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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gujarati Thaali

Bottle Gourd Thepla

Mixed Dal

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

Roast Potatoes

Laapsi

Peas Pulao

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

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

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

Bhindi Raita

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maharashtra and Gujarat are neighbouring Indian states, so there is a great deal that is shared between them. Many Gujaratis migrated to Bombay in generations prior and adapted to its culture, as a part of my family did too, and certain customs overlap as a result. A similar climate means that certain types of produce are grown in both places, which then of course go into the cuisines. Like poha, the sabudana vada is a dish that originates in Maharashtra but is often thought of as Gujarati because it is a staple for us too.

Sabudana vada is a deep-fried delight with a mashed potato base, and with sago pearls (made from taro root) added to it. Something that is unique about it is that it is a dish that is popular during certain kinds of religious fasts, but it is also so tasty that it makes its way into festive arrays as well. With Navaratri just having come to a close this year, and with Diwali not far away, it’s the perfect time to enjoy this crispy snack.

While I definitely encountered sabudana vada during childhood travels to Bombay, to me its most resonant memories from my growing years are from life at home in Chennai, where it was a dish that my mother prepared very often. Specifically, it was one of the few dishes that she consumed during her customary fast on the 11th day of each month, known as “agiyaras”. Other ritual-related specialties would include buckwheat or barnyard millet (“moraiyo”), depending on the event, the season and so on. There were also certain kinds of fasts in which grains were to be avoided, in which case the sabudana vada was perfect.

For any fast in which a single meal could be consumed during the day, such as on agiyaras, the starchiness of sabudana vada would offer energy through the day. It would be had alongside some form of dairy. I would enjoy these meals along with my mother while I was growing up, although I did not myself fast. She was also very connected to the Gujarati community in the city, and I would go with her when she went to the temple.

In this way, she inculcated certain traditions in me that I still have great admiration for. I have tried to pass them on to my children as well, even while I respect that they are free to choose the religious or spiritual paths that call to them – if they choose any at all. I have always felt that it is important for them to be aware of what is there, and what we as a family have believed in for generations. No matter what they decide on when they are older and wiser, a grounding exists that they can return to if they feel it is right for them.

This is because while I have an expansive definition of spirituality, I have found that the grounding that I had because of my own upbringing has given me a great deal. For instance, I take very seriously a ritual that I perform at home, which is the worship of Srinathji. I believe in the value system of family, which is why I accepted Him graciously into my home, and I follow closely all the practical customs. This is a part of my legacy from my parents, and I hope that it will be carried on through future generations. My children have observed these rituals of mine just as I observed my own mother’s devotion all those years ago.

I experience spirituality in other ways too, but this is the practical ritual that happens in my home daily. It is “seva”, or service, and I do it sincerely. The link between food and faith is also something that I contemplate. For instance: fasting and feasting always go hand in hand in communities around the world. There are so many beautiful customs out there in which abstinence and prayer are followed by celebrations – and all the deliciousness that come with these. All festivals have religious origins, even if they are more secular and may have other significance nowadays.

Still, whether you are fasting, feasting or simply having fun, this sabudana vada is a beautiful addition to your repertoire.

Sabudana Vada

(Yield: 15-20 pieces)

1 cup sabudana (sago pearls)
2 medium size potatoes
1 tablespoon green chili-ginger paste
Salt to taste
2 teaspoons sugar
Juice of 1 lime
3 tablespoons peanuts (coarsely ground)
1 tablespoon coriander leaves (finely chopped)
Oil for frying

Soak the sabudana for 4-5 hours. Drain for at least 1 hour. Set aside.

Boil and then mash the potatoes while they are warm. To this, add the drained sabudana.

Then, add the salt, sugar, lemon juice, green chili-ginger paste, coriander leaves and peanuts. Using your hands, blend everything until the mixture comes together.

Now, make discs from this mixture of 3-inch diameter and 1-inch thickness.

