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Recipe: Cherished and Relished – Coconut Stew

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What is it about the food we taste while we are growing up that somehow, no matter how far we go, becomes the basis of our most important culinary memories? So it is for me and a very special coconut stew (or to be authentic, “ishtew”), which would be served at my friend Girija’s house. We met in the 8th grade and were neighbours, and her mother prepared wonderful Keralan fare. Her ishtew was the first I’d ever had, and fortunately for me, Girija learnt how to prepare it exactly the same way. I’m so delighted to share this love-filled, coconut milk-based deliciousness with you today, as part of the ongoing coconut series.

“Ishtew” is possibly the Malayalam-ised word for “stew”, which I suppose is what the British must have called this dish when they first encountered it. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, and it’s the English word that is derived from the Indian one? Made with vegetables or meat and warmly spiced, it is usually served alongside aapam, a kind of rice-and-coconut-milk pancake that is also known as hoppers. You can also have this coconut stew with rice, idly or dosa.

The only recipe I have for this dish is the one that Girija shared with me, and to me it’s absolutely the best one. As with any food item, there will be variations from kitchen to kitchen and community to community, and I know of many who prepare it in different ways. The core of this dish, as with most very popular and commonly consumed traditional ones, is that it is quite simple to prepare and uses ingredients that are easily available. Coconut, of course, is the star.

Girija and I were such tight friends as teenagers that it was a given that if I was not at my home, I could be found in hers, and vice versa. Decades later, we remain close, and now, whenever I visit her in Singapore, there is always a large bowl of coconut stew being prepared for me. The photo below is from a few years ago, from one of the times when she prepared it for me and I happened to have my camera on hand. Somehow, over the decades, it’s her stew – not even her mum’s – that is most vivid in my mind. We create new memories and reminisce about old ones whenever we enjoy a meal together, and I hope that this dish becomes a part of yours too.

 

Coconut Stew

(Serves 2-4 people)

50 grams onion

125 grams potato

20 grams ginger

A few curry leaves

2 teaspoons coconut oil

½ cup water

Salt to taste

One coconut

 

Cut the onion and potato into thick juliennes. Set aside.

This recipe requires two cups of fresh coconut milk – a first press cup, and a second press cup. Prepare the first press by grating the coconut flesh and grinding it in a blender with a ¼ cup of water. Strain this and set aside. The first press milk will be thick.

Now, repeat the process using the same grated coconut flesh – this will be the second press milk, and it will be thinner in comparison to the first press. Set aside.

Take the second press milk and boil the julienned potato and onion in it until they are soft. Ensure that you add the onions after the potatoes, as they cook faster. Add the ginger too. You can press down on the potatoes a little using a masher.

Once this is done, add the thick first press coconut milk to the pan. Add the curry leaves and coconut oil as well. Stir well. Your coconut stew is now ready to serve, and a plate of aapams, idlies or dosas will go perfectly with it.

This stew evokes for me one of my most cherished friendships, and so many childhood memories. Although Girija and I are in different countries at present, perhaps one of the many reasons she and her stew have been on my mind is because the lockdown this year has meant that meeting at home has become how most of us socialise now. Here in Chennai, my friends and I often discussed wanting to meet but felt it wasn’t safe to go out to restaurants like we had in the past. Instead, what we now do is something that we had quite rarely done in the past: meeting in each others’ homes over home-cooked meals. It’s so nice to get together this way, knowing that everyone is comfortable and care has been taken.

The lovely thing about old friendships is that even if we don’t see each other often, the bond is absolute. I truly feel relaxed and comfortable when I am with dear friends like Girija. It’s easy to put my feet up with her, and that is the kind of ease that can only come with knowing how much love is given and shared between oneself and another. That love speaks in the food that she cooks for me. We have an understanding that she cooks for me, and I cook for her. The “trade” for this Malayali coconut stew is always a Gujarati dal. Perhaps I will share that recipe some day soon too…

In the meanwhile, don’t forget to check out the previous posts in this coconut series: coconut podi and coconut oil. Stay tuned for a lovely Diwali dessert next weekend, to round the series off!

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Recipe: A Coconut Condiment – Coconut Podi

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I’ve spoken often about how I love growing many of my own ingredients, whether at home or on our farm. I’m excited about sharing this new series about one that is a staple in so many dishes here, and which I’m fortunate to have a lovely homegrown supply of. That hero ingredient is the coconut, and over the next few weeks I’ll be sharing several recipes that star it. We have our own coconut trees in the backyard, and I am always looking for ways to put the yield to use. The coconut climber came by recently, to harvest the trees, and from this abundance of crop I’m making as many things as I can. For any recipe at all that calls for coconut, I use a fresh one. Even coconut milk is squeezed at home.

