and add the coconut milk carefully. Add only as much as required, and make sure that the mixture is spreadable. Adjust the coconut milk or sugar quantities as required to ensure this.

Place one of the cakes on a base and apply half the icing on top of it. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of the desiccated coconut, then place the second cake on top of this to form a layer.

Ice the top generously and sprinkle the remaining desiccated coconut. Decorate as desired. A good presentation makes for a tasty cake too. As I always say, the eye tastes before the mouth does, and using attractive serving ware and garnishings can really enhance the experience.

As is most often the case, I decided on this recipe based on the ingredients I had on-hand and how they inspire me. Lavender and coconut were the flavours I chiefly wanted to bring out, and vanilla is of course a baker’s best friend. Together, for me they evoke the way it feels to sit at a café and watch a flower market being set up. When you try out this recipe, please let me know what these scents and tastes evoke for you!

I’ve spoken often of how, just a few years ago, my daughter baked a chocolate cake for the family which was a turning point in my life. It was the best cake I had ever eaten, and I remember watching her as she made it. She was in good spirits, and hummed and sang while she was gathering the ingredients and lining them up in front of her. Then, she happily pulled out a recipe and began with such lightness and joy. Watching her, I thought to myself: “I’ve tried baking for so many years. I must try again with the same spirit my daughter has.” The first bite of the cake that came out of the oven was the last push of encouragement I needed. I set my mind to it: I would learn to bake with joy. I spent the next month baking the exact same cake every single day, tweaking the method and learning with each effort, until I too fell into a happy, humming rhythm. And the rest, as they say, was history…

My daughter is a big part of the recipe I am sharing today, but it’s not just because of that life-changing chocolate cake (which you can order right here if you are in Chennai). Rather, it’s because of one of the many dishes she introduced me to when she was studying for her Bachelor’s in Boston. Whenever I would visit her, she would always take me to interesting new places to try out delicious cuisines and treats that never failed to inspire me. It was in one such café that I tasted madeleines for the first time. They were pistachio ones, and you know I love pistachio (of course, a pistachio cake also sits prettily on the re:store product list).

Madeleines are a kind of basic sponge cake which are made in a shell-like shape (you can find trays for this in most baking stores). They are widely regarded as being of French origin, and an English version with jam, desiccated coconut and cherries is also popular. But to me, it’s the Spanish madeleine that captured my heart. You see, some time before being introduced to the sweet treat in Boston, we had gone to Spain, where I first heard of the little sponge cake. It was the loveliness of the trip itself which gave its local version a sentimental value for me, even though it wasn’t until later that I got a chance to eat it.

It was an experience of a lifetime to be in Santiago de Compostela, in Spain’s Galician region, on the holy day of Palm Sunday. We had been delayed and had missed our connecting flight, so we were surprised to find we had made it in time for the services. And even better, we had somehow wound up in the front row. Here, we had a wonderful view of a special ritual that only takes place on special occasions. Enormous incense holders known as botafumeiro are swung across the expanse of the church and back, filling the environment with scent, smoke and a feeling of divine grace.  The effect of the smoke in that beautiful cathedral, amidst the chants and prayers, was surreal.

Heading back to the exquisite Hostal dos Reis Católicos, which dates back to 1486 and is thought to be the most beautiful hotel in Europe, I gathered these new memories together. Somewhere on this trip was where I learned how the humble madeleine is related to the grandeur of a Spanish cathedral, and that’s how I think of it, no matter where I eat it. You see, Santiago de Compostela is the culminating point of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route. In the Spanish origin story of the recipe I am sharing today, a medieval chef named Madeleine used to make these little shell-shaped delights to feed the pilgrims there. The treats took on her name.

Short or long, pilgrimages are all metaphors for our own life as we pursue our dreams and life’s mission. To me, my own pilgrimage is a journey of delighting people through food which appeals to every sense. From the tastebuds to the memory centres, and everything in between. These sweet madeleines are a perfect example – and yes, they are made with joy!

Madeleines

(Yield: 12 madeleines)

90 grams flour

¾ teaspoon baking powder

100 grams unsalted butter

65 grams sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon lavender seeds

2 teaspoons maple syrup

2 teaspoons milk

Powdered sugar for dusting

The basic madeleine recipe is simple and elegant and I have done little to change it but sweeten it further using maple syrup. I also added a little re:store flourish in the form of one of my favourite ingredients – lavender, the subtle hint of which always lightens up my mood.

