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The thaali as a concept is very common across Indian households. It is basically a meal with a variety of components, and the composition of each thaali varies depending on the region. It used to be a daily affair in many households, but in contemporary times more and more people have opted for lighter or more quickly prepared meals with fewer dishes involved. There is still a Gujarati thaali served in my home for lunch every day, but as my adult children set up their homes, I don’t see this happening. The thaali then becomes much more occasional and deliberate, and perhaps even festive. For that reason, I felt it would be ideal to share what goes into a Gujarati thaali with Diwali just a few days away.

A Gujarati thaali essentially contains roti, rice, a grain, a kachumber (which is a kind of salad), one or two vegetable dishes and a sweet. These are the basic elements. In my home, I do a rather non-traditional thing and eliminate the sweet dish more often than not. However, on special occasions like my mother-in-law’s birthday, a shrikhand will be included in the thaali. If I am doing trials ahead of sharing dessert recipes for this blog, those will show up there too. There’s an exception to this no-sweet tweak: when it’s mango season, aamras (sweet mango pulp), will be present on a daily basis. Of late, I am offering seva to Shrinathji at home, which means that there is prasadam once a week, and this goes into our thaalis too.

This brings in novelty now and then. The regular thaali can also be made more exciting with the addition of something like sabudana vada, paniyaram or yam chips, which can be prepared ahead of time and served again at tea-time as snacks. I tend to avoid fried goodies in my thaali, but these little things can make lunch more worth looking forward to now and then.

The regular thaali itself can be something really important. It is said that eating together itself holds families together, and I am a believer in this adage too. When it comes to something like a thaali, or any meal that is put together on a daily basis, it therefore becomes a part of the bonds that a family shares. My husband works nearby, so it is convenient for him to pop home for lunch on most days. My children are all far away, but when they come home, there is always a hot thaali available at lunch, and while they may have something else prepared if they prefer, the traditional option is always available.

I am so glad that my kids still honour a request we made when they first moved away, which is that they all return home for certain special occasions. They are made all the more special because of the effort taken. After all, that’s what family is about – taking that extra step to bond and to build love that holds for generations to come.

That brings us back to the festivities. Diwali happens to be one of those celebrations that we all gather together for, which is one of many reasons why it is one of my favourite festivals. I’m eagerly anticipating how in just a few days, over the dining table, there is going to be so much camaraderie, noise, chatter, shouting, fighting and affection – each in the right portions, exactly like a thaali should be presented too. Our Diwali lunches are one of the highlights of the year, and an elaborate thaali is always served. Having this experience, year after year, is something I wouldn’t trade for the world. This is the spread in the thaali this year: peas pulao, bottle gourd thepla, raita bhindi, mixed dal, simple salad, potato roast and of course the once-annual laapsi for dessert. I am happy to share this year’s thaali with you too. Most of these recipes have already been shared over the years, and are linked below along with two new ones for your enjoyment.

I would also like to take this auspicious moment to share something that I’ve been working on for a while. This year, this blog turned 8 years old, and it has really been a journey of growth, discovery and enjoyment. Over time, I have grown in my conviction about my own work, encouraged by well-wishers like you. I am happy to share that I will soon release a cookbook, featuring selected recipes from this blog along with an array of new ones. I want it to be a keepsake that can be passed from hand to hand and from kitchen to kitchen. First and foremost, it is so that my children will have something solid through which to reminisce about their growing years and their family, and to replicate some of their comfort foods and festive favourites. Beyond that, my book will also be for you – and for everyone who loves the experience of preparing a meal. I’ll share more about this project in the coming months. In the meanwhile, I wish you and yours a wonderful Diwali!

Gujarati Thaali

Bottle Gourd Thepla

Mixed Dal

Salad [make a simple one of your choice; for more elaborate ones, see the archive]

Roast Potatoes

Laapsi

Peas Pulao

1 cup cooked basmati rice
1-inch stick cinnamon
2 cloves
1 cardamom
1 star anise
Salt to taste
½ cup cooked/tender green peas
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
1 tablespoon ghee

Heat a pan. Add the ghee and once it is hot, add cumin seeds. Once they splutter, add the cinnamon, star anise, cloves and cardamom.

Sauté and then add cooked green peas, cooked basmati rice and salt. Mix well and gently until it all comes together. Your peas pulao is ready.

