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Recipe: A Medley of Lentils – Mixed Dal

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Mixed Dal

(Yield: 1 pot)

1 cup mixed dal

4-5 cups water

2-3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon panch-phoron

2 dry red chillies

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ cup finely cut onions

½ cup finely cut tomatoes

3-4 cloves garlic

A pinch of asafoetida (hing)

½ teaspoon garam masala

⅓ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 stick cinnamon

Juice of 1 lemon

¼ cup finely chopped coriander leaves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: Celebrating The Bond Of Siblings – Delicate Dahi Vada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dahi Vada

(Yield: approximately 15 vadas)

For the vada

1 cup split mung

½ teaspoon asafoetida

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon green chili paste

Other ingredients

4 cups water

Oil for deep frying

3-4 cups yoghurt

Coriander leaves

Green chutney

Sweet date chutney

Roasted cumin powder

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: Guavas For A Good Mood – Gujarati Guava Curry

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guava Curry

(Yield: 2 cups)

1 tablespoon oil

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

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

2 cloves

1 piece cinnamon stick

1 dry red chilli

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

¼ teaspoon garam masala

¾ cup water

2 tablespoons jaggery

Salt to taste

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: Getting The Green Light – Green Moong Dhokla

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If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you may not be surprised to hear me say that green moong is my favourite among lentils (you may know it as mung bean, green gram or pachai payiru). As you’d have seen, I’m so in love with its versatility that it’s found a place in recipes as diverse as this crunchy teatime snack and in this deeply filling meal-in-a-bowl. With Republic Day this weekend, honouring the Indian constitution, I thought of how to best honour a different kind of Indian constitution – and once again, the humble yet power-packed mung bean was what came to mind.

Green is one of the three stripes of the tricolour and greenness is something that I think we need and must celebrate in this country. It’s a colour that evokes fecundity, growth and serenity. In my previous post, I talked about the harvest festival Sankranti. As a farm-owner, and someone very invested in using the goods of my garden in my kitchen, “green” is a way of life for me. I hope that this year will be good for farms and farmers everywhere, for political calmness, and for harmony and oneness with nature.

The recipe I am sharing today is for green moong dhokla – a healthy, fermented, steamed dish that can be eaten as a main course, a snack or an accompaniment. Soft and flavourful, a dhokla is so ubiquitously Gujarati that it’s a stereotype. I’ve literally heard people say “Dhokla!” when they hear what my ethnicity is. We have so many varieties, and my personal favourite is actually the buckwheat kind which is eaten on Agyaras, the eleventh day of each month which is traditionally observed by Gujarati Vaishnavites as a relaxed fast during which no grains or salt are consumed, but buckwheat, fruits, yams, potatoes and the like are allowed. I’m not one for fasting, but I always look forward to having some dhokla when I’m around someone who is!

Once again, it was my sister who taught me how to make this – one more classic item from the Gujarati cuisine that she learnt after getting married, just like this til-ka-chikki. She has a knack for making it in practically a snap of the fingers – often, I’d ask for a plate of green moong dhokla, go downstairs for a bit, and come up to see it was already prepared.

This green moong dhokla is eye-catching thanks to its colour, which is always a great way to get kids to eat something that’s good for them. As you may remember from earlier posts, moong is extremely nutritious. It is a great source of fibre, potassium, manganese, folate and various vitamins and minerals. They are also an excellent source of protein, and I would say crucial to a vegetarian or vegan diet. They are known to lower blood pressure and sugar levels, prevent heat stroke, aid digestion, reduce the risk of cardiac disease, and possibly assist in weight loss.

A dhokla could be described as a kind of savoury sponge cake, steamed rather than baked. Every kind of dhokla is delicious, in my opinion. But as a Gujarati, I’m biased. Why don’t you try this version and tell me what you think?

