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I love, love, love stir-fry and could eat it every day, and some weeks I think I actually do, making different versions of it as per my craving or mood. A stir-fry is more of a category than a dish, of versatile meals-in-a-bowl that cater to any kind of dietary restrictions, lifestyles or personal taste. My boys love theirs with meat, so I regularly add chicken or prawns to theirs. Vegan versions are protein-rich with tofu. When it comes to stir-fries, to each their own.

The simplicity of my preferred version of a stir-fry, replete with healthy ingredients and subtly flavoured, is something I arrived at after sampling numerous versions in many places. For a long time, I would gravitate towards stir-fries in restaurants, which would be made in an elaborate way with different additives and sauces. Then, I encountered them again when I was studying Macrobiotics at the Kushi Institute, where we ate a lot of steamed and sautéed vegetables. Realising how adaptable this dish was, and how it could be cooked to suit a diverse range of diets, made me introduce it into my repertoire frequently.

Stir-fries are built through a checklist of choices: pick a protein, some vegetables, the oil you’re using, nuts or seeds for texture if you like them, and an optional carb. They can literally be made with whatever basic produce you have available at home on any given day. For me, the vegetables are the star ingredients and I have certain time-tested preferences about which ones are good when cooked in this style. I prefer to avoid water-based vegetables as the stir-fry technique works best for firmer, crisper ones. Baby corn, aubergine, bok choy, spinach and kale are among my favourites.

When I want my meal-in-a-bowl stir-fry to be extra filling, I add a carb to it. This can range from red rice, white rice, millets and pasta, depending entirely on what I already have on hand. All these carbs work well when layered with the other ingredients. Without them, a stir-fry can be enjoyed as a hearty salad. When I am including a carb, I tend to avoid starchy vegetables such as potatoes, so as to keep the dish light. You may also choose to avoid sugary vegetables like peas and baby corn if you’re being strict with what you’re consuming. See what works for you. Ultimately, I still feel that vegetables are vegetables and you can’t really go wrong with them. Sometimes, it’s about using your own intelligence. For instance, in Macrobiotics, nightshades such as tomatoes are believed to not be good for you. That doesn’t mean that you have to eliminate them completely. Instead, you balance them by using a smaller portion and adding extra leafy greens as a counter.

I enjoy the crunchiness and slight rawness of the vegetables so much, as well as the feel-good factor to eating them. At the Kushi Institute, I also learned that chewing is absolutely essential. In fact, at mealtimes we sometimes actually counted the number of times that we chewed one mouthful. The maximum I got to was 25! With the slightly undercooked vegetables, you have to be sure to chew them well. To keep the focus on their natural tastes and textures, I ensure that the spices I use are minimal.

The trick is to incorporate all the colours of the rainbow within the dish, which specialists say will cover a broad spectrum of your nutritional needs in a single meal. Here is a convenient list that explains how and why. I try my best to do this when putting together a stir-fry. Visually too, there’s something so beautiful and appealing about this method. It really does make me feel like I am eating a bowl of sunshine.

Not only is this perfect meal-in-a-bowl versatile in terms of the ingredients you can use, but it can work for any time of the day. Aside from lunch and dinner, I find that a portion of it with a couple of boiled eggs makes for a superb, energy-boosting breakfast. The best part is that it takes all of fifteen minutes to put a bowl together, right from chopping to serving. Sometimes, when my son says he won’t be coming home for lunch but then suddenly shows up because a meeting got cancelled, all I have to do is throw together a few fresh vegetables with a bit of chicken, the way he likes it. Within minutes, not only does he get a delicious home-cooked meal, but he is also fully fortified to get back to work.

 

Meal-In-A-Bowl Stir-Fry

(Yield: 1 bowl)

 

2 cups vegetables of your choice

½ cup cooked rice

1 tablespoon groundnut oil

¾ teaspoon ginger/garlic paste

3 tablespoons cut tofu

2 tablespoons soya sauce

1 tablespoon lemon juice

½ teaspoon honey

1 teaspoon white sesame seeds

1 teaspoon chili paste

2 tablespoons coarsely crushed peanuts

Coriander leaves to garnish

Salt to taste

 

Add the groundnut oil in a wok. Once it’s hot, add the sesame seeds and allow them to lightly change colour.

Next, add the garlic/ginger paste. Stir for a minute.

Now, add the vegetables and stir them on a high flame. Do this for about 3 minutes. I like my vegetables to be a bit crunchy so I don’t allow them to cook until tender. Be careful not to burn or singe the ingredients at the bottom of the pan, as this will reduce their nutritional value.

I often use carrots, bell peppers, beans, broccoli, spring onions, raw mango for a bit of tang, and some corn. If you decide to follow the same choices, make sure that the carrots and beans go first as they take a while longer than the others to cook, even slightly.

If you are including a carb, add the cooked rice now. I prefer organic rice varieties, and you can also use millets or orzo pasta. Then, add the tofu.