Bhindi Raita

1 cup curd
¼ cup finely sliced bhindi (okra/lady’s finger)
Salt to taste
2 tablespoons coconut pieces
1 green chilli
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
½ teaspoon + ¼ teaspoon oil
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
2-3 dry red chillies

In a blender jar, grind together the coconut, green chilli and cumin seeds until coarse. Set aside.

Heat a pan and add ½ teaspoon oil. To this, add the finely sliced bhindi. Allow to cook on a low flame until the vegetable is golden and slightly tender on both sides.

In another bowl, add the curd with the ground coconut-green chilli-cumin mixture, along with salt. Mix well. Add the sautéed okra and mix gently. Refrigerate until serving.

In a heated pan, add the remaining oil, mustard seeds and red chilli. Temper and pour on top of the raita before serving.

Whether you make all the dishes at once and serve them on a thaali, or try them out one by one, I hope that you’ll find much delight in this year’s Gujarati-style Diwali thaali!

There are numerous milk-based sweets that are very popular in India, and several have made appearances on this blog over the years, as you can see here. While they are all fantastic, for this Deepavali I was thinking about making something that doesn’t require milk. This recipe is great for lactose-intolerant people, and can be tweaked and made vegan (all you have to do is to replace the ghee with your usual alternative). Additionally, the dessert I came up with is millet-based, so it is extra nourishing. Here it is: foxtail payasam.

Foxtail payasam, strictly speaking, is not quite my own recipe, even though I’ve substantially played with the basic ingredients. As a payasam, it can be said to be traditional in South India, where they are a well-known category of dessert, eaten often and not just on festive occasions. Here in Tamil Nadu, foxtail millet is known as thinai and is a widely-known native produce. Like all millets, it is nutritious and versatile.

Many of us have become conscious about our eating choices and have brought millets into our diets over the last few years as a white rice replacement. Even the Tamil Nadu state government has been promoting their use, and so has the United Nations. This is something that I’ve advocated for as well, across many recipes.

In terms of payasam, I think the paruppu payasam (made with dal) is probably the most common. I always reach out for it whenever I have a banana leaf meal at a South Indian restaurant. It uses dried coconut bits and also contains jaggery, which is healthier than sugar yet satisfies my sweet tooth. Drawing inspiration from it, but adding my own twist, I have opted to use coconut milk in my foxtail payasam. The coconut milk, along with a cashew garnishing, adds a richness to it. You may also wish to use raisins, and reduce the jaggery quantity accordingly. Or you may want to use coconut sugar instead of jaggery. You may even want to replace the millet itself, just as you can also replace the moong dal with toor dal.

If you are a young adult making festive goodies for the first time, this is an ideal recipe for you to try wherever you are. It is simple and utilizes easily available ingredients. The world has become a smaller place, and I have no doubt that you’ll be able to find them even if you’re spending Deepavali away from home.

I have a South Indian daughter-in-law now and I wanted to prepare something this year that is familiar to her and the region she comes from. Thus, this foxtail payasam serves as a welcoming sweet for her as she enters our family. It is her first Deepavali with us, so it is really special. This recipe is for her, most of all. It is also for my sister, who always asks me to show her something new from South Indian cuisine whenever she visits me, and is very curious about what I am making at this time of year. It goes without saying that it is also for you: I wish you and your loved ones a blessed festive season, and much joy ahead!

Foxtail Payasam

(Serves 4-5)

25 grams moong dal (green gram)

60 grams thinai millet (foxtail)

¾ cup jaggery

2 + 1 cups water

1 cup coconut milk

1 teaspoon ghee

A handful of cashews

Rinse and soak the moong dal in water for at least an hour. Strain the water and set aside.

Roast the thinai in a pan for a few minutes or until it releases an aroma.

Next, add the thinai to the strained dal and add two cups of water. Place these in a pressure cooker and cook until tender. Remove the pot once cooled.

In another bowl, add jaggery and to it add one cup of water. Boil this mixture until the jaggery has melted. Strain this liquid and add it to the dal-thinai mixture.

Allow to cook until it all comes together. Finally, add the coconut milk, mix well and turn off the flame.

To garnish: heat the ghee and add the roasted cashew nuts. Toast until golden. Sprinkle over the payasam. Serve hot.