Green Moong Dhokla

(Yield: 15-20 pieces)

1 cup green moong (mung beans)

½ teaspoon ground green chilli paste

1 teaspoon ginger paste

2+2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 cup coriander leaves

½ cup capsicum

½ teaspoon sugar

½ teaspoon eno powder

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

A few curry leaves

Salt to taste

Grated coconut (optional)

 

Soak the green moong overnight. In the morning, rinse the moong, remove the water and put the beans in a blender along with salt, coriander leaves, ginger paste and green chilli paste. You may need to add approximately a ½ cup of water to allow it to grind well. The The consistency of the batter needs to be a little thicker than that of pancake, or in other words, like idly batter.

Now, add 2 tablespoons of oil, and the lemon juice and finely cut capsicum to the batter.

Grease a plate and keep ready. Now, add eno fruit salt to the batter and mix gently. Pour the batter onto the greased plate, cover it and steam for 15 minutes. Below, you can see a traditional Gujarati dhokla cooker which my mom gave to me. I believed it was a part of her own wedding gifts. I’d forgotten that I’d had it and could use it. It’s still in perfect condition, and so compact and ideal. You can also see how it allows for cooking in layers.

Once steamed, remove the plate and allow the dhokla to cool. Cut into a desired shape. Square or rectangular pieces are the standard. I’ve done diamonds here.

In a small pan, add the remaining oil and the cumin and mustard seeds and wait for them to splutter. Once they start to splutter, add the curry leaves. Then, pour these over the cut dhokla. Garnish with coriander leaves and some grated coconut.

The green moong dhokla is now ready to serve. Spongy, spicy, and so very nice on the eyes with that gorgeous matcha cake colour. Like I said: have a piece as a snack, a couple as a side dish, or polish off the plate and call it a full meal. But honestly, I’d be surprised if you can stop at just one. These light, fluffy but very flavourful dhoklas demand to be devoured!

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Recipe: Open Sesame – Til-Ka-Chikki

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Sankranti, the harvest festival, is here and as we celebrate by giving thanks for the crops we eat daily, it’s til-ka-chikki that strikes me as a perfect dish for the occasion. The chief ingredient of this crunchy sweet is sesame, which is believed to have been cultivated in India for over 5500 years. As a form of produce that can grow with relatively little supervision, and in less than ideal conditions, there is no doubt to me that many of our ancestors would have considered it a perfect if not vital part of their Sankranti. Sankranti is known by various names throughout the country – it is also observed as Pongal, Bihu, Maghi and by other names depending on region. No matter where, it falls in mid-January and is a time when the sun is worshipped for its life-giving properties.

“Til” is the Gujarati word for sesame, as well as in other languages including Hindi and Punjabi. The English word “sesame” is from the Arabic “semsem”, indicating oil or liquid fat. This is because it is an oilseed produce. It’s an excellent digestive aid as it’s full of fiber, and also has high copper, manganese and calcium content, in addition to other vitamins and minerals.

Chikkis are a whole category of snacks, usually sweet thanks to the sticky jaggery that holds them together. We also make them with groundnuts, puffed rice (mora mora) and other variations, depending on the season. You can make them either in bars or in balls, and they also make a great ice cream topping when crushed. Til-ka-chikki is basically a sesame brittle, and today I’ll share the method to make them into bars.

I used to have a huge mental block about til-ka-chikki as I simply hadn’t known how to make it. My sister got married when she was just out of college, and she hadn’t learned how to cook yet. She went to her mother-in-law’s house, where she learned how to make the most beautiful traditional Gujarati dishes. I was still in high school at the time, and am still envious to this day about the culinary skills she picked up back then. Meanwhile, in my mother’s house, I was still studying but also began to slowly pick up recipes and techniques in the kitchen. I was probably inspired by my sister’s newfound talents, and our mother started me off on the basics, like rotli. Over time, I began to regard not only my mother and my own mother-in-law as my culinary teachers, but my older sister as well. My sister’s repertoire is vast. Even to this day, each time I visit her, I insist that she teaches me an entirely new dish  every time.

I overcame my mental block when I finally learned how to make this til-ka-chikki a couple of years ago, with her guidance. And I’ll admit that I am still learning. I don’t quite have the confidence to make it on my own yet, but every experiment has ended in happy mouths and sticky fingers. It would be great if you could learn it together alongside me. We could master it together, just as my sister has.