Heat the oil in a kadai and drop each vada gently into the hot oil. Allow to cook until golden and turn over. Make sure both sides are well cooked and brown. Drain on a tissue paper.

Serve with a chutney or sauce of your choice. I really wish I knew the recipes of all the incredible Maharastrian chutneys that sabudana vadas are served with in Mumbai. I would love to learn, and am excited about the trial-and-error process. If you happen to know some, drop me an email at indulgeatrestore@gmail.com or a DM on Instagram, won’t you?

Sabudana also features in a khichdi-like stir fry that is another favourite of mine. I have yet to master it in the way my mother had, but once I do, you can be sure that I will share that recipe with you too.

Several years ago, close to when I began this blog, I had shared a post on a variety of Gujarati flatbreads. The ones featured therein were just a small selection. There are hundreds of kinds of flatbreads in India, and even within different communities or regions, each family will have its own version. The thepla in particular has many types. It is basically a masala flatbread, and may have additions of grated vegetables or flavourings. Bottle gourds and leafy greens, of all different sorts, are often used. Here, I share with you a recipe for jowar methi thepla. It uses fenugreek leaves (methi) and sorghum millet (jowar) alongside the standard wheat, which makes it richly nutritional.

I prefer to use fresh methi, but dried kasoori methi will also work. If you’d like to totally substitute the methi, you can do so with any spinach. In my version of this flatbread, I make it with green chilli paste. My sister likes to use red chilli powder instead, which gives it a darker colour. Traditionally, jowar (sorghum) is replaced by bajri (pearl millet) in winters, as the latter is more warming. You can use the same method below to make bajri methi thepla.

Theplas go well with pickles, vegetables, curries and gravies (a potato and tomato gravy pairs nicely, for instance). They are also great by themselves, or as an accompaniment to a cup of chai. They are perfect for school and office tiffin boxes – applying some chhundo on one, rolling it up and packing it makes for an easy lunch. However, they are more traditionally eaten at dinner time, and I think this is because they don’t go well with dals, which are usually served in the afternoon. There are no hard and fast rules about theplas because convenience is the key to their popularity. They keep for a few days, and travel well. I often make a pile of theplas and carry them with me during short trips, so that I can avoid eating outside food.

As for jowar methi thepla specifically, I’ve had it all my life and so I take it for granted. Only if I sat down to think about it would I really be able to list the memories associated with it. It was frequently served at home for dinner, eaten as leftovers for breakfast, or carried to school for lunch. It was just a part of everyday life, and it still is. I hope it finds a regular place in your meals too.

Jowar Methi Thepla

(Yield: 12 pieces)

1 cup whole wheat flour

½ cup jowar flour

Salt to taste

1 tablespoon oil

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon sesame seeds

1 teaspoon cumin and coriander powder

1 teaspoon green chilli paste

1 tablespoon yoghurt

½ cup chopped methi leaves (or any spinach)

Water to bind dough (approximately 1 cup)

Oil for pan frying

 

Add all the ingredients to a mixing bowl. Knead and bind the dough with water, pouring it a little at a time. Ensure the dough is neither too soft nor too hard.

Leave the dough covered for at least 30 minutes. Then, make even-sized balls from it. You will get roughly 12.

Roll each ball out with the help of flour into flat round discs.

Shallow fry them on a hot griddle with the help of some oil. Make sure the oil is added to the edges, as this way the thepla will not dry out.

Store the theplas in a covered box and consume within three days.

While there are endless variations on theplas themselves, all Gujarati homes will invariably have theplas available on a more or less daily basis. I hope you will explore more of my thepla recipes on this blog, and I’d especially suggest that you take a look at the taco theplas, if you’re feeling in the mood for some fusion fun, and this khichdi thepla that makes great use of leftovers.

