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Recipe: The Spice-It-Up Soup – Vegan Whole Corn & Lemongrass Soup

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Indians don’t have soups per se in our traditional cuisines, as far as I know. Instead, we have broths such as the thin South Indian rasam and the thick, sweet Gujarati raab. The rasam subsequently became known as mulligatawny soup in the West, but here it is eaten as a side dish, not an appetizer. In fact, that reminds me of how our staple dals are repackaged abroad and even in high-end restaurants here as “lentil soup”! In India, we have no such category as “soup”, but it goes to show how it’s all a matter of perspective. The soup, by any name, is really a universal dish, made with different, seasonal ingredients in cultures around the world.

For many of my generation, we were introduced to soups at clubs and restaurants. My own first memory of any soup was not Western at all, but Chinese (or rather, Indo-Chinese). While growing up, my friends and I would head to a restaurant called Nanking whenever we had something to celebrate. All of our birthdays would find us there, straight from classes in our school uniforms and pigtails, delighted to be spending our pocket money on a shared meal. The meal would invariably begin with an order of the delicious sweet corn soup for everyone at the table

The Nanking sweet corn soup was thickened with cornflour, loaded with MSG and had no more than a couple of kernels of corn floating in the white liquid but regardless it was always a special treat. It tasted fantastic to us, and till today reminds me of some of our fondest times growing up. When I think of it, I’m reminded of how much my kids say they miss their school canteen’s food! Perhaps the meals we share with our friends as we grow up simply create such vivid impressions on us that we associate them with the dishes themselves. What I would give to go back to Nanking, which has since closed down, and enjoy those memories all over again!

Nostalgia for Nanking drove me to the kitchen, to whip up my own version of sweet corn soup, or rather, a vegan whole corn and lemongrass soup. This recipe avoids the cornflour and the MSG and has some of those re:store twists in the form of aromatic lemongrass and spicy green chilli.

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I enjoy the flavour of lemongrass and I think it livens up this soup very much. If you prefer not to use it, some good substitutes are coriander or a hint of mint. Corn has a strong flavour in itself, and my version of the soup is generous with it, so it needs to be balanced well. If you’re a fan of corn , you may also enjoy this makkai khichdi recipe that I shared recently. I use green chilli here for its spiciness, but you can try it with jalapeños too (they are also fast becoming a favourite of mine, and may find themselves in future recipes I’ll share).

Another way in which I’ve tried to recreate this nostalgic dish is with coconut milk. This not only gives it that distinctively South Indian essence, but also evokes many South East Asian delicacies. All in all, this corn and lemongrass soup is a satisfying, filling meal-in-a-bowl that reminds me of my teenage years and of some of my travels, thanks to the blend of flavours.

Speaking of traveling, I just returned from beautiful Colombia, where I heard about the 9-day fast observed by Catholics known as the ‘novena’. It reminded me so much of the 9-day Navaratri followed by Hindus and the 9-day Paryushan followed by the Jains, and got me thinking once again about how we are all so deeply connected. I wish we understood this instead of thinking along the lines of “This is mine, this is yours, my land, my country”, and other such divisions. The oneness and wholeness of humanity is a concept that cannot be lost; whether it be our festivals, our food or our sense of family, ultimately we are all the same and the more I travel, the more this concept is solidified.

Another thought that’s been on my mind a great deal is the famous Native American proverb that goes as follows: “When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will we realize that one cannot eat money.” It resonates so much right now. We should all be more aware of what we are doing and thinking. We should look not only at what we are creating, but also at what we are destroying in the process. These are some reflections that I’ve been having as we enter 2020. But first – how about a bowl of warm, crunchy, savoury soup?

 

Vegan Whole Corn & Lemongrass Soup

(Yield: 6-8 cups)

2 cobs of corn

½ teaspoon grated ginger

2-3 lemongrass stems

2 tablespoons olive oil/ butter

2 cups vegetable stock

2 tablespoons spring onion

1 green chilli/jalapeño

1 cup coconut milk

Salt to taste

 

Garnish:

2 tablespoons peanuts

Finely chopped spring onion

Finely chopped coriander leaves

Red chili flakes

1 teaspoon olive oil

 

Grate the corn from the cobs and keep aside.

