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Being Gujarati, I think it’s only fair that I give you another detailed description of and a special blog post for theplas, even though the standard recipe for them has already made an appearance in my comprehensive post on rotis of many kinds. After all, Gujaratiness goes hand-in-hand with theplas and dhoklas, as stereotypical jokes go – in which there is a kernel of truth, for these really are essential parts of our cuisine. The thepla is particular, in fact. You may also recall a khichdi thepla shared earlier, which is a nifty way to turn what’s left of lunch into dinner. This time, I’m sharing with you a particular recipe that I happened to mentioned in that post – dudhi thepla, which adds the goodness of bottle gourd to the basic bread.

We make all kinds of flatbreads and rotis in India. Each state and each community will have distinct versions. For instance, farmers and people who labour outdoors will tend towards breads that use bajra or pearl millets, or other kinds of seasonal millets. As millets are slower to digest than wheat, this ensures that the body has energy for longer. The roti itself will usually be thicker, larger and drier. A garlic chutney is often the preferred condiment for this dish.

Within the thepla category itself there is great variation. In terms of adding vegetables and herbs, methi or fenugreek leaves are commonly used, and spinach may also be used. Those are among my favourites too, and I’ve put some methi into this recipe as well. If you thought the khichdi thepla was innovative, how about a thepla taco? It’s a fun way to dress up a staple and make it even more appealing to a variety of palates.

My children, despite their greater exposure to other cuisines, still consider as a cherished comfort food a roti or a thepla made at home. It’s the same for my husband. Whenever any of them return for a visit or after a long journey, some delicious theplas are always waiting for them, and I’ve watched time and again as their exhaustion becomes happiness quickly as they tuck in to the meal.

As I have mentioned before, the plain theplas travel very well and last long. They are a very popular work and school lunchbox item, as you may have seen if you’ve had Gujarati colleagues or classmates. My mother would carry them whenever we took trips, and many years later, I do this myself too. Do note that the bottle gourd thepla does not keep for as long as the plain ones, because of the vegetable used. However, it is much softer, and this is once again attributed to the vegetable. Bottle gourd has a very high water content, so much so that I do not add water at all when making the dough. When you are preparing it, if you feel that you’ve added a bit more flour, a few sprinklings of water will help. Otherwise, with practice, the flour, spices and grated bottle gourd will come together easily in a dough.

Whenever I entertain at home, if I’m planning an Indian menu, you can be assured that thepla is the chosen bread. It’s comforting, delicious, versatile and funnily enough, both light and filling. I’ve noticed this: when you’re eating theplas, you feel kind of full, but you seldom feel bloated or heavy afterwards. Have you observed the same too?

Bottle Gourd Thepla

(Yield: 9-10 theplas)

 

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons yoghurt

A handful of methi (fenugreek) leaves

Salt to taste

1 cup bottle gourd (to grate)

½ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon cumin powder

1 teaspoon coriander powder

1 tablespoon ginger green chilli paste

1 tablespoon oil

2-3 tablespoons water (if required)

Clean and chop the methi leaves. Wash and set aside. Peel the bottle gourd and grate the flesh. Keep aside, but not for too long.

In a bowl, add the flour and then add all ingredients, except water. The grated bottle gourd releases water, as explained earlier. Hence, add water at the end, and only if required. Knead well and make a stiff yet smooth dough.

Now, make small balls with the dough. Dust a ball with flour. Using a rolling pin, roll it out into a circular shape.

Heat a pan, and place the rolled disc onto it. Allow to roast on one side and then flip the thepla. Allow a few seconds to roast again and then add a few drops of oil onto both sides. Allow to cook until golden.

Repeat the process for all the rolled dough balls. Collect each as it’s done in a box so that they remain soft.

Theplas go well with pickles or potato roast (i.e. aloo sabzi). I’ll be sharing the recipe for the latter in my next post, so do stay tuned!

As you probably know by now, I have mango trees in my garden. At home, we really do take these for granted. Sometimes, there are so many fruits ripening out there that we don’t even try to stop the monkeys in the neighbourhood from coming to make a meal of them. One of the varieties that we grow, known as the parrot beak or killimooku, is best enjoyed when it is still raw. It is not unbearably tangy, which makes it just perfect for condiments like this raw mango chutney. You may also remember it from this vegan raw mango dal and other raw mango recipes I’ve shared before.

