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Recipe: A Tasty Take On Ridge Gourd – Turiya Muthiya Shaak

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Ridge gourd, a water-based vegetable known in Gujarati as “turiya”, happens to grow abundantly all year-round in Tamil Nadu. Here, it is called “peerkanga”. While it is a seasonal vegetable in other parts of the country, it seems to be available locally almost all the time. This means that I get to eat turiya muthiya shaak, a Gujarati dish that is among my favourites, almost whenever I want to. It’s an especially delicious way to consume a nutritious vegetable, and I think you’ll also enjoy trying it out.

The weather here in Chennai tends to be hot, hotter, monsoon or briefly pleasant – and ridge gourd grows abundantly in hot weather, which is why it’s easy to find locally. We have it at least twice a week in a few preparation styles. I have shared one recipe before, cooking it in coconut oil and with grated coconut, in the regional way. Right now, as the temperature rises, water-based vegetables are a must in order to keep our bodies better hydrated, and I strongly encourage you to include ridge gourd and similar ingredients in your diet too.

If you have explored my earlier recipe for ridge gourd, I would liken the addition of grated coconut there to the addition of muthiya here. Muthiya are small fried dumplings. Tiny and round, they could be likened to miniature vadas or bhajis. They are made with chickpea flour, and deep-fried before being added to the cooked vegetable. They soften up in the gravy, and add a great deal of flavour to it. Ridge gourd is itself plain-tasting, so seasonings and additions like muthiya in Gujarati cuisine or coconut in Tamil or other South Indian cuisines please the palate. I’d certainly be curious to know about more ways to enhance ridge gourd dishes.

Here, I have opted to make the muthiya healthier by incorporating methi, or fenugreek, which also imparts its own flavour to the dish. By the way, you can also prepare the muthiya a day in advance in order to save time on the day of serving. In fact, muthiya by itself can be a tasty snack. Here, size does matter: smaller ones will be added to a vegetable gravy like this one, whereas they need to be made bigger if they are to be eaten as snacks. The method, however, is essentially the same.

When I was growing up, my mother would often make a tin of bigger muthiya and we would have it with chai. When we had turiya muthiya shaak for lunch or dinner, my sister and I would fight over the deep-fried, deliciously soaked muthiya. We never cared much for vegetables, although our mother drilled it into us that they are good for us.

Now that we are older and wiser and mothers ourself, we value and appreciate how strict she was with ensuring that we ate them whether we liked them or not. This system is passed from generation to generation. Now, with adult children of my own, I am all the more aware that children do follow their parents’ eating habits – if not when they are growing up, then eventually. To all the young parents reading this, I want to say: show your kids how to eat healthy, eat clean and to respect food through your own example, not just with words. It makes a difference. The same goes for all our traits. If you want your kids to become caring individuals, you have to show them what it’s like to be one yourself. As parents and elders in a family, we need to be conscious about how generations after us adopt our habits and even our nature. Probably the simplest way to embody this knowledge well is by teaching them about the goodness of fruits and vegetables in your daily intake. As they grow, you will see the effect, even if it’s difficult to convince them right now.

In fact, a part of the inspiration behind my sharing this recipe is that I visited my son’s office space the other day, where as mentioned in another post, a small garden is run by the factory workers. There was fresh organic ridge gourd being harvested, and that’s what I brought home to prepare for us all, even though I grow some on my terrace too. I was glad to see my son’s support for this venture, and I hope that the lessons I inculcated in him about eating well continue to yield good things.

All these years since our childhood later, my sister and I both make, serve and eat lots of delicious vegetables – every day. We certainly aren’t fighting over muthiya anymore. In fact, I grew to love turiya muthiya shaak, turiya and all, and my sister happens to prepare it better than I do. She has long stopped asking what I want to eat when I visit her in Mumbai, having gotten familiar with my cravings over the years. Turiya muthiya shaak is invariably on the table at some point during my stay, and I relish it all the more because it is prepared by her.

Turiya Muthiya Shaak
(Serves 2-4)

Methi Muthiya

1 cup methi leaves (fenugreek leaves; finely chopped and rinsed well)
¼ tsp asafoetida
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon red chilli powder
¼ teaspoon turmeric
2 teaspoons sugar
Juice of 1 lime
A handful coriander leaves
1 teaspoon ginger (grated)
¼ cup whole wheat flour
1 full cup besan (chickpea flour)
2 tablespoon oil
Water as required

In a bowl, add the methi leaves and all the ingredients except the flours and the oil. Massage well.

Then, add the flours and make a dough. Sprinkle water as required. Add more besan if required.

Add the oil and massage well. Make small, elongated balls (as shown in the photographs), using more water if required to make them tight.

Deep fry these on a medium flame until golden. Set aside.

Turiya Shaak

4 cups chopped ridge gourd
¼ cup yellow mung dal
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 cup water
Salt to taste
1 small tomato (chopped)
1 teaspoon dhaniya powder (coriander powder)
1 green chilli
2 tablespoons oil
½ teaspoon mustard seeds

Soak the mung dal until soft. Set aside.

Peel and chop the ridge gourd into cubes.

Heat the oil in a small pressure cooker. Add the mustard seeds. Once they splutter, add the dal and the chopped gourd along with the water. Next, add the turmeric. Mix and cook for 1 whistle, or until the dal is tender.

Allow to cool, then open the cooker.

To put together your turiya muthiya shaak, take another kadai. Add a little oil and add more mustard seeds, the green chilli and the tomato and stir until the tomato pieces are tender. Now, add the vegetable and dal mixture to this. Allow some amount of gravy.

