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Recipe: A Perfect Medley – Masala Poori With Aloo

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Aloo poori used to be a regular dish served in daily meals throughout India. That’s how I remember it. Increasingly, I notice that it has become more of an item enjoyed at celebrations. This is probably because people have become more health conscious, or at least that is what I believe based on what I observe. Poori is a kind of fried flatbread, usually puffed up and on the oily side. “Aloo” means “potato” in Hindi, indicating the curry it is eaten with. Together, they are delicious, and I understand both why people used to want to eat aloo poori frequently earlier, and why it plays a role in feasts today. Here, I share a masala aloo poori recipe.

As I said, aloo poori is really a pan-Indian dish. I am particularly familiar with two versions: Gujarati style and Tamil style. In Gujarati, the dish is known as “batata poori” (“batata” means “potato”), while here in Chennai I have encountered it in many restaurants under the name “poori potato”. There may be a Tamil name for it, of course. I have also enjoyed some more versions around the country. Every time I’ve been to Kolkata, I’ve ordered what they call “luchi aloo”, which happens to be a dish I really love. Marwaris often eat pooris with aam ki loonji, a mango condiment that’s neither a chutney nor a pickle, yet somehow both at once. It’s another interesting combination, and I’ll be sharing that recipe soon.

Regular poori, rather than spiced poori, is eaten everywhere, but I want to share a typically Gujarati version, which is masala poori. Traditionally, the poori and potato combination is eaten alongside a third party: a kheer. A kheer is a kind of milky dessert you may have encountered on this blog before. The savouriness of the masala poori contrasts well with the sweetness of the kheer. Potatoes always make people happy, of course. All together, masala poori with batata and kheer are just unbeatable.

I have shared many flatbreads from the Gujarat region earlier, most notably in this post [hyperlink] featuring a number of variants. They are usually made petite and two-bite sized. Pooris are also made small, but unlike some other flatbreads, like theplas [hyperlink], they are not travel-friendly. They are meant to be eaten fresh.

In fact, they aren’t even flatbreads, technically, since the whole proof of a well-made poori is that it fluffs up in the oil, rises and turns into a hollow ball. A flat poori is one that hasn’t been prepared well. A puffy poori is achieved when the dough has been made to the right consistency, neither tight nor soft. It needs to be pliable and well-massaged.

I learned the nuances of making a good poori from my mother. She showed me how they should puff up perfectly and always be served hot. Here, I’ve chosen to keep the potatoes very simple, since the pooris themselves are spiced and the kheer brings in its own rich range of flavours to complete the meal.

I also associate potatoes with my brother, and have many childhood memories of him preparing batata nu shaak or batata poori for us.

He genuinely enjoyed being in the kitchen. Although he was very macho, and was an athlete too – a rowing champion, in fact – he showed us early on that there’s no shame in a man cooking or doing household work. He loved to make the potatoes while our mother handled the pooris, and my sister and I would sit happily at the table, waiting to be served.

When I think about this now, it occurs to me how cooking together – even watching loved ones cooking, everyone being in the kitchen together – was a kind of bonding activity for us. We often talk about the importance of eating meals together as a family – but why not extend that to preparing them together, too? Such little things are the stuff of quality time in the moment, and such precious memories down the line…

Masala Poori With Aloo
(Serves: 3-4)

Masala Poori

1 ½ cups whole wheat flour
1 heaped tablespoon chickpea flour
1⁄3 teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon dhaniya (coriander) powder
Salt to taste
¼ teaspoon kasoori methi (fenugreek leaves) powder
1 pinch asafoetida
1 tablespoon curd
1 tablespoon oil
1 teaspoon ginger-green chili paste
1⁄3 cup water

Take the flours in a bowl. To these, add all the spices, along with the curd and the oil. Mix well using your fingertips and slowly add water as required to make a medium-soft dough.

Massage the dough well so it becomes smooth. You can use the help of a little oil on your palms to achieve a good dough.

Cover and set aside.

Heat the oil for frying. Make small rounds and start by rolling each one out.

Once the oil is hot enough, drop a rolled-out dough piece into the hot oil gently. Soon, it will fluff. Flip it over so it is cooked well on both sides. Repeat for all the dough circles.