Initially, the challenge for me was always about making it a green chutney, as I like the colour. Invariably, my many trials would result in a chutney that was blackish or another shade. While the taste remains the same, the visual effect differs. Both as a photographer and as a cook, I believe the eyes eat first. I wanted that beautiful, pure green of the fruit to be captured in the dish as well. So I persevered until I hit upon the perfect method to create a green raw mango chutney.

I have made and shared another green chutney before, a coriander one. I have also made and shared a raw mango thovayal, which is a coarse chutney from Tamil cuisine. But I have never shared a raw mango chutney itself so far, and this may be because it has taken me this long to figure out how to ensure it comes out green and stays that way!

I hope this will be the case when you try it out too, as that lovely green is such a delight to look at. I am not sure what the trick is exactly – whether it is the tiny pinch of turmeric, or the ice cool water. I am sure there’s a scientific reason, something about chemistry or temperature, that I just haven’t gotten to the bottom of. I do want to assure you again that if your chutney turns out anything other than green, it should still be fine to consume!

I somehow prefer this recipe to the coriander chutney, taste-wise. I enjoy it with dhoklas and other Gujarati savouries. It is absolutely delicious as a dollop of hot rice, in lieu of a pickle, along with some ghee. I also wonder whether it would work as a pesto replacement in a toastie. Since it’s the season, I may give this experiment a shot one of these days.

My inspiration for this really comes from the region I live in and grew up in. Tamil cuisine is full of chutneys and thovayals, and I’ve not really encountered raw mango used this way in Gujarati cuisines. It is not only the flesh that is used. I have recently seen a chutney made only with the seed, from the beginning of the season when it is tender. Mango peel, as well as ridge gourd peel, are also turned into similar condiments. I may also experiment with this, perhaps by cooking the skin a bit.

Once again, despite so often taking it for granted, I am reminded of just how versatile the mango plant is. Not only are all parts of its fruit edible, but its leaves too are used in prayers, as they are considered auspicious. Those lush green trees, beautifully blossoming away in summers, bring much needed cool relief. Whatever we do, we go full circle and come back to the beauty of nature – don’t we?

Raw Mango Chutney

(Yield: 1½ cups)

2 tablespoons coconut

2 tablespoons roasted chickpeas

Salt to taste

1 cup coriander leaves (no stalks)

¼ cup mint leaves

2 pods garlic

1 cup raw mango

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

½ teaspoon sugar

2 green chillies

¼ cup cold water

A pinch of turmeric

 

Seasoning:

1 tablespoon sesame oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

A few curry leaves

 

Wash and peel the mangoes and cut them into pieces.

In a blender, add all the ingredients and blend until you have a smooth paste.

Prepare the seasoning. Heat the oil and add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Once the mustard seeds start to splutter, add the curry leaves. Immediately, pour the seasoning over the prepared chutney.

Your raw mango chutney is now ready to be enjoyed. If you are a fan of Indian dips like this one, I hope you’ll also explore my recipes for ginger chutney, plum chutney, wood-apple chutney and date chutney.

 

Paneer makhani is a staple in North Indian cuisine, and is loved by people across the country, but not many know that it is a far cry from the original preparation that it is based on. From my understanding, the authentic Mughlai dish did not use tomatoes, which were not available or at least not widely cultivated in India till the last couple of centuries. Tomatoes are a major part of the recipe as it is widely made today. Another element is that the cooks who invented the dish did not use fat such as oil, butter or ghee. Instead, they splashed yoghurt, which would release natural fat. This is what the meats and the gravies of the Mughlai kitchen would be cooked in. Having a sense of the evolution of paneer makhani – a curry using paneer, or Indian cottage cheese – has made me quite happy to share the version that is made in my own kitchen.

