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Recipe: Making A Fresh Start – Makkai Khichdi

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I was visiting my sister in Mumbai through the fasting week of Paryushan, the most important time of the Jain calendar. Over the course of 8 days, devout Jains maintain some form of abstinence, depending on their personal capacity. Most abstain from eating leafy green vegetables, as this ties in to a belief that they contain life in a way that grains and certain other ingredients do not. Causing harm to any life is forbidden according to the Jain tenets, and during this time of fasting, non-violence is taken as seriously as possible. Some eat only a single meal per day. Others embark on a very intense form of abstinence, in which they will not eat or drink anything at all for the course of the holy days. Paryushan lasts for eight days, the highlight of which is Mahavir Jayanti (celebrating the birth of Mahavir, the twenty-fourth and final spiritual teacher of the religion), which falls on the fifth day. Those who successfully complete the rigorous fasting of consuming nothing over these eight days will say that they have done atthai.

As my sister’s family is a devout one, I saw firsthand what a challenge it can be, in the kitchen, to ensure that meals fulfill the strict criteria of the various fasts being undertaken. At a time like this, there is a complete lack of focus on food as savouring or giving in to desires or temptations are to be avoided. It is the simplicity of the food cooked that is appreciated. Thanking God for the basic things that life gives us, we don’t exactly celebrate (it is not a “festival”) but rather appreciate our blessings.

Given all this, one still has to be creative as a cook. One often finds, during this period, that ingredients that are normally reached for without a thought have to be excluded. For instance, my sister made green moong dhokla but carefully avoided the coriander leaves. Idli-sambar was a popular dish, reminiscent of our Chennai roots of course, that was surprisingly easy – one just avoided the onions and garlic. The one I enjoyed most of all, however, was makkai khichdi.

A khichdi, of which there are numerous variations, is a dish made of rice and lentils. In this version, however, the base ingredient is makkai – corn. Who doesn’t love corn? I’m a huge fan of anything to do with corn, which in addition to being delicious is also highly nutritious. It’s packed with Vitamin B, fibre, zinc, antioxidants, copper, iron and a bevy of other benefits. Corn-based dishes often lend themselves well to being either a snack or a meal, and this makkai khichdi fulfills both criteria.

 

As Jains consider corn (which is technically a grain) a green vegetable, my sister prepares this khichdi using coarsely dried corn. I enjoyed the dish very much when I visited her, but was eagerly waiting to trying out the fresh variation as soon as I got home. Of course, like always, I wanted to add my own twists. In this case, the twists were lemongrass and the use of coconut milk so as to make it vegan. The flavour of corn makes a great base to other flavours, so I knew that my experimental twists would turn out well. Sure enough, they did!

Simple, light and so delicious, this makkai khichdi is one of my favourites. The best evidence that this is a perfect comfort food is that the Dark Prince’s mother used to make it for him during his exams. When you know a child loves a healthy dish, you know that everyone will.

 

 

Makkai Khichdi

(Yield: 1 bowl)

3 cups grated fresh corn

1 cup milk (coconut milk optional)

1 tablespoon oil

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

1 green chilli

A handful of curry leaves

Approximately ½ cup lemongrass or about 8 stalks (cut long)

Salt to taste

 

If you are starting from scratch, ensure that the corn is grated length-wise. Keep it aside.

In a kadai, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the cumin seeds, curry leaves and green chili. Wait for it to splutter and then add the grated corn. Sauté on a medium flame and then add the milk/coconut milk at room temperature. Stir and allow to bubble for approximately 5-10 minutes. Add salt and lemongrass. Stir and turn off the flame.

With time, as the khichdi cools, it will thicken.

Now, remove the lemongrass from the concoction and discard it. You will find upon taking a bite that the flavours would have seeped in beautifully. Garnish with finely chopped coriander leaves and serve.

I also use a similar technique to make a soup some times, which I find pretty filling and tasty when I am not in the mood for a full meal. Prepare the recipe in a more liquid fashion, using more water. Eliminate the tempering, and grind the green chilli, lemongrass and corn together. Add a dollop of butter and voila – you have a rich, flavourful soup.

As a cook, and especially as someone who has trained in Macrobiotics and who is interested in the relationship between science and food, I’ve thought a lot about the logic of the Paryushan fasting season. My understanding is that it is a kind of pre-festive preparation. It falls at the end of the Gujarati calendar, ahead of occasions such as Navaratri, Diwali and so on, which are full of sweets and feasting. By keeping atthai, one detoxes the body and cleanses it before the indulgences of sugar and ghee that are to come. Moreover, the practice of fasting is also a kind of emotional release, a conscious way to close the chapter of a year.