Finally, add the salt and the remaining ingredients, substituting peanuts and sesame seeds for cashew nuts or walnuts if you prefer. In terms of flavours, some of the best ones are soya sauce, lemon juice, honey glaze and chili sauce/paste. Stir fry for a few minutes on a high flame. Serve hot, garnished with coriander.

There is no single recipe for stir-fry, but this is my favourite. I like the mix of East Asian seasonings with familiar local flavours like raw mango and peanuts, and I find they blend together beautifully. Remember that you can substitute any ingredient for another in its own category; protein, veggies, oil, nuts/seeds and carbs. And most importantly: remember the rainbow, and let green reign!

Indians don’t have soups per se in our traditional cuisines, as far as I know. Instead, we have broths such as the thin South Indian rasam and the thick, sweet Gujarati raab. The rasam subsequently became known as mulligatawny soup in the West, but here it is eaten as a side dish, not an appetizer. In fact, that reminds me of how our staple dals are repackaged abroad and even in high-end restaurants here as “lentil soup”! In India, we have no such category as “soup”, but it goes to show how it’s all a matter of perspective. The soup, by any name, is really a universal dish, made with different, seasonal ingredients in cultures around the world.

For many of my generation, we were introduced to soups at clubs and restaurants. My own first memory of any soup was not Western at all, but Chinese (or rather, Indo-Chinese). While growing up, my friends and I would head to a restaurant called Nanking whenever we had something to celebrate. All of our birthdays would find us there, straight from classes in our school uniforms and pigtails, delighted to be spending our pocket money on a shared meal. The meal would invariably begin with an order of the delicious sweet corn soup for everyone at the table

The Nanking sweet corn soup was thickened with cornflour, loaded with MSG and had no more than a couple of kernels of corn floating in the white liquid but regardless it was always a special treat. It tasted fantastic to us, and till today reminds me of some of our fondest times growing up. When I think of it, I’m reminded of how much my kids say they miss their school canteen’s food! Perhaps the meals we share with our friends as we grow up simply create such vivid impressions on us that we associate them with the dishes themselves. What I would give to go back to Nanking, which has since closed down, and enjoy those memories all over again!

Nostalgia for Nanking drove me to the kitchen, to whip up my own version of sweet corn soup, or rather, a vegan whole corn and lemongrass soup. This recipe avoids the cornflour and the MSG and has some of those re:store twists in the form of aromatic lemongrass and spicy green chilli.

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I enjoy the flavour of lemongrass and I think it livens up this soup very much. If you prefer not to use it, some good substitutes are coriander or a hint of mint. Corn has a strong flavour in itself, and my version of the soup is generous with it, so it needs to be balanced well. If you’re a fan of corn , you may also enjoy this makkai khichdi recipe that I shared recently. I use green chilli here for its spiciness, but you can try it with jalapeños too (they are also fast becoming a favourite of mine, and may find themselves in future recipes I’ll share).

Another way in which I’ve tried to recreate this nostalgic dish is with coconut milk. This not only gives it that distinctively South Indian essence, but also evokes many South East Asian delicacies. All in all, this corn and lemongrass soup is a satisfying, filling meal-in-a-bowl that reminds me of my teenage years and of some of my travels, thanks to the blend of flavours.

Speaking of traveling, I just returned from beautiful Colombia, where I heard about the 9-day fast observed by Catholics known as the ‘novena’. It reminded me so much of the 9-day Navaratri followed by Hindus and the 9-day Paryushan followed by the Jains, and got me thinking once again about how we are all so deeply connected. I wish we understood this instead of thinking along the lines of “This is mine, this is yours, my land, my country”, and other such divisions. The oneness and wholeness of humanity is a concept that cannot be lost; whether it be our festivals, our food or our sense of family, ultimately we are all the same and the more I travel, the more this concept is solidified.

Another thought that’s been on my mind a great deal is the famous Native American proverb that goes as follows: “When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will we realize that one cannot eat money.” It resonates so much right now. We should all be more aware of what we are doing and thinking. We should look not only at what we are creating, but also at what we are destroying in the process. These are some reflections that I’ve been having as we enter 2020. But first – how about a bowl of warm, crunchy, savoury soup?

 

Vegan Whole Corn & Lemongrass Soup

(Yield: 6-8 cups)

2 cobs of corn

½ teaspoon grated ginger

2-3 lemongrass stems

2 tablespoons olive oil/ butter

2 cups vegetable stock

2 tablespoons spring onion

1 green chilli/jalapeño

1 cup coconut milk

Salt to taste

 

Garnish:

2 tablespoons peanuts

Finely chopped spring onion

Finely chopped coriander leaves

Red chili flakes

1 teaspoon olive oil

 

Grate the corn from the cobs and keep aside.

