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Recipe: Still Peckish For Pineapple – Pineapple Curry

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My pineapple craving only increased after my recent pineapple rice recipe, so I decided to go ahead and make another dish using that fabulous fruit. This pineapple curry has been a part of my repertoire for quite a while now. It is my own take on a pineapple curry, developed after many enquiries amongst friends over a long time. While asking around, I found that pineapple is used in a similar preparation, either in a curry or a rasam, by many communities in India. I always find it so heart-warming to discover that a cherished ingredient is enjoyed by so many. It’s amazing how versatile we ourselves are as cooks and consumers, imagining interesting ways to eat and continuously learning, even though it is the ingredients themselves that we usually consider versatile.

My earliest experiences with pineapple curry were at my dear friend Girija’s house when we were children. You may remember Girija from her exceptional stew recipe, and her pineapple curry one was also the base on which I built my own version, adding things that stood out to me from other friends’ versions. To this day, we have a tradition of exchanging recipes. She teaches me Malayali ones, while I teach her Gujarati ones (there’s a wide selection of the latter on this blog too). I then adapt the recipes to suit our palates at home. I’m sure most of us do the same whenever we pick up a new one, which is why I’m always curious to hear from you about how you’ve prepared the ones I share here.

This pineapple curry, with its natural hint of sweetness, is highly suitable for the notorious Gujarati sweet tooth. My husband absolutely loves it, and rest assured that there are never any leftovers on days when I make it at home. He polishes off the pan to the extent that I often have to remind him to leave some for me. That’s exactly what happened after my photo shoot for this post!

What makes this curry even sweeter is my addition of coconut milk or grated coconut. Funnily, this ingredient that appears so often in Kerala cuisine doesn’t play a part in Girija’s recipe, but it does in mine. I find that as a tropical fruit, pineapple is well-complemented by coconut, which is another form of tropical produce. At the moment, the coconut trees in my backyard have yielded a bounty. I have a profusion of fresh coconut milk at home as a result, and alongside the sweet seasonal pineapple, this recipe came together beautifully. That reminds me – have you checked out the coconut series from a few months ago, and tried out my coconut podi and coconut pudding recipes too?

On the note of continuing to learn about all things food-related – in my previous post, I had mentioned that my son has been experimentally growing miniature pineapples. I was a bit surprised when I started seeing these at the florist too. Baby pineapples (a hybrid, I suspect), so adorably nestled amidst blooms and leaves of all kinds. I found them so eye-catching, and I wondered how this decorative usage came into being. Would you happen to know?

Pineapple Curry

(Serves 2-4)

½ cup grated fresh coconut

3 dry red chillies

2 tablespoons urad dal

3 tablespoons tamarind paste

1½ cups pineapple chunks

2 tablespoons sesame oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

A few curry leaves

1 cup hot water

1 cup coconut milk

Salt to taste

1 tablespoon jaggery

In a pan, dry roast each of these ingredients separately, until each is toasted: the coconut, the urad dal and the dry red chillies. While they are still hot, blend them together, along with the tamarind paste. Set aside.

In another kadai, add oil. Once it’s hot, add the mustard seeds. Allow to splutter and then add the curry leaves.

Add the pineapple chunks. Cover and allow to cook until tender.

Next, add the masala prepared earlier and the hot water. Adjust the quantity of water based on the consistency of gravy you prefer, but ensure that it is already warm or hot. Add salt and jaggery (which you can replace with brown sugar) and allow to cook until thick.Finally, add the coconut milk. You can avoid this ingredient if you aren’t a fan of it. Stir and set aside until ready to serve.

As I’ve said in almost every post on Indian food, Indians love flavour combinations in their meals, and sometimes even within a single dish. This dish also offers a wide range, from sweet to spicy. As you can see from the method above, this medley of flavours is quite simple to whip up.

The best partner for this pineapple curry would be plain rice, hot and right out of the pot, with a dollop of ghee. This really does make for the perfect meal. You can also have it with rotis.

I’ve been relishing pineapple so much at the moment that I’ve decided to make this a three-part series. So there’s one more dish coming up next weekend so that you can get even more out of this delicious fruit. In the meanwhile, if you are a fan of fruit in curry, you may also enjoy this lovely guava preparation. As I said earlier, as I say often: I’d love to know how you make it!

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Recipe: The Best Bhel Outside Of Bombay – Sukha Bhel

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Bhel is a popular Indian savoury snack, from the chaat or street food category, that is served dressed up in a number of ways. Sukha bhel, or dry bhel, is a simple way to have it. With a puffed rice base and some flavourings, it makes for a filling dish between meals. Many who enjoy this snack will have their own versions. So this is a sukha bhel, Nandi style. Lately, we have been having it at home with tea daily, so of course I wanted to share the same with you!

My husband has a habit of getting into one dish and becoming obsessed with it for about a year or so, during which he needs to eat it every single day (and then, eventually tiring of it, having had his fill and then some!). His current penchant is for this sukha bhel, and since it’s now a regular at our table, I try to make it as healthy as possible. You can take the nutritious route even with items that are conventionally regarded as unhealthy, such as most street foods. In fact, I have shared a green moong bhel in the past that was even healthier than this one, and I hope you’ll try that out too.

So if by chance you land up at my home between 5pm and 6pm on any given day, you’ll be served a nice helping of this sukha bhel. There will invariably be a tea cake from the re:store kitchen to accompany it, and maybe even the crispy butter cookies you read about last weekend. Of course, this special masala chai will waft its lovely aromas over the table too. Tempting, no? The best part is, whether you can drop by or not, you can prepare the entire tea time feast from scratch yourself. Every recipe I’ve mentioned is right here on this blog, for your own enjoyment.