Prepare a madeleine pan by buttering and dusting it.

Whisk all the dry ingredients together. Carefully melt the butter in a pan, on a medium flame, until it turns brown.

Place the sugar in a bowl and mix it. Add the eggs one at a time and beat well.

Now, add the vanilla extract, the lavender seeds and the maple syrup. Whisk well until the mixture is perfectly blended.

Now, add the remaining dry ingredients. Once all the ingredients are well incorporated, add the butter in slowly, using just a small quantity at a time. Then, stir in the milk.

Now that you have made the batter, divide it into the moulds of the madeleine tray and allow it to cool in the refrigerator for 15 minutes. In the meantime, preheat the oven at 160 °C.

Remove the tray from the refrigerator and place it directly into the oven. Depending on what kind of oven you use, bake for 10-15 minutes.

Once the baking is done, remove the tray from the oven. Upturn it and watch as the beautiful madeleines fall out. Dust them with powdered sugar and store in a dry container. That is, if you don’t serve them immediately. Chances are, you won’t be able to resist.

These delicious madeleines are a perfect tea-time snack, so brew yourself a pot of your favourite as you enjoy the scent of baking still lingering in your kitchen.

I love ruminating over tea, as I sit with Max and enjoy a little me-time. It was on one such day that I dreamt up this post as well. And I especially like having a little sweet treat to go with my beverage. How about you? Please be sure to let me know what tasting these madeleines inspires in you!

 

In my Gujarati household, we have always had a deep and old association with Parsees. The Dark Prince’s best friend, Sohrab, is a Parsee, and so was his grandfather’s best friend, Bachu Foi, in Ahmedabad. When we got married and his grandfather also became mine, so too did Bachu Foi. “Foi” means “paternal aunt”, and Bachu Foi was the gentlest, kindest soul I’ve ever known. When I met her, she was well into her 70s and happily single, and always seemed to be around when we visited our grandparents. In those years, I would arrive with my gaggle of toddlers who kept my hands full. Bachu Foi always knew when I was coming, and would move in with me for the duration of my visit. And she would make the best-I’ve-ever-had guava jelly. Well, I’d never had guava jelly before hers, but it set my taste for life.

Pink, sweet, luscious, diamond-shaped guava jelly. I treasured it not only because it was sweet, but because it was made by my very sweet Bachu Foi. The truth is that at the time, I was too involved with my little children to spare the time to patiently learn the recipe from her, but how I wish I had. As my culinary skills grew, over time I experimented and finally arrived at my own version. I would say it comes pretty close to what Bachu Foi used to make. After all, we both use the same basic ingredient: love.

I was not only busy with my kids, but also highly involved with trying to stay in the good books of my strict, disciplinarian grandfather. And Bachu Foi was ever on the lookout, ready to bail me out and take my side. These memories came flooding back to me on a recent trip to Ahmedabad for a book I am working on (ssshhh…). There, I met a relative of hers, an old gent who exclaimed, “Ah yes, I knew your grandpa – Bachu Foi was his girlfriend!”

I was quick to argue with him, “No, she was never his girlfriend!” Then I realised how futile it was to explain that they just shared such a beautiful friendship. I thought about how my grandmother, who was just as wonderful a person, was always around too. She was divinity personified, calm and chilled out, and not in the least threatened by Bachu Foi!

In my previous post, in which I shared a mood-uplifting Gujarati curry using the favourite fruit of my childhood, I’d mentioned that one other way in which I like to enjoy guavas is in jelly form, with a platter of crackers and a glass of wine. The combination of salty and sweet makes for a lovely treat. This was something I picked up in Cuba, during the only other time that I’ve experienced guava jelly close to Bachu Foi’s sublime creation. I was surprised to see guavas there then, not knowing their history, and brought back a big chunk of guava jelly. I later realized that they were the perfect substitute there for fig jam, which is usually served with wine, and it’s the same here. Our familiar, affordable guavas are perfect for the job.

The previous post is full of information about the goodness of guavas (they are loaded with Vitamin C), but let me be honest – this one is very, very indulgent! It is dedicated, with much love, to the memory of my Bachu Foi.