I hope you’ll enjoy this delicious, nourishing sweet this Deepavali and for many years to come!

The re:store kitchen has been abuzz with orders this festive season and amidst all the delight of preparing your favourites for you, I’ve been taking some time to make some goodies for my family too. Among these is namakpara, a snack that is a type of Indian biscuit. The sweet version is called shakarpara (“shakar” means “jaggery” and “namak” means “salt”). I thought I would share the savoury version with you as it deliciously counterbalances the taste of the many desserts that you’ll no doubt also be enjoying during this indulgent month!

My absolute fondest memories from childhood have to do with the big festival of Diwali. All of us kids looked forward to it, not only for the special treats and new clothes but also because there was such a cheerful atmosphere around us. For me, the essential memory is all about fragrance: of waking up in the days preceding Diwali and on the day itself to the tantalising smell of the yummy savouries and sweets being fried at home.

Our mother would be busy making them early in the mornings, and the culinary preparations would happen over the course of several sessions. As I have mentioned in earlier festive posts, she and a few friends of hers would get together and cook communally. They would help each other out, making enough for everyone’s families and sharing recipes and techniques. There was a great sense of camaraderie in our homes, as well as mouth-watering anticipation among us kids. Of course, our mother would keep everything she fried in tins up on a high shelf out of our reach!

Each day, we looked forward to her giving us our share of those goodies. It would be a small portion every day. We relished the whole experience so much.

These days there’s such abundance and such accessibility – just make a call, open an app, pay online, have it home-delivered. That didn’t happen back in those days. Everyone had to make their treats on their own. Even gifting consisted of homemade goodies. We would send something made in our kitchen, and they would send something made in theirs. It was all unlike festive celebrations of today, when we can take things for granted.

There was a simplicity to our lives, and I miss it. I don’t know if it’s possible today, but I want my children to experience it too. So I do the next best thing: I continue to make the sweets and savouries I learned to make from my mom. And we observe a rule at home that no matter where they are in the world or how busy they are in their own lives, all of my kids must come home for certain occasions. Diwali, naturally, is one of them. I really believe that we must take a pause sometimes and understand the importance of family, and make time for friends who are like family. This is a great time to do that.

I hope this namakpara will be relished at your gatherings this Diwali too. If you’re looking for more recipes that are perfect for the festive season, I hope you’ll explore my blog archives. There are six years’ worth of wonderful sweets and savouries here, as well as a host of other dishes – from nutritious to decadent. Here’s to many more to come! Thank you for being with me on this journey.

Namakpara

 

1 cup maida

2 tablespoon ghee

1 teaspoon rawa

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon ginger green chili paste

1 teaspoon kasuri methi powder (or fresh fenugreek leaves)

Water as required

Oil for deep frying

 

In a bowl, add the maida, ghee, rawa, kasuri methi powder (or fresh fenugreek leaves, if you have access to them), turmeric and ginger chili paste, along with salt to taste. Mix with your fingertips.

Add water as required, using a tablespoon so that it’s not over saturated. It needs to be sufficient to make a tight dough.

Mix well. Grease your palms and knead the dough until it is smooth.

Now, roll out the dough. Using a knife, cut it into diamond shapes or any shape you desire. The number of pieces in the yield quantity will depend on the size you choose (I have made mine small, as they look pretty). Meanwhile, heat the oil.

Deep fry the cut namakpara on a slow flame, occasionally turning up the heat for a few seconds or so. Fry until golden brown. Drain onto a paper. Once cooled, store in an airtight tin.

You may have noticed the unusual green tinge of this snack in the photographs. That shade comes from the use of fenugreek (methi). I like to add fresh leaves. They are supposed to be in season now, but the rain has made the supply irregular where I live. So what I do is dry the leaves when I can get them, then powder and use them. You can also purchase this powder, known as kasuri methi.

It will also add a slight hint of bitterness to the flavour of the namakpara, which I personally like as it balances the intense sweetness of festive desserts that may be consumed at the same time. I also sprinkle my fenugreek powder into dough, batter, salads and more, so that I can incorporate its benefits into more meals. I’m a fan, but you can skip it altogether if you prefer.