When people say Gujaratis are synonymous with dhoklas, I often think about how it is probably actually poha that’s a better symbol of our eating habits. Even though it is originally a Maharashtrian dish, Gujarati-style poha has been tweaked to suit our palates and makes such a frequent appearance at our meals that it is also quintessential to us. At any Gujarati home – including mine – on literally seven days of any given week, you are very likely to get to see, and of course taste, poha.

The Gujarati palate likes a bit of sweetness and a bit of tanginess in every dish, which is the tweak that this recipe contains. There is some sugar, of course. There is also a squeeze of lime and some green chilli paste. These additions bring in a perfect combination of three flavours: sweet, tangy and spicy.

Poha is, as established already, a staple. It is flattened rice prepared in a savoury way. It is a reliable dish, and made with easily accessible ingredients. It is basic, simple and nourishing. It is healthy and light on the system. It is versatile: good to serve to guests, good to have when unwell or recuperating, and even good at certain celebrations (such as the morning functions of weddings). It is mainly a morning dish, and it is ideal for an everyday breakfast too.

For me, poha is so essential that if it is served every day in my home, I must also have it at least on three days of the week when I travel abroad. Be it London or New York, I must have poha. I carry the ingredients with me and prepare it wherever I am. When I’m travelling, I like to make it in my own special way, by topping it with lots of vegetables. I do know that some people add green peas during pea season, but otherwise this isn’t typically Gujarati. I add the vegetables to suit my health and lifestyle requirements. In this recipe, I have used corn along with a handful of peanuts, to bring in more of the nutrition quotient that I strongly prefer.

Gujarati Poha

(Serves 2-3 people)

2 cups poha

1 medium size onion (finely chopped)

1 medium sized potato (finely cut)

½ cup corn niblets

1 tablespoon peanuts

1 green chilli

A handful of curry leaves

3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

1 tablespoon sugar

Juice of 1 large lime

You may want to use the red rice variety of flattened or beaten rice to prepare this dish, but I like to use the thinner white rice variety. The advantage of it is that you don’t have to soak it for fifteen minutes to half an hour beforehand. You only have to rinse it. Do keep this in mind; if you use the thicker variety, you must soak and drain it.

Rinse the poha under running water and allow to drain, half an hour before cooking. Set aside.

Heat a kadai, and add the oil. Add the cumin and mustard seeds. Once they splutter, add the peanuts and then the onions, curry leaves and green chilli. Sauté until the onions are tender and then add the potatoes. Now, cover the kadai with a lid and allow the potatoes to cook on a low flame. Sprinkle a little water if required.

Next, add the corn and sauté until all the vegetables are tender.

Add the salt, turmeric powder, sugar and lemon juice and mix. Add the poha and mix gently. Sprinkle a little water and cover again for a few minutes.

Mix again gently and serve. You can garnish this dish with grated coconut and coriander leaves. As I mentioned, you can also top with vegetables for a greater nutritional boost. This will give you a re:store-tweaked, Gujarati-style poha!

Kanda kairi is a traditional Gujarati condiment, but it is eaten in such large quantities in my home that it almost qualifies as a sort of salad. It features only two basic ingredients, as its name attests: onion (or kanda) and raw mango (or kairi). So it is remarkably simple to put together, and tastes great by itself and as an accompaniment.

Across Gujarati homes, you’ll find some kanda kairi being served on any thaali at this time of year. Similar to how buttermilk is a staple in the summer, so is this dish. It’s quite interesting how the kanda kairi has a reputation for being a cooling condiment, given the ingredients involved. Yet somehow, the combination works for this purpose. I recall how when I was growing up, my mom would insist that my siblings and I have a tablespoon of it daily during the hot months. I used to make a face every time, but now I do the same thing, and I love it.

Aside from onion and raw mango, I like to elevate the flavour with a bit of jaggery (which you don’t need if the fruit you use has a hint of sweetness), as well as some chilli powder. In India, we love to add that spice to raw mangoes as well as to guavas, as it adds a delicious edge.