Guava Jelly

(Yield: approximately 15 pieces)

½ kilo guavas
6 cups water
¼ cup butter
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon rosewater
Sugar to measure

 

As I experimented with guava jelly recipes, I hit on what would make this one unique. One of re:store’s signature ingredients: rosewater. It adds a divine aroma to an already divine dessert. You may also know this dish by another name – sweet guava cheese.

Wash the guavas and place them in boiling water, and allow the water to bubble until the guavas turn soft. Then, remove them carefully and keep the water aside. Allow the guavas to cool slightly, then remove the skin. Next, remove the seeds from the fruit and keep them aside.

Add the seeds to 2 cups of the same water that was used to boil the guavas and allow them to cook for some more time. Cool.

Blend the flesh of the guavas and strain, along with the water containing the seeds. Collect the pulp in a pot and boil. Within a few minutes, add a quantity of sugar equivalent to the pulp. When I was making this recipe, I found that I added 3 cups. You may adjust the sugar quantity depending on the sweetness of the guavas and your own preferences.

Allow the mixture to boil, stirring constantly. This took me approximately 20-25 minutes. You will notice the pulp becoming thicker. Now, add the butter and lemon juice. Cook some more until the pulp starts to leave the edges of the pot. If you scrape to see, you should notice a dry pot.

Drop a glob of the pulp in cold water to check if it forms into a hard lump. Allow to cook some more.

Finally, add the rosewater. Stir well, and pour the thick pulp onto a greased plate. Remember that the quantity of the pulp will reduce as it cools, which you must allow it to do at room temperature for 3 hours.

Then, cut into shapes and remove gently. I use the diamond shape, just like Bachu Foi – that gem of a person – did.

You’ll find the guava jelly to be chewy, sticky and sweet. I’ve used approximate quantities in the recipe above, so do experiment and see what suits you. As I mentioned, I don’t really know how to make Bachu Foi’s exact recipe, and so I also want to share the method as to how I arrived at mine. I did it by reading at least 20 different recipes from various sources, adjusting according to my culinary sense and taste. So here’s a big Thank You to all the other food bloggers out there, especially on Instagram, who generously share their recipes too! Here’s adding mine to the collection, with love for Bachu Foi…

 

 

Sankranti, the harvest festival, is here and as we celebrate by giving thanks for the crops we eat daily, it’s til-ka-chikki that strikes me as a perfect dish for the occasion. The chief ingredient of this crunchy sweet is sesame, which is believed to have been cultivated in India for over 5500 years. As a form of produce that can grow with relatively little supervision, and in less than ideal conditions, there is no doubt to me that many of our ancestors would have considered it a perfect if not vital part of their Sankranti. Sankranti is known by various names throughout the country – it is also observed as Pongal, Bihu, Maghi and by other names depending on region. No matter where, it falls in mid-January and is a time when the sun is worshipped for its life-giving properties.

“Til” is the Gujarati word for sesame, as well as in other languages including Hindi and Punjabi. The English word “sesame” is from the Arabic “semsem”, indicating oil or liquid fat. This is because it is an oilseed produce. It’s an excellent digestive aid as it’s full of fiber, and also has high copper, manganese and calcium content, in addition to other vitamins and minerals.

Chikkis are a whole category of snacks, usually sweet thanks to the sticky jaggery that holds them together. We also make them with groundnuts, puffed rice (mora mora) and other variations, depending on the season. You can make them either in bars or in balls, and they also make a great ice cream topping when crushed. Til-ka-chikki is basically a sesame brittle, and today I’ll share the method to make them into bars.

I used to have a huge mental block about til-ka-chikki as I simply hadn’t known how to make it. My sister got married when she was just out of college, and she hadn’t learned how to cook yet. She went to her mother-in-law’s house, where she learned how to make the most beautiful traditional Gujarati dishes. I was still in high school at the time, and am still envious to this day about the culinary skills she picked up back then. Meanwhile, in my mother’s house, I was still studying but also began to slowly pick up recipes and techniques in the kitchen. I was probably inspired by my sister’s newfound talents, and our mother started me off on the basics, like rotli. Over time, I began to regard not only my mother and my own mother-in-law as my culinary teachers, but my older sister as well. My sister’s repertoire is vast. Even to this day, each time I visit her, I insist that she teaches me an entirely new dish  every time.