Your masala pooris are now ready to be served hot.

Potato

350 grams potato
Salt to taste
2 tablespoons oil
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon cumin or coriander powder
½ teaspoon ginger paste
½ teaspoon green chilli paste

Wash, peel and cut the potatoes into small pieces.

Heat a kadai and add oil. Once the oil is hot, add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. After they begin to splutter, add the potatoes. Stir and add salt and turmeric. Mix again, then cover with a lid. Allow to cook on a low flame, stirring occasionally until the potatoes are tender and cooked.

Now add the remaining spices and mix well. Cover and allow to cook once again for a few minutes until all the flavours come together well.

Garnish with coriander leaves and serve hot with pooris.

Don’t forget that you may want to enhance your meal even more with some kheer. I have shared several kheer recipes on this blog. Feel free to prepare one of your choice and serve it along with this masala poori with aloo!

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Recipe: Somehow More Satisfying – Steamed Muthiya

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I shared one version of muthiya in my recipe for turiya muthiya shaak recently. In that dish, the muthiyas were small, deep-fried dumplings which contained fenugreek leaves, and which were soaked in the vegetable gravy. I mentioned in that post that larger deep-fried muthiyas are often enjoyed with snacks. There are even more kinds of muthiya out there too. There is one with grated bottle gourd, another version with fenugreek leaves, and even ones that utilise leftover khichdi or leftover rice – these are bound with flour, greens and spices, rolled and steamed and had as a wholesome, single-dish meal. I am sure more of these muthiyas will be explored on this blog in the time to come. Today, I want to share a steamed variant.

While steamed muthiya can certainly work well as a snack, I would recommend that these be had for high tea or even as a meal, as they are heavier than the smaller, deep-fried kind. Steamed muthiyas happen to be the hot favourite at home right now. I find myself preparing them at least once a week, usually for dinner. While many of us in India have the privilege of employing cooks in our home kitchens, in mine, there are certain recipes that only I will prepare even though I have help. Although my cooks over the years have been skilled and pick up my techniques, I get more satisfaction from making some meals from scratch. This is the case with many traditional Gujarati recipes. Somehow, not only do I enjoy the process, but the process itself evokes childhood memories and nostalgia, and a sense of connection to my late mother. I like to make such dishes as close to authentically as I was taught. Any kind of muthiya belongs to that treasured category.

Looking back, it’s obvious to me that our mother had really spoiled us all when we were growing up. Food was served to us fresh off the griddle, and always prepared with such attentiveness and care. Regardless of whether we enjoyed a dish or demanded another, she just didn’t cut corners when it comes to cooking. Steamed muthiya was something that my siblings and I didn’t like at all, and I remember that we often asked for pasta instead (funnily enough, we were not fond of pizza, but we did love a baked casserole with white sauce that our mom sometimes made). To us, what was exotic was most appealing. While my culinary curiosity and search for novelty remains, I have since learned to appreciate the traditional and the simple too.

While we kids didn’t like steamed muthiya, it was one of our father’s favourite dishes. As soon as the dumplings came out of the steamer, he would cut one up and dip it in methi masala, a traditional Gujarati condiment which contains chilli powder ground with fenugreek leaves. I have clear memories of how much he relished the freshly steamed muthiya. Another, possibly more popular method, is to take it off the steamer, slice it and sauté it in oil with mustard and sesame seeds. These steamed, sliced, sautéed muthiya are then eaten with green chutney. The healthier version, of course, is to have them as my dad did back in those days.

As we age, our tastes not only change, but so does the way that we perceive food. When I look back, it’s true that even our snack options were relatively healthy when I was growing up, because most items were homemade. Now that junk food is vastly available, I am glad to not be attracted to it, perhaps because of habits inculcated in childhood. I also consciously reach out for more nourishing options, not just in terms of snacks but even for our daily meals, our beverages and so on. I am happy to circle back to my mother’s ways.

This particular steamed muthiya recipe is hers. Other versions, equally authentic and traditional, will be different. This is true for any dish, as I’ve said before. It will be prepared differently in every family, community or region. For example, I have come across steamed muthiyas which contain chickpea flour. It’s not something my mother added, so I skip it just like she did, but you can incorporate some if you wish.