In a blender, process the lemongrass, ginger and green chilli using 2 tablespoons of water, until coarse.

In a separate pan, add the olive oil and sauté the onions for a few minutes until they are tender. Now, add the grated corn along with its juices. I like to bite into pieces of corn, so in addition to the grated kernels I kept aside a ½ cup of whole kernels, which I add at this point as well. You may do so if you enjoy the texture of corn like I do. Once the mixture turns soft and tender, add the warm vegetable stock and then add the strained juices from the blender.

Gently simmer until the flavours all become one. Add salt to taste. Finally, add the coconut milk. Once heated, remove the pan from the flame.

For the garnish, warm the olive oil gently and stir the remaining ingredients in it.

Spoon the soup into bowls and add the garnish, topping with a spoonful just before serving.

What I do quite frequently nowadays is to make a large quantity of the soup during the day, and whoever wants some just warms up a portion for themselves at any time, just as I do when I find myself hungry for dinner by 6pm or 7pm. I’ve found that it keeps well for up to a couple of days.

In these photos, you may notice the beautiful bowls I’ve used to serve my soup in. I’m always looking for props for my photo and utensils for my kitchen, and when I discovered that blackened earthenware is made in Colombia, I just had to pick some up. I wish I could have carried an entire dinner set back with me from across the continents, but perhaps having to bring these treasures item by item will just mean more visits to that amazing place…

You may also be wondering whether starting the year off on a soup, when so many of us would have set health-related resolutions, was intentional. Actually, it was not. I feel we should eat mindfully all year round, and that we should see nutritious dishes as being a natural part of our diets, not an obligation. This beautiful vegan whole corn and lemongrass soup is exactly the kind of dish that fits into such a repertoire. It’s loaded with healthy ingredients, from corn to nuts and more, and tastes so very delicious. I’d love to know what you think of it if you give this recipe a try!

There are two things from the past that I have recently had a hankering for: wood rose trees and wood-apple fruits. For over a year, I’ve been asking people if they know where I can find a cutting of the wood rose tree, which I remember from gazebos at a club in my childhood. I loved to break its pods open and see the black seeds. Many cannot even recall such a plant, and it is sad to know how something that had once been familiar has almost faded from public memory. The wood-apple fruit, however, is one that everyone knows. Or rather, they remember its existence. Even if they may not be able to remember when they last tasted it. This fruit has slowly been disappearing from our palates, as I realised over recent months when this craving hit me and it became almost impossible to source.

Thanks to my good fortune, I found a vendor near the Mylapore market who had some wood-apples in stock. I asked him why I hadn’t been able to find it of late, and he told me that demand for the fruit has gotten so low that farmers no longer have an incentive to grow it. It is just not financially viable for them to do so. The wood-apple season that I remembered from my childhood is right around this time, in conjunction with the festive period and the colder months, and it seems that somewhere in the state, perhaps in a scarce way, there is a small harvest after all.

As I said, I have been craving this wood-apple chutney for months, and it means a lot for me to be able to share the recipe with you, since it took so long to source the chief ingredient! I consider this a “revival recipe”, one which I hope will inspire you to bring this fruit back into grocery shopping. This is the only thing that will allow farmers to cultivate it again as they did before.

Known as “kotha” in Gujarati and “vizhampazham” in Tamil, wood-apple is known to be a tonic for the heart and the liver, and is good for treating intestinal, throat and gum ailments. Many parts of the tree, including the pulp, also have anti-venom properties. It is a pungent fruit, which like jackfruit is something people either love or hate. Needless to say, I love it. My mother often made this wood-apple chutney for us when we were growing up, when the fruit was abundantly available.

This incredibly simple vegan chutney contains just a handful of basic ingredients: wood-apple, jaggery and chilli powder. Some sweetness, some spice and the fruit pulp combined together create an addictive dip that can be eaten in many ways. I am told by a Sri Lankan friend that they often eat their version, which doesn’t contain spice, as a jam on toast. There are of course innumerable recipes in different homes, communities and regions.

What I am sharing today is my mother’s recipe for wood-apple chutney, which I recall eating along with leftover rotis as an after-school snack. I used to think of it as being a part of the larger category of homemade condiments that she would make and bottle at home. Many Indians used to do this – do you remember those pickles that would last a whole year? We would reach out for these pickles, chutneys and more whenever we were in a pinch and just needed something to eat between meals. This wood-apple chutney always satisfied the craving. It’s no wonder that “craving” is really the only way to describe how I kept searching for it for months, and how satisfied I am to have found it.

 

Wood-Apple Chutney

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 wood-apple

3 tablespoons jaggery

1 teaspoon chilli powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon/small ball of tamarind paste

Salt to taste

 

A ripe wood-apple gives out a faint fragrance and tastes a bit pungent on the tongue. It has a soft flesh of an orange-ish colour. You will know that a wood-apple is ripe when the fruit smells. Until then, there is no fragrance.