As with most traditional Gujarati sweets and snacks, this too requires only three ingredients. In this case, they are jaggery, sesame and ghee. If you’d like a vegan version, replace the ghee with a flavourless oil of your choice. Til-ka-chikki is also offered as a prasad, so while it is a simple dish it can also be a part of prayers for festive and special occasions. For Sankranti, of course, it’s a beautiful way to honour the sun that gave us this ancient and nutritious crop.

 

Til-Ka-Chikki (Sesame Brittle)

(Yield: 10-15 pieces)

 

Ingredients

½ cup sesame seeds

½ cup jaggery

1 tablespoon ghee

Grease an overturned steel plate and a rolling pin and keep these ready. Next, in a wok or kadai, roast the sesame seeds on a low flame. Occasionally increase to a medium flame for short spans. The sesame will take about 7 minutes to roast. Keep stirring until the colour changes.

Once roasted, transfer to a plate and allow to cool. Once cooled, taste a few seeds to check if they have a crunch to it. This means they are ready.

In the same wok or kadai, add the ghee. Then, add the jaggery and stir constantly on a low flame. As with the roasting of the sesame seeds, you may occasionally increase the flame to a medium for short spans, then immediately reduce it to a low again. Take care that the jaggery does not burn. Do see this video for reference: re:store sesame brittle video – 1

Mine took approximately 9 minutes to turn into a reddish colour. Once this happens, turn off the flame. Add the sesame seeds and stir well.

Drop the mixture onto the greased, overturned plate and immediately start to spread it out as thin as possible. You may need to use your fingers (dipped in water), while the rolling pin is coated with ghee. With this combination, try and spread it out in such a way that you mark lines for the pieces later.

Allow the spread mixture, striped with lines to form bars, to cool. Once it has completely cooled, place the plate on the stove and warm from below. The entire piece will come out as a whole. Break it along the marked lines. Store in an airtight container.

 

Here’s another process video: re:store sesame brittle video – 2

I want to say that this til-ka-chikki is easy to make, but I’ve already told you honestly that it’s not. But I love a challenge in the kitchen, and try again and again to better then perfect my dishes. Even with my photoshoots, it’s the same. When the end result comes out well, it’s all the more delicious when I know the effort that’s gone into it! Tell me how it goes when you try your hand at this dish. Wishing you and your loved ones a happy Sankranti!

 

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Recipe: Puffed With Pride – Kheer Poori

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Gujaratis love fried things. Full stop! We love them so much that we even start the day with them. Specifically, with pooris, which are our traditional breakfasts. We never feel guilty or bad about reaching out for our fried snacks either, which includes ganthia (fried mini pappad) and a variety of mixtures (popularly known as chevdo, which vary from region to region and can be sweet, tangy, or spicy). Ganthia and jalebi, a deep-fried sweet, are also popular as breakfast. It will come as no surprise that pooris – discs of dough which fluff up in hot oil – are another such staple. They also come in several variations. Crunchy, crispy-salty (to be had with tea), and soft. Today, I’ll be sharing how to make the soft version… with another typically Gujju twist.

That twist, of course, is sweetness. As you’d already have known from the long list of traditional desserts on this blog, Gujaratis love sweetness just as much or even more than we love fried things. The perfect combination of these two cravings is the kheer poori, which in simplest terms is a poori eaten with kheer, a milk-based sweet.

When I was growing up, cakes were not yet popular in Chennai, and this kheer poori was often a birthday treat that my mother made for us. Especially for me, because I just loved that combination of tastes and temperature: the saltiness and heat of the poori, the sweetness and coolness of the kheer. It was also something made for special occasions, which as you know are usually observed with an offering of sweets to the divine, as well as for weddings and other celebrations.