There have been times when I watched what I eat like a hawk and felt guilty about every little thing that went into my mouth. Slowly, I recognised how unhealthy this habit was, and how it negated the supposed healthiness of trying to stick to any particular diet. So now and then, I say, “To hell with it!” and have a slice of cake with my bhel too. I know it won’t do me any harm, especially if I make adjustments at dinner time with portions and dish choices. Do you do anything similar, to ensure that you don’t miss out on the good stuff but also don’t compromise on sensible dietary choices?

Now, even though my husband craves this sukha bhel daily, I must admit that it is only in the second-best standing for him. The very best is the street-side bhel you find in Bombay, and I will concede that it tops mine. It’s my own favourite too. When I visit the city and am on my way to my sister’s home from the airport, I always stop and pick up an order along the way, and will have finished eating it before I’ve even arrived at her door! Simply wrapped in a piece of newspaper, with a puri in place of a spoon to scoop up the bhel, it really is unbeatable. I relish the very last bite, when I get to eat the “spoon” as well. That’s the best part, and this tantalizing mix of flavours is how every trip to Bombay begins for me.

Since this is a homemade sukha bhel, I load it up with vegetables. I also make a drier version than what you get outside, although the chutneys that give it its deliciousness are still key elements. A sweet chutney, a spicy one and a dash of lemon bring together all the ingredients that are detailed in the recipe below. The chutneys are staples in my refrigerator, and I’ve shared the recipes for both in prior posts as well, as you can see in the links below.

Sukha Bhel

(Serves 2-3)

 

½ cup chopped cucumber

½ cup chopped boiled potatoes

¼ cup finely chopped onions

¼ cup chopped mango

A squeeze of lemon

1½ cups bhel mix or roasted puffed rice

Black salt to taste

½ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 tablespoon tamarind/date chutney

½ teaspoon garlic chutney (optional)

Pomegranate arils for garnishing

Coriander leaves for garnishing

Small crispy puris

 

In a bowl, add all the cut vegetables. To this, add cumin powder, black salt, the chutneys and the lemon juice. Mix well.

Finally, add the bhel or puffed rice. Mix again. Garnish and serve immediately, else the bhel will get soggy.

I love to use finely cut raw mango in this sukha bhel for a tang, and this is an ingredient that we get pretty much all year round. I also use boiled potatoes, and decorate the dish with pomegranate arils for a hint of sweetness. Use the same if you wish to, or substitute as preferred. Similarly for the use of onions if you prefer. In lieu of regular salt, I use either black or pink salt, which gives the dish a distinct flavour. Add more bhel or puris for more of a crunch, if you like that. The fun in the preparation is really all about increasing or decreasing quantities, or adding or removing ingredients, based on your personal taste. The bhel and the chutneys are the base – the rest is up to you.

As for my personal taste, as well as my husband’s, this particular recipe is the one that hits the spot. The second-best sukha bhel – and the best outside of Bombay! I hope you’ll find it just as satisfying, and that it will be your own favourite after the Bombay chaatwallas’ too!

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Recipe: Of Canteens and Bakeries – Butter Biscuits

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Butter biscuits were a bakery-made phenomenon for most families I knew when I was growing up. At that time, there were very few commercial brands on the market (with the exception of Parle-G and Marie) and even then, our little down-the-road bakers were the only ones most of us got our non-homemade confectionery and snacks from. No fancy names or special ingredients: just straightforward, reliably good biscuits that all of us school-going kids enjoyed. When my mother took a baking class, which was considered an unusual hobby at the time, she learned how to make butter biscuits too. I loved the way she made them – crispy, with a distinct flavour and taste. She taught me how to bake them the same way, and that recipe is the very same one I am sharing with you today.

My mother’s biscuits were just a little different from my neighbourhood bakery’s biscuits, and these in turn were just a little different from my college canteen’s biscuits too, as I’ll tell you about in a moment. Even when the recipe is the same, the hands that knead the dough always impart something unique. Every person who tries this recipe out will create their own version, imbued with some distinct signature. It’s just something that happens when it comes to baking, or indeed cooking of any kind.

Now, about those butter biscuits that were available at my college canteen: they were a mainstay of my undergraduate experience. Classes began at 7.30am and went on till 2pm, which meant that all of us students were much in need of a snack by the time our break came. We would rush down to the canteen and devour the butter biscuits they sold. These would be kept in a glass jar, from which they would be retrieved without gloves, and were usually split and shared. School and college feel like a simpler world, in which there was a sense of unity somehow. We all opened each others’ tiffin boxes, no one ever went hungry no matter how little she may have brought or have been able to afford, and we all seemed to have robust constitutions despite the lack of hygiene protocols we insist on now.

Those butter biscuits were among the many daily enjoyments we shared. We were mostly coffee drinkers by then, having reached young adulthood, and we’d enjoy our break times with coffee, butter biscuits, whatever was in our home-brought containers and lots of camaraderie before running back to class. Our coffee back then was plain South Indian filter coffee, too. There were no fancy variations available then, but just like this classic butter biscuit that we still return to even today, that traditional and common beverage is still the perfect pick-me-up for many of us.