The innovative dishes made during Paryushan, which eliminate all forms of violence as far as possible, are only half of what make me so interested in this holy season. The other half is the way it ends. On the eighth day, the ritual of Micchami Dukkadam is practised. This is the day on which we greet our relatives and friends with the words “Micchami dukkadam”, a Prakrit phrase which translates to “May all the evil that has been done be fruitless.” The ritual is essentially the practice of asking for forgiveness, allowing us to start our new year on a fresh note. What a beautiful way to close the week of purification through fasting, and begin the next chapter. What are some of the rituals from your culture that let you clean the slate? Are there special dishes that are a part of these too?

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Recipe: A Medley of Lentils – Mixed Dal

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Every day in a Gujarati household, you can be assured that there will be a big bowl of dal on the dining table at lunch. We always eat some version of a spiced lentil concoction with rotlis or rice, feasting on a fragrant dish that will give us a good boost of protein, folate and fibre. Pigeon pea or toor dal used to be a staple in my home, but now that I’m cooking for my dad as well, I had to find an alternative as he dislikes this dal. This gave me the fun challenge of finding different varieties which would please the palates of everyone whom I cook for. In these explorations, I hit upon an exciting compromise: mixed dal.

Mixed dals are made by most communities, and as I keep reiterating, the exact version will vary in each kitchen. They are a resourceful way of making use of whatever is in the pantry, through combining a selection of uncooked dals which may be in excess or the last dregs of which need to be finished. My sister, for instance, is an expert in a Jain version made with tomatoes, cumin and very basic spices. I’m never sure whether it’s the simplicity of the ingredients that makes it so nice, or the fact that she makes it for me with such love. The version I make is neither a Jain nor a traditionally Gujarati one, as it uses both onion and garlic, which are generally regarded as either taboo or sparingly used in our culture. In some ways, mine imitates the Punjabi version in its use of spices and condiments.

The recipe I am sharing today is a medley of six types of dals: masoor, split moong, regular/whole moong, urad, split black urad and toor. You can include any other variety you prefer, as well as deduct any that you don’t have on hand or dislike. This particular combination came about through a mix of practicality (I felt some of these dals were being used less than others in my kitchen) and health-consciousness. These humble lentils are powerhouses of nutrients.

I tend to buy each dal separately and then store them all mixed in even proportions. I have noticed that shopkeepers even sell them mixed these days, which you may find even more convenient. If you are wondering if this dish is a part of the “second helpings” series I had some time ago on my blog, the answer is that it’s not. This dal is prepared fresh using dry, mixed lentils.

While I add garlic and onions, giving it that Punjabi-style punch, I also use a North-Eastern and Bengali way of tempering known as the “panch-phoron”. The panch-phoron is a delectable five spice blend which consists of mustard seeds, cumin (jeera), fennel (saunf), fenugreek (methi) and nigella (kalonji). I love the richness of the flavours together. You may know that Gujaratis often add a pinch of methi to our dal. This is to counterbalance the sweetness of the jaggery in the traditional recipe, which is an ingredient I have opted not to use here. I prefer this mixed dal spicier. I also notice how the fennel in the panch-phoron works as a counterpoint to the garlic. There’s a purpose in every small thing that we do in cooking. To everything, there is a method and a reason.

I decided to try the panch-phoron tempering method as I particularly enjoy the Bengali dals when I’m in Kolkata. The flavours of mustard paste and this fine blend of spices are delightful, and theirs is a cuisine which I would very much like to explore more. This mixed dal of mine is one delicious step in that direction.

 

Mixed Dal

(Yield: 1 pot)

1 cup mixed dal

4-5 cups water

2-3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon panch-phoron

2 dry red chillies

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ cup finely cut onions

½ cup finely cut tomatoes

3-4 cloves garlic

A pinch of asafoetida (hing)

½ teaspoon garam masala

⅓ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 stick cinnamon

Juice of 1 lemon

¼ cup finely chopped coriander leaves

Clean and wash the dal and place it in a pressure cooker. Add salt, turmeric and 4 cups of water. Allow it to cook until tender, for approximately 4-6 whistles. Once cooked, keep aside.