Steamed muthiya really is very simple to make. Prepare the dough, which is enriched with various spices (and in this case, fenugreek, which grows abundantly in Tamil Nadu in the summer, and is a staple of Gujarati cooking). Roll out the pieces, steam them, and eat them as soon as they’ve cooled enough. Or else, sauté them for added flavour. You’ll see what I mean below.

I have provided both the steamed and sautéed versions in the method. What I have observed is that when I have friends over for lunch, they seem to enjoy the steamed versions more (not just this kind, but those which use veggies or khichdi too). While the muthiyas are very filling, the fact that they are steamed makes them feel lighter. I notice that my guests reach out for more helpings. I am sure that the knowledge that they are healthier than fried goodies is reassuring. Despite being better dietarily-speaking, they are delicious.

I wonder which version you’ll enjoy more. Why not try both?

Steamed Muthiya
(Serves 2-3)

1⅓cup whole wheat flour
⅓ cup rava
1 full cup methi/fenugreek leaves (finely chopped)
2 tablespoons oil
Salt to taste
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
¼ teaspoon asafoetida
1 teaspoon dhaniya/coriander powder
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon ginger (grated)
1 green chili (finely chopped)
Juice of ½ lime
2-4 tablespoons water

Sautéed style
2 tablespoons oil
½ teaspoon mustard seeds
½ teaspoon sesame seeds

Chop the methi leaves finely. Rinse in water thoroughly.

Add the methi leaves to a bowl. Add oil, salt, turmeric, asafoetida, dhaniya, ginger, green chili, sugar and lime juice and massage well.

Now, add the flour and rava. If required, use 2 tablespoons of water to help mix into a soft pliable dough or batter.

Make long strips of the dough and place in the steamer. Steam for 20 minutes.

Once done, remove the muthiyas and allow to cool. Then, slice them into discs. You can serve them now, accompanied by condiments of your choice, or you can prepare the sautéed version if you prefer.

To sauté, heat a pan and add 2 tablespoons of oil. Add mustard and sesame seeds. Once the seeds splutter, add the sliced muthiya. Stir often and allow to turn golden on both sides. Serve hot with a chutney of your choice.

I have shared numerous traditional Gujarati dishes on this blog over the years, and you’ll find a wide selection from appetizers to desserts in my archives. I hope you’ll enjoy exploring them!

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Recipe: Sweet, Seasonal Indulgence – Indian-Style Summer Fruit Salad

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Indian sweets aside, my experiences of desserts while growing up consist largely of two particular treats: one was ice cream, and the other was fruit salad. While my mother did also bake cakes, and as mentioned in various posts, crafted a wide array of Gujarati and pan-Indian delights, there was something about either ice cream or fruit salad that was just unbeatable in my eyes. With the heat now in full swing, and having become too sugar-conscious to eat ice creams the way I did as a kid, I decided to put together a lovely Indian-style summer fruit salad to make the most of the season!

I do want to take a moment to recall the ice creams of my childhood fondly, though. Back then, our family would visit a long-gone parlour called Joy Ice Creams, which sold ice creams both on sticks and in cups. This would be a rare indulgence, and we would really look forward to those outings. However, I must confess I also enjoyed eating ice creams every day – every school day, that is. There was an ice cream seller at my school, and my friends and I would literally buy his products on a daily basis. Well, I use the word “buy” a little loosely. The truth is that we would beg him to let us have some ice cream even if we didn’t have cash on us, and would wind up accumulating bills at the end of each month, not all of which got cleared. Many years later, some of our classmates happened to meet the gentleman and reimbursed him for his kindness to us back then!

My favourite at that time was pistachio ice cream, and somehow this flavour has never tasted quite as good when I have had it anywhere else since. Some things just can’t be replicated, I guess. I am grateful that many of my late mother’s recipes can indeed not just be prepared now because she shared them with me – but also that those dishes can be enjoyed just as much, if not more, that I did back then because the recipes are accurate. She ensured I would be able to recreate the taste of her cooking as precisely as possible. This fruit salad happens to be one of them, and I am so glad that I still have it in my life.