Finally, add the muthiya and allow to soften. Cook for a few minutes. Adjust the salt if required.

Remove from the flame and serve with rotis or rice.

This blog has a large and growing selection of traditional Gujarati recipes – sometimes authentic, sometimes with a twist – and I hope you’ll take some time to explore more of them!

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Recipe: Spicy Summer Greens – Simple Red Amaranth Stir-Fry

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Often, I find that I have cravings to eat leafy greens. Yes, cravings for dishes that most of us start out rejecting! As we grow older, we come to appreciate their tastes better, as well as begin to understand the numerous benefits that come from consuming them. Now, I am eager to discover the subtle flavours of each variety I encounter. When I say leafy greens, I don’t necessarily mean lettuce, arugula and the like. Here in India, we have hundreds of varieties of what can broadly be called spinach. Amaranth is one of them, and this simple red amaranth stir-fry is a lovely way to add more greens to your meals. Or in this case: reds!

These amaranth leaves are reddish-purple, which make them quite eye-catching both fresh and once they have been cooked. I would describe red amaranth as being bold, both in its hue and its flavour, which is quite savoury. Green amaranth also exists, but the red variety has more antioxidants, as well as more protein as compared even to spinach. It has become quite a popular vegetable of late, and while I don’t have that many memories of it in particular, it’s possible that I’ve eaten it innumerable times in the past without thinking too much about it – until I really began to get interested in leafy goodness, that is.

Red amaranth has been catching my eye at my local market lately, which is why I picked some up. I often do this. I visit the market and explore whatever is in season. Through the year, I find different kinds of leafy vegetables, and am often curious to learn their names and uses. In Tamil, all greens are broadly defined as “keerai”. Amaranth is “thandu keerai”, “aru keerai” or “senkeerai”. My daughter always makes fun of me because every other month I say she should be eating “this keerai” or “that keerai”, and it’s a running joke in our house that she constantly has to learn the names of new keerais – and eat them too, of course.

Both of these – learning about food and eating it – are activities I enjoy, so of course I hope to spread the love of both. For instance, I know that my local market, while perfectly sufficient for my usual needs, does not actually bring in all the varieties of greens available in this region. I know this because I have seen other culinary bloggers post online about certain kinds which I haven’t had access or exposure to. It’s always so inspiring to see the amazing work that people are doing when it comes to returning to roots and eating traditionally, locally and seasonally. I’m intrigued by what interesting new-to-me ingredients are out there, and sometimes I keep an eye out for a particular one that I’ve heard about and hope to experiment with, especially when I am travelling within the state.

I like to cook most of the greens that I work with in a simple way, one that is adaptable across varieties. You can use the method below for greens other than red amaranth too. It’s a basic South Indian stir-fry style, specifically Tamil Nadu style, that I use here, which results in a spicy side dish that is both delicious as well as healthy. No matter what kind of greens I prepare, I like to have a big cup with my lunch, which is more often than not a Gujarati thaali.

This is where my own roots come in. While I will prepare a South Indian spinach, I’ll enjoy it with a Gujarati kadhi. This is my preferred combination for summer, as the yoghurt-based kadhi offsets the flavour of the stir-fried greens. I find that a dal will make the meal too heavy at this time. But a cooling kadhi and a bold red amaranth stir-fry are just perfect together.

Simple Red Amaranth Stir-Fry
(Serves 3-5)

5 cups chopped red amaranth
3 tablespoons gingelly oil
½ teaspoon urad dal
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
1 green chilli
¼ cup grated coconut
Salt to taste

Rinse the red amaranth, or any spinach or greens of your choice. Do so well, in 2-3 changes of water. Set aside.

Heat a kadai and add the oil. Then, add the urad dal. Once it turns golden, add the mustard seeds. When they splutter, add the green chilli. Sauté these, and then add the spinach. Stir, then cover with a lid for about 5-8 minutes.

Remove the lid and allow the water to evaporate.

Next, add the salt and the grated coconut. Mix well.

As I said, this is indeed a simple stir-fry, and I’m sure you’ll find that the preparation method works for most kinds of greens. I would recommend enjoying your stir-fried red amaranth leaves with warm rice or rotis.

If you would like to explore more greens-based recipes from my archive, I’d recommend starting with purslane dal or spinach rice, in keeping with the South Indian theme, and then following the tags to discover more dishes for you to enjoy!

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Recipe: A Bit Of Summer Cheer – Baked Yoghurt With Strawberry Compote

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As mentioned in my previous post, strawberry compote is a versatile topping that can be used on a wide range of desserts. After sharing the recipe for it, I was debating whether to prepare a cheesecake or a baked yoghurt using the same, as a suggestion for you in case you are exploring the compote’s usage too. I chose the latter. Summer is setting in in Chennai and a cooling yoghurt-based dish rather than a rich and heavy cheesecake just made sense. This baked yoghurt with strawberry compote, using seasonal strawberries, is ideal for the climate in every way.

We have recently had a number of celebrations in the family, and to be honest, given the quantity of sweet treats we have all been consuming, I have also begun to veer towards lighter desserts now.

Strawberries remain in season, and I want to make the most of them before we move towards mangoes. Already, I can see small fruits on my own trees as well as those around the city. The days are becoming longer and the heat is steadily rising. I have a feeling the mango harvests will be good this year, and look forward to them. But meanwhile, right now, strawberries continue to have my heart. Pairing them with yoghurt – an item that I relish perennially – makes for even more pleasure.