 

I was a Fine Arts student and as soon as I graduated, I found a job at an advertising agency. In those days, nothing was computerized as yet, and we did all the work by hand. I was a designer, and I recall long hours of poring over my table, painstakingly creating ads for different companies. Break times were as much-awaited as they had been during college, and my colleagues and I would send one of the office assistants down the road to a local shop that had some fabulous butter biscuits. We would enjoy these with our coffee or tea before putting our thinking caps back on and getting back to our clients’ briefs. Like many young women of my generation, I left that job when I got engaged. In fact, my family had been against me going to work at all, but I had not wanted to stay at home and just wait to get married. I had enjoyed putting the skills I gained in college to good use, even if I was compensated only with a stipend of just Rs350 a month, which just about covered my bus fare! When I told my boss that I was quitting, he must have realised my value as an employee, for he offered to raise my stipend to a salary of Rs3000 a month. This was a princely sum in those days, but life had other plans for me, and while I left my designing career behind back then, my experience in the visual arts has certainly influenced my career as a photographer. Sometimes, when I shoot for a client, I recall that very first job as a fresh graduate with a smile.

In the present day, it’s my own butter biscuits that are my go-to whenever I take a break. I prepare them for my family all the time, and we relish them over tea. They’ve followed me through all these stages of my life, baked by various people along the way – each just a little different, with some slight change in the technique or the ingredients or simply the baker’s touch reflecting in the final taste. This one has a little hint of salt, and that’s one of the elements that I think makes it distinct for me.

This recipe I am sharing today may seem very familiar to you too. It’s a basic one with basic ingredients, and this is what I like about it. It’s the kind of snack that almost everyone would have had at some point in their life. Perhaps your own fond memories of butter biscuits and bakeries past will be evoked when you whip a batch up in your own kitchen! I’d love to hear about your reminiscences in the comments, and I hope you’ll share them.

Butter Biscuits

(Yield: Approximately 15 small biscuits)

 

100 grams unsalted butter

60 grams finely powdered sugar

120 grams maida

¼ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Beat the butter and the sugar together until light and fluffy. Aerating the mixture makes for softer biscuits.

Once the mixture is fluffy, add the remaining ingredients and mix well with your hands.

Cover in cling film and refrigerate for 20-30 minutes.

Make rolls with the dough. Flatten slightly. I used a mound to press the individual dough rolls in, to give them a pretty look.

Bake in the oven for 12-15 minutes or until the biscuits turn slightly golden at the edges. They may appear partly white, but don’t worry. They will not be under done.

Transfer onto a wire mesh and allow to cool before you enjoy them.

How will you have them: as an accompaniment to tea or coffee, or on their own? I’d love to know. No matter how many snack companies line the supermarket shelves today, there’s nothing like a simple butter biscuit, freshly made. I wouldn’t be surprised if the delicious aroma of these butter biscuits fills your own kitchen on a regular basis soon!

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Recipe: The Goodness Of Gooseberries – Star Gooseberry Rice

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I literally grew up under a star gooseberry tree – the very same tree that you may know as amla or nellika. I loved the fruit of that tree so much that I braved its hairy inhabitants, known in Tamil as kambili poochis (blanket worms, a type of caterpillar that becomes a moth). These small creatures have a self-protection mechanism of dropping their spiky, needle-like hairs onto the skin of predators or threats – such a little girl greedy for some ripe fruit! How many times would I have run crying to my mother with one hand full of green star gooseberries and the other one holding the sore spot lanced by caterpillar hairs? She would painstakingly have to remove each one, and this was a pretty frequent occurrence. Even caterpillars could not keep me away from the fruit that I craved!

Although a long time has passed since then, I still have a star gooseberry tree in my home now. Like all native trees that seemed to be everywhere in Chennai when I was growing up, they are scarcer now, and I cultivate those in my backyard with care. I repeatedly tell my children stories about my misadventures with the caterpillars that lived on the one in my childhood home, mostly because I don’t see them any longer. I wonder if this has something to do with urban pollution, and with how we are misusing our planet. We as human beings are responsible for the disappearing bees, and the extinction of so many other species. Even though the caterpillars can literally hurt me, they are proof of the health of this planet, and I hope to see them crawling in my garden again some day.

The variant of the gooseberry tree I have at home is the same as the one I grew up with. It is the ribbed or ridged star gooseberry (nellika), not the softer, more rounded amla. They are closely related fruits and you can use either one in this recipe. I prefer the star gooseberry for its sour taste, whereas the amla has a hint of bitterness. I enjoy this fruit so very much that I don’t just eat it plain, but incorporate it into my cooking as well. This star gooseberry rice is a wonderful way to bring its unique flavour into your meals. Pickling is another great idea, given the fruit’s naturally intense taste.

The best-known benefit of all Indian gooseberries is that they have a very high Vitamin C quotient. They are also very good for fighting sinus-related issues, boosting immunity, beautifying skin and hair and improving digestion. The leaves and roots of the tree also have a long list of uses in traditional medicines, in anti-viral, anti-venom, analgesic and other capacities.

This post came together between a friend mentioning eating star gooseberry rice one day, a trip down memory lane about those hairy caterpillars, and more recent memories from journeys around India.

On some of my travels, I have noticed gooseberry-shaped artistic motifs in borders and jalis at different monuments and temples across India – including even at the Taj Mahal – and this made me think about how India has always been a land of plenty. I understood that these motifs of so many common culinary and botanical elements that we take for granted – including not just star gooseberries but pomegranates, mangoes and a great variety of flora and fauna as well – are ways to celebrate that bounty, depicting the amazing harvests that grow here. Among all our many exotic mysteries and riches, the natural wealth of India attracted so many to our shores, and still does. We have so much to be proud about.