In a kadai, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the panch-phoron and the hing/asafoetida. Next, add the dry red chillies and then add the onions and garlic. Sauté for a minute and then add the tomatoes.

Add the remaining spices and sauté once again until the kitchen is fragrant with the scent of roasting spices.

Now, add the cooked, tender dal to the pan and stir evenly. If you prefer a thinner consistency, add more water.

Top it off with the lemon juice, and garnish with the finely chopped coriander leaves.

Serve this mixed dal while it’s still hot. For a simple yet complete meal, it’s perfect to be enjoyed with rice or breads such as paratha, naan or rotli. When serving a slightly more elaborate meal, it also works very well when accompanied by an Indian-style stir-fry.

As I mentioned earlier, not only is this dish a combination of mixed dals, but it’s also a medley of culinary influences. Bengali, North-Eastern and Punjabi seasonings come together and surprise the Gujarati palate with their spiciness. I’d love to know what you think of it, and how you choose to bring your own tastes and journeys to this simple and satisfying preparation.

If you’re a fan of lentils, here are a few more lentil-based favourites from the recipes I’ve shared earlier: khatta mung, dal dhokli, green moong bhel and green moong dhokla. It’s the versatility, simplicity, nutritiousness and sheer deliciousness of lentils that make them such a staple in our meals.

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Recipe: Celebrating The Bond Of Siblings – Delicate Dahi Vada

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It was Raksha Bandhan a few days ago, and my home was reverberating with boisterous laughter and shouting, filled with the joy and commotion of having all three of my children visiting. This was no coincidence, as Raksha Bandhan is one of the special occasions on which I enforce a very strict rule: no matter where they are in the world, they must return to Chennai to be with their parents and each other.

Raksha Bandhan is doubly special as it is in honour of their relationships to one another. This North Indian festival is a unique one that celebrates one of the most important bonds of all, the one between a sister and her brother. My daughter is fortunate to have two loving elder brothers, and the older they all get, the more precious this day has become to my family. It’s a delight for me as a mother to have them all come home at the same time, as well as a wonderful opportunity for me to fully express my “love language” – cooking!

This time, I chose to make dahi vada, a simple yet important traditional dish. A vada is a kind of deep-fried doughnut or dumpling, made from ground lentils (sago or potato may be used in some varieties). You may remember that vadas have ritual symbolism to Gujaratis during our new year.  Dahi vada is made by soaking the plain vada in yoghurt (“dahi”) and serving it with light toppings ranging from basic curry leaves to more elaborate garnishings like pomegranate.  There are innumerable versions of the dish varying from state to state, community to community, and kitchen to kitchen. In Tamil Nadu, it’s the popular snack item known as “thayir vadai”. The Gujarati variant is made in an exciting way, almost like a chaat, with an added tangy flavour thanks to the use of date or tamarind chutney. It is one of my favourites to prepare on auspicious occasions.

On Raksha Bandhan, the traditional ritual is for the sister to place a sweet in her brother’s mouth so that his life will be blessed. In turn, he promises to protect her and take care of her for the rest of his life, and she ties an amulet called a “rakhi” around his wrist to seal this. At home, we love renewing this vow annually. There is a cheerful feel in the air, and we enjoy catching up over the delicious feast that I always prepare. But more than that, it’s the kind of vow which I take very seriously. I know that my children, who are young and full of ambition and who crib about having to shuffle their schedules around to be here, will some day understand why I insist on observing this occasion. I tell my daughter that I don’t care if she has to take the last flight out after her tough day as a law student, and ensure that both my sons (especially the one who must come from abroad) have planned their schedules around the dates that I insist that they spend here together. I am confident that they will carry this ceremony forward even decades into the future, and will continue to meet across continents to celebrate special occasions.

The recipe I am sharing today is from my own sister, who loves to spoil me every time I visit her in Mumbai by making these traditional dishes that I so enjoy. In exchange, she asks me to bake some kind of bread or to teach her how to make an eggless cake, and in this way we deepen our bond and expand our culinary repertoires too.

I hope this recipe below is also a healthier version of the usual vada, as it uses split mung, also known as moong beans, instead of urad dal or black grams. I prefer this lentil for its many nutritious benefits, especially its richness in minerals, vitamins, fibre and protein.