As I’ve mentioned in various posts, dairy products in general are considered sacred in Hindu traditions and used in rituals. Any form of dairy is enjoyed across India in general, as well. Come mango season, for example, a lot of buttermilk is going to be consumed across the country, as the coolant is used to counteract the heatiness of the fruit, as per Ayurvedic practices.

Yoghurt in particular is my personal favourite among the various dairy products, and the reason why I have not been able to go vegan even during periods when I have tried to adapt my diet as much as possible to those principles. I prepare it at home, and I have shared the method earlier too.

Yoghurt by itself is enough for me, but elevating this quintessential Indian component into a dessert that to me has both Continental and subcontinental influences was a very intriguing idea. I first enjoyed baked yoghurt at a popular café in Chennai. It was moist, soft and had just a hint of sweetness. The subtlety of the sweetness was what I found most attractive. Gujarati shrikhand and Bengali bhappa doi are similar in texture, but usually made much sweeter. To me the bhappa doi is one of the inspirations for my baked yoghurt. I don’t know much about the culture and cuisine, but my research also suggests that the two dishes are connected. Baking is not traditionally Indian, but I would venture a guess that baked yoghurt dishes on Indian menus may have evolved from bhappa doi.

While I grew up with shrikhand, on the other hand, I would have to say that I have come to prefer baked yoghurt to it. The minimal use of sugar is what creates the distinct advantage, in my view. Furthermore, by preparing strawberry compote or other toppings at home, I also get to control the sugar quantity for all aspects of the dish. If your strawberries are naturally sweet enough, you may not even have to add sugar to the compote at all.

That said, this baked yoghurt can be paired with a variety of other toppings too. Rose jam, mango purée or salted caramel are some wonderful options. The base itself is very versatile that way.

I began making baked yoghurt at home only recently, so I’m also excited about trying out new varieties. They are perfect for when you are entertaining guests, which is why I have suggested making them in individual portions below. Alternately, you can also prepare it in a large glass dish and spoon out the required portions.

Baked Yoghurt With Strawberry Compote
(Yield: 5-6 ramekins)

250 grams yoghurt
200 grams condensed milk (or less, if you prefer)
50 grams cream
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon rose water

Prepare a bain-marie by pouring water into a wide tray and placing it into the oven. Make sure that it has a tall lips or sides. You may want to check that the water will reach midway to the ramekins you will use. Preheat the oven to 160°C for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a bowl, add all the ingredients gently one by one.

Using a whisk, gently bring them all together until there are no lumps. Pour the prepared mixture into the ramekins equally. You will get 5 or 6 portions depending on their size.

Place the ramekins into the bain-marie, after checking that the water is hot, and bake. This should take approximately 15 minutes, depending on your oven. Bake only until the centre looks jiggly.

Remove the ramekins from both the oven and the tray. Allow the baked yoghurt to cool completely and then refrigerate.

Serve chilled, with a spoonful of strawberry compote or any other topping of your choice.

If you’d like to enjoy more strawberries or more yoghurt this summer, I have a selection of recipes on this blog that feature either ingredient. Don’t forget that the former will soon be out of season, but as I said earlier, here in the Indian subcontinent we have something equally or perhaps even more wonderful to look forward to: mangoes! I am still thinking up some recipes that will highlight this them year, but in the meanwhile, I hope you’ll explore my archives.

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Recipe: Sweetening The Summer – Strawberry Compote

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My husband’s most favourite dessert of all time is, hands down, strawberry compote. To be fair, a compote is not the dessert itself, only its special enhancement, but for him it can be the best part. Every time we travel to certain parts of the world, he looks for sweet treats that contain it. I decided that it was about time that I start preparing it at home too, and my trials turned out beautifully – and so, I believe, will yours.

While my spouse reaches out eagerly for interesting dishes while travelling, as for me I am often more interested in the process of how an item is prepared than in only consuming it. As a baker, I am very interested in what other people bake, and love exploring small local bakeries. These tend to be excellent, and I chat with the owner or the workers and taste the pastry they are most known for. Obviously, the bakers will never reveal their secrets, but I have a sensitive palate and can often deduce certain tricks and techniques that I then experiment with once I am back home. I like to figure out what ingredients may have been used, and what has made a treat particularly moist or rich, for instance. Of course, when one is in a holiday mood everything always feels just perfect and lovely. But I believe we can keep some of that good mood going by revisiting those memories through food we recreate back home.

I’ve eaten a great deal of strawberries because of my husband’s love for them, sharing so many treats that contain either a compote or the fresh fruit with him. While I can’t recall the first time I tasted compote, I certainly can tell you when the first time that I saw wild strawberries in a dessert was. It was during a trip to Rome a long time ago. We noticed strawberries and cream on the menu. Naturally, we ordered it. The wild strawberries were in season – fresh, small in size and simply bursting with flavour. This particular dessert became something that I would specifically request at certain cafés after this.

It can feel like strawberries are almost universal, because they seem to be available everywhere. However, that’s just a perception I have now, versus how it felt before. Strawberries were once considered an exotic fruit in India, at least while I was growing up. They were hard to grow and scarce in the market. I remember seeing them in photographs and wondering what they tasted like. Soon enough, hill stations and towns with conducive climates began to cultivate them in India too. Humans are resourceful that way, no? If the conditions are right, we can find a way to grow anything.

Back then, Bombay always had access to fancy fruits first, and set trends thereafter. My sister, a resident of that city, used to make a simple two-ingredient strawberry jam and send it to me, or hand-carry it on flights for me. I would use it as a compote over ice cream and desserts.