I overcame my mental block when I finally learned how to make this til-ka-chikki a couple of years ago, with her guidance. And I’ll admit that I am still learning. I don’t quite have the confidence to make it on my own yet, but every experiment has ended in happy mouths and sticky fingers. It would be great if you could learn it together alongside me. We could master it together, just as my sister has.

As with most traditional Gujarati sweets and snacks, this too requires only three ingredients. In this case, they are jaggery, sesame and ghee. If you’d like a vegan version, replace the ghee with a flavourless oil of your choice. Til-ka-chikki is also offered as a prasad, so while it is a simple dish it can also be a part of prayers for festive and special occasions. For Sankranti, of course, it’s a beautiful way to honour the sun that gave us this ancient and nutritious crop.

 

Til-Ka-Chikki (Sesame Brittle)

(Yield: 10-15 pieces)

 

Ingredients

½ cup sesame seeds

½ cup jaggery

1 tablespoon ghee

Grease an overturned steel plate and a rolling pin and keep these ready. Next, in a wok or kadai, roast the sesame seeds on a low flame. Occasionally increase to a medium flame for short spans. The sesame will take about 7 minutes to roast. Keep stirring until the colour changes.

Once roasted, transfer to a plate and allow to cool. Once cooled, taste a few seeds to check if they have a crunch to it. This means they are ready.

In the same wok or kadai, add the ghee. Then, add the jaggery and stir constantly on a low flame. As with the roasting of the sesame seeds, you may occasionally increase the flame to a medium for short spans, then immediately reduce it to a low again. Take care that the jaggery does not burn. Do see this video for reference: re:store sesame brittle video – 1

Mine took approximately 9 minutes to turn into a reddish colour. Once this happens, turn off the flame. Add the sesame seeds and stir well.

Drop the mixture onto the greased, overturned plate and immediately start to spread it out as thin as possible. You may need to use your fingers (dipped in water), while the rolling pin is coated with ghee. With this combination, try and spread it out in such a way that you mark lines for the pieces later.

Allow the spread mixture, striped with lines to form bars, to cool. Once it has completely cooled, place the plate on the stove and warm from below. The entire piece will come out as a whole. Break it along the marked lines. Store in an airtight container.

 

Here’s another process video: re:store sesame brittle video – 2

I want to say that this til-ka-chikki is easy to make, but I’ve already told you honestly that it’s not. But I love a challenge in the kitchen, and try again and again to better then perfect my dishes. Even with my photoshoots, it’s the same. When the end result comes out well, it’s all the more delicious when I know the effort that’s gone into it! Tell me how it goes when you try your hand at this dish. Wishing you and your loved ones a happy Sankranti!

 

A panna cotta is a classic Italian dessert that is among my favourites – mostly because it is not too sweet. Some say it is quite like baked yoghurt, which I also enjoy. A traditional panna cotta is just dairy, sugar and gelatin, which are then topped with a fruity sauce. But you can also infuse the mixture itself with a flavour of your choice. Perhaps you remember my lavender shrikand from some time ago. That recipe came about thanks to a gift of lavender from my friend Siddharth’s farm in Australia. If you click on the link in the previous line, you’ll find lots of information about the cultivar of culinary lavender known as Miss Donnington. Siddharth sent me a batch from the most recent harvest, and its wonderful scent gives me much calm and joy at the moment. As I held those beautifully dried buds in my hands, I was inspired once more. I was already in the mood for some panna cotta. A lavender infusion would kick it up a notch. And to make it vegan? Perfection.

I’m on a vegan wave at the moment, as you saw from my vegan masala milk post earlier this month. Making a vegan panna cotta is quite simple, just requiring you to replace regular milk with almond or coconut milk. I used coconut cream here for a more luscious texture. If you already have a panna cotta recipe and are trying to wean yourself off dairy, just try it with a milk or cream substitute, using the measurements below. This recipe calls for half the guilt: even thought coconut cream has a high fat content, you can enjoy it without cheating on your dietary preferences. Of course, if you’d rather not try the vegan version, or have milk in your fridge you want to use up, just replace the coconut cream with regular milk or cream.