Kanda Kairi

(Yield: Serves 2-4)

1 cup raw mango (grated)

½ cup onions (finely sliced lengthwise)

2 tablespoons coriander leaves (finely cut)

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon powdered jaggery

½ – 1 teaspoon red chili paste

 

In a bowl, add the raw mango and onions and coriander leaves. When ready to serve, add the salt, jaggery and chili paste. Mix well and gently, using your hands.

Your kanda kairi is now ready. Enjoy it as a salad or condiment. To me, it’s a bit of both – and so easy to bring together!

I am visiting Kerala at the moment. Being in God’s own country, as this state is often called, has been a great experience. This is because Nature can be very inspiring. There is barely a single dry leaf anywhere – it is that beautiful. The lush greenery is all around, everywhere I go: mangoes hanging over the backwaters or down to the ground, coconuts, and plenty of banana varieties. The bananas called to mind some recipes that I really enjoy, including this delicious Gujarati dish named kela nu shaak.

Kela nu shaak is very popular among Gujarati Jains during fasting periods, when they may avoid greens. Thus, this savoury dish works as a vegetable substitute, and is eaten along with chapatis. That is, it is basically a banana subzi (“subzi” being the term for vegetable dishes). But it really is so delicious that it is a regular staple in the cuisine even beyond fasts. It goes quite well with other savoury dishes like kadhi, as well as various vegetable accompaniments too.

It was a dish my husband grew up eating, so it counts among his comfort foods and makes regular appearances in my cooking too as a result. It is really quite simple: the bananas are sautéed in ghee, and a few spices are added. I like to make it in a non-stick or iron pan, adding a little jaggery which turns crispy and golden at the bottom, almost caramelized. I find that this is a great way to lift the flavours of the dish.

If you don’t know what to do with overripe bananas, kela nu shaak is the dish for you. As you know, when they ripen the whole bunch does at once, so you may have quite a bit of fruit that doesn’t taste as good eaten raw. If you prefer something sweet instead, this banana bread recipe that I shared a while back is ideal.

I will be carrying back with me a few varieties of Kerala bananas, and it will be interesting to see the differences in flavours and the kinds of dishes they lend themselves well to. I will certainly share my findings with you once I get a good sense of how to use them. As for kela nu shaak, any of the usual green or yellow bananas that you have access to will do.

Kela Nu Shaak / Banana Subzi

(Yield: Serves 2)

5 small ripe bananas

1 tablespoon ghee

½ teaspoon jeera (cumin) seeds

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon dhaniya (coriander) powder

½ teaspoon jeera powder

2 tablespoons jaggery

 

Peel and slice the bananas. Set aside.

In a non-stick pan, add the ghee. Once it’s heated, add the cumin and the mustard seeds.

Wait for them to splutter, then add the sliced bananas.

Move the bananas around on the pan a little bit without mixing too much, and allow the slices to cook on both sides, flipping at intervals until lightly brown.

Now, add the spices and the salt. Mix very gently until the slices are coated. Next, add the jaggery.

Allow to cook on a low flame, making sure the jaggery doesn’t burn.

Once the bananas has turned golden and the jaggery has almost caramelized, turn off the flame. Your kela nu shaak is ready to serve. Enjoy hot, with chapatis.

I hope you will enjoy this savoury use of a sweet fruit!

Bajra ni puri is a traditional Gujarati snack that is mostly eaten in the monsoons or when the climate is cooler. This is because bajra is heavy to digest, as I have shared in prior recipes that feature it, and also to coincide with the winter harvest of this particular millet. I often talk about how Nature tells us what we should be eating, and how and when; it was a wonderful science indeed that our ancestors followed. However, if consumed in moderation, bajra ni puri can of course be eaten year-round. Since this is the last stage before the summer heat sets in, and hence our last chance for a few months to gorge on this dish as per traditional logic, I thought it was the perfect time to share it.