Scoop the flesh from the wood-apple and keep aside.

Instead of a blender, I used a mortar-and-pestle like my mum used to, which is the traditional way to grind chutneys. I reach out for it for certain recipes, even though we use the blender today for convenience’s sake. Blend the the wood-apple flesh, chilli powder, jaggery, roasted cumin powder, tamarind and salt to taste, either by hand or in a machine. Do so until it becomes of a chutney consistency.

Move to a bowl. You may enjoy it immediately, or refrigerate. It will stay good for 3-4 days, if it lasts that long. When I make bigger batches, I warm a little oil and pour it on top, so that it is preserved for longer.

This simple and tasty wood-apple chutney is a wonderful dish through which to discover (or rediscover) the fruit, which as I’ve shared earlier seems to be disappearing quickly from our markets. What are some of the fruits and vegetables that you recall from your childhoods which we rarely see anymore? Let’s figure out together how to bring them back into circulation. It’s important for us as mindful consumers to consider the origins of the produce we purchase and eat, and to be supportive of those who make it possible for us to do so. Looking forward to your ideas in the comments!

The seasons are changing and the usual respiratory illnesses are going around as we adjust to the weather, worsened of course by pollution and the busy modern lifestyle. A few years ago, I shared this remedy from my childhood, and many of you told me that you found it effective and refreshing. Now, I’ll share a complementary dish, a warm and nourishing porridge that I absolutely loved while growing up. This raab is like chicken broth for the Gujarati soul, and is one of my most favourite comfort foods of all.

Raab was my mother’s go-to fixer for colds, sore throats, coughs and so on. It coats the throat well, alleviating any itchiness there. New mothers are often fed raab, due to its fortifying properties. I think of it as a dish to simply warm the soul, when you’re feeling down and need a hug. It’s a light meal for whenever you’re feeling under the weather.

Raab falls into the category of “accessible medicine”, something which anyone can make, especially when a pharmacy is out of reach. It is comprised of very basic and affordable ingredients that can be found in any Gujarati kitchen: ghee, bajra (pearl millet) or wheat flour, ginger powder (soont) and edible gum resin (gond). Most communities will have some version of such a dish, made of elements which are at hand for all members of society.

Bajra or pearl millet is usually had during the winter months or during the wet, cold seasons. My aunt, an expert in Gujarati cooking, and from whom I learnt a lot during my many summer holidays with her, explained that bajra and ajwain (carom seeds) are used during winters as they warm the body. In the summers, wheat flour is substituted for the millet. The ginger powder also has a warming effect, in addition to adding taste. I’m still trying to find out exactly why dry ginger powder is used rather than freshly grated ginger, and have arrived at my own conclusion. My theory is this: dry ginger is a ‘yang’ ingredient, hence positively affects the deeper organs in the body like our bones. It is also stronger than hydrated fresh ginger.

My aunt would also also say, “Don’t forget to add the gond.” It has numerous health benefits, including aiding the digestion. I saw this lady in Patdi, Gujarat, selling the resin, which she told me she collected herself from the bark of trees in her village. I couldn’t resist buying some from her.

With so many healthy ingredients, you would imagine that children would need a lot of convincing before they ate this porridge, but that’s not true. Whenever my siblings or I fell ill when we were growing up, I would ask for a bowl of raab as I absolutely loved it. The reason for this is that this remedy is… sweet! This is thanks to the jaggery, of course, which has its own host of benefits, as regular readers of this blog will be familiar with. Raab tastes so delicious that you’d never believe it was good for the body, but the proof is in how healed and nourished you feel after you’ve had some.

If I wasn’t unwell, my mother always said No to my request, and this has created a powerful memory link for me. She never treated raab as an anytime dish, as a result of which I too refrain from doing the same. There is also something to the charm of having it when under the weather, and feeling soothed by it in those times, and I feel this would disappear if I began to enjoy it as an ordinary meal. Today of course, my dearest mother is gone and when I make it for myself, I associate it with being soothing both to my throat and to my heart because it was she who would make it for me…

In that sense, raab is sentimental for me in the same way that laapsi, a sweet I only ever make on Diwali, is. No one is going to stop me from making it at some other time of the year, but I consider it sacred in some way, just as I do the raab.

Raab

(Yield: 1 bowl)

⅛ cup bajra (pearl millet) flour

⅛ cup jaggery

1½ tablespoons ghee

2 cups water

1 teaspoon dry ginger powder

½ teaspoon ajwain

In a pan, add the ghee and the flour. Stir them together on a low-medium flame until the mixture looks like a roux. Keep stirring, making sure it does not stick to the bottom of the pan, until it turns a golden colour.

At the same time, in another pot, add the jaggery and the water. Heat until the jaggery melts, stirring occasionally.