In my masala milk recipe, I suggested honey as a sweetener, which strict vegans don’t touch. In this one, my preferred sweetener is maple syrup. You can substitute this with another of your choice too. But what I like about maple syrup is that like all the other key flavours here, it is subtle. Coconut, lavender, fig and maple syrup – combined, they are subtly sweet as well. This makes for a perfect dessert after a heavy meal, when anything too rich might be too much.

To top this panna cotta, I used a fig sauce as I found the flavours to be complementary, but you can experiment with everything from blueberries to lilac sauce, depending on your tastes and availability. I’ve refrained from using other additives, keeping the ingredients simple. I want to add here that panna cotta, despite having the ring of a fancy dessert, is actually quite easy to make. It’s perfect for youngsters who are entertaining guests more formally for the first time. And the decorative potential also gives you creative scope.

Plating is essential for a dish like this, otherwise it runs the risk of looking too plain. When it comes to something like panna cotta, you have to find a way to lift the dish so that the person who is going to eat it finds it fascinating even before they place that first spoonful into their mouth. So the visual presentation is crucial. How do you want to impress someone? Do you want to add flower petals, or cut figs and cinnamon sticks, or find another way to bring colour into the display?

Developing my style as a photographer helped me innovate with plating as well. I love setting up my photoshoots, and I feel like I have found a distinct look now – I like dark and moody pictures in 100% natural light, and very little editing. For this shoot, to play up the dish, I decided to bring a bit more brightness in. Yes, brightness – what better quality for a New Year dish (and a New Year wish) to have?

 

 

Lavender Panna Cotta

(Yield: 3-4 small cups)

 

Ingredients

Panna cotta

2 cups coconut cream

¼ cup maple syrup

½ teaspoon lavender buds

1¾ teaspoons kanten (agar agar)

Fig sauce

4 figs (cut to small pieces)

¼ cup maple syrup

1 long cinnamon stick

 

In a pan, add all the ingredients for the panna cotta. Allow to heat on a medium flame, stirring constantly. Once the mixture begins to boil, you will notice the edges bubbling. Give it a few more minutes (remember to keep stirring), and then turn off the flame. The contents will start to thicken at this point. Close with a lid, allowing the lavender to steep well for about 10-15 minutes. The quality of lavender that my friend sent me was so good, and so fragrant, that I barely had to steep it for the recommended time for the flavours to become well-infused, but this will vary.

Then, strain the liquid into cups of your choice and allow them to set in the refrigerator. Panna cotta is always served chilled.

For the fig sauce, simply add all the ingredients to a pan and allow to boil until the liquid thickens. Keep aside.

When you are ready to serve this dessert, add a spoonful of the fig sauce onto each cup of panna cotta. Decorate as desired. As I said earlier, plating is quite important for panna cotta of any kind as the dish by itself looks quite bland. You can do this easily, and keep it all edible too, with nuts, fruits and so on.

Lavender is used in alternative healing such as aromatherapy as it is believed to be a calming influence. As I prepared this dessert in my kitchen, inhaling that evocative fragrance, this is what I pondered. I know that the past year has had a lot of volatility for many of us. As we move into this new year, this lavender panna cotta is a heartfelt metaphor for what I hope for us all. Let us wish that 2019 is just as subtle, calming, peaceful – and simply delicious.

When I was growing up, it was believed in every Indian home that milk provided everything that a child’s developing body needed. Proteins, minerals, the works. This was true to an extent, of course, as milk contains an impressive range of nutrients that the human body needs. There were no fancy gyms back then, but I have fond memories of my siblings and friends and I going to the club and rowing. You needed to have strength to row, and being a vegetarian family, my mum made dairy a big priority so that our fitness and wellness needs were met. We consumed milk fresh and on its own, but also with Bournvita or Complan at different times to keep us going through the day or before going to bed. Coffee and tea were seldom given to children, and in Gujarati households were practically taboo to the point that I did not drink tea until after I was married. But milk was had aplenty. And when winters came around, my mother would prepare a special masala milk loaded with nutty goodness. With almonds, pistachios and good old milk, we had what would be called the perfect protein shake today.