Bajra, also known as pearl millet, is a millet rich in iron. You can infer this because of its darker colour, as I learned while studying Macrobiotics some years ago. Speaking of seasonal consumption, lighter grains are usually had in the summer. Funnily enough, cravings for heavy food are not often there in the hot season anyway. Our bodies naturally adapt to Nature, and we should become more conscious of these needs and put them first.

There are different methods of making bajra ni puri. I like this one as it has a bit of tanginess, created by the yoghurt that is added to it. It is also spiced up by ginger-green chilli paste.

My mother used to make the puris a bit bigger, and they would be fluffy – soft in the centre and crisp on the edges. My sister makes it this way too, and I love hers perhaps because it reminds me of our mother’s.

My version is a small and crispy one, which goes well with masala chai. To create this perfect pairing, you can check out my recipes both for the masala and the chai itself.

When my daughter who is away studying came home recently, she took back with her the entire batch of bajra ni puri that I had made then. She loved it that much. So even though my own favourite version is what my sister learned from my mother (which she must have learned from her own mother), my daughter’s is probably mine. I am happy to share with her not just this snack but also the traditions that come with it.

What I am reminded of in some way is of how when a Gujarati bride gets married and leaves her home, she is given a pot full of goodies to take back with her. My understanding is that she would need the sustenance as she left her village and crossed into her new one, be it by road or by train, and items that would provide energy (like millets) would be included. Today, the tradition is continued in the form of fancy silver trays laden with sweets and nuts.

My mother must have brought with her the pot that is now an heirloom of mine when she got married. It was the only thing that I asked from her before she passed on. It is a beautiful round brass pot with a small mouth and a small lid; I imagine this was to ensure that only a little air got in and the items within remained fresh. It adorns my kitchen, and maybe I’ll share a photo of it in future.

Bajra Ni Puri

(Yield: 40 tiny pieces)

 

¾ cup bajra flour

¼ cup wholewheat flour

2½ tablespoons curd (use lime juice – optional)

2 tablespoons oil

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon sesame seeds

¼ teaspoon asafoetida

½ teaspoon turmeric

2 teaspoons green chilli+ginger paste

½ cup finely chopped fresh methi leaves (optional)

2 tablespoons water (optional)

 

In a bowl, add the flours, salt, turmeric, asafoetida, curd, oil, sesame and green chili-ginger paste. Mix, then add the methi (fenugreek) leaves if you wish to. Now, gauging the quantity of water required, add it slowly – 1 tablespoon at a time – making sure the dough is thick.

In the mean time, heat the oil for deep frying. Once it has heated, gently add a few puris at a time and lower the flame. Turn them over frequently so that both sides cook well and become a golden colour. Fry on a low to medium flame.

Remove and drain on a paper. Once cooled, store in an airtight container. Enjoy with your chai. You’ll find it tangy, spicy and yummy.

I love how this bajra ni puri contains the significance of my mother’s wedding pot, and also the simplicity of an afternoon snack.

In my previous post on bottle gourd thepla, a Gujarati flatbread variation, I mentioned that aloo methi sabzi is a perfect accompaniment. Aloo methi sabzi – or potato roast with fenugreek leaves – is very quick to make and tastes simply delicious. Besides – who doesn’t love potatoes?

I always seem to have some boiled potatoes ready in the kitchen, because I use them extensively. In Indian cuisine, this may be in the form of chaats, aloo tikkis, stuffed aloo parathas or more. They are just as useful for dishes from other cuisines, as potatoes really are enjoyed all around the world. Drop me a message or a comment if you’d like the recipes for any of the dishes I’ve named, or if there’s something more creative you’d like to explore together.

They really are such a versatile vegetable, and I like keeping them handy. When they are just lying around and I suspect they may go bad soon, I usually just boil them up and whip up some aloo methi sabzi. It’s the kind of dish that doesn’t ever go to waste in my house.