Once the roux is golden, add the ginger powder, the ajwain and the powdered gond resin. The gond will make the mixture bubble and fluff up at this point. Finally, add the warm jaggery water. Stir well and carefully, so the mixture does not start to coagulate and get lumpy.

Once it is completely smooth, it is ready to be served. Raab is best enjoyed hot.

As explained above, bajra is especially good for the winters and monsoons, as is ragi. In the summer months, you can replace it with whole wheat flour or any seasonal flour of your choice. If you don’t have much of a sweet tooth, you can also reduce the quantity of jaggery in this dish.

I wish you and your family good health as the season changes, and I am glad to share this simple and satisfying dish that will help with the sniffles and fatigue that are customary at this time. Such recipes have been treasured for generations, and it’s up to us to keep these healing traditions going in the time to come. Here are a few more home remedies: soothing syrup, raisin kalkand syrup and turmeric shot. Each of them boosts the health – and, as I personally find, the mood too! They take me on a trip down memory lane that always reminds me that food is a form of love.

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.

When my sister sent me a huge batch of peaches, brought down from the hills of Himachal Pradesh to the markets of Mumbai and then finally to my kitchen, I was simply bursting with joy. The possibilities were endless. I couldn’t decide between making peach juice for breakfast, or perhaps peach melba accompanied by some classic vanilla ice cream, or maybe baking a fruity cake as a delightful tea time accompaniment. Needless to say I did all of the above and then some more. This vibrant peach salsa, bursting with luscious flavours, has been a frequent feature at my table during the past few weeks.

While peaches aren’t a tropical fruit, they are abundantly available here. I can remember a time when this was not the case. We would encounter a country variety only when we went to the hills, when we would visit Ooty every year through our childhood summers. While we took our familiar fruits like mangoes, guavas and coconuts for granted, the summer fruits of the hilly region were a novelty. I remember the first time I saw pear trees in those hills, for example, and how exciting that was. During these holidays, we became familiarised with various homegrown but somehow exotic produce, including “English vegetable”. As well as local peaches, of course. They were smaller, rustic-looking, greenish in colour and a little more sour in taste than the large juicy imported ones (and even the ones from North India), but they were peaches just the same. The season was short, and as they were a slightly rare fruit, we treated them as a delicacy. In addition, peaches were associated with the holidays in the hills. They are still reminders of a time when things were simpler and carefree. A time when that cool climate was a yearly escape, far from school and the sweltering heat of Chennai.

Peaches are a luscious, sweet fruit which are native to China, which are believed to have made their first appearance in India during the Harappan period. They became popular in Europe via Persia, and are grown in numerous places around the world today. As with all fruits, peaches help regulate body weight. They are also good for cardiovascular health and improve gut function. They are beneficial for the skin, and the phrase “peaches and cream complexion” is derived from this fact.

Now, the world has become a smaller place and we get all kinds of exotic fruits from places like Thailand and beyond. Peaches, too, are now available everywhere in India. They come to us from cooler climes like Ooty and Himachal, as well as from abroad. They are currently in season, but bear in mind that the season is brief. If you’d like to try this peach salsa, there’s no time like the present.

During the recent mango season, in which I made a profusion of fruit-based dishes, a mango salsa was also served during several occasions. The simplicity of a salsa lends itself to quick, easy and usually successful experiments, so I often whip one up using whichever fruit happens to be in season, or on hand. Melbas, cakes and milkshakes aside, the abundance of peaches that arrived in my kitchen were inevitably going to receive this treatment too.

My first exposure to salsa was through Mexican food, which is hands-down my favourite cuisine in the world. Salsa is one of their staple dishes, and made in a versatile number of ways. There are liquidy sauces, creamy dips and coarsely-chopped mixed ingredients which all bear this name. I think the recipe I am sharing today is closest to a pica de gallo (literally “rooster’s beak”) rendition, which is crunchy in texture.

I must confess that I usually get to enjoy the American versions of tacos, enchiladas and the like, and I hope that my travels will take me to South America some day so that I can have an authentic experience of these beloved dishes of mine. My own attempts at recreating these dishes at home have always been warmly received, but perhaps my kids are biased. Others have told me that what I make are Indianised versions of Mexican-American food, but I can take that as a compliment. That’s what we human beings are all about, no? We share our stories and our lives, and keep creating new experiences that are influenced by everything we see and feel… and taste!

 

Peach Salsa

(Yield: 1 bowl)

2 full cups cut peaches
¼ cup chopped onions
¼ cup cut green bell peppers
1 tablespoon cut jalapeños
Handful of fresh mint leaves
Handful of finely cut coriander leaves

Dressing:
Salt to taste
A pinch of pepper powder
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
A pinch of pepper powder
1 tablespoon honey (optional)

In a bowl, add all the freshly cut vegetables and fruit. Feel free to improvise and add some of your own choice, to enhance the flavours you prefer. I like a bit of spice, so I added jalapeños. Since there was some fresh mint available at home, I used a handful of that too, and I found it gives a lovely flavour to the whole salsa.