Although I’m now a proponent of this protein-rich pudding that I devour each morning after my workout, I felt sentimental about this simple, nutty masala milk from my childhood days. I then remembered that my mother used to be particularly keen on us having this instead of regular milk during winters, so that we were more fortified. Although Chennai doesn’t experience winter like you may know it, it does rain a lot and kids certainly fall ill during this time. But for us, the Indian “ishtyle” masala milk was just a treat. In some ways, this beverage was our version of a hot chocolate, which is why I share the recipe with you as a Christmas drink.

Second to milk, most Indians still believe that dried fruits and nuts are the best source of protein. Obviously, our ancestors already knew the nutrient values that others are only discovering now. Nowadays, thanks to a growing health consciousness, instead of the customary mithai exchange during festive occasions, we have taken to exchanging pretty parcels of fruits and nuts with well-wishers. As you may know, I use both generously in my muesli, one of re:store’s bestsellers. My mother used nuts to make this masala, but I’ve taken it a step further…

I also feel that the milk we had when we were younger was much less adulterated. Cows were treated better, and most of all, we had the sense that we could trust what we were buying. But milk has nothing to do with the recipe I am sharing with you today, despite its status as a crucial part of my childhood version of this beverage. As you know, I often experiment with vegan ingredients as many of re:store’s clientele enjoy them. So here’s my own twist to my mother’s trusted recipe. Not only is this masala milk vegan, but I also share how to make vegan milk rather than rely on a store-bought product. This way, you can ensure that what you and your family consume is of the best quality.

Vegan Masala Milk

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

Ingredients

Nutty Milk Masala

1 cup whole almonds

1 cup shelled unsalted pistachios

2 pinches saffron

10 pods cardamom

Vegan Milk

¾ cup cashew nuts

1 cup hot water

1 teaspoon milk masala (or more)

2 teaspoons honey (or sweetener of your choice – dates, maple syrup or sugar)

Begin by preparing the nut-based masala, and set it aside. All these ingredients should remain dry until they are added to the milk. You can prepare a larger quantity so you can store and use it later. My mother would make a batch at a time and just blend it into (regular) milk when it was serving time.

Peel the cardamom and add to the remaining ingredients: saffron, pistachios and almonds. Blend. You can make this powder as coarse or as fine as you prefer. If you would like a crunchy taste to your masala milk – which also tastes amazing – you can hand-pound the ingredients instead of using a blender. Store in a clean glass jar and use as required.

Then, make the vegan milk itself. As those of you familiar with vegan diets know, soy, seeds, or almonds or other nuts are the usual source. In this case, I have used cashew nuts. Soak the cashew nuts in water for about 3 hours. Then, remove the water that was used for soaking. Add the hot water, and blend the nuts until they are thick and creamy. If you prefer the consistency to be thinner, add more hot water. Voila – vegan milk! If you’ve ever wondered what it is, you now know how easy it is to make.

Once the vegan milk has been well blended, add the masala prepared earlier and stir. Serve in small cups. I find this vegan milk masala to be very filling and heavy, so I prefer small portions. Sweeten as per your liking.

What I love about this recipe is that it has a bit of novelty to it, as well as a bit of nostalgia. Just perfect for Christmas time, especially if you’re watching your diet this year – don’t you think?

Gujaratis love fried things. Full stop! We love them so much that we even start the day with them. Specifically, with pooris, which are our traditional breakfasts. We never feel guilty or bad about reaching out for our fried snacks either, which includes ganthia (fried mini pappad) and a variety of mixtures (popularly known as chevdo, which vary from region to region and can be sweet, tangy, or spicy). Ganthia and jalebi, a deep-fried sweet, are also popular as breakfast. It will come as no surprise that pooris – discs of dough which fluff up in hot oil – are another such staple. They also come in several variations. Crunchy, crispy-salty (to be had with tea), and soft. Today, I’ll be sharing how to make the soft version… with another typically Gujju twist.

That twist, of course, is sweetness. As you’d already have known from the long list of traditional desserts on this blog, Gujaratis love sweetness just as much or even more than we love fried things. The perfect combination of these two cravings is the kheer poori, which in simplest terms is a poori eaten with kheer, a milk-based sweet.

When I was growing up, cakes were not yet popular in Chennai, and this kheer poori was often a birthday treat that my mother made for us. Especially for me, because I just loved that combination of tastes and temperature: the saltiness and heat of the poori, the sweetness and coolness of the kheer. It was also something made for special occasions, which as you know are usually observed with an offering of sweets to the divine, as well as for weddings and other celebrations.