As it takes little time to prepare, as long as the potatoes have already been boiled, this is also my go-to recipe on days when my husband wakes up and says “Okay, I have to carry lunch to work today – it looks like I can’t come home in between”. With such short notice, sautéing this dish and putting some theplas in his tiffin box are the best way to make sure he gets a fulfilling lunch, made fast and fuss-free.

It’s so true that whatever one is most used to in the kitchen comes together effortlessly, and this recipe is in that category for me. The thepla part comes so easy too – I could make them blindfolded! But as a cook and as a person, I enjoy the challenge of learning new things. Right now, I am hungry for more skills that take me out of my comfort zone, or help me improve. I’m back to my sloka chanting classes after a break, and I am also restarting learning to speak Spanish. I mentioned recently how much I want to study Italian cuisine, and the thought of learning about authentic pasta and gelato has fired my imagination. I’d love to do an exchange programme with an Italian chef – perhaps they could teach me their recipes, and I could teach them some from my part of the world.

All that said, amidst such exciting pursuits, comfort food that doesn’t require thought and energy is much cherished. This aloo methi sabzi isn’t just an easy, tasty dish for me, but it also carries with it many childhood memories. Quite unusually for our generation, my brother was very interested in cooking. As the oldest child, he was put in charge of meals while our mother was travelling. I can still recall sitting on the kitchen floor with my sister, both of us literally and figuratively looking up at him as he worked, the smell of aloo methi sabzi wafting around us. This simple dish, paired with a standard thepla, was obviously his go-to as well. So my favourite memories of aloo methi sabzi are also memories of him.

When I think about it, I recognise just how much of a hub of activity the kitchen was when we were growing up. The boys and men did not keep out, as was the norm at the time. While my father didn’t cook, he chose to be in charge of groceries, not because he could go out more freely as a man, but because he was very interested in and wanted to contribute to the workings of a kitchen. It was quite wonderful, and very rare, for that time: a brother who cooked and a father who knew all about groceries.

 

Aloo Methi Sabzi

(Yield: Serves 2)

 

3 medium sized potatoes

1 cup finely chopped methi (fenugreek) leaves

Salt to taste

2 tablespoons oil

¼ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 green chilli (split length-wise)

1½ teaspoons cumin-coriander powder

 

Heat the oil in a kadai. Once it is hot, add the cumin seeds. When they splutter, add the split green chilli. Then, add the chopped potatoes. I sometimes add spinach as well, to make it even healthier.

Following this, add the methi leaves and all the masala. Stir all the ingredients together well and allow to cook.

As I said – the method for aloo methi sabzi is quite simple. Once the dish has cooked, serve hot alongside theplas, other flatbreads or rice. Or put it in a lunch box, and enjoy a home-cooked meal a few hours later.

Here are a couple more of my favourite potato preparations: a Gujarati potato brinjal curry that is close to my heart and also evokes my childhood, and spicy patatas bravas from Spain that always inspire me to keep exploring the world. As I said before, everyone seems to love potatoes, so I’m curious to know: what are some of your own favourites?

Being Gujarati, I think it’s only fair that I give you another detailed description of and a special blog post for theplas, even though the standard recipe for them has already made an appearance in my comprehensive post on rotis of many kinds. After all, Gujaratiness goes hand-in-hand with theplas and dhoklas, as stereotypical jokes go – in which there is a kernel of truth, for these really are essential parts of our cuisine. The thepla is particular, in fact. You may also recall a khichdi thepla shared earlier, which is a nifty way to turn what’s left of lunch into dinner. This time, I’m sharing with you a particular recipe that I happened to mentioned in that post – dudhi thepla, which adds the goodness of bottle gourd to the basic bread.