We now get strawberry harvests of very good quality here in Tamil Nadu as well. However, I still strongly feel that the best experience depends on the season, even if produce is available year-round. For instance, let’s take a less glamorous fruit: the watermelon, which has been a staple local produce for as long as I can remember. While I can procure it even during the monsoons, I do not. I know that it tastes best and offers the most benefits only during the summer, and that’s when I consume it.

Coming back to strawberries and to this compote, this is a very easy recipe and it will give you a jar of delight that you can use to add sweetness to anything. You can use either sugar or honey to prepare it, and the best part of it being homemade is that you can control the amount you use. I prefer mine lightly sweetened with a larger ratio of fruit to sugar, so that I can enjoy bigger portions with less guilt. This is one of the reasons why I prefer to make jams and spreads at home in general, or get mine from friends who do so. The amount of sugar and preservatives that goes into those big tubs and jars in supermarkets concerns me.

Trust me, once you try this out, you’ll see that I have many reasons to make my own jams, spreads and compote! This strawberry compote is easy to make, versatile and just so delicious. It’s difficult, and unnecessary in my view, to go back to storebought items when the goodies made at home are so wonderful!

Strawberry Compote
(Yield: 2 cups / 1 jar)

2 cups chopped strawberries
4 tablespoons sugar or honey (adjust as per need)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
A pinch of salt
1 teaspoon chia seeds
5 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a pan, add the strawberries. Add sugar/honey and water and boil until the fruit begins to disintegrate and the mixture begins to thicken. At this stage, you can add more sugar/honey if required.

Now, add the chia seeds. Remove the pan from the flame and allow the mixture to cool and thicken more as it does.

Once it has cooled down completely, fill a jar and store in the refrigerator. You can keep this refrigerated for 2-3 weeks. It makes for a great topping on toast, ice cream and cheesecake. You can even make ice cream with it or add a dollop to yoghurt. In case you’re in need of ideas, the next recipe I will share will be a dessert that uses this strawberry compote, so do keep an eye out for it!

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Recipe: Currying Flavour – Curry Leaf Podi

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Even though I grew up in Chennai and have enjoyed the regional cuisine throughout my life, when it comes to podis or condiment powders, I didn’t quite understand the nuances of the food type until I was older and began to really consider the technicalities of the art of cooking. I did not know, for instance, that idli podi is different from molagai podi (the recipe for which I shared with you recently), or that curry leaf podi is different from both of these. There are many other varieties too, of course, and each kind has particular uses.

As a child, at friends’ homes and at wedding celebrations, I would consume podis but didn’t really notice what kind was served. At most, I would wonder why a little spoonful of powder would be on one side of the banana leaf, and I would taste it but I would not necessarily think beyond that. By now of course, my awareness has deepened, and so has my expertise in preparation. I’m glad to share this curry leaf podi recipe with you, and I hope you’ll be able to discern its uniqueness too.

Curry leaf podi is usually enjoyed mixed into either gingelly oil or ghee and eaten as an accompaniment to hot rice, or else idly or dosa. It enhances the flavour of the main dish, and significantly cuts down on cooking time when one needs to eat in a hurry. It is the key to a very simple and fast meal that is still tasty. It also works beautifully when a meal contains a few more dishes, adding a touch of spice that elevates the plate (or the leaf) on the whole. Unlike pickles, which are very pungently flavoured, a podi is subtler while still packing a punch. The quantities consumed are more liberal as opposed to pickles, which is why blending into rice becomes possible. I also presume – or maybe I just imagine – that podis were traditionally used mostly in summertime when the curry leaf plant thrives and there is a dearth of vegetables, other than some water-based ones. Nature’s seasons and human resourcefulness both have deep impacts on how we eat, when we eat and how much we eat.

I have shared about the goodness of curry leaves before, along with some photos of the flowering shrub. You may have also noticed lush stems of it in many of my photographs across this blog. That is because whenever I want to incorporate a natural element into a frame, I often step into the garden and pluck some for my photoshoot. Here, we often take it for granted as it grows in many backyards. It is used across South Indian cuisines, and is truly one of the most delicious herbs in this part of the country. It imparts any dish it is used in with a distinct flavour. More often than not, most of us pick out the curry leaves and abandon them on the side of the plate, since the flavour has already been steeped into the dish, but this is a waste. The leaves have a nice taste themselves, and moreover are rich with antioxidants.

If you ever visit me at home, you may find me adding curry leaves to a Gujarati dal perhaps – but that is only because of my exposure, for it is hardly used in my ancestral cooking, if at all. It doesn’t grow there, but as I often say, I grew up right here – like this plant! Of course, my fusion experiments go beyond these two cultures, such as in the making of this curry leaf hummus. Here, however, I offer a condiment that is as authentic as possible.

Curry Leaf Podi
(Yield: Approximately 1½ cups)

1 tablespoon urad dal
1 tablespoon channa dal
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
1 cup fresh curry leaves
3-5 red dried red chilies
1 tablespoon desiccated coconut
½ teaspoon asafoetida
1 tablespoon oil
Salt to taste

Rinse and wash the curry leaves well. Then, pat them dry in a cloth. Lay them out in the sun to dry. In summer, they will dry up in a day. Alternatively, you could place them in the oven on a low temperature and allow them to dehydrate until they are crisp to the touch.

When ready to prepare the curry leaf podi, add the oil in a pan. Dry roast the urad dal, channa dal, sesame seeds, dried red chillies and cumin seeds until the ingredients are golden. Finally, add the desiccated coconut and asafoetida. Allow all these to roast all together for a short time.