The frying of pooris is an art, and being a Gujarati, size does matter – in this case, the smaller, the more delicate and dainty, the better. My mother was strict about this. She always said that if a poori did not puff, if it did not bloom in the oil, then the person frying it just did not know how to make a good poori! Pooris are generally eaten hot and fresh. Not only did my mother tend not to serve unpuffed pooris at the table, but if a poori became flattened by the time it reached my plate, I would absolutely refuse to eat it as a child! Perhaps that’s why I became so keen on, and so good at, frying perfectly puffed ones later.

I’ve shared two kheer recipes earlier, and have linked to them below. So this recipe teaches you only how to make pooris – a standard in almost any Indian kitchen, but hard to perfect, as many will tell you! Alternately, you can eat your pooris with any accompaniment of your choice. Once you have the basics in place, it’s fun to experiment. If you don’t have a sweet tooth, you can always have pooris with a potato curry (like the Gujarati bataka-nu-shaak) or another accompaniment, like a pickle. Perhaps because it is so simple, a poori is also an incredibly versatile dish. And yes, you WILL need (and want) more than one, for sure!

 

 

Poori (With Kheer)

(Yield: 15-20 small pooris)

Ingredients

1 cup whole wheat flour

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon oil

¼ cup water

2 cups oil for deep frying

 

As I said above, I’ve provided two kheer recipes earlier, and you can pick which one to make based on seasonal availability and individual taste. Whether you go with the sitaphal kheer, the rose-coconut kheer, or your own variation, you should have this prepared and refrigerated first.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this with you before, but in most Gujarati homes, we regularly make fresh batches of green chilli and ginger paste. This keeps for two or three days, and we use a dollop of it in lieu of red chilli powder. If you prefer this taste, and have it on hand, you can substitute the red chilli powder in the ingredients for the same. I have fond memories of our helper when I was growing up using the stone rubi-kallu to make the paste. We rarely used the blender, and I can’t even remember if we had one at the time. Now, it’s such a necessity.

In a bowl, add all the ingredients (except the oil for deep frying) and make a dough. The dough should be equivalent to a tight smooth ball.

Now, divide the dough into round small balls ready for rolling out. Roll them out evenly shaped as far as possible. They should also have the same, even thickness. Take care that they are not too thin, as they will be unable to puff up if so. Did you get rolling practice when you made these rotis? If you did, it may be worth noting that this dough is similar to thepla dough, except we don’t add yoghurt.

Prepare the oil by heating it. You can check the heat by dropping a pin size drop of dough. If it gathers bubbles, then it means the oil is ready. On a high flame, drop the pooris in one at a time. Wait for each one to rise up, and then flip it over. You need to flip it over just once. The secret to the puffiness lies in a mixture of of the correct level of thickness, the heat of the oil, and timing. It takes practice, and despite my childhood aversion, deflated pooris are perfectly edible too.

The poori needs to fry for just 8-10 seconds after being flipped. When you remove them from the pan, you will notice that they will be darker on the bottom side, and this is normal. Place on a sheet to drain excess oil. Serve immediately with a generous helping of kheer, fresh from the fridge.

Hot, fluffy pooris are such wonderful comfort food. And when their heat melds with the chilled kheer, the combination is simply divine. The craving-busting deliciousness of fried dough and the sweetness of a Gujarati dessert – no wonder these were birthday treats when I was growing up! I hope you’ll enjoy this simple yet sinfully indulgent recipe. As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

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Recipe: Cool And Complex – Banana-Mustard-Cucumber Raita

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As I may have said a few times before: I’m very, very fond of yoghurt! Ever since childhood, it’s been an absolute requirement for me that every meal must contain yoghurt in some form. As I most often consume traditional Indian (particularly my native Gujarati) cuisines, this doesn’t require me to stretch my imagination or change my palate in any way. You may also recall that my yoghurt is homemade. It is made from a small amount of curd culture saved from the previous pot-full, allowed to set overnight, and consumed delicious and fresh every day.

I find that yoghurt enhances and adds flavour, and depending on how it is made can also add textures and tastes that go beyond what you imagine curd can do. Because it is such a staple in Indian homes, you will find that there are unique systems of making it that depend entirely on the people there. Even a religious view plays a role. For example, my mom’s home is Vaishnav and my in-laws are Jain. So the latter use onions and garlic very sparingly, whereas these were not restricted while I was growing up. The recipes I learnt in both homes were different. So although yoghurt is a vital part of the diet in both my homes, this particular dish is something I learnt after getting married.