Although dahi vada is commonly seen as a snack or side dish, we love it so much at home that with enough servings, it simply becomes our dinner. As it uses ingredients which are always on-hand in the Indian kitchen, and combines two basic staples (vadas and yoghurt), it’s a great dish to serve to unexpected guests and as a light festive dish for upcoming occasions like Ganesh Chathurthi and Diwali. It’s also ideal for those who have senior citizens at home, as it’s soft to chew and yoghurt always has a soothing effect. Given the mix of ages in my household, especially during festivals, I find it works very well to please everyone. The young ones find it tasty and chatpata (tangy and flavourful), while the older people enjoy it as a type of comfort food.

Dahi Vada

(Yield: approximately 15 vadas)

For the vada

1 cup split mung

½ teaspoon asafoetida

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon green chili paste

Other ingredients

4 cups water

Oil for deep frying

3-4 cups yoghurt

Coriander leaves

Green chutney

Sweet date chutney

Roasted cumin powder

 

Wash the split mung and soak it in water for 4-6 hours until tender.

Rinse and then grind the soaked mung coarsely, without adding water, in the idly grinder.

Then, beat the batter in a bowl. Make sure that it is nice and frothy. This will ensure the fluffiness of the vada.

I like to add all the spices and other ingredients in the last whiz of the batter and fry the vadas immediately after.

In a wok, heat the oil and make small vadas by shaping and then dropping the batter into the hot oil. These vadas are dumpling-shaped, and you can make them in your palm.

Once golden, remove the fried vadas and sink them in the 4 cups of water. This will ensure they become softer. Once all the vadas are fried and soaked, remove them individually. Gently squeeze out the water and arrange them on the plate for serving. I like to serve individual portions.

In the meantime, beat the curd, adding the salt and roasted cumin powder and mix thoroughly. Many Indian families eat homemade yoghurt, and the recipe to make the same is here. You can use store-bought curd as well. If you have access to coconut yoghurt or soy yoghurt, feel free to substitute accordingly. In India, these innovative items have yet to hit the market, so I’m afraid this is very much a dairy post, with apologies to my local vegan readers!

Pour the curd over the vadas, just enough to cover them.

Finally, top the curd with the green coriander chutney and sweet date chutney. Sprinkle some more roasted cumin powder and garnish the dish with some finely-cut coriander leaves.

When the weekend after Raksha Bandhan ends, my house will slowly quieten down as one by one, each of my children return to the places where they are establishing their own lives. Eventually, if they get married or have kids, I will look forward to them all coming home with their families. I can already imagine how Raksha Bandhan and Diwali will be exuberant get-togethers of the entire clan, giving us a chance to rekindle our bonds as well as get to know new members. There is already so much warmth and love between the five of us now, and I only want it to keep growing.

This warmth and love is something that we strive to build and to keep, and we never take it for granted. You have to learn how to tide over difficulties and manage practical struggles like living far apart. This is a choice. I believe that families with close ties exist because someone chose to take on the responsibility of creating and maintaining those ties. In mine, I am that person. My grandfather used to call me “the Lady of the House” for this reason. He would say that the entire family bond was in my hands, because I take my role as the one who holds it together seriously. Many women of my generation do, and I am sure you may feel the same way. We hold the bond together through tradition, love – and always – food. Here’s to all the joyous feasts in my home and in yours, right now and far into the future…

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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: Scrumptiously Guilt-Free – Sugar-Free Almond Cookies

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

 

Sugar-Free Almond Cookies

(Yield: 15-20 cookies)

 

1½ cups oats flour

¾ cup whole wheat flour

¾ cup maida

1 cup almond flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup oil

½ cup honey

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon rose extract

¼ teaspoon rose water

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: A Dish Best Served Cold – Watermelon Gazpacho

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Perhaps the combination of the sweltering Chennai summer and the memories evoked by my last post, on travels through Spain, were what made me crave this Andalusian dish. Gazpacho is a kind of cold soup, not soup gone cold but rather soup which has never been heated. Tomato is often the base, but I took the element of cooling a step further and used a fruit that is a staple for us during this time of year: juicy, ripe, sweet watermelon.

Chennai being hot through most of the year, gazpacho is always welcomed in my home. But the summer demands extra cooling, so first I tried my hand at a yoghurt-based soup with mint. But it ended up tasting a bit like raita and was quickly dismissed from my dining table. That’s when the burst of seasonal fruit at Namma Suvai  – a place I like both for their honest and open policy of having back end (farmers) and front end operations meet, as well as for their superb organic range – gave me a brainwave. I picked up the watermelons, which grow best in warm climates and provide a much needed hydrating and cooling effect to the body. I had not eaten watermelon gazpacho before, even though I knew it existed, and so was all the more excited to try it.