Star Gooseberry Rice

(Serves 2)

2 tablespoons sesame oil

2 tablespoons groundnuts

¼ teaspoon methi seeds

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon channa dal

½ teaspoon urad dal

1 green chilli

2 cups cooked rice

Salt to taste

A pinch turmeric

A few curry leaves

4 grated star gooseberries

1 grated tablespoon coconut

Finely chopped coriander leaves (garnishing)

In a kadai, add oil. Once it has heated, add the groundnuts and allow them to splutter. Next, add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds, channa dal, urad dal, methi, green chilli, grated coconut and curry leaves. Mix well. Now, add the grated Indian gooseberries – whichever variant you have on hand or prefer.

Once the mixture turns lightly golden, add the rice, salt and turmeric. Stir well.

Garnish with the coriander leaves and serve.

I hope you’ll enjoy that unique flavour of this star gooseberry rice. If you’re a fan of rice dishes in general and are always looking to spice up your plain steamed rice, you may want to explore the many recipes I’ve shared earlier that do exactly this. Raw mango rice, dill rice or spinach rice make for exciting daily staples. Vegetable biryani is perfect for a small celebration. If you want something a little more exotic, this glutinous black sticky rice with mango is quite a delight. Do try them out and let me know what you think!

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Recipe: Pretty In Purple – Jamun Drink

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I have been seeing these gorgeous lilac drinks being made and beautifully captured by food bloggers abroad this summer, and have been so enamoured by their vivid colour and the extremely pretty flowers. I admired them, a little wistful that lilacs do not grow here, only to quickly realise that we too have a glorious abundance of plants and blooms. In the tropics, and especially here in India, we have just as much colour, flavour, texture and taste – if not more? – to captivate our senses. I have written in the past about my love for manoranjitha, oosi malli, shenbagha and other native flowers, some of which have faded from memory and many of which I’ve been trying to grow both on our farm and at home. These musings led me to remember the perfect local equivalent to lilacs, the plant (and specifically, the fruit rather than the flower) that could let me create an eye-catchingly vibrant beverage as well: jamun.

Also known as Java plum and Indian blackberry, jamun is indigenous to this region. The fruit is prized for a range of health benefits. These include: reducing blood sugar levels, improving cardiac health and haemoglobin production, assisting the digestive and immune systems and regulating blood pressure. It has a cooling effect, and it’s wonderful that its season is at the cusp between the summer and the monsoon, when it can simultaneously beat the heat while building immunity for the upcoming rains. It has a unique umami-like taste, which people either like or don’t (similar to the love-it-or-loathe-it jackfruit, which also happens to be in season now).

Here in Chennai, we all grew up with jamun trees around us, that we ate from directly. They were literally in our own backyards and in the neighbourhood. We consumed only local fruits in those years – bananas, mangoes, jamun, jackfruit (and of course, if we were lucky to get away to the hills, the summer bounty of fruits and vegetables there, which I’ve talked about here). Even fruits like litchees that grew in North India didn’t make their way to our markets, and some of the produce that has since been cultivated in the hills (like strawberries) had not yet been introduced. Now, of course, the market is full of exotic imports. But when I see the exorbitant prices on a pack of foreign raspberries, for instance, I sometimes wonder why I’d reach out for it when the Indian blackberry and other local fruits are right here – accessible, nourishing and delicious?

On the subject of local plants, I’ve just redone my little garden and it has truly become a place of joy and solace for me. Full of lushness and greenery, it has a pleasant clime despite the heat. I love hanging out there, either by myself or with my family. We have had some beautiful, quiet dinners there, in that intimate and special space. At other times, I sit by myself and read a book as I sip on a nice beverage. If someone hollers for me and I’m nowhere to be found in my house, I am definitely in this sanctuary of mine. It was my birthday a few days ago, and it was where I was able to have both moments of contemplation as well as moments of celebration. With a glass of this fabulous jamun drink by my side, of course.

Jamun (Indian Blackberry) Drink

(Yield: approximately 4 glasses)

 

300 grams jamun

2-3 cups cold water

Black salt to taste

Sugar or jaggery (optional)

¼ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

 

De-seed the berries and put them in a blender along with the salt, cold water and cumin powder. The amount of water you use depends on the consistency you prefer. Use a sweetener if you’d like to. Blend well.

Strain into the glasses, add an optional topping of mint leaves – and then go to the sweet, safe spot in your home that’s your “happy place” and relax! Let’s raise a toast to good things ahead for us, which we all so richly deserve.

This jamun drink can be very filling, so portion sizes are important. You can thin it with more water, or else have a smaller glass of thick juice. With jamun, as with many other highly flavourful items, there can be such a thing as too much of a good thing. In my case, when I enjoy something, I can sometimes eat such a lot of it or have it so often that I feel sick of it after a point. So as wonderful and stunningly attractive as this drink is, I do take care to have a just-right portion.

There you have it, a lovely seasonal drink, just perfect to enjoy as the summer begins to turn to the monsoon. If you’re someone who enjoys discovering new thirst-quenchers, I hope you’ll explore the various beverages I’ve shared on this blog over the years.

As I said, for me, making this jamun drink all began with that enchanting colour – about which these photographs really say it all. But thinking about it a little more, I wondered if there are other ways I can bring this fruit into my meals? Do you have any jamun recipes you can share with me?