Kicking off this series is a condiment, coconut podi. Condiments are popular across Indian cuisines, and South India has a fair share. Dry podis (“podi” means “powder” in Tamil) and wet chutneys, as well as semi-wet, semi-dry variations are made using a variety of spices, dals and ingredients like curry leaves, raw mangoes and more. The idli podi, for instance, is made to last long. Coconut is not an ingredient that can be be kept for that long, so this one has a shorter shelf life. But I can almost guarantee that you’ll reach out so often for it that your stock won’t expire. If made correctly, this coconut podi remains fresh for around 3-4 weeks, stored at room temperature.

One of the reasons why I was especially keen to make a coconut condiment is that I personally love the Sri Lankan sambol, and wanted to see if I could make a vegetarian version of sorts. While sambol uses seafood, I feel this recipe is similar. Like sambol, this podi is not a finely-ground one, and has many tiny coconut pieces. My friend Akila also encouraged me to try this experiment out, and she was happy to share her own basic coconut podi recipe. I’m always aware that different communities and families have their own ways of making the same recipe.

With Akila’s recipe as a base, layered with things I learnt from other recipes I’ve tastes over the years, and finally through speaking with various families to retain some kind of local authenticity, I added my own touches: tamarind and curry leaves.

While I was growing up, we often ate some kind of podi mixed with ghee and rice. It was the perfect impromptu go-to in case the day was too busy to prepare a curry or a dal, and I still reach out for this for the same reason. This podi is also delicious with a bit of ghee and a dosa, or to add flavour to yoghurt. One of the great things about any podi is that it tends to be easy to carry to work, since it won’t cause a mess or have a strong smell in one’s lunch carrier, whereas a curry might.

It smells divine as it roasts, however. The morning that I made this coconut podi, using those freshly-harvested coconuts, my whole home was filled with the most beautiful aroma as it was being prepared. Everyone wanted to have it for breakfast, immediately, lured by that fragrance. I wonder if the same thing will happen in your home!

Coconut Podi

(Yield: 2 cups)

1 cup fresh coconut (shredded)

2 tablespoons urad dal

2 teaspoons sesame oil

¼ teaspoon asafoetida

2 -3 dry red chillies

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

Salt to taste

6-8 curry leaves

1 marble-sized ball of tamarind

 

Add oil to a pan. Once it has heated, add the asafoetida, urad dal, mustard seeds, tamarind, red chillies and curry leaves.  Roast until the urad dal turns golden. Set aside.

In the same pan, dry-roast the coconut on a low flame, using just a few drops of oil, until it turns reddish in colour. Set aside.

Use a spoon to remove only the urad dal from the earlier mixture. Coarsely blend the remaining ingredients together, adding salt. Use a blender, and keep it at room temperature. Once a coarse blend is achieved, add the urad dal and blend everything again. The reason for adding the dal only at the end is so that there is a bit of crunch in the podi. You’ll see what I mean when you taste it!

You may also want to add just a pinch of jaggery to this recipe, if you’d like to enhance the flavour with some sweetness. That was an element I used in some trials of mine, and ultimately eliminated from my final version. If you’d like to, you can eliminate the curry leaves too. It all depends on what combination of spice, sweetness and tang (which comes in this case from tamarind) you most enjoy.

Store at room temperature, and enjoy with dosa, idly, rice, roti or any combination you prefer.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing more coconut-ty goodies, from anytime staples to festive specials. Please do subscribe to this blog, so that you’ll know as soon as a new post goes up! Don’t forget to let me know in the comments what you think of the recipes, too. As always, I love hearing from you about how you’ve translated my recipes to suit your own tastes!

 

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Recipe: Simply Fulfilling – South Indian Buddha Bowl

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There are one-pot meals and meal-in-a-bowls to be found in cuisines all over the world, even though distinguishing them as a category is a relatively new idea. They’ve gained popularity among diners everywhere thanks to the Buddha bowl trend, which are comprised of a medley of attractively arranged (and usually nutritious) food items in a single bowl. I’ve had quite a few versions of these on my travels, and they’ve always motivated me to make them a regular part of my lifestyle. Now that we’ve all been at home for months, I’ve been bringing as many of these inspirations into my day-to-day cooking as possible. The Buddha bowl is among my favourites for its aesthetic appeal, health quotient and convenience. I’ve been making variants focused on different cuisines, and will share a few of them in the coming weeks. Let’s begin today with my South Indian-style Buddha bowl.

The Buddha bowl concept itself is a great one, and is based on putting together a compact and even portable meal which packs in lots of flavours and textures. You may be wondering what makes a Buddha bowl different from the thaalis we enjoy in India, in which a wide variety of dishes are served in their own separate containers, arranged around the central eating space of the plate. The answer is in the portion sizes. With thaalis, there’s a lot more space, and you tend to fill up that space and thus consume what you’ve filled it with too. A Buddha bowl is just one vessel, usually a bowl as per the name, but a plate will do as well. Thaalis are indulgent, whereas Buddha bowls take a minimalistic approach. The latter are closely tied to fitness for this reason. These days, with the necessity of watching what I eat in a smarter way as I grow older, I reach for them very often in the interest of health. I can attest that eating a Buddha bowl keeps you light on your feet. Whenever I have one for lunch, I feel active for the rest of the day. There is a bounce in my step and I feel revitalised, and find myself doing my photoshoots with more energy.