Gazpacho is exceedingly easy to make, just a simple puree, and as I prepared it, I recalled how I used to try to get the kids to eat healthy when they were younger. It’s quite a task, as all moms know, and most of you will be familiar with the technique of disguising (or as the kids say “disgust-ing!”) soups with all kinds of vegetables. I would add locally grown, water-based vegetables like bottle gourd or ridge gourd along with carrots and onions to the basic tomato – all while making sure the red colour of the tomato, the vegetable most popular to their palate, remained. Needless to say, I’d feed it to them quickly, before they noticed their red soup was full of green goodness! As they grew older, they caught on to the trick and refused to eat soup unless it was made to their taste and preferred proportions. Sometimes, they would eat it just to please me, but then say “Ma, did you think we didn’t know?” Fortunately, their tastes became refined once they saw their own friends beginning to enjoy soups socially. Of course, no matter what age the kids are, a parent is still a parent, and those of us who are parents never stop trying to ensure that they are eating well.

Even though I no longer needed to disguise this soup so it looked like tomato, maybe a little of that old desire to make my dishes as attractive for my kids as possible was still in me, so I wanted this gazpacho to be not just tasty but also vibrant both visually and on the tastebuds. So I added garlic, some colourful bell peppers and a hint of tomato to it. Raw chopped mango brought some tangy Indian-ness too, and a hint of chaat masala added familiar spice. The garnishing was meant to catch the eye, and so it did. Not only did the kids reach for it, but we had a surprise guest for dinner, and she thoroughly enjoyed my watermelon gazpacho along with my homemade sourdough.

As those of you who have followed my Instagram Stories for a while know, sourdough was something I worked at every day, entirely convinced I would eventually get the hang of it, and I did. It’s a very long and cumbersome process, but one every baker should experiment with. Sourdough is a way to make bread without yeast, allowing the natural bacteria to ferment in the air. I now make it so often that I have so much bread that I end up making accompaniments to it instead of the other way round.

One such accompaniment, of course, is this bright and flavour-rich watermelon gazpacho, which brings together sweetness, spice and some much-needed summer cooling.

Watermelon Gazpacho

(Yield: 5-6 cups)

2 ½ cups watermelon – deseeded

¼ cup tomato

¼ cup chopped red capsicum

¼ cup spring onions

3-4 cloves garlic

2 tablespoon olive oil

5 basil leaves

2 teaspoons any good vinegar/red wine/sherry or a big squeeze of lemon

3 small slices jalapeño

2 tablespoons finely chopped raw mango

¼ teaspoon chaat masala

Salt to taste (I used Himalayan pink)

Toppings:

Finely sliced avocado

¼ cup finely sliced red capsicum

2 tablespoons finely sliced spring onion

2 tablespoons olive oil

The method to make this watermelon gazpacho is extremely simple. Just keep the toppings aside and put all the other ingredients into a blender. Blend, but let the mixture remain coarse.

Pour into pretty serving glasses or bowls and garnish with the toppings. Gazpacho is meant to be served cold, and whether your guests will enjoy it as a soup or as a crunchy beverage is up to how you serve it!

This watermelon gazpacho is truly a mélange of flavours: from spicy chaat masala to sweet watermelon, and the textures of soft avocado and crisp raw mango in between. You may think so many ingredients wouldn’t go well together, but believe me – they do. I so enjoyed having this gazpacho with sourdough slices, a light and healthy combination that formed a perfectly filling (and very satisfying!) dinner. Do give it a try while watermelons are in season, and let me know what you think!

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Recipe: Gorging On Glutinous Grains – Black Sticky Rice With Mango

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We all know that the best sticky rice comes from South East Asia, as Thai cuisine attests. No visit to Thailand is complete without my daily share of sticky rice pudding, topped with either lychees or mangoes. I love the mix of flavours – sticky, juicy, sweet. A dessert made out of main course material! So imagine my excitement when I discovered a South Indian variety of black rice, grown right here in Tamil Nadu.