In a blender jar, add all the roasted ingredients along with the dried curry leaves and salt. Blend until you get a coarse powder.

Store in an airtight jar. Serve with rice, idly and dosa, or experiment with using this condiment in your own versatile ways. I would eat it with rotis and theplas too, for instance. I have shared various other condiment recipes in the past – not just powders, but pickles and more too – and I hope you’ll explore my archives and find other interesting ways to liven up your enjoyment of a meal too.

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Recipe: More Flavour, More Punch – Molagai Podi

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“Podi” means “powder” in Tamil and the word is used for a variety of dry condiments. One highly versatile one is molagai podi, the primary ingredient of which is the red chilli. It is an accompaniment that is typically served with idli or dosa. It is mixed with ghee or gingelly oil into a thick paste that resembles a chutney’s consistency, and eaten with these main dishes. I also like to sprinkle molagai podi on potatoes or other dishes to enhance their taste. It can be used in plenty of ways – once you make a batch, you’ll find yourself reaching for it quite a lot.

Nowadays, I also notice restaurants serving podi idli or podi dosa, with the powder dusted on top rather than on the side. It reminds me of the tiffin boxes carried by my friends when we were back in school, when their moms would sprinkle the powder on top of the dosa for a little flavour, so as to maintain a dry lunchbox. I would send my kids off to school with mini idlis served like this myself, with the spice quotient adjusted for their intake, and with the knowledge that the cute size of the idlis would hold their attention well. Of course, when one has the option to eat at home and at leisure, convenience is not the main factor, and ghee and oil can be used to enhance the taste.

The dosa itself has so many variants served in just about any restaurant now, and while I understand the novelty factor, I lean a bit more traditional and stick to the plain dosa with the basic chutneys, podis and sambar that I grew up with. That said, when I am entertaining at home – especially when I have Gujarati relatives coming here and I want to show off the local cuisine – I prefer to serve a wider variety of condiments. I will include this molagai podi, of course, but will perhaps add a curry leaf podi. That is usually eaten with rice but I feel it goes well with dosas too. That’s the next recipe I will share on this blog, so do keep an eye out for it.

Of course, the easiest of all methods is to just buy readymade podis. There are excellent ones out there and I myself have bought them when lazy or in a hurry. Still, I remain a stickler about finding out what goes into each dish I serve and I enjoy doing things myself, especially in the kitchen.

Not long ago, I decided to try making my own molagai podi too, with the help of my friend Anandi. She is an expert in Tamil cuisine and my go-to person for any recipes I want to learn to make authentically. I give her a call, and she generously shares her mom’s recipes, techniques and tips.

My molagai podi usually came from Anandi’s home, but when I got it into my head that I wanted try making it too, she was only happy to help. This is not my first trial at molagai podi. I have made it a few times now, and it gets better with practice. The same will be true for all your cookery attempts, as they have been for all of mine.

Being in the region where the cuisine emerged and evolved in means that authenticity is possible, thanks to the right ingredients, climatic conditions and so on. As I’ve said at other times on this blog, fun matters most when cooking and eating, but there is also something special about perfecting a dish exactly as it has been made for generations. In order to retain that effect and that quality, one must also keep passing it along. My grown children have established their own homes and kitchens, and I am encouraging the notion of being aware of exactly what goes into their food. I hope my approach inspires them.

Now, let me also clarify that what we have here is an authentic variant of molagai podi. Different regions and communities will have their tweaks and renditions, and ultimately it still comes down to the person who makes the podi. Everyone has their own touch and their own style. Either way, you will get a spicy punch that you’ll love adding to your everyday meals!

Molagai Podi
(Yield: Approximately 1½ cups)

1 cup black urad dal
1 cup channa dal
2 tablespoons toor dal
1 teaspoon methi/fenugreek seeds
3-4 tablespoons sesame seeds
½ teaspoon asafoetida
50 dried red chillies
1 tablespoon gingelly oil

Roast the urad dal, toor dal and channa dal separately, until they get fragrant. Set them all aside.

Roast the sesame seeds and the methi seeds together. Set aside.

Now add the oil to the pan and add the dry red chillies. Finally, add the asafoetida. Once the chillies have roasted, remove from the pan.

Add all the ingredients in a blender and blend well.

Store in a jar and use as required. You’ll enjoy this versatile condiment in numerous ways, I’m sure. Don’t be afraid to venture beyond the traditional idli, dosa and rice uses – let it pep up any dish where you feel the spicy flavour would enhance the experience!

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Recipe: Of Temples And Travellers – Tamarind Rice

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I may sound like I am repeating myself, but what I am about to say (again) is just one of those basic facts about me: if you put a gun to my head and ask me to choose whether I like Gujarati cuisine or Tamil cuisine better, I would very quickly and quite happily admit that it’s the latter. Even though I am Gujarati, I grew up here in Chennai, and as much as I love the food of my culture, the food of my surroundings has my heart. Among the dishes I cherish most is tamarind rice, and I’ll tell you why.

South India has been described as the rice bowl of the country, and there are hundreds of varieties grown here, as I’ve discussed in the past. The different cuisines in the Southern states also lean heavily towards rice dishes, as well as those that use rice flour as a chief ingredient. As with all parts of India, traditional food is always thoughtfully designed to serve two objectives in particular: healthiness and seasonality. Certain items are prepared year-round, and I believe tamarind rice falls into this category.

That impression may have been formed of course by the fact that tamarind rice is the standard prasadam, or food served to the deities and then to devotees, across temples in South India. Perhaps that is because it is fast and easy to make, and because the tamarind acts like a preservative, allowing the dish to keep better as well as to travel a bit – which is great if someone wants to take some home after a pilgrimage.