You can make carb-free variants if you like, but for me it’s simply about cutting down on the quantity of them while still getting the boost they give to my energy. Offsetting the carbs with a delicious load of greens is also key. This South Indian Buddha bowl contains the perfect combination of crispy eggplant, flavourful rice and nourishing, lightly-spiced greens. Every single dish-within-the-dish tastes wonderful, and they come together beautifully with their richness of textures and flavours.

I am a fan of healthy grains options, so I’ve used brown rice in this recipe. You can substitute this with white rice, if you prefer. As for the greens, here in South India we enjoy an incredible variety of spinach, including vendaya keerai, moringa, mollaraikeerai, sirikeerai and more. I have some kind or another every single day, and just happened to use mullakeerai in this recipe. It’s just very lightly seasoned with garlic, salt and dry red chilli and is very flavourful when eaten almost plain this way. We also get a variety of eggplants, from thin and long green ones to fat and purple ones, and while I don’t know all their names, you can use any that are available too. One of the beautiful things about this recipe is that it requires just the staples.

I always say that you eat with your eyes first, and the aesthetics of serving are very important to me not only as a photographer but equally as a culinary enthusiast. When you serve these diverse portions in a beautiful and well-proportioned bowl, the vessel looks full and the moment you see it, you get a sense of “Wow, I’m going to have a big meal.” You truly do feel satiated at the end of it, because your eyes have convinced your brain before your belly begins its work! Making a Buddha bowl as colourfully as possible also has health advantages, as you may remember from my post on eating the rainbow.

Speaking of what the eyes take in, initially, I had planned a photoshoot using South Indian brass crockery and props. I ultimately decided to go with an international look instead, to celebrate the global popularity of the Buddha bowl. As I discovered, there’s also another trick of the eye in this. You see, my daughter doesn’t always enjoy South Indian cuisine, but if I present it this way, she tucks in enthusiastically. It’s all about presentation, and how good you can make a dish look so that it will please the person who is going to eat it even before they’ve had a bite. Personally, I would also love eating this very same meal off of a banana leaf (yela saapad), as is tradition. That would change the experience of having it totally as well. But for now, I need the shot of energy that a Buddha bowl puts into my day, and I’ll carry on having it this way for a while!

South Indian Buddha Bowl

(Yield: 1 bowl)

 

Coconut rice

200 grams (approximately 2 cups) cooked brown or white rice

30 grams (2 tablespoons) grated coconut

4 curry leaves

1 tablespoon coconut oil

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

1 green chilli

Salt to taste

 

Greens

2 cups chopped and cleaned greens

1 teaspoon oil

2-3 garlic cloves

1 dry red chilli (optional, can be replaced with green chilli)

Salt to taste

 

Eggplant

10-12 slices of small eggplants

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon coriander powder

¼ teaspoon cumin powder

1 tablespoon chickpea flour

2-3 tablespoons oil

 

Prepare each of the components separately. I’ll begin by sharing the method for the coconut rice. In a pan, add the coconut oil. Once it’s heated, add the cumin and mustard seeds. When the seeds splutter, add the curry leaves and green chilli. Next, add the freshly grated coconut. Sauté them all together for a few minutes and finally add the rice and salt. Stir until combined.

The following is the method for the pan-fried eggplant. On a plate, place the eggplant slices and sprinkle all the masala (including the chickpea flour) onto them, and gently massage them in by using your fingers. Allow the coated slices to sit for ½ an hour or more. If letting the tray sit for longer, then refrigerate it so that the eggplant doesn’t begin to give out water.

When you are ready to fry the eggplant, add the oil in a pan. Allow it to heat up, then gently place the round eggplant slices onto the hot oil. Allow them to turn golden on both sides on a medium flame, then cool.

Finally, here is the method to prepare the greens. Heat a kadai and add the oil to it. Once it’s hot, add the garlic and stir fry until the cloves change colour slightly. Now, add the chilli and then finally add the greens. Keep the flame at a medium level and sauté for a few minutes or until the greens turn a little tender. Do not overcook, as they release water and will change colour. Add the salt and stir well.

My daughter felt that this bowl was a little dry, and if you think so too, you can either add some yoghurt to it as a fourth component or make the spinach in a more gravy-like style if you prefer.

With all the components of the dish prepared, it now comes down to the assembly. Pick out a beautiful bowl and arrange the coconut rice, sautéed greens and pan-fried eggplant on it. Let your eyes feast first. Enjoy!