While my version caters to my family’s likes and dislikes, it is really focused on one member in particular. Everyone who knows us knows how much my son Prasan loves his paneer makhani. If I talk about this love in detail, he will be furious with me for putting it out in public, so I’ll try not to divulge too much. Suffice to say: he has adored it since childhood. When he visits our relatives, like my aunt or my sister, they usually ring me up and ask me exactly how to make it in the way he prefers. They know that he will only be satisfied with their meal if there’s a serving of his favourite dish. If they’re unable to prepare it that day, they organise for it to be at the table anyway. So this recipe is for them also – next time, they can just find it right here on this blog, as can you.

When we get together as an extended family, a good paneer makhani is a mainstay at most meals. I’ve noticed this to be true at all sorts of gatherings and feasts across communities in India as well. It is also a dish that pleases people of all ages. Children seem to appreciate it as much as the elderly. Whether it was one of my kids when they were little or my mother-in-law as a senior citizen today, I’m never surprised to see anyone at all reach out for another helping.

Paneer Makhani

(Yield: Approximately 2 servings)

 

50 grams onion

180 grams tomato (roughly chopped)

2 cardamom pods

½ teaspoon cumin

2 cloves

1 piece cinnamon stick

1 bay leaf

1 teaspoon garlic-ginger paste

4-5 pieces broken cashewnut

1 tablespoon oil (to sauté)

 

1 teaspoon Kashmiri chilli powder

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon turmeric

¼ teaspoon dhaniya-jeera (coriander-cumin) powder

 

1 tablespoon ghee

½ teaspoon sugar

¼ teaspoon garam masala

100 grams paneer

½ teaspoon kasoori methi (dried fenugreek leaves)

Add the oil to a kadai. Allow to heat, then add the cumin seeds. Immediately after, add the onions, cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, cashew nuts, garlic-ginger paste and the bay leaf. Sauté for about 1 minute. Then, add the roughly chopped tomatoes.

Now, add the salt, turmeric, chilli powder and dhaniya-jeera powder. Stir, cover and allow to cook until the tomatoes are tender.

Allow to cool and blend well. Strain and set aside.

Heat a kadai, and add the ghee. Once it has melted, add the blended purée that had been set aside. If required, add a little water to make the gravy in the consistency you prefer. Other options are to add butter or 2 tablespoons of fresh cream. I have added neither. I sometimes do, but rarely, as Prasan and the rest of us prefer it with less of the same. If you choose to, remember to add the milk or cream finally, else it will split.

Now, add the sugar and allow the gravy to cook well. Finally, add the paneer pieces. I occasionally sneak in some green peas, but my kids don’t like them in this dish. But they do go well with paneer in general, so you may want to try them out. Garnish with a sprinkle of kasoori methi. The gravy can be used as a base for other dishes, such as chicken or vegetable curries, and I’d love to know how you decide to use it.

Serve with flatbread, such as naan or rotis, or rice. Now that I have the hang of sourdough naan, that’s what I tend to serve my Prasan-style paneer makhani with.

There you have it: one of the top dishes at my dining table, made with love every single time. On that note… I’ve mentioned my son quite a number of times in this post, which means I may just have to head to the kitchen and whip up a fresh bowl of paneer makhani. You see, it’s become a bit of a running joke that whenever he is annoyed or upset, a little bit of his beloved gravy will calm him down! Having said this, I’d better get to making it right away, I suspect!

India has a wide variety of snacks that you could call tikkis, kebabs, tikkas and by other names. They are made with different key ingredients, and may be fried, grilled, skewered or served intact. All kinds are delicious, and usually quite filling too. I enjoy a range of vegetable-based tikkis and make them with sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, paneer, kidney beans, green peas and so on. The spices as well as the binding agent remain consistent, while the core vegetable can change. I also occasionally use a mix of vegetables. Among these many options, sweet potato tikkis have been a favourite at snack time in my house of late, so I thought that I’d share the recipe with you.

Do remember that you can use this recipe as a base, as mentioned, for other tikkis as well. While breadcrumbs work well, I have personally gone for either tapioca flour or oat flour as a binding agent when I make these. They are healthier options and taste very good too.