Sheela Balaji’s shop Spirit of the Earth in Alwarpet, Chennai, is a gem of a find for those who want to switch to organic rice varieties from all over India. Sheela has been responsible for revitalising the cultivation of 30 indigenous rice varieties, a journey which began when she saw a farmer spraying pesticides on paddy crops. He explained to her that hybrid rice cannot grow well otherwise, and this inspired her to try to find a solution that would benefit farmers, the crop, and everyone who eats it. The answer lay in indigenous rice variants, and Spirit of the Earth works closely with farmers to bring back ancient grains.

The grains have interesting names like illupai poo champa and mapillai champa, varied nutritional values, and are all healthier than hybrid rice variants that have undergone chemical treatments and processing. Among these is the karuppu kavuni or kavuni arusi, a black sticky rice which is believed to have been grown in Tamil Nadu from the period of the Chola dynasty. Not only is it an attractive colour that will draw the eye to the dish you serve, but it’s also very healthy, with anti-inflammatory properties, antioxidants and dietary fibre. Black rice itself has many varieties, and is grown in Assam, Sri Lanka and other places as well. Its cultivation depends on the soil, and it usually has a slightly nutty taste.

If you’re a long-term reader of my blog, you’ll know that I’ve always loved to advocate traditional varieties of food. As a Macrobiotics specialist, I am always interested in seasonal, local cooking, and everything from millets to vegetables and fruits and more which fit into this cycle. So I was very excited to learn about organic, indigenous rice which our ancestors used to eat too. For those who have just not been able to make the switch to millets, this will come as a boon. And now that I’ve discovered this kavuni arusi, and with mangoes in season, I simply had to have my favourite black sticky rice pudding.

While I’ve talked about “English” vegetables and foreign-inspired desserts often on this blog, what I’ve really been trying to achieve on this platform is  diversity. We are so lucky to be able to access so many wonderful ingredients both from home and abroad. This traditional rice, kavuni arusi, is going to become one of my staples. It has to be, because I can’t get enough of black sticky rice pudding, after all!

 

Black Sticky Rice Pudding

(Yield: 3-5 cups)

4 cups water

½ cup raw black rice

½ cup milk

½ cup coconut milk

1 cup sugar

2 tablespoons fresh shaved coconut

½ teaspoon toasted sesame seeds

Pick and rinse the rice, then soak it overnight. The rice quantity would have increased marginally due to the soaking. Now, cook the soaked rice in 4 cups of water. While I used kavuni arusi grown in Tamil Nadu, you’ll be using the black rice that is most easily available to you, so keep in mind that the water quantity may vary. Adjust accordingly. The idea is to make sure the rice is soft to the touch and tender. I also lightly blended the rice with a hand blender so the grains became smaller.

Place the rice pot on a medium flame and add the milk and sugar. If you prefer not to use sugar, replace it with maple syrup, honey or any sweetener. I often substitute sugar with brown rice syrup myself. For vegans, coconut milk tastes superb in this dish as a dairy replacement.

This time, I debated but decided to not add the twist of rose that is so often the re:store signature, wanting to achieve something as close to the Thai dish as possible, but I might do so when I next make this pudding. If you want that floral aroma, just include a little rose essence or rosewater.

Stir constantly, making sure the mixture does not stick to the bottom. The mixture will remain thick.

Next, lower the flame and add the coconut milk. Stir. Just before the mixture begins to bubble, turn off the flame. Add the coconut shavings and blend well, then allow to cool. Once cooled, scoop into small serving bowls.

I was so excited to discover this black rice grown in Tamil Nadu, and wanted to complement it with other flavours native to my state, like coconut and mango. Sticky rice as a dessert is traditionally served with fruit, and my fruit of choice was mangoes, because the season has just begun here in India. But lychees work equally well, as will many other fruits of your own choice. Together, the mix of sweetness and stickiness is just sublime. I hope you’ll enjoy this wonderful sweet treat which shows you just how versatile rice can be!

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Recipe: Still Gaga For Guavas – Bachu Foi’s Guava Jelly

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guava Jelly

(Yield: approximately 15 pieces)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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Recipe: Guavas For A Good Mood – Gujarati Guava Curry

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To say guava curry is a comfort food in my home is an understatement. To call it by that name doesn’t come close to accurately explaining the effect it has. It lifts the mood, changes the vibe, inspires – and always hits the spot. It is my husband (aka the Dark Prince)’s favourite. Whenever I know that he is feeling low, it’s the guavas that I reach for. Something about this guava curry does him so much good. Even though it’s a traditional Gujarati shaak (sabzi), it somehow feels like it’s a specialty in my home precisely for the way it makes us feel. It’s uplifting, soul-warming, and so delicious.