You may have noticed that my blog is also a kind of Buddha bowl, a mix-and-match that I put together from across categories. This is deliberate, because I want people from across age groups and from all over the world to enjoy my recipes. I always try to balance the traditional and the modern, and bring in all my varied experiences and learning – be they through travel, my training such as in Macrobiotics, my memories, or my experiments. I strive to keep up with the times, and I also strive to keep challenging myself. Thank you for coming along with me on my journey! There are a few more Buddha bowls in the next couple of stops. Any guesses where they might be inspired from?

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Recipe: Making The Most Of Mangoes 3 – Mango Osaman

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Osaman is a kind of thin broth made in Gujarati kitchens. It’s rather similar to rasam, although certain ingredients like tamarind are eliminated whereas other ingredients like jaggery are used. As I’ve said numerous times in other posts, every community and region in India will have its own variations on certain staples: rices, curries, dals and so on. With it being mango season here – in the country as well as on this blog! – this ripe mango rasam I shared a couple of years back was on my mind. That was when an idea struck: why not make the traditional osaman I had grown up with, but with a luscious, fruity twist?

Osaman is essentially made using the water that dal is boiled in, and served alongside the same dal in a meal. Inspired partly by mango rasam and partly by the Gujarati curry known as fajeto (which is similar to Tamil cuisine’s morkuzhambu), I blended some ripe mango into an osaman as a culinary experiment. The result was something delightful, and I’m excited to share it with you today. This mango osaman is my own recipe, bringing together various comforting influences into a single dish.

Despite being popular in Gujarati homes in the summer, the yoghurt-based fajeto is a heavier dish, and is not among my family’s favourites. They’ve been getting their dairy intake from this lovely lassi anyway, so this osaman was the perfect substitute, allowing me to bring mangoes into our lunch preparations in a new way as well. It’s been much appreciated, and I’m sure it will become a part of our regular meals over many mango seasons to come.

Ripe Mango Osaman

(Yield: Approximately 5 cups)

 

3½ cups water

1 cup ripe mango pulp

½ cup boiled toor dal

Juice of 1 lemon

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon cumin powder

1 teaspoon coriander powder

½ teaspoon red chilli powder

2 teaspoons jaggery

2 teaspoons ghee

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

1 teaspoon grated ginger

2 dry red chilies

A handful of finely cut coriander leaves

In a pot, add the dal, mango pulp and water. Mix well, using a hand blender.

Add the salt, cumin powder, coriander powder, jaggery, turmeric powder and grated ginger to the pot. Allow to boil for about five minutes so that the flavours come together nicely.

In a small pot, prepare the tadka (seasoning). Add ghee. Once it’s hot, add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds and dry red chillies. As soon as they begin spluttering, add the red chilli powder and immediately pour it over the hot osaman.

Squeeze some lemon juice over it, and garnish with coriander leaves and serve.

Just like rasam, this ripe mango osaman works beautifully both as a warm beverage and as an accompaniment to rice. I hope you’ll enjoy this Gujarati-Tamil fusion dish of mine. I’m simply thrilled to have one more recipe to make the most of my mango madness with!

 

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Recipe: Surprisingly Simple – Vegetable Biryani

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My children are at home through this lockdown, and I’ve been striving to make their favourite dishes for them while being mindful about how to make every ingredient go the extra mile. As we’ve discussed many times before on this blog, Indians have a knack for being resourceful in the kitchen, whether that’s through reusing leftovers creatively or coming up with innovative ways to cook with less. I believe that we should not neglect our nutrition or our taste buds, even now, and I’ve been thinking of how to share recipes with you that can be made with what you already have on hand in the fridge, but which don’t compromise on deliciousness. This vegetable biryani is a perfect example – flavourful, comforting, and made from just the staples.

The great part about this dish is that you can throw in any vegetable you like, which is especially useful at a time like this. It’s a very easy recipe for young adults who are just stepping out and learning to cook on their own, as well as for beginners in the kitchen. If you have a pressure cooker and follow the recipe to a T, you’ll soon be able to enjoy homemade biryanis on the regular.

Biryani is a savoury rice dish from the Mughal empire of India, and variations are made throughout the country. It is often prepared with long-grained basmati rice. In South India, we tend not to grow this variant, so different locations are famous for using their own rice types and methods. Popular regional biryanis include Dindigul, Hyderabad, Ambur and more. Meat is a common ingredient, but I’ll share a vegetarian recipe for the benefit of a wider number of readers.

That said, even the vegetables in this recipe are optional, although of course I don’t recommend that you leave them out for nutrition’s sake. But if you are short of groceries right now, be assured that the rice will be just as flavourful even without them. The subtle tastes and fragrances of the many spices used amply make up for them.

When my children were still little, and like many children disliked eating vegetables, they were absolutely delighted by a discovery made on a holiday. My brother had taken us to Dubai, to a restaurant that made a wonderful selection of biryanis. My kids were kicked to see that the restaurant offered a vegetarian version with no vegetables! I guess you could call it the kids’ option. That’s where they got the idea of having this flavourful rice with no vegetables at all, and got me to start making it for them that way too.