Sweet potato itself is of course the healthier version of the regular potato, though arguably just as delicious. Sweet potato is extremely nutritious, and is rich in antioxidants, beta-carotenes, fibre and vitamins. Did you know that just one sweet potato can boost your system with between 400% and 800% of your recommended daily intake of Vitamin A? True to its name, this is also a delicious vegetable with a hint of sweetness, and one that works in versatile ways. Just talking about it jogs my inspiration, and I think I’ll be using it as the star of some recipes I’ll share in the near future too.

Coming back to today’s recipe, the sweet potato tikki, I would like to add here that the dish itself is quite versatile. It is a healthy choice when you need a fast but satisfying snack, and is great as finger food to serve to guests. How you serve it can also be in a number of ways. You can make it in a chaat or street food-style, serving it plain with a nice dip or sauce. You can make it as part of a meal, accompanied by a salad. You can make it in a longish roll shape, which you then roll within a chapati or roti and tuck away in your tiffin box for a spill-free lunch at the office. One of my favourite methods is to make it as a patty, thus letting you turn a tikki into a vegetable burger. I learned this method while studying Macrobiotics, when a kidney bean patty that I found very similar to our Indian tikkis and kebabs was often used in burgers. In terms of the actual preparation itself, you may choose to deep fry the tikki. I have pan-fried it, to keep it healthier. I have not yet experimented with air-frying, but perhaps you could try that and let me know?

Sweet Potato Tikki

(Yield: Approximately 8 pieces)

 

2 cups sweet potato (mashed)

2 tablespoons finely chopped coriander leaves

1 heaped teaspoon garam masala

1 heaped teaspoon aamchur powder (or: a dash of lemon juice)

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon black salt

2 tablespoons finely chopped onion

1 teaspoon ginger/green chili paste

3 tablespoons oats flour (or: tapioca flour)

¼ cup oil

Mash the sweet potato well. Add the coriander leaves and onion. Next, add all the spices and mix well with your fingers until they all come together.

Make small discs with the palm of your hand. Keep the tikkis in the fridge for at least half an hour.

Once they have cooled, heat a pan. Add oil, then place the tikkis on a medium flame. Watch that they don’t singe at the bottom. Lower the flame if necessary. Flip the tikkis gently and allow them to turn golden on both sides.

Your tikkis are now ready. Serve with green chutney or ketchup if they’re going to be a snack, or with a salad for a hearty meal. In fact, that reminds me of another way to kick up the sweet potato quotient in your diet, with this sweet potato and mango salad, especially with the fruit soon to be in season!

If you enjoy this recipe, you may also be a fan of the harra barra kebab, which uses green peas. That one lends itself especially well to being used as a burger patty. As always, I’d love to know what you think after you try these recipes out. Do leave a comment and let me know!

 

Every time that I had whole wheat halwa while I was growing up, it was mostly made in a jiffy. This was because whenever unexpected guests landed up at home and my mother had to make something sweet to serve them, this was her go-to recipe. Most people of that generation who cooked were extremely versatile. They knew what would work quickly, based on the ingredients they had on hand. It was also a time when those of my generation literally grew up in each others’ homes. So unexpected guests were always aplenty, and the Indian courtesy of feeding them was never forgotten, no matter how much of a surprise they may have been!

The base of this recipe is wheat, jaggery and ghee – items which would invariably be in any Indian kitchen. The additions like saffron and cardamom may not always be available, but the essential ingredient list is one that was quite reliably in every home while I was growing up, and most likely still is today. These are inexpensive ingredients. Not many could afford refined sugar back then, so the accessible and healthier jaggery was used, along with affordable staples like wheat and ghee.

Wheat-ghee-jaggery is an age-old combo, as can be seen in the auspicious sukhudi, which uses the same base. Sweets that utilise this combo are offered to the gods in many Indian homes, and it’s easy to see how the accessibility of the ingredients make them a logical choice for many.

The simplicity of such offerings is part of their beauty. In fact, aside from them being offered in worship, they were also the key feature of birthdays. Back when I was a kid, a birthday cake was not always guaranteed. What we would offer to the gods on that day, and then consume for ourselves, was the big question. “Birthday? Big deal. Get up and go to school!” was a refrain many of us heard! Still, our mothers would usually prepare our favourite Indian sweets that day. My brother liked rava kesari, so that’s what he would receive. As for me, it was this whole wheat halwa that was usually my birthday treat.