The frying of pooris is an art, and being a Gujarati, size does matter – in this case, the smaller, the more delicate and dainty, the better. My mother was strict about this. She always said that if a poori did not puff, if it did not bloom in the oil, then the person frying it just did not know how to make a good poori! Pooris are generally eaten hot and fresh. Not only did my mother tend not to serve unpuffed pooris at the table, but if a poori became flattened by the time it reached my plate, I would absolutely refuse to eat it as a child! Perhaps that’s why I became so keen on, and so good at, frying perfectly puffed ones later.

I’ve shared two kheer recipes earlier, and have linked to them below. So this recipe teaches you only how to make pooris – a standard in almost any Indian kitchen, but hard to perfect, as many will tell you! Alternately, you can eat your pooris with any accompaniment of your choice. Once you have the basics in place, it’s fun to experiment. If you don’t have a sweet tooth, you can always have pooris with a potato curry (like the Gujarati bataka-nu-shaak) or another accompaniment, like a pickle. Perhaps because it is so simple, a poori is also an incredibly versatile dish. And yes, you WILL need (and want) more than one, for sure!

 

 

Poori (With Kheer)

(Yield: 15-20 small pooris)

Ingredients

1 cup whole wheat flour

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon oil

¼ cup water

2 cups oil for deep frying

 

As I said above, I’ve provided two kheer recipes earlier, and you can pick which one to make based on seasonal availability and individual taste. Whether you go with the sitaphal kheer, the rose-coconut kheer, or your own variation, you should have this prepared and refrigerated first.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this with you before, but in most Gujarati homes, we regularly make fresh batches of green chilli and ginger paste. This keeps for two or three days, and we use a dollop of it in lieu of red chilli powder. If you prefer this taste, and have it on hand, you can substitute the red chilli powder in the ingredients for the same. I have fond memories of our helper when I was growing up using the stone rubi-kallu to make the paste. We rarely used the blender, and I can’t even remember if we had one at the time. Now, it’s such a necessity.

In a bowl, add all the ingredients (except the oil for deep frying) and make a dough. The dough should be equivalent to a tight smooth ball.

Now, divide the dough into round small balls ready for rolling out. Roll them out evenly shaped as far as possible. They should also have the same, even thickness. Take care that they are not too thin, as they will be unable to puff up if so. Did you get rolling practice when you made these rotis? If you did, it may be worth noting that this dough is similar to thepla dough, except we don’t add yoghurt.

Prepare the oil by heating it. You can check the heat by dropping a pin size drop of dough. If it gathers bubbles, then it means the oil is ready. On a high flame, drop the pooris in one at a time. Wait for each one to rise up, and then flip it over. You need to flip it over just once. The secret to the puffiness lies in a mixture of of the correct level of thickness, the heat of the oil, and timing. It takes practice, and despite my childhood aversion, deflated pooris are perfectly edible too.

The poori needs to fry for just 8-10 seconds after being flipped. When you remove them from the pan, you will notice that they will be darker on the bottom side, and this is normal. Place on a sheet to drain excess oil. Serve immediately with a generous helping of kheer, fresh from the fridge.

Hot, fluffy pooris are such wonderful comfort food. And when their heat melds with the chilled kheer, the combination is simply divine. The craving-busting deliciousness of fried dough and the sweetness of a Gujarati dessert – no wonder these were birthday treats when I was growing up! I hope you’ll enjoy this simple yet sinfully indulgent recipe. As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

 

When I was growing up, Diwali was a time when my mother made an entire array of sweets and savouries, such that I cannot point out one as a single most important tradition. All that changed for me when I got married and moved into my new home, when I became introduced to what is now a 30 year tradition for me: the simple and sacred dish of laapsi.

Laapsi is a Gujarati sweet which, like sukhudi uses just three ingredients: jaggery, broken wheat and ghee. In modern versions, people often add nuts, saffron and other flavourings, but the original and deep-rooted traditional method is extremely simple. The three basic ingredients were and are frugal, humble and delicious. In the old days, every household could reliably find enough to make a festive offering. As with sukhdi, laapsi is also first offered as prasad to the gods.