In a blender, process the lemongrass, ginger and green chilli using 2 tablespoons of water, until coarse.

In a separate pan, add the olive oil and sauté the onions for a few minutes until they are tender. Now, add the grated corn along with its juices. I like to bite into pieces of corn, so in addition to the grated kernels I kept aside a ½ cup of whole kernels, which I add at this point as well. You may do so if you enjoy the texture of corn like I do. Once the mixture turns soft and tender, add the warm vegetable stock and then add the strained juices from the blender.

Gently simmer until the flavours all become one. Add salt to taste. Finally, add the coconut milk. Once heated, remove the pan from the flame.

For the garnish, warm the olive oil gently and stir the remaining ingredients in it.

Spoon the soup into bowls and add the garnish, topping with a spoonful just before serving.

What I do quite frequently nowadays is to make a large quantity of the soup during the day, and whoever wants some just warms up a portion for themselves at any time, just as I do when I find myself hungry for dinner by 6pm or 7pm. I’ve found that it keeps well for up to a couple of days.

In these photos, you may notice the beautiful bowls I’ve used to serve my soup in. I’m always looking for props for my photo and utensils for my kitchen, and when I discovered that blackened earthenware is made in Colombia, I just had to pick some up. I wish I could have carried an entire dinner set back with me from across the continents, but perhaps having to bring these treasures item by item will just mean more visits to that amazing place…

You may also be wondering whether starting the year off on a soup, when so many of us would have set health-related resolutions, was intentional. Actually, it was not. I feel we should eat mindfully all year round, and that we should see nutritious dishes as being a natural part of our diets, not an obligation. This beautiful vegan whole corn and lemongrass soup is exactly the kind of dish that fits into such a repertoire. It’s loaded with healthy ingredients, from corn to nuts and more, and tastes so very delicious. I’d love to know what you think of it if you give this recipe a try!

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Recipe: Festively Flavourful – Pistachio & Rose Nan Khatai

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When we were growing up, our mother once decided to take a Western baking class to expand her repertoire in the kitchen. As children, we adored the pastries, cakes and short eats our mother learned to bake there. In those days, embarking on such a class was considered quite unusual and therefore very progressive in Chennai, and in other parts of India. In the hill stations, there would always be families who had learned recipes from the British chefs, so they knew how to bake. In the cities, Western food was available only at clubs, and made by chefs who themselves would have studied under foreigners. For an average homemaker to go out and educate herself in Western cooking was a rare thing. Now, thinking back on how uncommon it was, I admire her all the more.

Mum was always very curious. She always wanted to know how food had been prepared, and never felt any embarrassment about enquiring on the same. She would just ask nicely, and people were often forthcoming about how a particular dish was made. In this way, she picked up a wide range of recipes, and became a master in the kitchen. I’m sure that this trait is something I’ve inherited from her, and I am always eager to keep learning, just as she did.

Our mother attending this baking course opened up so many snacking and celebration possibilities for us. There, she learned not only Western-style cakes and pastries, but various other types of baked goods as well. Among them was nan khatai, a kind of shortbread biscuit that originated in the Indian subcontinent. Nan khatai has an especially interesting story behind it. It is believed that a Dutch couple ran a bakery in 16th century Surat, a Gujarati seaport which had many traders and expats. This establishment was inherited by a Parsi gentleman when the Dutch left the country, but he found no takers for their cakes and bakes. To his surprise, the locals seemed to enjoy the dried, old bread most of all. The legend is that he decided to simply sell dried bread, which gave rise to this particular recipe. A similar biscuit is eaten in Afghanistan and Iran, where it is known as kulcha-e-khatai.

I remember carrying boxes of nan khatai on the train whenever I visited cousins or relatives, homemade gifts from my mother. I enjoy continuing the tradition of taking homemade dishes as gifts when I visit friends nowadays.

This nan khatai is neither Surat-style, nor what my mother was taught at her baking class, nor her own improvisation (the original uses wheat flour; she added a bit of besan or chickpea to hers). It is, of course, re:store-style – loaded with delicious flavours I love to use in the kitchen. Soft and crisp at the same time, this pistachio and rose nan khatai a real treat. Its fusion of cultures and influences makes me feel it’s ideal for an Indian Christmas. As an eggless baked treat, it’s also perfect for vegetarians.