We make all kinds of flatbreads and rotis in India. Each state and each community will have distinct versions. For instance, farmers and people who labour outdoors will tend towards breads that use bajra or pearl millets, or other kinds of seasonal millets. As millets are slower to digest than wheat, this ensures that the body has energy for longer. The roti itself will usually be thicker, larger and drier. A garlic chutney is often the preferred condiment for this dish.

Within the thepla category itself there is great variation. In terms of adding vegetables and herbs, methi or fenugreek leaves are commonly used, and spinach may also be used. Those are among my favourites too, and I’ve put some methi into this recipe as well. If you thought the khichdi thepla was innovative, how about a thepla taco? It’s a fun way to dress up a staple and make it even more appealing to a variety of palates.

My children, despite their greater exposure to other cuisines, still consider as a cherished comfort food a roti or a thepla made at home. It’s the same for my husband. Whenever any of them return for a visit or after a long journey, some delicious theplas are always waiting for them, and I’ve watched time and again as their exhaustion becomes happiness quickly as they tuck in to the meal.

As I have mentioned before, the plain theplas travel very well and last long. They are a very popular work and school lunchbox item, as you may have seen if you’ve had Gujarati colleagues or classmates. My mother would carry them whenever we took trips, and many years later, I do this myself too. Do note that the bottle gourd thepla does not keep for as long as the plain ones, because of the vegetable used. However, it is much softer, and this is once again attributed to the vegetable. Bottle gourd has a very high water content, so much so that I do not add water at all when making the dough. When you are preparing it, if you feel that you’ve added a bit more flour, a few sprinklings of water will help. Otherwise, with practice, the flour, spices and grated bottle gourd will come together easily in a dough.

Whenever I entertain at home, if I’m planning an Indian menu, you can be assured that thepla is the chosen bread. It’s comforting, delicious, versatile and funnily enough, both light and filling. I’ve noticed this: when you’re eating theplas, you feel kind of full, but you seldom feel bloated or heavy afterwards. Have you observed the same too?

Bottle Gourd Thepla

(Yield: 9-10 theplas)

 

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons yoghurt

A handful of methi (fenugreek) leaves

Salt to taste

1 cup bottle gourd (to grate)

½ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon cumin powder

1 teaspoon coriander powder

1 tablespoon ginger green chilli paste

1 tablespoon oil

2-3 tablespoons water (if required)

Clean and chop the methi leaves. Wash and set aside. Peel the bottle gourd and grate the flesh. Keep aside, but not for too long.

In a bowl, add the flour and then add all ingredients, except water. The grated bottle gourd releases water, as explained earlier. Hence, add water at the end, and only if required. Knead well and make a stiff yet smooth dough.

Now, make small balls with the dough. Dust a ball with flour. Using a rolling pin, roll it out into a circular shape.

Heat a pan, and place the rolled disc onto it. Allow to roast on one side and then flip the thepla. Allow a few seconds to roast again and then add a few drops of oil onto both sides. Allow to cook until golden.

Repeat the process for all the rolled dough balls. Collect each as it’s done in a box so that they remain soft.

Theplas go well with pickles or potato roast (i.e. aloo sabzi). I’ll be sharing the recipe for the latter in my next post, so do stay tuned!

I’m the inquisitive type, and I love to know about everything that I eat. Recently, an ice cream recipe I was trying out called for guar gum, which made me wonder about its relationship to guar or cluster beans. With a little insight from Wikipedia, I learned this fun fact: guar gum, widely used internationally, comes from the guar seed and is exported from India. Guar gum is a thickening agent, and used in food industries around the world. Unfortunately, the processing the raw seed undergoes renders the final product rather unhealthy. Still, that takes away nothing from the goodness of guar itself. This wonderfully healthy vegetable hasn’t made an appearance on my blog so far, probably because it is not enjoyed by most of my family. But I know from experience that it is an acquired taste. I’ve been making it in a typical Gujarati style recently, in the form of guar dhokli. You may remember my dal dhokli recipe from years ago, and will be familiar with the stew-like concept behind it. This is similar: parcels of dough, known as dhokli, are cooked in a gravy – this one, full of nourishing guar.