From various previous posts, you would know about the Gujarati thaali, the set meal that contains a little bit of every flavour and texture. So you’d be familiar with raita, the thin yoghurt condiment that adds a bit of coolness of the meal, and helps with digestion. Raita is eaten throughout the subcontinent, in dozens of variants. For instance, an onion or kara boondi raita goes perfectly paired with a biryani, adding crunch as well. I have fond memories of long, lazy Sunday lunches during which I’d reach for more helpings of my mother-in-law’s banana-mustard-cucumber raita. I’m delighted to share the recipe for this simple but complexly flavoured dip today.

Banana, as you may remember from this banana-methi fritters recipe is a powerhouse of a fruit, packed with nutrients. It’s also a natural sweetener, and you know how Gujaratis love our sweets. In every kind of dish, you’ll find either jaggery or banana, or both! The sweetness of the banana in this raita naturally offsets the bitterness of the cucumber, which is another powerhouse. Cucumbers have a high water content, aiding rehydration, and are rich in potassium, magnesium and fibre. Adding a touch is spice is the mustard, which is a great source of selenium, zinc and calcium and known for its anti-inflammatory properties. Let me let you in on a secret – I never use the grinder to grind mustard as I don’t like the taste. Instead, I use the rolling pin that we use for rotlis. It’s lovely how such simple and clever innovations happen in the kitchen. I love picking up such techniques.

The flavours and textures of the three, as different as they are, blend very well in the yoghurt base: the banana soft and sweet, the mustard sharp, and the cucumber crunchy.

 

Banana-Mustard-Cucumber Raita

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

 

Ingredients

Raita:

2 cups plain yoghurt

1 cup finely cut banana

½ cup cut cucumber

1 tablespoon finely cut coriander leaves

1 ½ teaspoons mustard seeds

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

Salt to taste

 

Seasoning:

½ teaspoon sunflower oil

¼ teaspoon whole mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

 

Take the mustard seeds and crush them using any simple method that you use at home. As I said above, I use a rolling pin and board, the same as I use to make rotlis. This crushes the seeds just the way I like it – not too fine, but uneven and broken. You can use the hand pounder too, if you prefer. Crush and set aside.

Place the yoghurt in a bowl and beat well until there are no lumps and the yoghurt is smooth. Now add the salt, cumin powder and crushed mustard powder. The fresh flavour is the key element to this raita.

Now, add the banana, cucumber and coriander leaves. Mix well.

Then, prepare the seasoning. Pour the oil into a small pan. Once hot, add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Wait till the seeds splutter, then pour over the raita. Decorate by sprinkling some chili powder for colour, along with some roasted cumin powder and some finely cut coriander leaves.

As I said earlier, there are numerous other kinds of raita, enjoyed all over India. And while I’m nostalgic for my mother-in-law’s Sunday lunch raita, this banana-mustard-cucumber combination I’ve shared above, the current favourite in my home is in fact the sweet and crunchy pomegranate raita. Do you have a variant that you make often? I’d love to know what you think of mine in the comments.

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Recipe: The Once-Annual Laapsi (Gujarati Diwali Sweet)

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When I was growing up, Diwali was a time when my mother made an entire array of sweets and savouries, such that I cannot point out one as a single most important tradition. All that changed for me when I got married and moved into my new home, when I became introduced to what is now a 30 year tradition for me: the simple and sacred dish of laapsi.

Laapsi is a Gujarati sweet which, like sukhudi uses just three ingredients: jaggery, broken wheat and ghee. In modern versions, people often add nuts, saffron and other flavourings, but the original and deep-rooted traditional method is extremely simple. The three basic ingredients were and are frugal, humble and delicious. In the old days, every household could reliably find enough to make a festive offering. As with sukhdi, laapsi is also first offered as prasad to the gods.