 

Pistachio & Rose Nan Khatai

(Yield: 25 pieces)

100 grams powdered sugar

80 grams ghee (clarified butter) at room temperature

100 grams maida

25 grams pistachio meal

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 tablespoons semolina

60 grams chickpea flour (besan)

½ teaspoon cardamom powder

A few strands of saffron, soaked in 1 teaspoon rose water

2 teaspoons yoghurt

½ teaspoon pistachio extract

Rose water (if required)

 

Pre-heat the oven to 160°C.

Add all the dry ingredients together, sift and set aside.

With a hand blender, beat the ghee and sugar together until the mixture is light and fluffy. Now add the yoghurt, pistachio extract and saffron. Mix gently.

Next, add the dry ingredients to the mixture. Use your hands to bring it all together. It will be a soft dough. If required, add 1 teaspoon of rose water to bind it better.

In a baking tray, lay out small rolls of the dough and top each with a slice of pistachio. Make sure there is space between the rolls to give them room to bloom. Bake for approximately 15 minutes, depending on the oven type.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

Your re:store-style nan khatai is ready to serve, just in time for the year-end festivities! This Western-but-Asian biscuit is delightful with tea. Isn’t it amazing how much history and how many cultures one little biscuit can contain? Aromatic thanks to the rose water and extra crunchy thanks to the pistachio, I am sure you’ll find it as addictive as I do. Here’s wishing you and your family a wonderful Christmas. I hope a batch of pistachio and rose nan khatai will be baking in your oven soon – let me know what you think of it!

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Recipe: Plucked From The Tree Of Childhood Memories – Plum Chutney

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When I began to imagine this post, it was with the idea that there was not much of a memory storyline behind the recipe I am sharing today. All that had come to mind when a friend gifted me a basket of plums, and I wondered what I could make with them, was that I would pluck the tiny, country variety from trees in Ooty during our summertime holidays when I was growing up… And then, before I knew it, an abundance of recollections came flooding back – of reaching with my own hands for something to eat, raw and delicious and freshly-plucked. Before I get carried away with those reminiscences, let me just say that the recent occasion of Thanksgiving, which is important to my American friends and family, as well as the upcoming Christmas season also gave me inspiration. The plum relish that is traditionally enjoyed during those festivities has been Indianised in my home as plum chutney, and that’s the recipe that this trip down memory lane will culminate in.

The gift basket I received contained what I call “the millennial plum”, a delicious hybrid cultivar which is large and has a deep maroon colour. It usually tastes sweet. The country plums of my childhood, by contrast, were sour and tangy. They came in an orangeish shade and were relatively tiny. Still, as little children, my siblings, cousins, friends and I absolutely delighted in them. There was just a certain immense joy in picking fruits right off a branch and eating them unwashed. There was a rawness to the experience that brought us closer to Nature. Even the sourest fruit was enjoyed in this way.

Fruit-picking was always a thrilling activity for us, both with and without permission. When we had the chance to go abroad for holidays with our aunt, she would give us baskets of our own and take us to strawberry farms, where we would spend the day indulging this hobby of ours to the fullest. We would cherish and guard those baskets full of fresh, ripe fruit. Every last berry was special, plucked with our own hands, and tasted all the more delicious for this reason.

Back home, far from the hills of Tamil Nadu or the strawberry farms of Europe, we still pursued our fruit-gathering in earnest. We would run loose in our neighbourhood and steal mangoes from the trees, as I think I’ve mentioned a number of times on this blog before. It was certainly one of our favourite past-times, even if scoldings were a natural consequence!

The fruit-bearing local naatu cherry tree and the nellika or gooseberry tree were two that I grew up under, and to this day the sight of either of these can make me feel a bit emotional. The gooseberry tree in our garden was laden with kambilipoochis (hairy caterpillars), which would invariably leave a hair or two on me when I reached up to grab those fruits, and I would have to go crying to my mother to get her to remove those caterpillar hairs! Those naatu (country) cherries weren’t the beautiful, glossy-looking ones that top my cakes today, but a small, orange-coloured variety with a tiny, grain-like seed inside. There was also a black-coloured berry, sour and with a high Vitamin C content, with a name that slips my mind. These local, edible fruits were so plentiful in Chennai in those days, available to anyone who knew how to climb a tree.