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Recipe: Stemming The Summer Heat – Banana Stem Buttermilk

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Dairy is a huge part of the pan-Indian diet, and among its many forms, buttermilk is consumed across the length and breadth of the country during the summer. It is mentioned in Ayurvedic texts as a coolant, and provably has this effect on the body. In lore, it was among the delicious goods that Krishna often stole from the cowherds, with his mother Yashoda usually discovering his theft quickly and reprimanding him for it. It has been in our history and mythology for millennia, and in our kitchens as well. A few years ago, I shared a recipe for spiced buttermilk, and today I am sharing one for a flavoured variant: banana stem buttermilk.

As I mentioned in a recent recipe, my mother made butter at home while we were growing up, and its sour residual buttermilk was used in kadhi and other dishes. As a beverage, I prefer my buttermilk less sour and make it with fresh homemade yoghurt, which you can also get into a daily routine of preparing yourself.

How the straightforward buttermilk that I regularly consume came to be pepped up with banana stem is really a photographer’s story. Some time ago, I had been preparing banana stem poriyal, a Tamil stir-fry side dish, when something caught my eye as I was slicing the ingredient. A beautiful geometric pattern (designed by Nature) along the edges of the stem captivated me. I was moved to pause my cooking and pick up my camera. Somehow, as I worked, the thought of adding the ingredient to our regular post-lunch buttermilk occurred to me. From stir-fry to shoot subject to summer heat-buster, the humble banana stem had quite a journey in my hands that day.

Though it is humble indeed, and sometimes neglected for this reason, banana stem is a much-loved ingredient in Tamil cuisine due to its powerful health benefits. It is most famous for being able to dissolve kidney stones, and also has anti-diabetic and detoxification properties. It is rich in iron, fibre, potassium and Vitamin B. It can be eaten raw, but not everyone’s constitution reacts well to this, so you can lightly steam it before consumption without losing much of its nutritious qualities too. Although I was inspired that day to put my photographic muse into my afternoon drink, it was not a brainwave that simply came out of nowhere. Somewhere in my growing years, at some friend’s house or another, I certainly drank banana stem buttermilk. As a local, accessible and inexpensive ingredient, it has always been put to good use by cooks over the centuries.

As mentioned, we have buttermilk with our summer lunches daily, or else a banana. Either a drink to cool the body down, or else the fruit of the same plant to assist with digestion. This was the case when I was a child as well, when my mother would prepare plain buttermilk that was seasoned with nothing but salt and cumin powder. During the summers, our school holiday time, we would play with our neighbourhood friends in the afternoon, climbing trees and tiring ourselves out in a happy way, then have a glass of this and go off for a siesta. The drink was especially vital because it would also be mango season. Mangoes in high quantities increase body heat. Of course, we would have gorged on them, so something had to be consumed to counter this.

Buttermilk really is a summer beverage for so many reasons, and I always find it interesting and awe-inspiring how Nature laid everything out for us in such a way that there is always a seasonal logic. Isn’t it marvellous that yoghurt just takes 3-4 hours to set at this time of year, when it is a more necessary part of our diets, as opposed to needing to set overnight in winter? To this natural design, we also add our common sense: we consume cooling buttermilk during the day, when the sun is high, and not at dinner time.

As a Gujarati born and brought up in Tamil Nadu, bringing the local banana stem into my traditional buttermilk was an intuitive choice. You can make it with other flavours too. The sweetened version of this drink, the lassi, is similarly versatile, and you may remember a fruity version from my recent mango series.

Banana Stem Buttermilk

(Yield: 2 cups)

1 cup chopped banana stem

2 cups yoghurt

1 piece ginger

¼ teaspoon asafoetida

A few curry leaves

A handful of chopped coriander leaves

1 green chilli

½ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

Salt to taste

2 -3 cups water

Juice of half a lime/lemon

Chop the banana stem and soak the pieces in water. Set aside while you prepare the other ingredients. If you tend to find consuming raw banana stem difficult on your digestion, lightly steam it beforehand.

In a bowl, prepare the yoghurt by adding salt and cumin powder. Add 2 ½ cups water and beat well. Keep aside.

Discard the water that the chopped banana stem was soaking in. Put the chopped stem pieces into a blender. Add the green chili, coriander leaves, asafoetida, ginger and curry leaves. Add the remaining ½ cup water and blend well. The quantity of water you use depends on how thick you want your beverage. Then, strain the thick purée into the prepared buttermilk. Add a dash of lime/lemon juice, for a bit of a sour tang.  Beat well. Consume immediately, before it starts to change colour.

I hope you’ll enjoy this nutritious banana stem buttermilk! I’ve shared quite a few summery beverages over the years, and here are some more recipes for your enjoyment too, shared with good wishes for your health and well-being: strawberry-rose smoothie, barley lime drink, rose sherbet and curry leaf and raw mango cooler.

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Recipe: Wonderfully Delicious – White Dhokla

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When I shared this recipe for a dhokla made of green moong a couple of years ago, I had mentioned that Gujaratis are so famous for this item of food that it’s what we are stereotypically called. “Hey, dhokla!” – there is hardly a Gujarati who hasn’t heard this phrase, just as there is hardly a Gujarati who doesn’t, as stereotyped, love this dish. Dhoklas are a kind of savoury cake, spongy in texture. There are numerous varieties of dhoklas, and the khaman dhokla (yellow in colour, and made with channa dal) is the most popular one, and the one you may be acquainted with from restaurants. But the one that Gujaratis mostly consume at home is the white dhokla, which I am sharing the recipe for today.