I loved birthday parties, and had been to a few of my friends’. There was one year when I decided to throw myself a surprise party – meaning, it was a surprise for my mum! I went back home after school with my whole class, with absolutely no advance notice, and announced that they had all come to celebrate with me. I knew that if I had asked her earlier, she would just have said No. But with all my friends already there, she obliged so very sweetly. Looking back, it could not possibly have been easy to muster up a party immediately. But the feast contained this whole wheat halwa, some standards like toasted sandwiches – and even some McRennett’s cake which she somehow managed to organise last minute. You may recall that I’ve never quite been a fan of what I call that smelly vanilla cake, but it is cherished by my generation. It was a hit at my party too, of course. But that whole wheat halwa was what shone in my mind, and still does, all these years later.

Whole Wheat Halwa

(Yield: 5)

¾ cup whole wheat flour

¼ cup jowar flour

½ cup ghee

½ cup jaggery

A pinch of saffron

1 tablespoon milk

A pinch of cardamom powder

1½ cups hot water

½ cup jaggery

 

Soak the saffron in the milk and set aside.

Heat a kadai and add the ghee. Once it has melted, add the flours. You will notice that I use jowar, or sorghum. This is my addition to the recipe, and another way for me to bring healthy millets into my desserts.

Stir on a medium flame. Stir continuously, else the flour will stick to the bottom. This will take approximately 12-15 minutes.  Stir until the mixture turns a dark golden colour. You never want a dull-looking halwa! Even if you skip the saffron or cardamom, you absolutely cannot skip the continuous stirring when it comes to this dish. The secret to it rests entirely in doing that well.

Then, add the jaggery and keep stirring until the jaggery melts.

Lower the flame and add the hot water slowly, continuing to stir continuously. Be careful as the mixture will splutter. Stand away from the kadai at this point. Once the water mixes well with the flour, then bring it back back to a medium flame – while mixing non-stop.

The mixture will thicken and the ghee will separate. Add the cardamom powder and saffron. Mix well again. Serve.

When I think back about my mother stirring constantly over the stove while a gaggle of hungry schoolgirls waited, I am filled with love. That love continues to be passed on in this recipe. I hope you’ll enjoy it too, and please do check out the various Indian sweets I’ve shared earlier on this blog as well.

This multi-grain flatbread, also known as chilla, is a kind of crepe that has made an appearance on this blog before in a chickpea avatar. This version, which uses a selection of different flours, is very similar to the thaali peeth from Maharashtra or the sathu maavu that is popular in South India. This is a rustic flatbread that is best consumed in monsoons as it takes longer to digest and gives an energy boost, but it is also perfect for me right now as I take a break from rice and wheat. It is a great way to enjoy my dals and veggies. It does contain a very small quantity of wheat as a binding agent, but this can be eliminated if you ensure that you roll out each piece very gently and delicately.

While I am cutting down on this ingredient, I do want to say that I think it’s sad and perhaps unfair that wheat has become a culinary culprit at late. Newer health concerns like celiac disease and gluten sensitivity, which were unheard of when I was growing up, are now much more widespread. On this note, I want to add that with the health and nutritional requirements of my customers in mind, I do offer a selection of gluten-free cakes. Vegan and sugar-free cakes are also on the re:store menu. Please explore our options and see what calls to you, and give me a call. I get a lot of enquiries about cakes that use artificial sweeteners, but I am still wary of those, so I haven’t accepted such orders. I would rather use a natural sweetener in small quantities, or eliminate it altogether.

I’ve used five different flours to prepare this dish. Feel free to use whatever is available in your home. In mine, since I prepare this quite frequently, I gathered together all the grains and had them milled together. In that sense, my flour mix is a homemade one. This is more convenient than reaching out for half a dozen jars each time I want to prepare a multi-grain flatbread. You can just store one jar instead, and use it for your regular consumption. Growing up, my mother made bajra rotlo  quite a lot, but this is my own go-to. You can also prepare this in a thinner consistency, make it in an uthappam style and so on. Use the dough in your preferred way to create a flatbread.