I’ve spoken before of how much I long to revive different varieties of plants and flowers in our little farmland. I really believe that some of our green wealth is disappearing, and it hurts to find proof of it, as I did when I went looking for wood-apple recently. I dream of planting the trees of some of the fruits I plucked and ate in childhood. I’ve started the process by asking everyone I know for cuttings. Would you have some – of any kind of fruit, flower or plant that seems to be scarce in and around Chennai these days, but which you remember from before? I only specify Chennai because the cutting needs to be suitable to our climate.

The more time I spent reminiscing, the more I remembered: not only did we love eating freshly plucked (and sometimes stolen) fruit, but we even foraged for plants and flowers! The three leaf clover that grows like a weed was one of these. We’d just pop one into our mouths and enjoy its sour, earthy taste. There were also certain flowers, like the gorgeous orange trumpet flower, which we would suck the nectar out of after removing the stem. Did you do any of these activities growing up, when it seemed like we played in the outdoors so much more than the children of today do?

Let me bring this little trip down memory lane, lined with fruit-bearing trees, full circle by coming back to the gift of plums. In India, you can make a chutney with pretty much anything, and I was curious to try out this fruity one. My husband is a big fan of chutneys, and will even have some on the side with a pasta, so I know for a fact that this plum chutney is very versatile. You can also roll it up in a chapatti for a tiffin box, or spread it on toast. It has a sweet, spicy flavour that lends itself as an accompaniment to many dishes.

 

Plum Chutney

(Yield: 350 grams)

500 grams plums

150 grams sugar

1 small onion

⅛ teaspoon ginger powder

1 star anise

Salt to taste

2 teaspoons dry chili flakes

2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

Lemon zest

 

Plums are a succulent fruit with a vast number of health benefits, from improving cardiovascular health to reducing the risk of osteoporosis to promoting skin health. They are packed with Vitamin C and Vitamin A, as well as antioxidants and minerals. They have been grown since ancient times, and the hybrid types we get today thrive in various places in India – which means we are fortunate that the market is abundantly flooded with them too.

This plum chutney is very simple to prepare, but requires one step of overnight prep. Chop the plums and discard the seeds. Add sugar to the fruit pieces, and cover with a lid. Allow to soak and refrigerate overnight, as this will reduce the cooking time.

The following day, add all the remaining ingredients to the sugar-soaked fruit. Boil on a medium flame. I lightly blended the mixture with a hand blender to break down and bring the flavours together.

Allow to simmer until the chutney thickens. Then, allow to cool.

With a clean spoon, transfer the plum chutney into a clean jar and refrigerate. As long as dry spoons are used and the container is refrigerated, a batch can be kept for up to a couple of weeks.

You may serve it with cheese as they do in the West, or with chapatti as I do at home, but either way, I hope a jar of it finds a place at your table this Christmas – and I hope you’ll simply relish it!

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Recipe: A Craving From My Childhood – Wood-Apple Chutney

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There are two things from the past that I have recently had a hankering for: wood rose trees and wood-apple fruits. For over a year, I’ve been asking people if they know where I can find a cutting of the wood rose tree, which I remember from gazebos at a club in my childhood. I loved to break its pods open and see the black seeds. Many cannot even recall such a plant, and it is sad to know how something that had once been familiar has almost faded from public memory. The wood-apple fruit, however, is one that everyone knows. Or rather, they remember its existence. Even if they may not be able to remember when they last tasted it. This fruit has slowly been disappearing from our palates, as I realised over recent months when this craving hit me and it became almost impossible to source.

Thanks to my good fortune, I found a vendor near the Mylapore market who had some wood-apples in stock. I asked him why I hadn’t been able to find it of late, and he told me that demand for the fruit has gotten so low that farmers no longer have an incentive to grow it. It is just not financially viable for them to do so. The wood-apple season that I remembered from my childhood is right around this time, in conjunction with the festive period and the colder months, and it seems that somewhere in the state, perhaps in a scarce way, there is a small harvest after all.