There are of course numerous varieties of guavas. They are believed to have originated in Central America, but grow well in hot climates, which is probably why India is one of the world’s top producers of the same. I am accustomed to so many names for this fruit: jamphal (the Gujarati Jain name in my husband’s home), jamrukh (the Gujarati Vaishnav name in my mother’s home), peru (as the Parsees call it, since it’s considered similar to the pear), and of course amrood in Hindi and koyapazham in Tamil. Guavas are especially popular in Gujarati Jain households during their month of fasting, as they do not consume green vegetables at that time. They are cultivated in many places in the country, and are widely and affordably available. In fact, climbing a guava tree is such a cherished memory among kids of my generation. Even growing up in cities, most of us have some anecdote about being shouted at by a cranky neighbour as we sidled along a branch to pluck a fruit, and eating it greedily even if it was still raw and green! I still have a tree in my backyard, and since guavas can be harvested almost year-round, it’s lovely to have the fruits within reach when the mood at home calls for this curry. Although I’ve used pink guavas in my photoshoot, I often cook this recipe with the white ones too.

Even as a child, I loved guava so much that whenever we visited our grandparents in Vijayawada during the summers, I would use my treat money to buy some instead of a soda or a sweet. I loved the slices dipped in a spice mix of salt, chilli powder and chaat masala. They were a crunchy, flavourful snack, and being fruit-based were naturally healthier than most things that kids like to eat. Another way in which I love eating guavas now is in the form of guava jelly, best enjoyed with a glass of wine, cheese and crackers (maybe the recipe for this will follow later – let me know if you’re interested in the comments?).

This humble and widely-available fruit is a nutritional powerhouse, with very high vitamin C, iron and antioxidant content. It’s low in calories and sugar, and has a lot of fibre – thus improving metabolism all round. It’s also 80% water, so it is hydrating as well.

The Dark Prince too grew up with guavas, and I think that must be why this guava curry has a way of chasing away his blues. The first time that I encountered this dish, having grown up with and loved the fruit but not having tasted this particular manifestation of it, was in the household of his own grandparents. Each bite transports him back to a simpler time of love and comfort, and the sweet memories of his childhood.

I learned how to make this recipe quickly, understanding how important it was going to be in my marriage! And ever since then, I’ve found new ways to make use of my favourite fruit, playing with its taste and finding complementary flavours. As human beings, we are very innovative when it comes to food, but I’ll go as far as to say I think Gujaratis are the most innovative of all, and certainly the biggest foodies I know! This delicious and inventive guava curry is proof of the same.

Guava Curry

(Yield: 2 cups)

1 tablespoon oil

1 cup chopped ripe guava fruit (I removed most of the seeds)

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

2 cloves

1 piece cinnamon stick

1 dry red chilli

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

¼ teaspoon garam masala

¾ cup water

2 tablespoons jaggery

Salt to taste

In a kadai (pan), add the oil and heat on a medium flame. Once the oil is hot, add the cumin seeds and mustard seeds. Wait till they splutter. Then, add the cloves, cinnamon and dry red chilli. Immediately after, add the cut guava.

Add about a ¼ cup of water and mix well. Now, cover with a lid and allow the guavas to turn soft on a low-medium flame. This will take about 10 minutes.

Uncover, and add the cumin powder, turmeric, salt, garam masala, chilli powder and jaggery.  Stir, then add the remaining water. Allow to blend and cook for a few more minutes on a medium flame.

Despite being cooked with so many condiments and softened until the crisp texture is gone, you will find that this guava curry retains a great deal of the flavour of the fruit. Like good Gujarati foodies, we enjoy it most with rotlis, but you could have it with rice too. It’s spicy, tangy and has a hint of sweetness (from the jaggery, if not the fruit). I hope you’ll be as proud of having this unusual yet iconic recipe in your repertoire as I am. And I hope it lifts the mood in your home too!

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Recipe: The Exotic “English Vegetable” – Harra Bhara Kebab

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Every summer during my childhood, my family would drive up to Ooty to get away from the heat in Chennai. There we’d be, little children in our little Fiat car, excited to reach the hills. The drive would take anywhere between 8 and 12 hours, and since our car didn’t have an AC, it would be sweltering for most of the ride. So we’d stick our heads out of the windows and enjoy the drive. There were no eateries along the way, so we’d pack picnics for the journey. This was a ritual for many families we knew, who would escape the summer weather during the school vacations, in favour of the refreshingly cool climate of the hills.