There are two kinds of white dhoklas: a version that is more tedious to prepare, which entails washing rice, drying it in the sun and then powdering it. My mother would make these traditional rice flour dhoklas often, but for a quick go-to it was always the rava dhokla. The rava dhokla is the other version of white dhokla, and the recipe that I’ll share today. It tastes quite similar to the rice flour dhokla, and has a quick and easy process. It makes for a light dinner, or as a tasty snack when you have company, and is often had with garlic chutney or a sweet mango pickle.

As you may know from some of my photography, I love antique kitchen objects. They are not only subjects or props to me, but are functional too. I have an old dhokla maker, one that feels like it has always been with me. I cannot remember when it entered my kitchen. Similar to an idly cooker, except flat, it has a set of plates stacked on top of each other. The dhoklas are steamed on these, then cut and served.

To be honest, I don’t use my dhokla maker very often because I don’t make dhoklas at home frequently, even though we all enjoy this dish very much. I think this is because, for me, the perfect dhokla was always my mother’s. Even when she became really old and would rarely cook, and I would send her all her meals, I would ask her to prepare just dhoklas for me. With great love, she and I had a recurrent jesting conversation in which I would make fun of her – “What’s this, why are you sitting around? Time to start training for a marathon! Or how about getting started on the cooking, and make me some dhoklas?” I would say, and she would laugh, or offer one of her famous smiles – to be followed shortly by a mouthwatering beautiful treat. My sister’s dhoklas are a close second, but as for me, I am still learning – and as always, eager to share what I know.

That reminds me also of how, not so long ago when we were all still zipping up and down the country and around the world with ease, I would pack dhoklas for short flights of under three or four hours. They travel well as they don’t need accompaniments, and the best part is that they don’t have a strong smell. The whole plane doesn’t find out that you’re eating dhoklas when you open your lunchbox. So I’d fly off to Mumbai, eating my own dhoklas in the air, and when I arrived, my sister would be ready to serve me a fresh batch of her own.  I guess it’s true what they say: no matter where we are, Gujaratis can’t get enough of a good dhokla.

White Dhokla

(Yield: Serves 2)

 

1 cup rava

½ cup yoghurt

1 cup + ½ cup water

Salt to taste

1 tablespoon oil

½ teaspoon ENO fruit salt

½ teaspoon green chili-ginger paste

 

Tempering:

2-3 tablespoons oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

A few curry leaves

 

In a bowl, add rava, yoghurt, 1 cup of water, salt, green chili-ginger paste and oil. Mix well. You will get a thick batter. Set this aside for at least half an hour.

Now, the batter would have thickened further. It needs to be of the consistency of idly batter, so add the remaining half cup of water if required.

Add the ENO fruit salt and gently mix the batter. At this point, it will be frothing.

Prepare the dhokla cooker / plates by greasing them. Then, pour the batter into the plates and steam for about 20-25 minutes with the lid on.

Remove the plates from the cooker once the batter has cooked. Allow to cool.

Finally, temper the dhokla. For this, heat the oil and add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Allow them to splutter, then add the curry leaves. Immediately, pour this hot mixture over the dhokla.

Cut and serve plain or with accompaniments of your choice. Once again, I would recommend trying out one or all of the three dips in my recent Indian condiments series. The raw mango thovayal, the lasun ki chutney or the ginger chutney will beautifully elevate the soft, spongy dhokla. I hope you’ll enjoy this delicious white dhokla – and that it will make you clearly understand why we Gujaratis love it so much! If you do, don’t forget to try out the green moong dhokla variant too. Let me know which one you prefer!

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Recipe: Learning Something New – Ginger Chutney

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For many years, a lovely lady named Hamsa has visited a few times a week, to conduct a chanting class for me. She teaches me Sanskrit scriptures like the Vishnu Sahasranamam and the Lalitha Sahasranamam. I’ve been chanting for the last fifteen years and it’s a source of immense solace for me. Hamsa is from Andhra Pradesh, a region known for its spicy cuisine, and it so happens that one of my favourite condiments comes from there. It’s a ginger chutney sweetened with a hint of jaggery, and I’m delighted to share the recipe for it with you today.

Before the pandemic, I was a frequent customer at a wonderful South Indian restaurant where an array of chutneys would be served. No matter how diverse the spread, I would always reach instantly for the ginger chutney, so much so that I’d even ask to have any leftovers of it packed to take back home and enjoy with the next meal. One day, as we were chatting after class, I asked Hamsa if she knew how to make that fabulous dish. I was thrilled to hear her say, casually, that she made it daily! Of course, she then kindly brought me some a couple of times, after which I asked that she teach me the recipe. I’m a hands-on learner and I wanted to watch her preparing the dish. So one day when she visited, she prepared it in my kitchen as I eagerly watched the process, and I’ve been making it happily ever since.

I believe that we all experience learnings from any person. It doesn’t matter who they are, or in what form the learning comes, but it enriches us just the same. This is something that’s so crucial for us to keep in mind at this difficult time for India. If we keep our eyes and our minds open, we will perceive that all of life itself is a learning, and that we are amidst so many ongoing lessons given what is happening is the country and the world. We are learning about what works and what doesn’t, and what has to change for a better future. In our personal lives and relationships, we are learning something every day about how to get through this crisis – seeing which relationships can withstand it and how, seeing sometimes that the problem isn’t the other person but us, and so much more. These are valuable learnings that we must carry forward.

I’m grateful to have learnt this recipe from Hamsa, to add to all the knowledge she has given me over the years spiritually. She doesn’t just teach me chants, but also talks about culture and ritual, deepening my understanding of the same. When I’m feeling down, she will often suggest a mantra that I can say to strengthen myself. This is advice that has kept me in good stead through my adversities.