In another bowl, add all the dressing ingredients. Stir well and pour over the fruit/vegetable mixture just before serving. Nacho chips are a traditional accompaniment. Any Gujarati kitchen will have the perfect substitute in one of our preferred snacks – in lieu of nachos, I often fry up some crispy pooris!

While preparing this salsa, I observed that the cutting technique is crucial. When the fruit slices are larger, they become a salad ingredient, and go well when mixed with greens. When they are finely chopped, as they are here, they become a salsa. Both styles were a big hit at home. If you’re incorporating more salads into your diet, try the former, and add some diversity and sweetness to your menu with a nutritious fruit-loaded salad. If you’ve cut the ingredients finely and have prepared a salsa, serve it with something crunchy, as suggested.

The fresh, ripe fruit and the crispy pooris, laced with the spicy flavours of jalapeño chillies and raw onions, come together to form a dish which may be Mexican, may be Indian, may be neither… but is most definitely one of our favourites at home! I’d love to know what you think of it. For a few more similar dishes, check out my sundal and moong bhel recipes too.

Nature knows how to keep the balance. For example, during the mango season, when we enjoy and relish the sugary sweetness of the fruit, it’s also simultaneously the season of the jamun or Java plum, which reduces sugar and is good for diabetics. Nature just has this way of finding the perfect complement. Nature often shows us how to cure and heal through following its inherent logic. Even here, there’s an interesting balance. The very same ingredient which is bitter or boring in a remedy may be the one that lights up another dish. It all comes down to the preparation. One of the ingredients which exemplifies this harmony for me is dill.

I’ll be the first to admit that I was never a fan of dill, a hardy plant which belongs to the celery family and is known as “suva” in Gujarati and “sada-kuppi” (or colloquially as “sovai keerai”) in Tamil. In India, it has a largely medicinal usage. High in folate and calcium, it helps women lactate better post-delivery and helps in rebuilding tissues. So it’s very popular in dishes served to expecting women and those who have just given birth, and it was during my own pregnancies that I encountered it myself.

In addition to being beneficial where pregnancy and post-natal care are concerned, it’s also good for digestion, is an anti-flatulent, and is rich in iron, folate, fibre and calcium. A typical and very easy preparation is to soak 1 teaspoon of dill along with 1 teaspoon of methi (or fenugreek) seeds overnight. The following morning, the water is consumed after the preparation has been cooked for some time.

Dill, the herb used here, is different from dill, the pickle. You may be familiar with the latter in the West, where it’s added to gherkins to enhance the taste and is especially popular in Russia and the USA.

My mother found many ways to incorporate dill into my own maternity diet. You could call what she made “dill delicacies”. As I said earlier, it took me a while to acquire a taste for them. However, as a believer in old traditions and customs, I now see these dishes as coming from a place of “grandmothers’ science”, based largely on nature and seasonal availability. I would absolutely continue to pass down this wisdom, and give the next generation such dill-delicacies when they come to be expecting themselves. I am glad to say that along the way, I picked up a new dill-delicacy to add to this menu. Fortunately, it’s a very appetising one: dill rice.

The first time that I had dill rice, it was at my dear friend Sheila Verghis’ home. We were having a pot luck, to which I remember having carried a sticky date pudding. Sitting among childhood friends, sharing our school memories, we devoured Sheila’s delicious homemade dill rice. Considering how much I had disliked all those dill-delicacies which were prepared for me during pregnancy, it was a wonderful surprise to encounter the ingredient in a way that was tasty, yet still healthy and complete with nutritional benefits. This is my own version of the very first dill-based dish I actually enjoyed. I now make it frequently at home, especially when my children are visiting. It’s one of my healthy rice specialities, alongside others like my spinach rice.

While preparing this recipe, I had an odd experience. I had always thought of dill as being easily available, and was surprised to learn that none of my usual markets or grocery stores were carrying it when I went looking. This made me realise that despite how it simply requires direct sunlight and rich soil to grow and is said to be in season all year round, the herb is more sensitive than I’d believed. Did the recent drought contribute to a reduced harvest? I often wonder where our ingredients come from and how to revive and sustain them, and my quest for dill reaffirmed the importance of these questions.

Happily, I found some fresh dill just in time to make this recipe… For someone who used to dislike it as much as I did at one point, I couldn’t have been more pleased to have it on my plate! In the form of this wonderful, fragrant rice, who could resist a second helping?

Dill Rice

(Yield: for 2 people)

½ cup rice

1 tablespoon finely chopped onion

2 garlic pods

2 tablespoon finely chopped dill

1 tablespoon oil

Salt to taste

A squeeze of lemon

There are various ways to make dill rice, and I like this method as it’s so simple and the flavour of the herb really stands out. If you enjoy the taste of dill, you can increase the quantity used in the recipe.

