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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!

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!

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?