I’m sharing the recipe for ginger chutney with you today along with a slice of my life. After I have completed my baking, cooking and exercise schedule in the morning, I always sit down to chant. I genuinely believe in prayer, and in the power of hope. I believe that as a human race we will come out of this darkness, and when I am in prayer, my conviction in this is at its strongest.

With the current lockdown in Chennai, I now take virtual classes from Hamsa daily. I can read Sanskrit, and one of the things I appreciate about her teaching style is that she is very particular about pronunciation. This takes me back to when I was a little girl in a convent school full of wonderful Irish nuns, who insisted on precision in handwriting and enunciation. The lovely Mrs. Martanda, my English teacher, would teach us the difference between the spoken words “vow” and “wow”, for example. She used the Wren and Martin grammar book and various dictionaries as teaching tools. That I am able to recall these details decades on is a testament to the influence a good teacher can have, in any aspect of life. As I said earlier: we learn something from someone, every day. We are all students, and we are all teachers.

And so – I learnt this from Hamsa and I am now teaching it to you. It’s a brilliant ginger chutney made in the Andhra style. My version is drier than Hamsa’s, and I make it this way so that it lasts longer. It has a perfect combination of flavours – sweet jaggery, spicy red chilli and piquantly aromatic ginger, the last one being a particular favourite of mine. It’s so Indian, yet so doable in any part of the world, consisting of simple ingredients and a quick and easy process. In case you cannot source jaggery, try brown sugar or coconut sugar as a substitute. This ginger chutney lifts up the flavours of my Buddha bowls, my dhoklas, my dosas… it adds such a sumptuous taste to anything I pair it with.

Ginger Chutney

(Yield: 1 cup)

2 small cups washed, finely cut ginger

1 small (lime-sized) ball tamarind

8 dry red Kashmiri chillies

2 tablespoons urad dal

Salt to taste

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

2 tablespoons jaggery powder

2 tablespoons sesame oil

 

Add the oil to a pan. Dry roast all the ingredients – except the jaggery – until they all turn golden, on a medium flame. Finally, add the jaggery.

Allow to cool. Blend well together without adding any water. You can store this in the refrigerator for 10-15 days. As a dry chutney, it is inherently more long-lasting.

I’d love to know how you’ve been pairing the various dips I’ve been sharing. The previous two in this Indian condiments series were the Tamil-style raw mango thovayal and the Gujarati-style dry garlic chutney. In the past, I’ve also shared several fusion and Indian dips and condiments, all of which can be used creatively, and I hope you’ll be curious about exploring those too. Here they are: curry leaf and green chilli hummus, plum chutney, wood-apple chutney, coriander chutney and date chutney. Enjoy!

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Recipe: Garlicky Goodness – Lasun Ki Chutney (Dry Garlic Chutney)

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What did you think of the raw mango thovayal that I shared in my previous post? I hope it added a tangy kick to your meals, and if you used it in any offbeat ways (such as as a marinade, or in a fusion dish), I’d love to know. The next dish I’m sharing in this dip series is another recipe that could lend itself to versatile use too. It also has an interesting dry-to-wet storage solution built into its preparation, which you’ll learn about below. This lasun ki chutney (dry garlic chutney) is a Gujarati condiment, one that always existed in my childhood food experiences, and I know it is also made Maharashtra, which borders Gujarat.

It is a dry garlic chutney with a fiery colour, and is made in a ball form that is supposed to last two or three days without refrigeration. This means it travels well, so it is often paired with the equally durable thepla on train journeys and so on. While I was growing up, my mother kept her lasun ki chutney in the fridge, which extended its shelf life a little further too. The concept is like this: it’s a dry chutney, made with minimal water, that is rolled into a ball and stored. Whenever one wants to consume it, one simply pinches some off, adds warm water, makes a paste and enjoys it as an accompaniment. Once water is added, it needs to be consumed immediately.

Aside from theplas, it is typically an accompaniment for bajra ki rotla, dhokla or handvo. Although we now enjoy it year-round, in concept it is the ideal winter condiment for more frugal meals. I am told that farmers in Gujarat typically consume it with bajra ka rotla, a flatbread made with pearl millet flour, in winters. Being very flavourful, it uplifts the thepla or other main staple without the need for other side dishes, especially when the harvest is scarce.

When I first started making lasun ki chutney, I began by making the soft version directly rather than the storable dry balls. I learnt the recipe for my grandfather, who came to live with us when he was 93 and absolutely had to have some of this lovely condiment at every meal. And at every meal, without fail, he would always say, “Garlic is very good for you.” He would sit on the floor and have a full Gujarati main course served to him, and he relished dipping his chapati into a bowl of ghee and eating it with lasun ki chutney. Perhaps because he reminded us every day that this is a nutritious dish, it grew on the rest of us too, and soon we began to have a side of spicy garlic chutney with most of our meals as well.

Garlic is indeed very good for us, and is well-known as an immune system booster, and as an ingredient that keeps blood pressure and cholesterol under control. It’s rich in antioxidants, manganese and fibre, among other nutritious elements. Plus – it’s delicious. Aromatic and pungent, it’s a pleasure for the senses.

That said, I would be remiss not to mention that there are communities that avoid garlic entirely as some believe that it affects the hormones in such a way as to charge us up and make us express our anger. If you do not eat garlic for this reason or any other, I’m afraid this recipe won’t suit you – and I hope you’ll explore the archives and find another one that does.