Isn’t it funny how fenugreek is in season right now – during a time of indulgent feasting? Balance is clearly one of the laws of nature. It’s a good law to observe when it comes to food too.

Enjoy this with anything else sweet, savoury or festive – or just make it as a teatime snack at another time of year, to add some pep to an ordinary day.

Tell me: what are you preparing for the festive season this year? As always, I love hearing from you!

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!

This Diwali, in so many homes across India (and in Indian homes across the world), sweets are going to be the star of the celebrations. Among several I am preparing is the sweet boondi, which I only learned how to make recently. Much to my surprise, it was an almost effortless process. Originating from Rajasthani cuisine and also popular in Bengal, boondi is essentially fried balls of chickpea batter, submerged in sugar syrup. It is certainly an indulgence, but that’s what festive seasons are for, aren’t they?

My sister has become my culinary teacher of late, and I was staying with her for a few weeks while having my sciatica treated. You may have noticed that I had been lying low on Instagram for awhile, and that was the reason why. I believe that illnesses have a mind-body connect, and my body forced me to destress through this one. The best advice that anyone gave me was that I needed to enjoy my downtime. I spent my recuperation reading, catching up with films, taking it easy, doing mild exercises which were a far cry from my frantic and intensive gym regimen, and just breathing. We have to remind ourselves to slow down and savour the moment. For those of you watching your diet over the holidays, you know exactly how it feels to let yourself enjoy just one sweet. That’s the kind of slowing down and savouring that I am talking about.

Staying with my sister gave me a chance to watch her working in her kitchen daily, and to pick up so many techniques and recipes from her. Among them was this sweet boondi. Like many people, I had consumed it innumerable times without ever attempting to make it myself.

Boondi is made in different sizes. The tiny one is called “motichoor”, for “moti”, meaning pearl. This recipe can be considered medium-sized. I recall enjoying the large, laddoo version of this sweet as a child (“motichoor laddoo”, in which many small balls are rolled together to make one big one). Another way to make this sweet is to flatten out the batter on a dish and cut it into squares, which are then fried and dipped in sugar syrup just like all the variants.

These days, with the proliferation of sweet stores, I find that many people reach out to purchase a whole range of treats without any idea of how easy they are to make. The soft sandesh that I recently shared on this blog was a perfect example of this. Some of my friends told me after reading the post that they had no idea that an item they had always considered fancy and difficult to make was in fact extremely straightforward and required so few ingredients. We often have the impression that just because something is available for purchase in stores and at restaurants, it cannot be prepared at home. This sweet boondi is similar. Let me assure you that as long as you master the consistency of the batter and the syrup syrup, you’ll be able to whip it up in your own kitchen in no time. The process is quick and easy, not as long-drawn and elaborate as you may have imagined.

Unlike perishable milk sweets, this dish will keep for a few more days – but I guarantee you that you won’t have proof of that. It’s far too irresistible. Place it on the table and just watch it disappear!

 

Sweet Boondi

(Yield: approximately 3 cups)

1 cup chickpea flour

¾ cup water

1 cup sugar + ½ cup water

¼ teaspoon saffron + 1 teaspoon water

½ cup sliced almonds

 

The trick is to get the consistency of the batter just right, so that it drips into the oil properly as it fries. After this, the next trick is to have perfectly-made sugar syrup is key. I was so tempted to flavour mine with rosewater, given that rose is an ingredient I reach for so frequently that it’s one of re:store’s signature twists. But I refrained, choosing to go for a traditional spice instead. The saffron in this sweet adds a subtle fragrance and flavour to it.

In a bowl, mix the chickpea flour with water. It needs to be almost like an idly batter or pancake batter consistency. Only if you have the consistency right will the boondi drop into beautiful dots.

In another bowl, add the sugar and ½ cup water. In a medium flame, stir the sugar and water slightly for about 10 minutes until it becomes thicker, but not too thick. Allow to cool slightly and add the soaked saffron so the sugar expands in an orange colour.

Heat ghee in a frying pan on a medium flame. Once the ghee is hot, drop the batter through a sieve so that it falls in tiny droplets into the hot ghee. See the video below for the method.

Fry the droplets for a few minutes, making sure it doesn’t turn colour. Now, strain the drops from the hot ghee and add them into the warm sugar syrup. Fry all of the batter this way. As you drop the boondi into the syrup, it will soak up the syrup.

