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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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Recipes

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 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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Musings

I Am Carrying With Me All Your Love…

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My mother, Pushpa Adhia, as a young woman.

I’m carrying with me all your love, and teachings. Your cooking style and morals. This food blog, my recipes and my style of cooking and eating – they are all learnt from you. And how you always told me to make you feel proud and to hold my head high. I did. How never to do wrong and hang in there even if people are not kind. I did. How to stay strong in my new married home and be respectful to elders despite anything, and that it will all pay off eventually. It did. And as always you are right. How to always stay by my husband’s side and hang in there. It will all work out eventually. It did.

Today I have you in me. How can I miss you? I hold my head high with pride. I am you. I am celebrating because you are still alive. And will always be.

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Recipe: A Cooling Shot Of Strength – Raisin Kalkand (Crystal Sugar) Syrup

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In my recent recipe for a barley lime drink, I mentioned how my sister and I were anaemic while growing up, and how we were subjected to a range of homemade remedies to improve our condition. When she and I reminisce about the good old days now, we often laugh about all those horrible tonics and preparations, and very fondly remember one we actually loved. In fact, many children would, because of its delicious sweetness. The “medicine” in question was the raisin kalkand (crystal sugar) syrup, a simple health-boosting tonic our mother often prepared for us.

We would be given this first thing in the morning during the summers because it’s a highly cooling drink, in addition to its strengthening properties. Dehydration is something we’ve all become mindful of given this heat. But it’s also important to consume foods and beverages which have a cooling effect on the body. The science of Ayurveda has helped us identify many of these. As I’ve said before, I don’t know how much of it was science and how much of it was intuition, but my mother had an amazing skill when it came to knowing the heating and cooling properties of various ingredients. So she made sure that the raisin kalkand syrup was a summertime drink for us. It’s cooling both in terms of what’s in it and how it’s made.

Life was so different back then, when we were growing up. We were all so dependent on natural remedies, avoiding pills, and were no less healthy for it. These are ways of life which are being forgotten. Do you remember growing up in that time, in which mothers and grandmothers always seemed to know what to reach for in the kitchen to not just treat but even cure all kinds of common ailments?

In retrospect, I appreciate those kinds of healing methodologies and natural sciences all the more. They followed traditional customs, had seasonal logic, and maintained health in the family and community. I have become a big believer in these remedies, and many trips down memory lane have helped me bring some of them back into my life. This health-boosting turmeric shot and this herbal tonic for sniffles are but two examples of how a handful of common ingredients can make you feel all better.

Still, I must admit that I struggle sometimes to maintain and share the old ways of healing, especially when it comes to my children and how fast-paced their lifestyles now are. But that’s partly why I feel it’s so important to revive and invest in these methods. They counter the demands of the world through their time-honoured and proven usage. They were not passed down through so many generations for nothing. For small complaints, they often work like a charm.

And as far as charms go, this raisin kalkand syrup is a particularly sweet one. Literally! You’d be hard-pressed to find a child who will reject a shot of it.

Like so many old recipes, the secret to this one lies in its simplicity. Fennel seeds are a source of iron, histidine and folic acid, zinc, magnesium, potassium, Vitamins C and K and essential minerals. Black raisins too are full of iron, thus increasing haemoglobin levels, and are also good for bone strength, immunity and a host of other needs of growing children.

Furthermore, there is a process of soaking which brings out the nutrients in the raisins and the fennel. This takes place in a terracotta pot, an ancient cooling method that continues to be a part of Indian kitchens. This amazing, energy-efficient refrigeration technique is also great for curd, water and so many items which are best served cooled in the hot summers. Adapted for both adults and children as a sort of raisin and fennel juice, this syrup that I liked to gulp in a shot from my childhood is an ideal drink to cool down in the heat.

You may be wondering how sugar, which so many nutrition-conscious people regard as a big no-no, could be such a major part of a home remedy. Its presence in this recipe is neither for reducing bitterness nor for making it more palatable for children, especially since delicious raisins don’t need to be (literally) sugar-coated like certain other nourishing ingredients. The use of kalkand here is only for a cooling effect, just like the terracotta pot. A substitute like jaggery would have a heating effect, and is better avoided.

This raisin kalkand syrup is best taken in the summer months, and joins an ever-growing list of heat-fighting drinks on this blog, including rose sherbet and spiced buttermilk.

Raisin Kalkand Syrup

(Yield: 1 cup)

¼ cup black raisins

1 lump crystal sugar (optional)

2 tablespoons fennel seeds

1 cup water

 

A terracotta pot was always considered a must by my mother when making this cooling syrup, so it’s still a part of my own method. Put all the ingredients in a small terracotta pot, including the water. Soak overnight or for a minimum of 6-8 hours.

Please note that the sugar quantity is really a question of personal preference. If you have been advised to cut down on it, you may use less or omit it from the recipe.

Once the soaking process is complete, blend the soaked ingredients with more water.

The beauty of how this drink was made was that it was lovingly crushed by our mother’s hands, because we didn’t have a blender around yet. Now of course, I blend it but then strain it with a muslin cloth just as she did. She would use an old saree of hers which had been worn to tatters. Ever resourceful, she would cut pieces from used clothing and keep it for such purposes.

Using a fine muslin cloth, strain the blended mixture well. Squeeze the liquid into a glass. As children, we loved drinking it like a shot, although you may prefer to sip it. Enjoy at room temperature and preferably fresh. This recipe serves one. Increase quantities as desired to serve more.

With all the bitter remedies that we were forced to spoon down growing up, this raisin kalkand syrup was not only a tasty respite, but also a beautiful metaphor on balance. It served to teach us something important about life itself, and finding ways to make it sweeter. And that’s the lesson that comes to mind as I share it with you today.

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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: Memories Of A Special Sponge Cake – Spanish Madeleines

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

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

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

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

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

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

Madeleines

(Yield: 12 madeleines)

90 grams flour

¾ teaspoon baking powder

100 grams unsalted butter

65 grams sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon lavender seeds

2 teaspoons maple syrup

2 teaspoons milk

Powdered sugar for dusting

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

Prepare a madeleine pan by buttering and dusting it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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