Like many of you, if not all of you, there have been some disruptions for us due to the current situation. We had been renovating our house, and had temporarily shifted to a smaller flat, where we now find ourselves until this crisis passes. Living in apartments, you can get the smells of cooking from different homes wafting into yours. This piques my curiosity delightfully. Sometimes I wonder: I think she’s making biryani, and that smells like this masala or that spice; perhaps I can incorporate it next time… Biryanis vary not just regionally, but also  between communities, and from family to family. No one can really replicate another’s, yet they are all fragrant – and tasty! I am certain yours will be too.

I have many other memories of biryani as a dish that encouraged bonding, and these go back to my childhood. At the time, the beach was the only place of outing for us in Chennai. We went there whether it was for a special occasion, like Sharad Purnima, or just as a treat. Most of us have lovely recollections of time spent there. On summer evenings, my extended family would head there with a big pot of biryani. We’d enjoy dinner on the beach along with the light, cooling sea breeze. People would also bring accompaniments, including a sweet, raita, drinks, crispies like appalams and so on, so it became a potluck. We would tuck into a feast as we enjoyed one another’s company as well as the beauty of nature. I so look forward to doing that again one day, when it becomes possible to. A simple picnic with loved ones, in the beautiful outdoors, with a basket or two of delicious food…

 

Vegetable Biryani

(Yield: Serves 4)

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons ghee

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

1 teaspoon saunf

2 bay leaves

1 long cinnamon stick

2-3 cloves

2 cardamom pods

1 star anise

200 grams rice (approximately 1¼ cups)

200 grams cut vegetables (beans, carrots, small potatoes, peas)

100 grams finely cut onions

1 tablespoon tomato purée

1 green chilli

A few mint leaves

1 tablespoon finely cut coriander leaves

1 tablespoon yoghurt

2 cups water

 

Masala:

½ teaspoon turmeric powder

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon cumin powder

 

Raita:

1½ cups yoghurt

½ cup onions

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

First, prepare the raita, so it’s ready when you serve the biryani. Add the yoghurt in a bowl, then add the salt and the cumin powder. Mix well. Now, add the onions and stir. Store in the refrigerator.

Pick, rinse and soak the rice in water for about ½ an hour. I have used rice from our farm as we prefer that at home. However, if you prefer basmati, then use that by all means. It’s possible that the water content may change, so adjust accordingly.

In a pressure cooker, add the ghee. Once it becomes hot, add the cumin seeds and saunf, followed quickly by the spices (cardamom, cinnamon stick, bay leaf, cloves, star anise). You can substitute the ghee for oil, especially if you are vegan.

Sauté for less than a minute or until the flavours come together in the ghee.

Next, add the finely cut onions and sauté until transparent. Once it turns golden, add the tomatoes and the green chilli. I have used a homemade tomato purée, the recipe for which was shared recently. But feel free to use fresh tomatoes, diced.

Now, add the masala and stir well. Once that is mixed thoroughly, add all the vegetables along with the mint and coriander leaves. You may use any vegetables that are available to you. Fortunately, my usual method for this biryani requires simple ones that I still have on hand easily – beans, carrots, small potatoes and peas.

Next, add the yoghurt. Blend everything well. Discard the soaking water and add the rice.

Now, add 2 more cups of water to the rice mixture. Cover the pressure pan and allow 1 whistle. Then, lower the flame and allow to cook for another 5 minutes.

Turn off the flame and allow to cool in the cooker until it is ready to open.

Once open, mix gently and serve with the onion raita. I garnish the biryani with a sprinkling of golden burnt onion slices.

And there you have it – a recipe from the royal kitchens, adapted for our lives today. I hope this simple vegetable biryani will bring you some joy in this surreal time. I’ll keep sharing more recipes in the next few weeks which I hope will also do the same.

If “biryani” has been considered a fancy dish in your mind till date, I encourage you to drop the notion. Let’s return once more to the fact that there are numerous kinds of biryanis – with meat, without meat, with vegetables, without vegetables, with some kinds of rice or with some other kinds of spices. This is why I want to say with confidence – give it a try! I am sure it will be great, and I would love to hear about your own variant in the comments.

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Recipe: Mum’s Memories – Gujarati Potato & Brinjal Curry

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Here in lockdown mode, due to the global pandemic, I feel now more than ever that memories, bonding, love and food are what keep us going and make it possible to manage this difficult time. I sincerely hope that you and your families are keeping well, and that my recipes will offer you some comfort.

Ever since I can remember, this traditional stuffed vegetable dish has been a part of my life. It’s typically Gujarati, in the sense that every Gujarati household makes it. Some use onions and garlic, while for others these ingredients are not permitted religiously. Some use peanuts to add more texture. This dish is true to its region, so the taste and style you experience will also vary depending on where in the state the family originated from. No matter the variant, the base recipe for this Gujarati Potato & Brinjal Curry, which can be made either as a gravy or dry, is the same.