Moreover, a selection of flavourful dishes is also always served on the side in elaborate banana leaf meals at special events like weddings. Coconut rice and lemon rice will be present as well, but it’s the tamarind rice that I always reach out for most eagerly.

Tamarind itself is an ingredient that’s important in this part of the world. Its English name comes from the Arabic term “tamr hindī”, or “date of India”, referencing its value as a trade item. While the tree is indigenous to Africa, it is so thoroughly naturalized on the Indian subcontinent that even its scientific name, Tamarindus indica, carries a nod to this region. Not only was the fruit coveted globally, but the tree has been valued here through time. I remember encountering many stories in books as a child in which tamarind trees were considered the trees of travellers. This was because they were planted alongside routes in order to provide shade and coolness. The canopy is huge and a person or small group can easily rest beneath one. There are still many tamarind trees around in Chennai today, though perhaps not as many as when I was growing up. I have fond memories of the ones that grew in my school’s compound. We would wait for strong breezes to blow the fruit off, to the ground, and race to collect them.

The raw, deseeded fruit can be soaked and used to flavour food, or else made into a chutney, which my mother would prepare quite often back then. She would also make tamarind rice, and let me be honest – as much as I am in awe of her culinary skills, I’ll be honest and say that it wasn’t her finest dish. It was sort of her own version, and I knew even back then that it wasn’t quite as tasty as the tamarind rice served in the temple near my grandparents’ house. Still, it was a start, and I appreciate that for a busy homemaker it would have been a simple dish to put together on days when she had less time to cook.

Nowadays, there are even easier ways of making tamarind rice. Readymade mixtures are sold in shops, almost in a pickle form, and mixing a dollop with cooked rice is all it takes. But I’ve always felt that there’s a special pleasure in making things from scratch. This particular recipe was taught to me by a sloka teacher I had a few years ago. After classes, she would come into my kitchen and teach me some authentic recipes, including this ginger chutney. She made a delicious tamarind rice paste, and the method she taught me is what goes into this preparation.

As for the rice used, I’ve gone ahead with the common ponni, which is a small-grained, boiled variety. This is easily accessible to me, and I suggest you choose one that is available wherever you are in the world. A short, stout rice works best to absorb the deep flavours of the paste and spices.

Tamarind Rice
(Yield: Serves 4)

2 cups cooked rice

Spice Powder
½ teaspoon methi/fenugreek seeds
2 teaspoons coriander seeds
2 teaspoons sesame seeds
6-8 dry red chilies
1 teaspoon whole black pepper

Tamarind paste
¼ cup sesame oil
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
2 teaspoons channa dal
½ teaspoon turmeric
3-4 dry red chilies
1 teaspoon urad dal
A handful of curry leaves
½ teaspoon asafoetida powder
¼ cup peanuts
Salt to taste
1 tablespoon jaggery
1 large lime-sized ball of tamarind
2 cups water

Dry roast each of the spice powder ingredients separately. Allow to cool and then powder them all together. Set aside. Soak the tamarind ball in warm water. Once soaked, squeeze and extract the pulp as much as possible. Discard the fibre.

Heat a pan and add the oil. Now, add the mustard seeds, chillies, channa dal and urad dal. Roast slightly and then add the asafoetida and curry leaves.

Add the tamarind pulp, salt and turmeric powder. Stir. Cover and allow to simmer until the raw smell of tamarind goes away. This will take approximately 10-15 minutes.

Remove from the flame and allow to cool.

To assemble the tamarind rice, put the 2 cups of cooked rice in a bowl. Add ¼ cup of the tamarind mixture. Using your hands, gently mix it well into the rice. Add 1 tablespoon of sesame oil to bring all the flavours together. Tamarind rice need not be eaten hot, and this is now ready to serve. Store the remaining tamarind mixture in a glass jar and refrigerate. I’d say it can be used for about a couple of weeks.

Rice is such a fixture in many homes in Asia and other parts of the world, and it can get a little boring. I have more recipes in the archives that may bring some novelty to your rice consumption, and I hope you’ll explore them.

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Recipe: More Protein, More Pep – Mexican-Style Eggs

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You may already know, if you’ve been a reader of this blog for some time, of my love of Mexican cuisine. I enjoy the authentic dishes so very much, and make my own fusion or Indianized versions, some recipes for which you’ll find at that link. My Mexican friends do tease me about my tweaks and substitutes, but we still sit together in my home when they visit and enjoy what I’ve prepared, even while laughing over it. Also, no matter what: when my older son visits, he insists on tacos, made by me, made my way. Over time, I have let go of any inhibitions I have had about inauthentic cooking and have learned to focus on the fun of it. That’s how these Mexican-style eggs came into being.

I really do feel that eggs make for brilliant breakfasts. I have shared some of these recipes in the past too, for instance: my version of the West Asian shakshouka and the protein-powerhouse moringa leaf omelette.

Shakshouka had been our customary Sunday brunch at home for quite a while, but it has become a bit boring for us lately. Our family is such that if we like one dish, we have it on repeat until we tire of it and need a break. That’s what happened with the shakshouka. I wanted to pep things up again, while retaining the protein quotient that the eggs bring. I also wanted to bring in flavours from a different part of the world and deepen them. That’s when I decided to experiment with Mexican seasonings. This recipe is kind of my own invention, and I make no claims about it being like any actual counterparts that may exist in Mexico! I know about a famous dish called huevos rancheros, of course, but I have not even tasted this – so far, that is. I look forward to doing so some day, and hope to visit that amazing country again.