As I said, I have been craving this wood-apple chutney for months, and it means a lot for me to be able to share the recipe with you, since it took so long to source the chief ingredient! I consider this a “revival recipe”, one which I hope will inspire you to bring this fruit back into grocery shopping. This is the only thing that will allow farmers to cultivate it again as they did before.

Known as “kotha” in Gujarati and “vizhampazham” in Tamil, wood-apple is known to be a tonic for the heart and the liver, and is good for treating intestinal, throat and gum ailments. Many parts of the tree, including the pulp, also have anti-venom properties. It is a pungent fruit, which like jackfruit is something people either love or hate. Needless to say, I love it. My mother often made this wood-apple chutney for us when we were growing up, when the fruit was abundantly available.

This incredibly simple vegan chutney contains just a handful of basic ingredients: wood-apple, jaggery and chilli powder. Some sweetness, some spice and the fruit pulp combined together create an addictive dip that can be eaten in many ways. I am told by a Sri Lankan friend that they often eat their version, which doesn’t contain spice, as a jam on toast. There are of course innumerable recipes in different homes, communities and regions.

What I am sharing today is my mother’s recipe for wood-apple chutney, which I recall eating along with leftover rotis as an after-school snack. I used to think of it as being a part of the larger category of homemade condiments that she would make and bottle at home. Many Indians used to do this – do you remember those pickles that would last a whole year? We would reach out for these pickles, chutneys and more whenever we were in a pinch and just needed something to eat between meals. This wood-apple chutney always satisfied the craving. It’s no wonder that “craving” is really the only way to describe how I kept searching for it for months, and how satisfied I am to have found it.

 

Wood-Apple Chutney

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 wood-apple

3 tablespoons jaggery

1 teaspoon chilli powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon/small ball of tamarind paste

Salt to taste

 

A ripe wood-apple gives out a faint fragrance and tastes a bit pungent on the tongue. It has a soft flesh of an orange-ish colour. You will know that a wood-apple is ripe when the fruit smells. Until then, there is no fragrance.

Scoop the flesh from the wood-apple and keep aside.

Instead of a blender, I used a mortar-and-pestle like my mum used to, which is the traditional way to grind chutneys. I reach out for it for certain recipes, even though we use the blender today for convenience’s sake. Blend the the wood-apple flesh, chilli powder, jaggery, roasted cumin powder, tamarind and salt to taste, either by hand or in a machine. Do so until it becomes of a chutney consistency.

Move to a bowl. You may enjoy it immediately, or refrigerate. It will stay good for 3-4 days, if it lasts that long. When I make bigger batches, I warm a little oil and pour it on top, so that it is preserved for longer.

This simple and tasty wood-apple chutney is a wonderful dish through which to discover (or rediscover) the fruit, which as I’ve shared earlier seems to be disappearing quickly from our markets. What are some of the fruits and vegetables that you recall from your childhoods which we rarely see anymore? Let’s figure out together how to bring them back into circulation. It’s important for us as mindful consumers to consider the origins of the produce we purchase and eat, and to be supportive of those who make it possible for us to do so. Looking forward to your ideas in the comments!

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Recipe: A Tonic For The Changing Season – Raab

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The seasons are changing and the usual respiratory illnesses are going around as we adjust to the weather, worsened of course by pollution and the busy modern lifestyle. A few years ago, I shared this remedy from my childhood, and many of you told me that you found it effective and refreshing. Now, I’ll share a complementary dish, a warm and nourishing porridge that I absolutely loved while growing up. This raab is like chicken broth for the Gujarati soul, and is one of my most favourite comfort foods of all.

Raab was my mother’s go-to fixer for colds, sore throats, coughs and so on. It coats the throat well, alleviating any itchiness there. New mothers are often fed raab, due to its fortifying properties. I think of it as a dish to simply warm the soul, when you’re feeling down and need a hug. It’s a light meal for whenever you’re feeling under the weather.

Raab falls into the category of “accessible medicine”, something which anyone can make, especially when a pharmacy is out of reach. It is comprised of very basic and affordable ingredients that can be found in any Gujarati kitchen: ghee, bajra (pearl millet) or wheat flour, ginger powder (soont) and edible gum resin (gond). Most communities will have some version of such a dish, made of elements which are at hand for all members of society.