 

Lasun Ki Chutney

(Yield: 1 small cup)

 

10-12 cloves garlic

1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds

4 Kashmiri red chillies (fried)

½ cup shredded coconut

1 tablespoon sesame oil

Salt to taste

 

Set aside all the ingredients, except the oil, in a food processor. In a flat pan, add the oil and once it has heated, pour the oil into the food processor along with the other ingredients. Make sure that you grind the mixture well. Your dry, coarse garlic chutney is now ready.

Now, make small balls and store them in the refrigerator. When you’re sitting down to a meal over the next few days, pinch off as much as you need, add warm water to make a paste, and enjoy. Have it with dhoklas or theplas, or even add it to Asian stir fries to spice them up, like I do. I’d love to know how you use it!

I’ll end this post by giving you a visual glimpse of the recipe that will round out this dip trilogy. In the photo below, you can see the raw mango thovayal and the lasun ki chutney – along with the forthcoming dish. Any guesses about what it is, or what its chief ingredient is?

 

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Recipe: Really Tasty – Raw Mango Thovayal

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This year’s mango series on my blog comes to a conclusion with a recipe that seamlessly leads into my next series: Indian dips and condiments. Call them chutneys, thovayals, sambals, pickles, relishes or by any name. They serve the purpose of enhancing a meal, and there are a huge range eaten across the subcontinent, often particular to certain communities. They tend to be heavy in spices and masalas so as to lend their strong flavours to otherwise mildly flavourful main dishes. It’s important to choose the right condiment, to complement rather than clash with the rest of the meal. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing a selection of particularly tasty ones, which I hope you’ll enjoy pairing with mains of your choice. Today, I will be sharing the recipe for raw mango thovayal (or thogayal), a Tamil-style condiment that will elevate a variety of traditional and fusion meals.

I was born and brought up in Chennai, and I learnt Gujarati culinary traditions from my mother, who was also born and brought up in South India. She learnt her repertoire from her mother, who was raised in Gujarat but migrated, and who had replicated a menu that was as close to authentic as possible. However, it was also limited in terms of ingredient availability, as well as adapted to suit the climate here. This meant that certain winter vegetables consumed seasonally in Gujarat were not something my siblings and I, or indeed my mother and her own siblings, could have eaten growing up. There were certain recipes that I had no exposure to, and I am continuing to expand what I know about this cuisine. Many other food bloggers have provided inspiration, as has my sister, who lives in Mumbai and who learnt a multitude of dishes in the Gujarati Jain style from her mother-in-law. As you may know if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, I’ve also gained so much knowledge from my friends, who generously give their recipes not only to me, but encourage me to share them with my readers too.

Adaptability, resourcefulness and innovation are the traits of all good cooks everywhere, and a sense of culinary curiosity is what makes preparing everyday meals exciting. My own personal style is a medley of Gujarati cuisine, South Indian cuisines, Macrobiotics training, enthusiasm for veganism, travels aboard and growing up in a multi-cultural setting. As kids, while we ate Gujarati food at home, we also spent lots of time at the homes of our Tamil and Malayali neighbours (like Girija, whose mother made a brilliant ishtew) on practically a daily basis, thus enjoying a wonderful diversity of snacks and meals. My own children are now a third generation of Gujaratis who were raised in South India (I often jokingly say that their Tamil skills are better than their fluency in their mother tongue). If my own upbringing was multi-cultural, my children’s was even more so, and they have travelled and been exposed to even more of the world than I had by their age. Today’s generation and the generations to follow enjoy a blend of influences and experiences, and their food preferences reflect the same.

Coming back to thovayal, my recipe today is really a culmination rather than a combination of my own varied influences and experiences. It’s a raw mango thovayal made up of the memories of hundreds of meals at friends’ homes, prepared with simple ingredients that I happened to have in my garden and kitchen. In my home, this side dish is usually eaten with white dhokla (I’ll share a recipe for that soon). Dhokla is usually eaten with green chutney, but I prefer it with this thovayal, as the raw mango is a wonderful coolant for Chennai summers. Can you think of a more perfect example of a Gujarati-Tamil cultural melange?

Raw Mango Thovayal

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 cup cut, peeled raw mango

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

2 teaspoons urad dal

2 green chillies

2 dry red chillies

6-10 curry leaves

3 tablespoons fresh coriander leaves

½ cup coconut

2 tablespoons roasted gram (optional/alternative: peanuts)

2 teaspoons groundnut oil or sesame oil

Salt to taste

 

You can make thovayal with a variety of bases, simply replacing the raw mango. Coconut is popularly used as a base, for example. I use green chillies in mine so that the thovayal retains a refreshing green colour, but you could use garlic for the spice quotient instead.

To prepare this recipe, simply add all the ingredients together in a mixer jar and blend coarsely. Add no more than 3-4 tablespoons of water when you do so.

The thovayal will be of a thick consistency, comparable to a chutney. It can be stored in the refrigerator for 4-5 days.

Enjoy it as a condiment with any meal of your choice (do let me know in the comments how you pair it, please!). I think it could also work as an excellent marinade for chicken, or if added to roasted potatoes to enhance their flavour. It all comes down to your creativity.

I hope you’ve been making the most of the mango season through the wide range of recipes I’ve shared here that celebrate the fruit in both raw and ripe forms. In case you want to catch up, this is the big list of the delicious mango dishes I’ve posted over the years: vegan raw mango dal, raw mango rice, mango twist, mango osaman, mango lassi, mango salad, sweet and spicy mango pickles, ripe mango rasam and curry leaf and raw mango cooler. Here’s to many more seasons of culinary plenitude!

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