There is a kind of chilli that imparts the particular flavours in this dish, as well as others in many of my experiments with this cuisine. It is the jalapeño, which appears here in three forms. One is the whole chili itself, chopped up. The other two are in the form of a seasoning that uses both chipotle, which is essentially a jalapeño that has been smoked and dried, as well as adobo pepper, which is when the smoked chipotle has been preserved in a spiced tomato-garlic purée. You can find all these online and in big supermarkets in India, where Mexican and Mexican-ish food is enjoyed by many. You may use canned kidney beans if that is your preference, but I like to soak our good old rajma. These are what go into what I call my Mexican eggs. They’re not quite Mexican, I know, but they come from a deep appreciation for the cuisine and its ingredients.

Coming to the eggs themselves, there’s something interesting about them too. We have a little plot of land adjoining my husband’s factory, and the women who work there have made it a special place on which a few vegetables are grown and some hens are raised too. These cluck around and make a nuisance, but they do produce great eggs. The credit is really to the workers who decided to utilize this space thoughtfully. They get to take the veggies and the eggs home for very nominal prices, and we do the same. I absolutely dislike store-bought eggs, more so since their initiative took off. I treat those eggs like gold, and knowing that they are fully organic, farm-to-table ones makes me really happy about feeding them to my family too.

We love having loud, noisy brunches on Sundays. During very pleasant weather such as what we have right now, we sit out in the garden and enjoy our food and our conversation, and these Mexican eggs make for a perfect meal. I like to make individual servings as the presentation is lovely, but you can also make a large amount on a big plate and share it.

Mexican Eggs
(Yield: Serves 1)

50 grams red kidney beans (cooked, with water)
2 teaspoons + 2 tablespoons olive oil
250 grams tomatoes (crushed, with 1 cup water)
1 teaspoon taco seasoning
1 tablespoon adobo-chipotle seasoning
2 eggs
Salt to taste
1 tablespoon jalapeños (finely chopped)
¼ cup onions (chopped)
¼ cup bell peppers (chopped)
¼ cup corn

Crush the kidney beans and set aside.

Heat a kadai. Add the olive oil and then add the crushed tomatoes with water. Stir and add salt, taco seasoning and adobo-chipotle seasoning. Stir well. Once it starts to cook, add the kidney beans and the water. Cook well and set aside.

In a flat pan, add 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Heat, then add the onions, bell peppers and corn. Stir well. Next add the seasoned kidney beans and tomatoes mixture. Mix and allow to cook without stirring for about 2 minutes.

Make a shallow well in the mixture and break the eggs directly into them. Sprinkle the eggs lightly with salt. Cover and allow to cook.

If you wish to, you could grate some cheese on top. I find that Manchego complements the flavours beautifully. With or without that garnishing, serve immediately. These delicious Mexican-inspired eggs are quite filling and sufficient for a full breakfast when paired with toast, and sourdough is especially recommended.

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Recipe: Something To Relish – South Indian Roast Potatoes

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When it comes to recipes, sometimes just having one of a certain dish isn’t enough. I have shared my own version of roast potatoes on this blog in the past, but lately I have felt inspired to start making them in the Tamil Nadu style more often. As someone born and brought up in Chennai, this dish is one that I have known and enjoyed all my life, as will anyone who loves a spicy accompaniment.

When I said I was feeling inspired, this was in part because one of my favourite pastimes is surfing the Internet for all things to do with food. I love looking up and reading about the subject, seeing what people out there are making, and watching videos not just on trends but also on classic dishes. They may or may not be authentic, but they are exciting just the same. I choose whichever I am interested in, tweak the recipes a bit based on my preferences, and they often turn out yummy. Through this blog, I am a part of that community too, and contribute to it. It feels special to know that we are all inspirations to one another, and to me this is true whether in the art world or in cooking or in writing or in so many other arenas. Online and offline, my passion for recipes – creating them, discovering them, and sharing them – is joy-bringing, I love being gifted or gifting nice cookbooks too. It has long been a dream of mine to publish one of my own, and this is the year in which that will come to fruition.

Coming back to the South Indian-style roast potatoes, let me just say at the outset that it’s okay to indulge in carbs and a little extra oil sometimes. I try not to do either too often, so when I do I choose my favourites and make sure I relish them. This dish is one I have become such a pro at that I even make the masala at home, powdering and keeping a fair quantity to use as needed. I have shared the recipe for that too, and recommend that you take a little extra time to prepare that too. You’ll taste and smell the difference it makes.

The aroma and flavour truly take me back to my school days, when many of my friends would bring curd rice in their tiffin boxes with roast potatoes on the side. The moment that lunch was unpacked was special: the fragrance of deep-fried, well-seasoned potatoes would rise. It would be irresistible. We loved sharing our lunches, as I’ve shared in earlier posts like this spinach rice recipe.

I will admit: carb-consciousness has made me like potatoes somewhat less now than I used to, or at least eat them less often. But as a child and a teenager, I simply adored them. So much so that when I first started learning how to cook, I told my mom that the first dish I would prepare on my own would feature this ingredient. I had also been inspired by my older brother. When our mom travelled, he would make my sister and I sit in the kitchen and watch as he prepared potato sabzi and roti for us. So at around age 14 or 15, under her supervision, I made a simple sautéed potato dish with barely anything but salt. Salt, heat and oil are all that’s really needed to make a potato taste good, anyhow.