As we came closer to our destination, not only would the air and the temperature become more and more pleasing, but the curling streets and by-lanes winding up to Ooty would be lined with the stalls of farmers, selling fresh produce like carrots and green peas, and a variety of fruits and other vegetables which grow well in that climate. Green peas would be sold by the name “English vegetable”. Even today, if you go to the local produce markets in Chennai and other places, “English vegetable” is the term that is used. Strangely, there is evidence that suggests it could be found in India some two thousand years ago, but no doubt it was the British who cultivated it properly. And who introduced it from their own cuisine into ours.

Green peas are not actually vegetables, but legumes. They are rich in antioxidants and fibre, have a high protein content (four times that of carrots) and also contain vitamins, manganese, folate and other beneficial elements. Like most green things that farmers grow, they are good for you.

Indians are very innovative when it comes to the kitchen. So all over India, the “English vegetable” was quickly welcomed into the family like they would a good daughter-in-law. Indianised and masalafied recipes featuring the ingredient became popular. We are big foodies in this country, and always find intelligent ways to incorporate new culinary elements into our own styles. Green peas are versatile, so you can make everything from a rice dish like a green peas pulao to so much more. The most bizarre dish I’ve heard of was a green pea halwa, a kind of sticky sweet – any chance you’ve tasted it? From this end to that, once it became popularised by the British, people made interesting dishes using this exotic “English vegetable”. Somewhere in the North, the availability of the green pea gave rise to a dish known as harra bhara kebab.

Kebabs in India originated from Mughal cuisine, from the palace kitchens of the Sultans. Although traditionally made of meat, today we make kebabs out of everything, even quinoa or paneer. The closest English equivalent, since we are using the “English vegetable” today after all, would be a patty or cutlet. Kebabs are sometimes cooked on a skewer, though not always served on one.  The harra bhara kebab is a great hit at parties because it’s a fabulous vegetarian snack, especially for those who’d like to try a kebab but want to avoid the meat ones. The word harra bhara itself is a Hindi term – “harra” meaning “green” and “bhara” meaning “stuffed”.

While cooking this dish, the challenge is to add spices in such a way that the green peas and vegetables retain their colour. This is because the way it looks adds to your experience of eating it, and most cooks want to convey the freshness of the ingredients visually. Some add baking soda or other condiments to keep this so, but I always prefer to keep things natural.

There’s an abundance of green peas in the markets right now, so I decided to make harra bhara kebabs. And as the weather is slowly turning hotter, memories of those summer vacations and those calls of “English vegetable” in the street markets have come flooding back…

 

Harra Bhara Kebab

(Yield: 8-10 kebabs)

1 ½ cups green peas

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

3 tablespoons oil

1 finely chopped green chili

½ cup finely chopped onions

½ teaspoon ginger garlic paste

½ teaspoon garam masala

½ teaspoon aamchur powder

¼ teaspoon sugar

½ cup coriander leaves

½ cup mashed potatoes

Salt to taste

In a pan, add 1 tablespoon oil and the cumin seeds. Once the cumin seeds turn golden, add the onions. Sauté for 2 minutes and then add the ginger garlic paste. Sauté some more till the colour turns.

Now, add the green peas and green chili. On a medium flame, stir well, making sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Then, cover the pan with a lid so the peas soften a little bit.

Once the green pea mixture has softened slightly, add the salt, aamchur powder, garam masala, sugar and coriander leaves. Mix well and allow to cool completely.

Grind the peas mixture coarsely. Blend this with the mashed potatoes, using your fingers. Then, make small patties with your palms.

In a flat pan, add the remaining oil. Once the pan is heated, place the kebabs gently on the oil. Keep the flame between low to medium and turn them over gently. Make sure they’re done well on both sides. Remove from the pan.

These harra bhara kebabs are ideal for sharing and are a perfect finger food, especially for parties where you want to add a few exciting vegetarian options to the menu. Serve them with a dip of your choice. I like them with a green coriander chutney, which you may remember from this earlier snack recipe for banana methi fritters. A tamarind chutney will also go very well. I’d love to know what dip accompaniment you like best for these harra bhara kebabs when you try them out. Looking forward to your comments!

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