Diwali always falls on amavasai day, or the new moon. Different communities observe their own sets of festivities. For Gujaratis, it begins with Baras (the 12th day towards the waning moon), then Dhanteras (the 13th day, during which we pray to the goddess of prosperity, Lakshmi), then Kali Chaudas (when the goddess Kali is worshipped, not only with a sweet, but with a fried vadai which is symbolically thrown over the shoulder at a crossroads, indicating that you wish to leave behind the previous year) – and then, we have Diwali, which is also Chopda Puja. Chopda means “books”, and this is the day on which we perform a prayer similar to Ayudha Puja in other communities, when all our instruments (from accounting books to cameras and ladles) are kept at the altar and blessed. The day after Diwali is the Gujarati New Year.

I lost my father-in-law earlier this year, and since Indian homes traditionally will not celebrate festivals for a year after a loss, we won’t be going the whole way this year. However, my father-in-law was full of life and spirit and did not believe in observing that grieving period. He believed the life cycle should continue. So while we won’t over-celebrate this year, I will also ensure that we won’t put a full stop to joy. I am sure that is how he would have wanted it too. We had a cool, chilled out relationship. We had many fights and arguments, but I always knew that everything would be taken in the right spirit. And he was someone who was a huge influence on me, in everything from changing my perspectives to gifting me my first camera.

I will certainly miss him this Diwali. Every Diwali, he would give everyone a special token, a crisp 50 rupee note. All of us considered it a lucky charm, and kept it in our wallets until the following year. Who will do it this year? Many recent incidents have reminded me how important roots and traditions are, and how necessary it is to respect them. This is why there are so many things that I insist on doing in a ritualistic way, like keeping the umbrella on Ganesh Chaturthi, and making laapsi on Diwali. I know my kids will not follow all the things that I follow, but at least a few of those traditions will become meaningful to them too…

And if I can be hopeful, I would absolutely name laapsi as one of the traditions I hope my children will keep and cherish. Although we have all became health conscious and started rejecting sweets, I still insist that everyone partakes of our Diwali laapsi.

This year, my mother-in-law has moved back in with us, and it is nice to have her home. It reminds me of all the times that she shared her culinary wisdom with me (such as when she taught me this kachori that many of you enjoyed too). Diwali is just a few days away, and I am calling to mind how I used to watch her make laapsi during the first ten or twelve years of my marriage. Slowly, she stopped coming into the kitchen as often and I began to manage more of the cooking. But for a long time, I would still ask her to come in for certain traditional dishes. Laapsi was, of course, one of them. Different families follow different methods in order to make their own traditions. I follow hers to a T: no garnish, no frills, just three simple ingredients made for God and family.

And just like my mother-in-law taught me, I will not serve laapsi on any day other than Diwali. I consider it sacred. My family and I wish you a very happy Diwali and festive season, and I hope that this special dish brings you sweetness and joy too.

Laapsi

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

Ingredients

½ cup broken wheat
½ cup jaggery
2 ¼ cups water
3 teaspoons ghee

Boil the water in a pot and add the jaggery to it. Stir until the jaggery melts. Then strain the liquid through a strainer, making sure that it is clean. Measure the liquid to check that you now have 2 cups of jaggery water.

Toast the wheat and ghee till slightly golden. This will take approximately 3 minutes. Now add the liquid to the wheat and cover with a lid. Place this in a pressure cooker for 4-5 whistles. Once you open the pressure cooker, you will find that the concoction is still soft. You can now place the pot directly on to a low flame. Cover and let cook until the liquid dries up and its grainy.

I prefer using the cooker as it lessens the cooking time. Alternately, pour the hot jaggery water into the wheat in the pan and allow to cook covered, on a low flame, so it does not stick to the bottom. Let it be on the stove until the grains are cooked perfectly and soft to the bite. Do not stir frequently as this may cause the grains to get sticky.

As I mentioned earlier, there are different ways to make this. I do hope you will find yours once you make this often enough. You don’t have to restrict yourself to an annual occasion like I do!

Typically, we serve the hot lapsi with ghee, powdered sugar and lentils.

Given the deep Gujarati-ness of this recipe and this post, I hope you’ll also take a look at some of my previous recipes that celebrate my traditional cuisine.