Diwali always falls on amavasai day, or the new moon. Different communities observe their own sets of festivities. For Gujaratis, it begins with Baras (the 12th day towards the waning moon), then Dhanteras (the 13th day, during which we pray to the goddess of prosperity, Lakshmi), then Kali Chaudas (when the goddess Kali is worshipped, not only with a sweet, but with a fried vadai which is symbolically thrown over the shoulder at a crossroads, indicating that you wish to leave behind the previous year) – and then, we have Diwali, which is also Chopda Puja. Chopda means “books”, and this is the day on which we perform a prayer similar to Ayudha Puja in other communities, when all our instruments (from accounting books to cameras and ladles) are kept at the altar and blessed. The day after Diwali is the Gujarati New Year.

I lost my father-in-law earlier this year, and since Indian homes traditionally will not celebrate festivals for a year after a loss, we won’t be going the whole way this year. However, my father-in-law was full of life and spirit and did not believe in observing that grieving period. He believed the life cycle should continue. So while we won’t over-celebrate this year, I will also ensure that we won’t put a full stop to joy. I am sure that is how he would have wanted it too. We had a cool, chilled out relationship. We had many fights and arguments, but I always knew that everything would be taken in the right spirit. And he was someone who was a huge influence on me, in everything from changing my perspectives to gifting me my first camera.

I will certainly miss him this Diwali. Every Diwali, he would give everyone a special token, a crisp 50 rupee note. All of us considered it a lucky charm, and kept it in our wallets until the following year. Who will do it this year? Many recent incidents have reminded me how important roots and traditions are, and how necessary it is to respect them. This is why there are so many things that I insist on doing in a ritualistic way, like keeping the umbrella on Ganesh Chaturthi, and making laapsi on Diwali. I know my kids will not follow all the things that I follow, but at least a few of those traditions will become meaningful to them too…

And if I can be hopeful, I would absolutely name laapsi as one of the traditions I hope my children will keep and cherish. Although we have all became health conscious and started rejecting sweets, I still insist that everyone partakes of our Diwali laapsi.

This year, my mother-in-law has moved back in with us, and it is nice to have her home. It reminds me of all the times that she shared her culinary wisdom with me (such as when she taught me this kachori that many of you enjoyed too). Diwali is just a few days away, and I am calling to mind how I used to watch her make laapsi during the first ten or twelve years of my marriage. Slowly, she stopped coming into the kitchen as often and I began to manage more of the cooking. But for a long time, I would still ask her to come in for certain traditional dishes. Laapsi was, of course, one of them. Different families follow different methods in order to make their own traditions. I follow hers to a T: no garnish, no frills, just three simple ingredients made for God and family.

And just like my mother-in-law taught me, I will not serve laapsi on any day other than Diwali. I consider it sacred. My family and I wish you a very happy Diwali and festive season, and I hope that this special dish brings you sweetness and joy too.

Laapsi

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

Ingredients

½ cup broken wheat
½ cup jaggery
2 ¼ cups water
3 teaspoons ghee

Boil the water in a pot and add the jaggery to it. Stir until the jaggery melts. Then strain the liquid through a strainer, making sure that it is clean. Measure the liquid to check that you now have 2 cups of jaggery water.

Toast the wheat and ghee till slightly golden. This will take approximately 3 minutes. Now add the liquid to the wheat and cover with a lid. Place this in a pressure cooker for 4-5 whistles. Once you open the pressure cooker, you will find that the concoction is still soft. You can now place the pot directly on to a low flame. Cover and let cook until the liquid dries up and its grainy.

I prefer using the cooker as it lessens the cooking time. Alternately, pour the hot jaggery water into the wheat in the pan and allow to cook covered, on a low flame, so it does not stick to the bottom. Let it be on the stove until the grains are cooked perfectly and soft to the bite. Do not stir frequently as this may cause the grains to get sticky.

As I mentioned earlier, there are different ways to make this. I do hope you will find yours once you make this often enough. You don’t have to restrict yourself to an annual occasion like I do!

Typically, we serve the hot lapsi with ghee, powdered sugar and lentils.