Still, what a long way I have come since that basic fried potato dish! From nothing-but-salt to grinding my own spices, from the easiest way to the elaborate and the innovative. I continue to learn every day, and the journey goes on. I am so glad to have you along on mine, sharing recipes that make life more delicious.

South Indian Roast Potatoes
(Yield: Serves 2)

250 grams potatoes
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon turmeric powder
¼ tsp mustard seeds
½ teaspoon urad dal
¼ tsp cumin seeds
¼ tsp asafoetida
A few curry leaves
2-3 tablespoons oil
3-4 Kashmiri red chillies (whole)
2 tablespoons onions (finely chopped)

Spice powder
1 tsp urad dal
½ teaspoon methi seeds
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon channa dal
1 teaspoon oil

Boil, peel and dice the potatoes. Set aside.

In a pan, begin to prepare the spice powder by adding the one teaspoon of oil. Once it has heated, add all the spice powder ingredients and roast until golden. Remove onto a plate and allow to cool. Now blend coarsely and keep ready.

In the same pan, add the 2 tablespoons of oil, and once heated add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds and urad dal. Once they turn golden and splutter, add the red chilies, curry leaves and asafoetida.

To this, add the onions first. Sauté and then add the potatoes and the freshly-made spice powder. Sprinkle with salt and turmeric powder. Mix this all together well. Allow to roast until it all comes together well and the potatoes are slightly golden at the bottom.

This dish works as a great accompaniment for dosas, rotis or any kind of rice dish. If you’d like to explore more potato dishes or more South Indian flavours, there’s more in the blog archives where this came from!

 

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Recipe: A Herbal Curd Curry – Methi Kadhi

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On the first Sunday of every month, through my childhood, my mother would make my siblings and I stand in a line and consume a very bitter Ayurvedic powder, which was mixed into a quarter glass of water for each of us. This was a non-negotiable, and we hated it, dreading those Sundays for that very reason. We were forced to drink it up because her claim was that it cleared the stomach of any bugs, infections or worms and contributed to overall good health. I don’t know exactly what was in that powder, which was from a brand that has now long become obsolete, but I presume it contained fenugreek leaves – known in Gujarati as methi – because of the taste, as well as its medicinal potency. It took many years, but eventually I realised my mother was right. I believe her now, and I use methi liberally in my cooking. It even makes its way into a yogurt-based curry known as kadhi. As a result, methi kadhi is both nutritious and tasty.

I have shared a kadhi recipe in the past, and this is a variation that, as mentioned, boosts the healthiness quotient. That recipe contained a few grains of methi, which I also add to various dals, whereas this one utilizes fresh leaves. Fenugreek is extremely beneficial in both seed and leaf form, and is considered by many to be a superfood. A herb that originated in the Mediterranean region, it has been cultivated in India for at least 3000 years and plays a major role in North Indian cuisines. It is known to lower blood sugar and cholesterol, improve digestion and fertility, support the immune system and even enhance skin and hair health.

I mentioned recently that I enjoyed sprouting microgreens as a kid, and methi was among the seeds I used. My sister would also grow hers separately, and we would compare notes. I don’t think we ended up consuming our homegrown herbs, but I do remember the pure joy of seeing the small shoots. Nowadays, I buy the fresh green leaves, but I prepare my own kasoori methi or dried fenugreek powder at home. It is methi season now, and the best place to prepare the powder is at my home in Ahmedabad. The combination of the winter sun and general climate there are ideal for this, whereas Chennai is more humid year-round. The leaves dry up in a day or two. I store them to use through the year, and I make enough for my homes as well as my children’s.

There are two varieties of methi that are generally available. There is one with small, thick leaves that doesn’t grow more than 6 inches, and a bigger, bushier variety. I prefer using the small one when I need fresh leaves, and the bigger one for powdering. While I feel the former is more potent in taste, the yield quantity I require for the powder is better achieved by using the latter.

Kadhis don’t appear on my dining table that frequently, because I prefer to serve dals and lentils daily instead as they contain more protein. In fact, I ate it much more frequently as a child as my father loved it and thus my mother would prepare it very regularly. I myself preferred it to dal back then, and enjoyed it when combined with a plain khichdi. This means that when I prepare any kind of kadhi now, I look forward to it all the more, since the dish was a childhood favourite that has become infrequent.

Methi Kadhi
(Yield: Serves 4)

1 cup yogurt
2 tablespoons besan (split brown chickpea flour)
1½ cups water
1½ cups methi (fenugreek leaves)
1 tablespoon ginger + green chilli paste
2 tablespoons oil
2 tablespoons ghee
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon jeera seeds (cumin)
1 cinnamon stick
2 cloves
½ teaspoon asafoetida

Take the yogurt in a bowl. Add the besan and water to it, and beat well until there are no lumps. Set aside.

Clean and finely chop the methi leaves. In a kadai, add the oil and once it has heated, add the methi leaves. Sauté until tender. Add the ginger+green chili paste.

To this, add the yoghurt and besan mixture. Add salt and cook until the raw flavour of the flour leaves and the mixture thickens. Stir continuously as it cooks, otherwise it will separate.

Now, prepare the tempering. In a frying pan, add the ghee. Once it has heated, add the jeera, cinnamon stick, cloves and asafoetida. Pour this over the kadhi.

Your methi kadhi is now ready to serve. As mentioned, it pairs perfectly with khichdi.

While there is an Indian belief that curd should be avoided at night and during winter, I would suggest that even if you follow that custom, the use of methi and besan in this kadhi provide a counterbalance. Don’t deprive yourself of this deliciousness, in any season! I may eat less of it now than I did growing up, but I certainly still do!

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