Garnish with sliced almonds or pistachio, or to give it a festive look, decorate with silver leaf/varak. Your sweet boondi is now ready to serve.

If you prefer this boondi in laddoo form, then the sugar syrup needs to be thicker so that you can pick up the boondi and roll it into balls between your palms.

When it comes to snacks, my most favourite combinations are both sweet and savoury. I love having this sweet boondi with the crunchy, spicy poha roast mix. Over Diwali, I feel like I consume endless bowls of the two together, with their medley of textures and tastes.

You may have noticed that the majority of recipes I share are for dishes I have some emotional connect with, especially from my childhood. This sweet boondi is one with which I have no such nostalgic attachment, but for me festivals and food are not just about the past. Each dish, each festivity, is a chance for new experiences. We create new memories this way, which may eventually become sentimental in their own way. As we celebrate this Diwali, I wish for you that the year to come contains all the sweetness of this dish. I hope it will be a part of the precious bonds that you are building over your dining table, too.

When I was growing up, middle class culture in India was all about eating what was cooked at home. Fresh food was prepared for every meal, every day. When there were leftovers, they were always put to good use. Eating out was a rare occasion, and we didn’t have the luxury of junk food. Even snacks were made at home, and this poha roast mix – what we Gujaratis call chevdo – was one of them.

This is a snack to be consumed by the handful, with a fun mix of nuts and seasoning. The basic ingredient is poha, or flattened rice, which most Indian communities use in some way or another. My own earliest memories of it are in the form of the dudh-poha which my mother would make to take with us to the beach on Sharad Purnima nights, as well as this poha roast mix – the recipe for which I am sharing today.

In those days, this simple but addictive snack was one of my mother’s Diwali staples. I remember how she would usually make it a few days before the festival, in the evenings, after all the duties with us kids were done and we had finished our homework. But sometimes, when we were at school, she would meet with her friends and they would make everyone’s festive batches together. Nowadays, this might be called a community cooking type of get-together. To the mothers of that generation, who did not have home staff, it was so much more easy and convenient to join hands and cook. It was also a way to socialize. Occasionally, if the joint cooking happened on a weekend or at a time when the kids were at home, we would also get a chance to hang out with our own friends, and this was always fun.

The mothers learned from each other in this way. They would just be a group of 3 or 4 women, but each with her own expertise. I recall how my mother would say, for example, “This aunty’s mithai turns out very well, so this year I want to make some with her.” The homes they convened in depended on practical considerations like space or utensils. Who had the big kadai? Whose house was less crowded that day? These gatherings happened mostly around festive occasions, and I think of them as an early version of our blogs today. This is one reason why I treasure my mum’s cookbook so much. It contains all these different recipes that she learned from her friends, collected over the years through interacting with each person who shared the best from her personal repertoire.

As Gujaratis in Tamil Nadu, I think they also wanted a sense of community. Although we never felt alienated by Tamils or their culture, and grew up in our Tamil neighbours’ homes too, there was something meaningful about these gatherings. Meeting a few times a year to celebrate auspicious events in our traditional ways allowed us children to connect with language, cuisine and other aspects of the culture which were reminiscent of our parents’ and grandparents’ own upbringings.

Diwali is all about exchanging sweets and savouries, and back then there were no fancy delicacies to be ordered in bulk, either. Everything was homemade and non-commercial. Everything was simple and there was a spirit of sharing – “I give you a Diwali treat in my box, and you give me a Diwali treat in your box.”. When this group of women got together and cooked, they made enough for each family to take home, as well as to give away.

Some traditions you just have to keep. Which is why, even though Gujaratis are inventive when it comes to mixtures (and you know how much I love doing something unique to any recipe I try!), this chevdo / poha roast mix is a basic, traditional recipe. The one difference is that it is roasted, not fried. You can replace some of the ingredients based on your preference, but I recommend that you leave a hint of the sweetness in as it goes well with the crunch.