Bajra or pearl millet is usually had during the winter months or during the wet, cold seasons. My aunt, an expert in Gujarati cooking, and from whom I learnt a lot during my many summer holidays with her, explained that bajra and ajwain (carom seeds) are used during winters as they warm the body. In the summers, wheat flour is substituted for the millet. The ginger powder also has a warming effect, in addition to adding taste. I’m still trying to find out exactly why dry ginger powder is used rather than freshly grated ginger, and have arrived at my own conclusion. My theory is this: dry ginger is a ‘yang’ ingredient, hence positively affects the deeper organs in the body like our bones. It is also stronger than hydrated fresh ginger.

My aunt would also also say, “Don’t forget to add the gond.” It has numerous health benefits, including aiding the digestion. I saw this lady in Patdi, Gujarat, selling the resin, which she told me she collected herself from the bark of trees in her village. I couldn’t resist buying some from her.

With so many healthy ingredients, you would imagine that children would need a lot of convincing before they ate this porridge, but that’s not true. Whenever my siblings or I fell ill when we were growing up, I would ask for a bowl of raab as I absolutely loved it. The reason for this is that this remedy is… sweet! This is thanks to the jaggery, of course, which has its own host of benefits, as regular readers of this blog will be familiar with. Raab tastes so delicious that you’d never believe it was good for the body, but the proof is in how healed and nourished you feel after you’ve had some.

If I wasn’t unwell, my mother always said No to my request, and this has created a powerful memory link for me. She never treated raab as an anytime dish, as a result of which I too refrain from doing the same. There is also something to the charm of having it when under the weather, and feeling soothed by it in those times, and I feel this would disappear if I began to enjoy it as an ordinary meal. Today of course, my dearest mother is gone and when I make it for myself, I associate it with being soothing both to my throat and to my heart because it was she who would make it for me…

In that sense, raab is sentimental for me in the same way that laapsi, a sweet I only ever make on Diwali, is. No one is going to stop me from making it at some other time of the year, but I consider it sacred in some way, just as I do the raab.

Raab

(Yield: 1 bowl)

⅛ cup bajra (pearl millet) flour

⅛ cup jaggery

1½ tablespoons ghee

2 cups water

1 teaspoon dry ginger powder

½ teaspoon ajwain

In a pan, add the ghee and the flour. Stir them together on a low-medium flame until the mixture looks like a roux. Keep stirring, making sure it does not stick to the bottom of the pan, until it turns a golden colour.

At the same time, in another pot, add the jaggery and the water. Heat until the jaggery melts, stirring occasionally.

Once the roux is golden, add the ginger powder, the ajwain and the powdered gond resin. The gond will make the mixture bubble and fluff up at this point. Finally, add the warm jaggery water. Stir well and carefully, so the mixture does not start to coagulate and get lumpy.

Once it is completely smooth, it is ready to be served. Raab is best enjoyed hot.

As explained above, bajra is especially good for the winters and monsoons, as is ragi. In the summer months, you can replace it with whole wheat flour or any seasonal flour of your choice. If you don’t have much of a sweet tooth, you can also reduce the quantity of jaggery in this dish.

I wish you and your family good health as the season changes, and I am glad to share this simple and satisfying dish that will help with the sniffles and fatigue that are customary at this time. Such recipes have been treasured for generations, and it’s up to us to keep these healing traditions going in the time to come. Here are a few more home remedies: soothing syrup, raisin kalkand syrup and turmeric shot. Each of them boosts the health – and, as I personally find, the mood too! They take me on a trip down memory lane that always reminds me that food is a form of love.

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Recipe: From The Community Kitchen – Diwali Chevdo (Poha Roast Mix)

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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!

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Recipe: A Bite Into Bengali Sweet Culture – Soft Sandesh

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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!

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Recipe: An Indo-Mexican Medley – Peach Salsa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Peach Salsa

(Yield: 1 bowl)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: Dill-Delicacies – Dill Rice

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Nature knows how to keep the balance. For example, during the mango season, when we enjoy and relish the sugary sweetness of the fruit, it’s also simultaneously the season of the jamun or Java plum, which reduces sugar and is good for diabetics. Nature just has this way of finding the perfect complement. Nature often shows us how to cure and heal through following its inherent logic. Even here, there’s an interesting balance. The very same ingredient which is bitter or boring in a remedy may be the one that lights up another dish. It all comes down to the preparation. One of the ingredients which exemplifies this harmony for me is dill.