Wash, pick and cook the rice till each grain is separate.

In a kadai, add the oil. Allow it to heat and then add the onions and garlic. Sauté for a few minutes.

Now add the dill, and sauté and stir for a minute. Finally, add the cooked rice together with the salt. Mix well and cover with a lid so that the dill rice retains its softness and flavours. Top it off with a good squeeze of lemon when serving.

Dill rice makes for a great travel partner as it stands on its own in terms of flavour and doesn’t need much accompaniment. What I like most is that it’s versatile, and works well with both Indian and Western menus. When serving a complete meal, it will go equally nicely with a Western-style baked casserole or an Indian-style dry potato roast.

Dill rice is a very simple preparation, and a way to effortlessly make a meal exciting when you neither want to serve plain white rice nor a rich pulao or fried rice. Something about sautéing the herb and having its distinctive flavour mix with the familiar condiments of onion and garlic just comes together in a beautiful dish. I think it’s simply dill-icious! If, like me, eating dill-based home remedies gave you an aversion to the ingredient, I hope this will be the recipe that changes your mind. I’d love to know if it does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raisin Kalkand Syrup

(Yield: 1 cup)

¼ cup black raisins

1 lump crystal sugar (optional)

2 tablespoons fennel seeds

1 cup water

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

With the summer being as harsh as it is, keeping hydrated should be at the top of our list of nutrition priorities. While water goes a long way, imbibing different beverages with beneficial properties both gives us our required quota, and also keeps things creative in the kitchen! In my quest for new recipes, I often find myself turning to older ones, especially ones I took for granted while growing up. This barley lime drink is one such.

I’m a great believer in “grandmother’s remedies”, those old forms of healing that some people just have a great sense for. My mother always just knew what was good for us. She could simply look at an ingredient and know whether it was cooling or heating, or what its healing uses were. Her intuition was similar to the system of Ayurveda, which uses as one of its main principles the idea that some foods are cooling for the body, and some are heating.

During the summer months, we often drank barley lime. I later learned that one reason for this was because we used to run around climbing the neighbours’ trees, getting our knees scraped, plucking and eating the mangoes. Mangoes are famous for having a heating effect on the body, so barley lime was served to counter and balance this, since our mother knew we were having mangoes in excess every summer! You may be interested to know that raw mango, on the contrary, is cooling. Which is why it was the star of this post a couple of summers ago.

The goodness of barley was something I never thought about, except when I remembered how often our mother would feed my sister and I glasses of barley lime, even beyond the summers. The two of us were considered weaklings. Because she was worried that no one would marry us eventually, sometimes it was like our mother’s goal in life was to fatten us up. Interestingly, barley is actually good for weight loss. The intent behind this drink was good health, translated simply into putting on weight for scrawny kids, when in fact what it does is to provide a range of impressive benefits. These include: lowering cholesterol, balancing blood sugar and gut bacteria and helping to heal asthma and anaemia and numerous other common conditions (cue: “weaklings!”). Because I work so often with millets and organic produce, it was no surprise to learn about the bevy of benefits barley gives us. Barley is a cereal, and was one of the first domesticated grains, with a history that can be traced to the Nile region. North and Northwest India are huge producers of it, and it is known as “jau” in Hindi.

The other chief ingredient in this drink is the wonderfully versatile citrus fruit known as the lime. While a barley lemon drink is what you may be familiar with in many parts of the world, here in South India we usually reach for the ubiquitous lime as a substitute for all recipes that call for lemon. So much so that we often call the fruit itself “lemon”! Lime is a vital part of our cuisines, and also important in religious ceremonies. It has a powerful tangy flavour as well as a pleasing aroma, which influence any dish it’s used in. Lime is very good for digestion, thanks to its high acidity, and it complements barley’s beneficial properties such as improved respiratory function and weight management.

Both barley water and lime water are considered easily affordable, nutrient-rich beverages. So imagine what a super-boost combining the two provides. In these months of constant dehydration, a glass of barley lime makes me feel so thankful for my mother’s wisdom in the kitchen, which has kept my energy going to this day.

Barley Lime Drink

(Yield: 4-5 glasses)

 

½ cup barley

2 teaspoons sugar or honey

A pinch of salt

2 tablespoons lime juice

A few sprigs mint leaves

 

Pick and rinse the barley. Place it in a pot and add 6 cups of water. Allow to boil for about 12 minutes. Strain the water and discard the barley.

Allow the barley water to cool, and simply add the remaining ingredients. You may adjust the quantity of the ingredients to suit your taste. If you prefer it to be sweeter, you may add more sugar or increase the quantity of honey.

Keep the barley lime drink in the refrigerator. Serve chilled, garnished with mint leaves, and with extra ice if you prefer.