Needless to say, it’s a favourite and frequent dish in my home today, just as it was when I was growing up. It was a trademark preparation of my mother’s. When I first got married, she would speak to me often on the phone and if she sensed that I was feeling down, she would always say, “Come home for a meal. I made your favourite vegetable dish today.” Till she was 84 years old, she cooked this sabzi regularly for me. In that last year when she was unwell, it became my turn to. I would cook it and send it to her, made with all the love I have for her and the memories she had given me, and she would enjoy it just as much as I did.

And how many memories I have of this dish! Memories of eating it at home as a child, memories of making it for my own family once my kids were born, memories of visiting Gujarati relatives and friends for a meal and almost invariably being offered their own personal rendition of it. Perhaps there was something extra special about it to me always, and maybe this was the reason why my mother recognised that it was my favourite. That was because it was always served during our Sunday lunches when we were growing up. We would all be glad for the weekend, enjoying our leisure, and this delicious concoction of potato and stuffed brinjal would fill our tummies and become associated with the joy of a day of rest itself. Funnily, for such a quintessential and ubiquitious dish, Gujaratis don’t have a special name for it. We just call it “potato-brinjal curry” in our language too!

There are certain dishes which, even if one usually dislikes the main ingredient, the magic of the preparation always sways the eater to relish it. I’ve heard quite often that people who don’t enjoy eggplant in other ways do so when they have a bite of this. (People not liking potatoes is much rarer, of course!). Whether you call it brinjal, baingan, aubergine or eggplant, it’s a vegetable that has a host of benefits, and which can be made in delicious ways so that your family receives these. This Gujarati curry, for which I will provide both the gravy and the dry options in the method below, is the perfect way to bring the antioxidant-rich, fibre-rich, nutrient-rich vegetable into your regular diet.

Gujarati Potato & Brinjal Curry (Gravy/Dry)

(Yield: 1 bowl)

½ cup grated coconut

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

2 tablespoons cumin/dhania (coriander) powder

1 teaspoon amchur (mango powder)

1 teaspoon garam masala

2 tablespoons jaggery

1 teaspoon chilli powder

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon grated ginger/green chili

½ cup finely chopped coriander leaves

2 tablespoons oil

6 baby eggplants

3 large potatoes

3-4 cups water

First, let me share the gravy version of this dish. The dry version is provided further below.

Wash the baby eggplants. Slit them lengthwise (so that they can be stuffed; be careful not to cut completely) and keep the slices in water.

Peel the potatoes and cut them into big pieces. Set aside.

In a plate, prepare the stuffing by adding together the coconut, salt, spices, coriander leaves, ginger chili paste, and jaggery. Mix it well with your fingertips and set aside. Now, take each eggplant and stuff it with this prepared masala. Keep aside.

Heat the oil in a pressure cooker and gently add potatoes, making sure the oil doesn’t splutter. Next, gently add the stuffed eggplants over the potatoes. You will find that there is a lot of masala left over. Sprinkle this over the vegetables, leaving just a little on the plate for later. Again, gentleness is key so that the stuffed eggplants don’t break.

Now, add the water and mix the concoction – again, gently! Cover the cooker and wait for three whistles. Allow to cool, then open the lid and add the remaining masala. Stir once again. Your gravy Gujarati Potato-Brinjal Curry is ready to serve.

If you prefer a dry version of the same, follow the first three steps as above: cleaning and preparing the eggplants for stuffing, cutting the potatoes, and preparing the masala.

Then, add the oil in a kadai. Once it has heated, add the potatoes. Stir them, then cover with a lid on a slow flame. Stir occasionally, making sure they do not stick to the bottom. Once the potatoes are slightly tender to the touch and not overcooked, open the lid and add the stuffed eggplants. Remember that potatoes take longer to cook than eggplants so gauge the time well.  Cover again.

If required, especially if the vegetables are sticking to the bottom of the pan, sprinkle some water and cover. Continue to allow the dish to cook until all the vegetables are well-done. Finally, add the masala and stir gently. Cover again and allow it to sit. The dry version of this dish is now ready to serve.

As you prepare the dish, adjust the spices as per your preference. If you don’t like the standard Gujarati-style touch of sweetness, don’t include jaggery. If you want to spice it up while maintaining colour, chopped green chillies will do the trick. Don’t forget the versions mentioned at the beginning, which incorporate peanuts, garlic or onions.

No matter which way you choose to make it, I hope this Gujarati Potato-Brinjal Curry brings as much comfort and deliciousness to your home as it does to mine. As with all Indian curries, it’s perfect with rice and a range of breads. It’s got the spiciness of our masala, is tummy-filling thanks to the potatoes, and just has such a feel-good effect on the heart. Trust me: generations of Gujaratis have been turning to this dish as nutritious comfort food!