Given the deep Gujarati-ness of this recipe and this post, I hope you’ll also take a look at some of my previous recipes that celebrate my traditional cuisine.

 

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Recipe: Going Bananas – Banana Chips

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For someone who grew up disliking bananas, I’ve simply not been able to get enough of them this month! I hope you enjoyed my previous recipe for banana bread. There’s been a windfall of plantains on my farm, and so the fruit has found its way into several more dishes I’ve made lately. The recipe I’m sharing today adds a bit of crispiness to my traditional lunch thaalis. It’s so easy to make, and so difficult to resist. I really have gone bananas for these banana chips!

These chips don’t use the ripe bananas that we peel and eat when in need of a portable snack. Instead, they use unripe green plantains of the Monthan variety, which fruit in the 8th or 9th month after planting. They are not sweet, unlike ripe ones, but are edible both raw and cooked. Rich in potassium, iron and several vitamins, they are used in cuisines in Polynesia, Jamaica, and here in India of course. The banana tree itself is considered sacred in Hinduism, and is worshipped in some sects and used in wedding ceremonies. Not only the fruit but the flower too can be consumed, and food is traditionally eaten on a banana leaf itself.

I have a new gadget in my kitchen that I picked up on one of my travels – a nifty slicer that lets me quickly slice the banana directly over hot oil, so I was quite excited to use it when my sister taught me how easy these chips are to make.

Banana chips are made all over India, but they differ from state to state. The famous Kerala ones, for instance, are cut thicker and are bright yellow. These Gujarati-style ones are thin and reddish-coloured because of the spices used. They are called “kudkudiyas” – a bit of onomatopoeia, because of the “kud kud” crunch sound. They remind me of all my visits to Ahmedabad, and in fact my husband (aka The Dark Prince!) is so partial to them that I order them for him all the way from that city. Fortunately, everyone at home loves my banana chips too, so they can now have them fresh and not imported!

Gujarati-Style Banana Chips

(Yield: Approximately 1 bowl)

Ingredients

1 large raw plantain

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon chili powder (or to taste)

¼ teaspoon powdered sugar

2 cups oil (for deep frying)

Heat the oil in a frying pan. Peel the plantain and wash it. Be watchful as it may be a bit sticky to the touch.

Slice the plantain and immediately drop the slices into the hot oil. If you use a gadget like I do, you can slice them directly over the pan.

Now reduce the flame to medium. Turn the slices around a few times until they turn golden.

Remove them from the oil, placing them onto an absorbent paper. Immediately sprinkle the salt, chili powder and sugar. Make them your way by adding spices of your choice, such as pepper or chaat masala. The trick is to add the spices as soon as they’re off the oil because this is the only way the spices will stick to the chips. Also remember that the thinner the slice, the crispier and tastier they’ll be. Store in an air tight jar. Enjoy the crunch!

 

This exact same recipe can also be used for sweet potato chips, if you prefer them to green bananas or find them more readily available.

I prefer using these homemade banana chips instead of any store-bought snack to add crispiness to our lunch thaalis at home. They are cleaner and healthier, and I know exactly what’s going into our mouths, so I don’t mind that they are deep fried.

Even though these banana chips are made in a popular and easy style, you will surely agree that every dish tastes different depending on the cook. Each home and each hand has its own flavour, despite the recipe being exactly the same. Even something as simple as banana chips will have a unique taste. When you try this recipe, be sure to let me know how yours tastes!

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Recipe: Perfectly Preserved – Sweet & Spicy Mango Pickles

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The Indian palate loves a good pickle, and Gujarati pickles are especially famous! Made from an endless assortment of vegetables and fruits, pickles became a vital element of the Gujarati thaali probably because they can be kept for long periods without fuss. For travelling communities like Gujaratis, this would have been a reliable way to enhance the flavour of any meal, anywhere.

Pickles are made based on seasonal availability, so there are no prizes for guessing that once again, it is mangoes  that feature in the recipes I’m sharing today. There are many varieties of mango pickles, depending on the region – today I share my takes on a spicy one, and a sweet one named chhundo.