My mother prepared fruit salad once a week during the summer, using basic fruits like apples, bananas and chikoos. Sometimes she would add tinned peaches as a treat. She would avoid tangy ones in case they soured the milk in the dish.  Now, of course, our access to fruit varieties is so much greater, and we can make our fruit salads in much more exotic ways, perhaps prioritising seasonality or a certain colour. You can see from my photographs what I have chosen, but you should select your fruits according to your preferences and the availability of the same.

Essentially, there were four ingredients in mom’s fruit salad: sugar, milk, fruit and custard powder. Custard powder was very easily available back then, and it continues to be today. I believe it was introduced to India by the British and was basically a flavourful type of corn flour that could be used as a thickening agent in desserts including puddings and of course this fruit salad. While Continental in concept, this is quite Indian in terms of popularity, as far as I know. She also occasionally made a custard and jelly combination.

Once a week, we would have lighter dinners so we could eat more of this treat. Mom knew we loved it, so she always made a large quantity so that there would be leftovers. It often tasted even better the next day. My siblings and I would be given measured cups so we wouldn’t fight over portions. Even so, there was such a sense of joy in what we all shared, limited or not. There was great satisfaction in just having one cup each. This effortlessly lovely dish was a part of so many of our evenings. It was made as a small, regular treat, but it was also served to guests, when one of us got good marks in school and so on. In this way, it was a big part of our childhoods.

I used to prepare it for my children when they were younger too, and they enjoyed it then. Now, their exposure to food is so vast that I am not sure a humble fruit salad has as special a place in their hearts as it does in mine. Nowadays, there seems to be an abundance of everything. When you can tap a few buttons on your phone and have amazing gourmet ice cream arrive at your doorstep, the idea of wearing your best dresses and going out to a parlour for a special occasion becomes a relic of the past. So too with many basic, homemade dishes. Still, some days call for very simple delights. On those days, nothing beats this Indian-style summer fruit salad.

Indian-Style Summer Fruit Salad
(Serves 4)

2 tablespoons custard powder
½ litre milk
3-4 teaspoons sugar
2-3 cups cut fruit of your choice
2 dates

Peel and cut all the fruits and the dates. Keep in a bowl. Cover and refrigerate.

Remove ¼ of the milk and keep it aside. Boil the rest.

Meanwhile, add custard powder to the cup of room temperature milk that was kept aside. Mix well until there are no lumps and gently add the mixture to the boiling milk. Keep stirring constantly on a low to medium flame, making sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Be careful here as the milk may get burnt. It will release a distinct smell if it does, and we don’t want this.

As the milk is thickening, add the sugar and stir.

Turn off the flame and after giving it a last stir, cover the mixture well. Allow to cool to room temperature. Then refrigerate until cold.

Once cold, add the cut fruits and dates to the prepared custard milk and mix. Refrigerate again and serve cold. Garnish with nuts of your choice, if you’d like to.

The season really does call for more fruit consumption, and offers some great harvests too, so I encourage you to explore more fruity recipes in my blog archives!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turiya Muthiya Shaak
(Serves 2-4)

Methi Muthiya

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

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

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

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

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

Turiya Shaak

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

Soak the mung dal until soft. Set aside.

Peel and chop the ridge gourd into cubes.

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

Allow to cool, then open the cooker.

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

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

Remove from the flame and serve with rotis or rice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remove the lid and allow the water to evaporate.

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

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

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

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Recipe: A Tasty, Tangy Dal – Tomato Pappu

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On our first wedding anniversary, decades ago now, my husband and I went out to dinner with our entire family. We went to a lovely fine dining restaurant in Chennai which serves South Indian fare. It was during this evening that I tasted tomato pappu for the first time. I relished it. While I have eaten it numerous times since, over the years – although not very frequently, because this is still a place that we save for special occasions – it took a long while before it occurred to me to try replicating it at home, which I did only recently. It surprised me to learn that at its heart tomato pappu is a very simple dish, using everyday ingredients and requiring a familiar preparation style. I’m glad to be able to share it with you too.

Tomato pappu is essentially a dal which has equal quantities of tomatoes and lentils. It originated in Andhra Pradesh. Telugu cuisine is not one I know much about, but I am eager to learn more, and I think this dish is a good place to start.