I’ll be the first to admit that I was never a fan of dill, a hardy plant which belongs to the celery family and is known as “suva” in Gujarati and “sada-kuppi” (or colloquially as “sovai keerai”) in Tamil. In India, it has a largely medicinal usage. High in folate and calcium, it helps women lactate better post-delivery and helps in rebuilding tissues. So it’s very popular in dishes served to expecting women and those who have just given birth, and it was during my own pregnancies that I encountered it myself.

In addition to being beneficial where pregnancy and post-natal care are concerned, it’s also good for digestion, is an anti-flatulent, and is rich in iron, folate, fibre and calcium. A typical and very easy preparation is to soak 1 teaspoon of dill along with 1 teaspoon of methi (or fenugreek) seeds overnight. The following morning, the water is consumed after the preparation has been cooked for some time.

Dill, the herb used here, is different from dill, the pickle. You may be familiar with the latter in the West, where it’s added to gherkins to enhance the taste and is especially popular in Russia and the USA.

My mother found many ways to incorporate dill into my own maternity diet. You could call what she made “dill delicacies”. As I said earlier, it took me a while to acquire a taste for them. However, as a believer in old traditions and customs, I now see these dishes as coming from a place of “grandmothers’ science”, based largely on nature and seasonal availability. I would absolutely continue to pass down this wisdom, and give the next generation such dill-delicacies when they come to be expecting themselves. I am glad to say that along the way, I picked up a new dill-delicacy to add to this menu. Fortunately, it’s a very appetising one: dill rice.

The first time that I had dill rice, it was at my dear friend Sheila Verghis’ home. We were having a pot luck, to which I remember having carried a sticky date pudding. Sitting among childhood friends, sharing our school memories, we devoured Sheila’s delicious homemade dill rice. Considering how much I had disliked all those dill-delicacies which were prepared for me during pregnancy, it was a wonderful surprise to encounter the ingredient in a way that was tasty, yet still healthy and complete with nutritional benefits. This is my own version of the very first dill-based dish I actually enjoyed. I now make it frequently at home, especially when my children are visiting. It’s one of my healthy rice specialities, alongside others like my spinach rice.

While preparing this recipe, I had an odd experience. I had always thought of dill as being easily available, and was surprised to learn that none of my usual markets or grocery stores were carrying it when I went looking. This made me realise that despite how it simply requires direct sunlight and rich soil to grow and is said to be in season all year round, the herb is more sensitive than I’d believed. Did the recent drought contribute to a reduced harvest? I often wonder where our ingredients come from and how to revive and sustain them, and my quest for dill reaffirmed the importance of these questions.

Happily, I found some fresh dill just in time to make this recipe… For someone who used to dislike it as much as I did at one point, I couldn’t have been more pleased to have it on my plate! In the form of this wonderful, fragrant rice, who could resist a second helping?

Dill Rice

(Yield: for 2 people)

½ cup rice

1 tablespoon finely chopped onion

2 garlic pods

2 tablespoon finely chopped dill

1 tablespoon oil

Salt to taste

A squeeze of lemon

There are various ways to make dill rice, and I like this method as it’s so simple and the flavour of the herb really stands out. If you enjoy the taste of dill, you can increase the quantity used in the recipe.

Wash, pick and cook the rice till each grain is separate.

In a kadai, add the oil. Allow it to heat and then add the onions and garlic. Sauté for a few minutes.

Now add the dill, and sauté and stir for a minute. Finally, add the cooked rice together with the salt. Mix well and cover with a lid so that the dill rice retains its softness and flavours. Top it off with a good squeeze of lemon when serving.

Dill rice makes for a great travel partner as it stands on its own in terms of flavour and doesn’t need much accompaniment. What I like most is that it’s versatile, and works well with both Indian and Western menus. When serving a complete meal, it will go equally nicely with a Western-style baked casserole or an Indian-style dry potato roast.