 

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Recipe: Traditionally Tasty – Red Rice & Jaggery Pongal

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The revival of traditional ingredients and culinary methods is something very close to my heart, and you may have noticed this passion in everything from the cookware you see in my photographs to the recipes I’ve shared on this blog over the years. This is also the reason why I celebrate so many festive occasions, and believe in passing on traditions to my children, be they cultural (such as certain Diwali or raksha bandhan rituals) or sentimental (such as heirloom recipes). This return to a time-honoured way of life is very valuable to us. It was in this spirit that I accepted the opportunity to create a recipe over the Pongal festival for a special feature in The Hindu. Although Pongal has now passed, any time is a good time to try something delicious, and I hope you’ll like this recipe for traditional South Indian red rice and jaggery pongal.

When I discovered an organic store in Chennai, Spirit of the Earth, I really enjoyed looking at the hundreds of varieties of locally produced rice from around India. I especially love black rice, which has a nutty flavour and appealing colour as well as being nutrient-rich. As someone with Vitamin B12 deficiency, it provides a source of iron that I’m glad to incorporate into my diet frequently. It’s also a very versatile grain, and I enjoy using it in dessert, specifically in Thai-inspired sticky rice with mango pudding. The red rice varieties were also very intriguing to me, and one of them is the key ingredient of this recipe.

Having experimented with growing organic produce on our farm over several seasons now, I now truly understand why turning away from chemical-heavy and industrialised agriculture is good for us. What we do is on a small scale, and mostly for our own sustenance, although we do sell to selected organic stores as well. We cultivate traditional varieties of fruit, flower and produce, and the only kinds of rice and millets we usually eat at home are from our own fields. Among the produce we grow are: ragi, green moong, black rice, barnyard millet, samai and thinnai. Even taste-wise, I find that hybrid varieties of fruit simply don’t taste as sweet. The sight of blossoms like the manoranjitha, which I grew up with but hardly find in Chennai anymore, warms the heart.

It is deeply meaningful to me to be able to provide all these forms of a sense of belonging to my children, who are grown up and live in different parts of the world. They know that they have a home to return to, which will be filled with love and tradition, where meals will be served with ingredients we have carefully cultivated ourselves. When they are not here, they have the recipes on this blog, which will teach them (no matter what time zone they’re in!) how to whip up their favourite comfort foods for themselves. This was one of my core reasons for beginning this blog. While it may look like a motley collection of recipes, that is only because I want it to speak to many generations and tastes, and span influences that reflect all our travels and dreams. We are all multi-taskers with many interests, which is why I keep things varied.

Beginning with my love of cooking for others, I then also started taking photographs. After early trials and errors, I attended workshops to hone my skills, and practiced hard. I think the results of these efforts will be clear even if you look back at old posts. I am proud to have come a long way since then, and especially that I took the step to establish Nandi Shah Photography in 2019. I think it’s still early enough in the year to share again this calendar, which showcases the combination of two of my great loves: baking and photography.

Another very important component of this blog is the health aspect, and whether it’s vegan, Macrobiotic or simply a smarter ingredient substitute, I am always on the look-out for how to create the most nutritious recipes. This red rice and jaggery pongal checks all the boxes here.

Pongal is a traditional South Indian rice porridge, and red rice is a perfect substitute for white rice. I like using Onamatta rice in this recipe as it has a beautiful fragrance. It also tends to cook faster and is a soft rice variety. Originating in Kerala, it is also known as Rosematta rice. A highly nutritious and filling grain, it keeps you full for a long time, making it an ideal appetite-curbing dish during dieting or fasting. I find that red rice also has a way of uplifting the flavours of local vegetables and dhal. It tastes delicious with palm jaggery, which is great sweetener. I’ve had the opportunity to see it being made as well, and I highly encourage it as a sugar substitute. Jaggery has long been the traditional sweetener in Tamil Nadu cooking, and I believe that ancient pongal varieties would have also been made with millets and older grains.

What I am sharing today is a traditional recipe, relished for centuries. You’ll see why when you taste it.

 

Red Rice & Jaggery Pongal

(Yield:  3-4 cups)

½ cup red rice

½ cup jaggery

6-8 cashews

2 tablespoons mung dal

2 ½ cups water

3 + 1 tablespoons ghee

1 pinch of cardamom powder

1 handful of raisins

 

Roast the cashews in a ½ teaspoon of ghee. Add the raisins and roast until they bubble up. Set aside.

Roast the mung dal in a ½ teaspoon of ghee until it releases an aroma. Now, add the cleaned and washed Onamatta rice to it. Add water and allow the rice and dal to cook until tender in a pressure cooker on a medium flame.

In a pan, add ghee. Now, add the palm jaggery. It will begin to melt in a few minutes. Then, add the rice mixture and blend well.

Add the cardamom powder, raisins and cashews, mix well and top it off with a drizzle of ghee before serving.