This anti-weakness, health-boosting beverage from my childhood has now become an elegant refreshment which I serve to my guests during this hot summer. I also frequently make a range of other chilled drinks, such as spiced buttermilk with homemade yoghurt, rose sherbet, and of course, my curry leaf and raw mango cooler. How are you keeping cool? I’d love to know in the comments.

Every summer during my childhood, my family would drive up to Ooty to get away from the heat in Chennai. There we’d be, little children in our little Fiat car, excited to reach the hills. The drive would take anywhere between 8 and 12 hours, and since our car didn’t have an AC, it would be sweltering for most of the ride. So we’d stick our heads out of the windows and enjoy the drive. There were no eateries along the way, so we’d pack picnics for the journey. This was a ritual for many families we knew, who would escape the summer weather during the school vacations, in favour of the refreshingly cool climate of the hills.

As we came closer to our destination, not only would the air and the temperature become more and more pleasing, but the curling streets and by-lanes winding up to Ooty would be lined with the stalls of farmers, selling fresh produce like carrots and green peas, and a variety of fruits and other vegetables which grow well in that climate. Green peas would be sold by the name “English vegetable”. Even today, if you go to the local produce markets in Chennai and other places, “English vegetable” is the term that is used. Strangely, there is evidence that suggests it could be found in India some two thousand years ago, but no doubt it was the British who cultivated it properly. And who introduced it from their own cuisine into ours.

Green peas are not actually vegetables, but legumes. They are rich in antioxidants and fibre, have a high protein content (four times that of carrots) and also contain vitamins, manganese, folate and other beneficial elements. Like most green things that farmers grow, they are good for you.

Indians are very innovative when it comes to the kitchen. So all over India, the “English vegetable” was quickly welcomed into the family like they would a good daughter-in-law. Indianised and masalafied recipes featuring the ingredient became popular. We are big foodies in this country, and always find intelligent ways to incorporate new culinary elements into our own styles. Green peas are versatile, so you can make everything from a rice dish like a green peas pulao to so much more. The most bizarre dish I’ve heard of was a green pea halwa, a kind of sticky sweet – any chance you’ve tasted it? From this end to that, once it became popularised by the British, people made interesting dishes using this exotic “English vegetable”. Somewhere in the North, the availability of the green pea gave rise to a dish known as harra bhara kebab.

Kebabs in India originated from Mughal cuisine, from the palace kitchens of the Sultans. Although traditionally made of meat, today we make kebabs out of everything, even quinoa or paneer. The closest English equivalent, since we are using the “English vegetable” today after all, would be a patty or cutlet. Kebabs are sometimes cooked on a skewer, though not always served on one.  The harra bhara kebab is a great hit at parties because it’s a fabulous vegetarian snack, especially for those who’d like to try a kebab but want to avoid the meat ones. The word harra bhara itself is a Hindi term – “harra” meaning “green” and “bhara” meaning “stuffed”.

While cooking this dish, the challenge is to add spices in such a way that the green peas and vegetables retain their colour. This is because the way it looks adds to your experience of eating it, and most cooks want to convey the freshness of the ingredients visually. Some add baking soda or other condiments to keep this so, but I always prefer to keep things natural.

There’s an abundance of green peas in the markets right now, so I decided to make harra bhara kebabs. And as the weather is slowly turning hotter, memories of those summer vacations and those calls of “English vegetable” in the street markets have come flooding back…

 

Harra Bhara Kebab

(Yield: 8-10 kebabs)

1 ½ cups green peas

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

3 tablespoons oil

1 finely chopped green chili

½ cup finely chopped onions

½ teaspoon ginger garlic paste

½ teaspoon garam masala

½ teaspoon aamchur powder

¼ teaspoon sugar

½ cup coriander leaves

½ cup mashed potatoes

Salt to taste

In a pan, add 1 tablespoon oil and the cumin seeds. Once the cumin seeds turn golden, add the onions. Sauté for 2 minutes and then add the ginger garlic paste. Sauté some more till the colour turns.

Now, add the green peas and green chili. On a medium flame, stir well, making sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Then, cover the pan with a lid so the peas soften a little bit.

Once the green pea mixture has softened slightly, add the salt, aamchur powder, garam masala, sugar and coriander leaves. Mix well and allow to cool completely.

Grind the peas mixture coarsely. Blend this with the mashed potatoes, using your fingers. Then, make small patties with your palms.

In a flat pan, add the remaining oil. Once the pan is heated, place the kebabs gently on the oil. Keep the flame between low to medium and turn them over gently. Make sure they’re done well on both sides. Remove from the pan.

These harra bhara kebabs are ideal for sharing and are a perfect finger food, especially for parties where you want to add a few exciting vegetarian options to the menu. Serve them with a dip of your choice. I like them with a green coriander chutney, which you may remember from this earlier snack recipe for banana methi fritters. A tamarind chutney will also go very well. I’d love to know what dip accompaniment you like best for these harra bhara kebabs when you try them out. Looking forward to your comments!