Cluster beans are a bitter vegetable. The dhokli part of the dish balances this flavour out. Guar dhokli on the whole is a dish with several textures and flavours, and healthy too. As someone who enjoys a wide variety of vegetables, including unpopular ones like this one, I can safely say that a nice preparation, along with awareness of the benefits of an ingredient, can change one’s mind about it. This one contains: glyconutrients and a low glycemic index (making them good for diabetic diets) and folic acid (good for pregnancy diets). More generally, it is good for blood circulation, lowers bad cholesterol, and is rich in minerals, iron and Vitamins A, B and K.

As I mentioned, my family members aren’t fans, but I am. However, I too detested guar when I was growing up. My mother would make guar dhokli often and I would pick the guar out of the gravy and just eat the dhoklis, much to her fury! Funnily enough, once I got married and moved away, whenever I visited her I would request guar dhokli. It had a nostalgic quotient, and it truly began to grow on me. At this point, I would even go as far as to call guar one of my favourite vegetables. Some day, when my kids find themselves having a strange craving for it, they can look up this recipe. I am certain they will also have a change of palate as they get older.

The typical thaali that we eat at my house daily consists of a dal bhaat (dal and rice), rotli and a shaak, which is some kind of vegetable curry. This is the most basic Gujarati meal, and will be found at most households at lunch-time. Some may make it more elaborate by having one dry vegetable and a gravy one, or a savoury item and a sweet. But the core three elements remain. What happens in my home is that I often end up cooking some guar or some ridge gourd (which I I enjoy in a South Indian stir-fry, and have shared the recipe before) or some other vegetable that the others don’t like. So this just-for-me preparation becomes one extra dish, in addition to the core three.

When it comes to my kitchen, there are certain items that only I make. This guar dhokli happens to be one of them. Another one of my specialties is this Gujarati potato and brinjal curry. These recipes were transferred from my mother’s hands to mine, and somehow they just don’t taste the same unless I make them myself.

While preparing this guar dhokli, I pondered about how this authentic recipe has been preserved through the generations. My mother was only 19 when she moved to Chennai, and my siblings and I were born and raised here, just as my own children were. Still, we speak pure and perfect Gujarati at home, and the majority of the dishes we ate growing up were authentic ones. Even as I enjoy fusion food and amalgamating cuisines, I still find a way to maintain cultural and language traditions, even while integrating elements and influences. Food, of course, is the most beautiful way to do this – it’s amazing how we can enjoy diversity and also enjoy authenticity at the dining table.

Guar Dhokli

(Yield: 3-4)

 

Gravy

¼ kilogram cluster beans

2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

1 tbsp dhaniya jeera powder (coriander and cumin powder)

½ teaspoon sugar

2 cups water

 

Dhokli

¼ cup whole wheat flour

¼ cup chickpea flour

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

A pinch of chilli powder

1 teaspoon oil

¼ cup (or less) water

 

First, prepare the dhoklis. Make a tight dough with the above ingredients, adjusting the water accordingly. Now, make small discs with the palm of your hand. Set aside.

Then, prepare the gravy. First, wash and cut the guar into the desired size.

In a pressure cooker, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the ajwain. Next, add the chopped guar. Add 1 cup of water and allow the vegetable to cook until it is tender. This takes no more than 1 whistle.

Once cooled, open the lid and add another cup of hot water and then add the dhoklis that were set aside earlier.

Add the remaining spices and stir gently.

Once cooked, allow to cool for about 5-8 minutes. Your guar dhokli is now ready.

This dish is best served with rotis or rice, since it has a gravy component.

There you have it – guar dhokli, a dish that can turn a rather unpopular vegetable into a hit. Try it yourself and tell me what you think. I hope this recipe inspires you to bring the cluster bean into your repertoire, on repeat!