Preparing a traditional dish like this, no matter when, always has a comforting feeling to it. I truly believe in the adage “We are what we eat.” Food has a unique way of expressing this. Four generations of my family have lived in South India now, and it’s a part of who we are. This red rice and jaggery pongal is a beautiful way for me to honour that connection, as well as my personal appreciation for all things organic. I’d love to know what you think when you try it out!

 

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Recipe: Festively Flavourful – Pistachio & Rose Nan Khatai

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When we were growing up, our mother once decided to take a Western baking class to expand her repertoire in the kitchen. As children, we adored the pastries, cakes and short eats our mother learned to bake there. In those days, embarking on such a class was considered quite unusual and therefore very progressive in Chennai, and in other parts of India. In the hill stations, there would always be families who had learned recipes from the British chefs, so they knew how to bake. In the cities, Western food was available only at clubs, and made by chefs who themselves would have studied under foreigners. For an average homemaker to go out and educate herself in Western cooking was a rare thing. Now, thinking back on how uncommon it was, I admire her all the more.

Mum was always very curious. She always wanted to know how food had been prepared, and never felt any embarrassment about enquiring on the same. She would just ask nicely, and people were often forthcoming about how a particular dish was made. In this way, she picked up a wide range of recipes, and became a master in the kitchen. I’m sure that this trait is something I’ve inherited from her, and I am always eager to keep learning, just as she did.

Our mother attending this baking course opened up so many snacking and celebration possibilities for us. There, she learned not only Western-style cakes and pastries, but various other types of baked goods as well. Among them was nan khatai, a kind of shortbread biscuit that originated in the Indian subcontinent. Nan khatai has an especially interesting story behind it. It is believed that a Dutch couple ran a bakery in 16th century Surat, a Gujarati seaport which had many traders and expats. This establishment was inherited by a Parsi gentleman when the Dutch left the country, but he found no takers for their cakes and bakes. To his surprise, the locals seemed to enjoy the dried, old bread most of all. The legend is that he decided to simply sell dried bread, which gave rise to this particular recipe. A similar biscuit is eaten in Afghanistan and Iran, where it is known as kulcha-e-khatai.

I remember carrying boxes of nan khatai on the train whenever I visited cousins or relatives, homemade gifts from my mother. I enjoy continuing the tradition of taking homemade dishes as gifts when I visit friends nowadays.

This nan khatai is neither Surat-style, nor what my mother was taught at her baking class, nor her own improvisation (the original uses wheat flour; she added a bit of besan or chickpea to hers). It is, of course, re:store-style – loaded with delicious flavours I love to use in the kitchen. Soft and crisp at the same time, this pistachio and rose nan khatai a real treat. Its fusion of cultures and influences makes me feel it’s ideal for an Indian Christmas. As an eggless baked treat, it’s also perfect for vegetarians.

 

Pistachio & Rose Nan Khatai

(Yield: 25 pieces)

100 grams powdered sugar

80 grams ghee (clarified butter) at room temperature

100 grams maida

25 grams pistachio meal

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 tablespoons semolina

60 grams chickpea flour (besan)

½ teaspoon cardamom powder

A few strands of saffron, soaked in 1 teaspoon rose water

2 teaspoons yoghurt

½ teaspoon pistachio extract

Rose water (if required)

 

Pre-heat the oven to 160°C.

Add all the dry ingredients together, sift and set aside.

With a hand blender, beat the ghee and sugar together until the mixture is light and fluffy. Now add the yoghurt, pistachio extract and saffron. Mix gently.

Next, add the dry ingredients to the mixture. Use your hands to bring it all together. It will be a soft dough. If required, add 1 teaspoon of rose water to bind it better.

In a baking tray, lay out small rolls of the dough and top each with a slice of pistachio. Make sure there is space between the rolls to give them room to bloom. Bake for approximately 15 minutes, depending on the oven type.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

Your re:store-style nan khatai is ready to serve, just in time for the year-end festivities! This Western-but-Asian biscuit is delightful with tea. Isn’t it amazing how much history and how many cultures one little biscuit can contain? Aromatic thanks to the rose water and extra crunchy thanks to the pistachio, I am sure you’ll find it as addictive as I do. Here’s wishing you and your family a wonderful Christmas. I hope a batch of pistachio and rose nan khatai will be baking in your oven soon – let me know what you think of it!

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Recipe: A Craving From My Childhood – Wood-Apple Chutney

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Wood-Apple Chutney

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 wood-apple

3 tablespoons jaggery

1 teaspoon chilli powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon/small ball of tamarind paste

Salt to taste

 

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

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

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

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

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

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Recipe: A Tonic For The Changing Season – Raab

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raab

(Yield: 1 bowl)

⅛ cup bajra (pearl millet) flour

⅛ cup jaggery

1½ tablespoons ghee

2 cups water

1 teaspoon dry ginger powder

½ teaspoon ajwain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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