Dill rice is a very simple preparation, and a way to effortlessly make a meal exciting when you neither want to serve plain white rice nor a rich pulao or fried rice. Something about sautéing the herb and having its distinctive flavour mix with the familiar condiments of onion and garlic just comes together in a beautiful dish. I think it’s simply dill-icious! If, like me, eating dill-based home remedies gave you an aversion to the ingredient, I hope this will be the recipe that changes your mind. I’d love to know if it does.

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Recipe: A Bevy Of Benefits – Barley Lime Drink

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With the summer being as harsh as it is, keeping hydrated should be at the top of our list of nutrition priorities. While water goes a long way, imbibing different beverages with beneficial properties both gives us our required quota, and also keeps things creative in the kitchen! In my quest for new recipes, I often find myself turning to older ones, especially ones I took for granted while growing up. This barley lime drink is one such.

I’m a great believer in “grandmother’s remedies”, those old forms of healing that some people just have a great sense for. My mother always just knew what was good for us. She could simply look at an ingredient and know whether it was cooling or heating, or what its healing uses were. Her intuition was similar to the system of Ayurveda, which uses as one of its main principles the idea that some foods are cooling for the body, and some are heating.

During the summer months, we often drank barley lime. I later learned that one reason for this was because we used to run around climbing the neighbours’ trees, getting our knees scraped, plucking and eating the mangoes. Mangoes are famous for having a heating effect on the body, so barley lime was served to counter and balance this, since our mother knew we were having mangoes in excess every summer! You may be interested to know that raw mango, on the contrary, is cooling. Which is why it was the star of this post a couple of summers ago.

The goodness of barley was something I never thought about, except when I remembered how often our mother would feed my sister and I glasses of barley lime, even beyond the summers. The two of us were considered weaklings. Because she was worried that no one would marry us eventually, sometimes it was like our mother’s goal in life was to fatten us up. Interestingly, barley is actually good for weight loss. The intent behind this drink was good health, translated simply into putting on weight for scrawny kids, when in fact what it does is to provide a range of impressive benefits. These include: lowering cholesterol, balancing blood sugar and gut bacteria and helping to heal asthma and anaemia and numerous other common conditions (cue: “weaklings!”). Because I work so often with millets and organic produce, it was no surprise to learn about the bevy of benefits barley gives us. Barley is a cereal, and was one of the first domesticated grains, with a history that can be traced to the Nile region. North and Northwest India are huge producers of it, and it is known as “jau” in Hindi.

The other chief ingredient in this drink is the wonderfully versatile citrus fruit known as the lime. While a barley lemon drink is what you may be familiar with in many parts of the world, here in South India we usually reach for the ubiquitous lime as a substitute for all recipes that call for lemon. So much so that we often call the fruit itself “lemon”! Lime is a vital part of our cuisines, and also important in religious ceremonies. It has a powerful tangy flavour as well as a pleasing aroma, which influence any dish it’s used in. Lime is very good for digestion, thanks to its high acidity, and it complements barley’s beneficial properties such as improved respiratory function and weight management.

Both barley water and lime water are considered easily affordable, nutrient-rich beverages. So imagine what a super-boost combining the two provides. In these months of constant dehydration, a glass of barley lime makes me feel so thankful for my mother’s wisdom in the kitchen, which has kept my energy going to this day.

Barley Lime Drink

(Yield: 4-5 glasses)

 

½ cup barley

2 teaspoons sugar or honey

A pinch of salt

2 tablespoons lime juice

A few sprigs mint leaves

 

Pick and rinse the barley. Place it in a pot and add 6 cups of water. Allow to boil for about 12 minutes. Strain the water and discard the barley.

Allow the barley water to cool, and simply add the remaining ingredients. You may adjust the quantity of the ingredients to suit your taste. If you prefer it to be sweeter, you may add more sugar or increase the quantity of honey.

Keep the barley lime drink in the refrigerator. Serve chilled, garnished with mint leaves, and with extra ice if you prefer.

This anti-weakness, health-boosting beverage from my childhood has now become an elegant refreshment which I serve to my guests during this hot summer. I also frequently make a range of other chilled drinks, such as spiced buttermilk with homemade yoghurt, rose sherbet, and of course, my curry leaf and raw mango cooler. How are you keeping cool? I’d love to know in the comments.

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