Indian pickling methods are different from Western pickling methods, and primarily use oil rather than vinegar. Homemade pickles rely on the peak summer heat, and this is why mango pickles are especially popular throughout the subcontinent now, as the fruit’s harvest season coincides with the ideal climatic conditions to make them. When I was little, a year’s supply of delicious mango pickles would be left to roast on our rooftop for days at a time by my mother. I would go up there and watch them cooking under the sun, covered in fine cloth, and desperately want to stick my fingers in and take some out to relish immediately. Grated mango with the sweetness of sugar and the tang of salt, warmed by sunlight – irresistible!

What I share today is an “instant” version of this time-tested method, meant for immediate consumption. In our fast-paced lives, we don’t always have the right circumstances or patience for the traditional methods, but we can take inspiration from them. The time has come when I now make pickles for my parents’ home, all the versions – the sweet kind as well as the spicy kind, the kind for immediate consumption as well as the kind that can be preserved for up to a year, in glass jars just like the ones that lined the kitchens of my childhood.

And now, in my own kitchen, just like the spice boxes that many keep in theirs, there is a pickle box, very much a homage to my Gujarati heritage. Every friend who comes home asks to see it. It is a point of conversation: which one has jaggery, which one is spicy, where does each recipe comes from? I keep 5 or 6 in this box at a time, and chhundo is always the star.

Nowadays, despite all the masalas and spices from across India and the ingredients from abroad that fill our kitchens, we still reach for the humble pickle. Its sharp taste is a necessary element, without which a meal is not complete. I’ve watched countless times as Indian people are made to remove their precious jars of pickles from their luggage at airport security counters all over the world! The look on their faces as they watch their lovingly bubble-wrapped bounty being chucked into the garbage says it all. No matter where we go, the pickle must never be far from us!

 

Sweet Mango Pickle (Chhundo)

(Yield: 1 cup)

Ingredients

1 cup grated raw mango

1 ½ cups sugar

1 teaspoon coarsely ground cumin seeds

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon chilli powder

 

Place the grated mango in a pan. Add the salt and turmeric powder, and mix everything well using your hand, such that the juice is released from the mango.

Now add the sugar to the mango, and transfer to a pan. Place it on a medium flame. Stir gently to encourage the sugar to melt. In a few minutes, you will notice the sugar and mango bubbling away. Keep stirring until the sugar thickens slightly. When touched between your fingers it should be slightly sticky.  If you overdo this part, the sugar will crystallise, so be sure to turn off the flame before this happens.

My sweet mango pickle is usually stored for a few months, but this depends on the weather and storage conditions. I keep mine in a cool place, outside rather than in a cupboard. Always ensure that the utensils and jars you use when transferring or storing the pickle are clean and dry, otherwise it can quite quickly go bad.

 

Spicy Mango Pickle

(Yield: 1 cup)

Ingredients

1 cup finely cut raw tangy mango pieces

½ teaspoon salt

1 pinch turmeric

¼ teaspoon ground fenugreek seeds

1 teaspoon red chilli powder

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

1 tablespoon oil

 

Place the cut mango in a glass bowl. Now sprinkle all the remaining spices. Keep aside.

In a small pan, add the oil and the mustard and cumin seeds. Wait till the mustard seeds splutter, and then pour the entire sauté into the bowl of cut mango. Mix well with a spoon.

This easy, spicy mango pickle is now ready. Store it in the refrigerator and it will last for up to a week.

 

Ripe mango, raw mango, spiced mango, sweetened mango – the possibilities really are endless for this beautiful fruit. These pickles are a way of incorporating this fruit into your daily meals. If you prefer it to be the star of the show, try out my ripe mango rasam or my curry leaf and raw mango cooler.

These lovely pickles are not only made for the traditional thaali, but can be eaten as a condiment for a variety of snacks. I even add the spicy pickle to cheese platters as it is quite versatile, and I recall how my friend Vikram once used the chhundo as a marinate for a shrimp starter. It was simply delicious. Be innovative, and be sure to let me know how you eat these pickles!

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