Diwali Chevdo / Poha Roast Mix

(Yield: approximately 400 grams)

150 grams poha

60 grams peanuts

60 grams roasted gram

50 grams almonds

50 grams raisins

50 grams cashew

¼ teaspoon turmeric

1 tablespoon heaped powdered sugar

⅓ cup oil + ½ tablespoon oil

1 tsp salt or as per taste

2 green chillies

A handful of curry leaves

 

The truth is that fried poha tastes fantastic, but I am giving you a roasted poha version in order to keep up with the times. With the pollution in the environment today, we must make an effort to eat healthier. This method below is completely different from the fried kind, but if you do want to try a fried variant, do try to get your hands on a special utensil which will make the process easier and less messy – a cup-shaped ladle with draining holes, into which you put small batches of the ingredients in at a time.

In a wide bottom pan, roast the poha on a low flame, making sure it does not turn brown. Avoid using a spatula to stir as this will only cause the brittle poha to break into tiny pieces. I picked up the pan and swirled it around gently, and used my hands to turn the poha around. Keep the poha moving frequently. The roasting takes approximately 15-20 minutes. Once the poha is roasted, set it aside.

In another pan, add the ⅓ cup of oil and allow it to heat. Now, add the roasted gram. On a medium flame, stir using a ladle. Once the roasted gram is golden, drain well and place on an absorbent paper.

Next, add the peanuts and repeat the roasting. Do the same to the cashew nuts and almonds, separately, as well.

Lastly, roast the golden raisins. Be careful as they will burn easily. At this point, lower the flame and once they fluff up, drain and remove them.

Now all the ingredients are ready to be assembled. On a low flame, add the ½ tablespoon of oil to a pan. Add the green chillies and some curry leaves. Once the chillies turn colour slightly, add salt, sugar and turmeric. Immediately after, add all the roasted ingredients – poha, peanuts, cashew nuts and raisins – turn by turn and mix gently. Make sure all the spices are incorporated well and coat all the ingredients. Ensure that the spices do not get burnt. This can be done by keeping a low flame and stirring the ingredients constantly as you add them.

Allow to cool on the pan. Do not cover as this may cause moisture to fall into the crispy chevdo.

Your Gujarati Diwali chevdo / poha roast mix is now ready, and it tastes especially yummy with chai. It’s my husband’s and daughter’s most favourite snack, which is why I’ve got a headstart on making it for this Diwali. I hope you’ll enjoy it, and make it a part of your festivities too. I’d love to know what you think of this delicious mixture, the recipe for which could be as much my mother’s, or her friend’s, but is now mine and yours!

 

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.

 

I want to begin with a word of thanks to all my readers around the world. Many of you have stayed with this blog for a whole year! I hope you’ve loved peeking into my kitchen, and I’m so glad to have you here as re:store grows. As the festive season is in full swing here in India, I thought this would be the perfect time to share my mother’s recipe for sweet ghugras, which was promised many posts ago when I gave you my mother-in-law’s recipe for pea-pomegranate kachoris.

Whether you know them as samosas, kachoris or ghugras, these fried stuffed pastries are a timeless favourite. It’s the fillings that make the difference, and the one I’m sharing today fills my heart with so many beautiful memories of childhood. It was one of the food items that my mother reserved exclusively for Diwali. In the same way that most people make modaks only on Ganesha Chathurti, she made these sweet, nutty ghugras only on Diwali.

Let me paint you a picture of just what these ghugras evoke in me. It’s amazing to recall now just how consistent the scene was: coming home from school year after year the day or so before Diwali to my mother standing in the kitchen, preparing the sweets. The anticipation, and the enjoyment. How does it feel like it was the exact same sight every year, even though both she and I grew older? The scents of that kitchen, the sheer delight of it all!

In those days, all the sweets and savouries were made at home. Each family would make 3 or 4 variants, depending on their status. The preparations began a couple of days before Diwali, and the treats would last for a week – and therefore, in a sense, the celebrations too. It was customary to visit one another’s homes, where we would eat versions of the same sweets. Back home, those who cooked in the families – usually our moms and aunts – would trade notes. Did that person’s cardamom twist suit the sweet? Was her own ghee-rich version of a treat the tastier one?

I grew up in a middle-class home where everything was rationed. Two sweets per child, and the rest for guests – but first, if you remember from my jaggery-whole wheat prasad recipe, to God. Those two sweets each were so relished, and to this day I believe that fulfilment and gluttony are two different things when it comes to dining.