Interestingly enough, while I have lived in Tamil Nadu all my life, my mother had grown up in Vijayawada, in Andhra Pradesh. But when I first took her for a meal at this restaurant and ordered tomato pappu, it turned out to be her first exposure to it. While she spoke the language and knew the culture well, she had also been brought up in a very traditional Gujarati household and it was clear that Telugu food itself was a bit unfamiliar to her. It was lovely to introduce her to a dish from the region she grew up in. She had a curious mind that I inherited, and I remember her saying, “We should learn how to make this too.” Like me, she had absolutely loved it.

I went back to that restaurant recently, and only then did I decide to make good on my mother’s suggestion and finally learn to prepare tomato pappu. Although my dear mother is no longer around to enjoy it with me, the dish is imbued with so many memories over the years of celebratory meals with loved ones. Now that I have begun to make it at home, we will no doubt savour it more often, and it will come to be a part of even more of our experiences together.

As I sit here and write this post, my curious side emerges yet again, and I wonder whether the tomatoes can be replaced with some other vegetable. This is what I do all the time at home and for the re:store blog – innovating existing recipes while also exploring traditional ones. I’m thinking that carrots or perhaps spinach would be good substitutes. Both will certainly be healthy and tasty. I’ll keep you posted about how my experiments go, as always.

That’s the thing about cooking: one can get so very creative in the kitchen. Once you have mastered the basics, you can use your intuition and expand your repertoire. It’s all about having a sense of which ingredient might work, which flavour, what goes well with something or really doesn’t. For instance, I would not attempt a capsicum pappu as I am dubious about if that might work. At the same time, I’ve been marvellously surprised by dishes I’ve tasted around the world that bring seemingly incongruous elements together. The challenge is finding out what is complementary, through trial and error. Sometimes, though, you just know something will work, and it does.

When I think back to how I didn’t know anything about this delicious tomato pappu when I first tasted it, and couldn’t even identify its ingredients beyond tomatoes, I can see what a long way I have come in my culinary life. Now, this dish is no longer something I eat only at restaurants. It’s become something even better: a part of my regular meals.

Tomato Pappu
(Yield: Serves 2-4)

½ cup toor dal
2 cups water
2 medium-sized tomatoes
3 cloves garlic
A handful of curry leaves
Pulp from a lime-sized ball of tamarind
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon red chili powder
2 green chillies
1 tsp grated ginger
½ teaspoon asafoetida
2 teaspoons oil

Tempering
1 tablespoon ghee
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon asafoetida
1 dry red chili

Rinse and clean the dal. Add the dal to water and turmeric powder and pressure cook until tender. Set aside.

Heat a kadai. Add the oil. To this, add ginger, garlic, curry leaves, asafoetida, turmeric powder and salt. Sauté for a few minutes. Next, add the tamarind pulp. Allow to cook a little and then add the tomatoes.

Sauté until the tomatoes are tender. Mash it all well together.

Now, add the dal mixture and give it a good stir. Allow to cook a little. Set aside.

Prepare the tempering by adding ghee to a heated kadai, then adding all the remaining ingredients. Once the seeds splutter, add the tempering to the dal mixture.

Serve this tomato pappu hot, with rice. I also find that it pairs nicely with dosa or idiappam. If you’re a fan of dals or of South Indian cuisines more broadly, there are many more recipes on this blog for you to enjoy!

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Recipe: Currying Flavour – Curry Leaf Podi

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

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

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

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

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

Curry Leaf Podi
(Yield: Approximately 1½ cups)

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: More Flavour, More Punch – Molagai Podi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Molagai Podi
(Yield: Approximately 1½ cups)

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

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

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

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

Add all the ingredients in a blender and blend well.

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

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Recipe: Of Temples And Travellers – Tamarind Rice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tamarind Rice
(Yield: Serves 4)

2 cups cooked rice

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

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

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

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

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

Remove from the flame and allow to cool.

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

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

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Recipe: Something To Relish – South Indian Roast Potatoes

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

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

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

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

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

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

South Indian Roast Potatoes
(Yield: Serves 2)

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

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

Boil, peel and dice the potatoes. Set aside.

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

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

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

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

 

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