The day after Diwali is the Gujarati New Year, and these two festivities are indelibly linked in my mind. Growing up in Chennai, the latter was not a public holiday, so school remained open. I remember the mix of restlessness and excitement I’d feel through classes all day, waiting for 3pm when our parents would come to pick us up. For that one day of the year, we did not have to take the school bus home – and just having our parents come to collect us to take us for our New Year prayers was such a thrill!

There is a beautiful old haveli, a traditional mansion, in Chennai’s Kilpauk neighbourhood that I still go to every year, and this was where we would drive to – still in our school uniforms, so happy to be celebrating this special day with our extended family and community. Dedicated to Lord Srinathji, the haveli observes an annakut darshan – an unlimited offering – made to the deity on New Year. In the spirit of abundance, it is forbidden to count the number of food items given as prashad. In order to achieve this, the cooking tasks are divided amongst several people. Each person makes a different kind of sweet or savoury, and the total collection is presented to the deity at once. It was always such a wonderful experience, a time when so many families came together and enjoyed ourselves – praying, playing and eating together, keeping our traditions alive through simply being joyous.

Diwali is in fact only one day in a string of special occasions. For us Gujaratis, the season began with Dhanteras (in which goddess Lakshmi is worshipped for prosperity), followed by Kali Chaudas (where a fried vada, a lentil doughnut, is thrown over one’s shoulder at a crossroads; my modern version of this custom is to serve thayir vada, curd-soaked vada, at home on this day), then Diwali (the festival of lights, which invariably falls on a new moon – on this day I make a broken wheat and jaggery dish for good luck). Diwali is followed by the Gujarati New Year (on which I make specialties like kesari or lapsi), and subsequently by Bhaibeej (the day when brothers visit their sisters’ homes to feast, the reverse of which happens on a day in August known as Raksha Bandhan). As you can see, feasting is an integral part of our festivals!

And to your own feasts, this year and for all time, I hope you’ll add this heirloom recipe of mine…

Sweet Ghugras

(Yield – 15-20 pieces)

Ingredients:

Filling

½ cup white raw almonds (with skin)

½ cup shelled pistachio

½ cup powdered sugar

2 tablespoons ghee

1 – 2 pinches of saffron

½ teaspoon cardamom powder

 

Pastry

See here.

 

If you tried your hand at my sweet-savoury pea-pomegranate kachori recipe, you’ve already had practice at making the pastry for these ghugras too. The ingredients and technique can be found by clicking through to that post.

Here, let me share the recipe only for the filling of the sweet ghugras. It is the filling that makes each samosa, ghugra or kachori different.

Roast the nuts until they turn into a light golden colour (you may replace the pistachio with cashew nuts if you wish). Allow to cool. Once cool, blend them to a coarse powder.

Now, add the powdered sugar and ghee. The ghee binds all the flavours together. Next, add the cardamom and saffron. Using your hands, gently blend the ingredients together.

The filling is as simple as that. Most Gujarati households will have a similar recipe for sweet ghugras. Many will use mava (known in Tamil as palkova), which is a sugary milk reduction. The mava version was my brother’s  favourite, and my mother made it for him for over five decades of Diwali celebrations – even the one in the hospital. But if you don’t like extreme sweetness in your desserts, you will prefer this nutty variation I’ve shared.

If you made the pea-pomegranate kachori recipe given earlier, making, rolling out and delicately folding the dough into a pretty shape should be very easy for you.

If this is your first attempt, do watch the video below to see how to stuff and fold the pastry casings. You will be able to make between 15-20 ghugras using this recipe, depending on the size. I like mine small and dainty, so that you’re both satisfied in a bite and have a slight craving for one more.

Once the pastries have been filled with the sweet, nutty stuffing, they must be fried.

I prefer the traditional method of deep-frying them in ghee over a low flame, but you can use oil if you wish. After a couple of minutes, increase the flame for about 15 seconds then lower it again for a minute. Continue alternating high and low flames. The ghugras will take 12-14 minutes to turn to a light golden colour. And then they are ready to serve.

These sweet ghugras have travelled a long way with me, from childhood. Isn’t it funny how we take our mothers’ food for granted? I’m so glad I made the effort to absorb her culinary wisdom. Now, during special occasions, my kitchen smells just like hers did when I was growing up – and I am filled with all the love she raised us with.

Heartfelt festive wishes from re:store to you and your family!