I accompany this multi-grain flatbread with a simple vegetable sabzi or a dal, or sometimes just a pickle and some yoghurt, or even a chutney. There are multiple recipes for these accompaniments on these blog over the years, so I invite you to spend some time exploring the archives, following tags that interest you.

Multi-Grain Flatbread

(Yield: 6)

¼ cup besan flour

¼ cup rice flour

¼ cup ragi flour

¼ cup bajra flour

¼ cup wheat flour

½ teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

A handful of coriander leaves (finely chopped)

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon sesame seeds

A pinch of turmeric

1 tablespoon oil

2 tablespoons curd

13 cup finely chopped onions

Water as required

In a bowl. add all the flours, as well as salt and turmeric. Mix with your hand. Now, add the onions, coriander leaves, oil, curd, sesame seeds and ajwain. Mix lightly and add enough water to bind into a dough. You will not require more than 1 cup, and the quantity ultimately depends on the flours you use.

Once you have made a dough that doesn’t stick to your fingers easily, divide it into 6 equally-sized balls.

Using a rolling pin and stand, dip the balls into some flour again. Then, roll them out gently. Pat occasionally with your fingers. Form a circular shape.

Heat a pan and place a rolled out roti onto it. Allow to cook on one side then flip over. Once it has cooked, add a few drops of oil on both sides and flip so that it turns golden evenly. Make the rest of your multi-grain flatbread pieces this way too.

You can enjoy this the way you would any flatbread, as I said earlier. What are your preferred accompaniments? I’d love to know. If you’re a fan of Indian flatbreads in general, you may also enjoy this post of mine on a variety of Gujarati rotis.

If you’ve been using my recipes for awhile, you may already be quite experienced with kheer, having tried out sitaphal kheer, rose-coconut kheer and even kheer poori. So this orange kheer should be a nice, fresh twist on a milky Indian dessert that I hope you’ve been loving.

When I first heard of orange kheer and then tasted it for myself, I was a bit surprised. I had always assumed that citrus would separate the milk and ruin the dish, so when my mother-in-law brought it out for her meal once in the early days of my marriage, I was incredulous at first, and then very impressed. The trick is to have two distinct cooling periods, thus ensuring that the milk has already set before the orange is introduced and combined. When you make it this way, you can quite confidently add quite a lot of orange, which I do – fruit segments, fruit juice and even a fruit cup.

The fruit cups – using hollowed-out orange peels to serve the dessert – were my innovation on my mother-in-law’s recipe. I suggested this idea to her after first eating her orange kheer. We found that it further enhances the experience as this style of serving makes it all the more fragrant. Of course, you also save on clean-up time afterwards. Neither do you waste water doing the dishes, making it a creative and eco-friendly choice as well.

I recently made this orange kheer after several years, much to my mother-in-law’s delight. She asked for a second helping, and she reminded me that it had been my father-in-law’s favourite. A flood of memories came back to her, and she appreciated the sentimental value of the dish very much. Watching her delight made me think yet again of how food truly is emotional, and has such a nostalgic quality. This isn’t something that we food bloggers say just for fun – when something beautiful like this is evoked in a person as they eat, the evidence is clearly seen.

My late father-in-law was diabetic, so we ensured that the sugar quantity in this dessert was always low, so that he could enjoy more of it. I generally avoid using too much artificial sweetening or sugar in my cooking anyway, so this low-sugar version fit nicely into my overall culinary approach, and I retained the recipe. The natural sweetness of the fruit also comes through. Oranges are currently in season, and I used the Nagpur variety which is especially flavourful at this time.

It’s so fitting that a sweet dessert like this inspires such sweet memories. I hope you’ll enjoy it just as much as my family does.

 

Orange Kheer

(Yield: 4-5 servings)

 

1 litre milk

Segments of 2 oranges

Juice of 1 orange

12 cup sugar

3 oranges (for cups)

Boil the milk on a medium-low flame, for roughly an hour, until it has reduced to 13. Stir frequently, making sure it does not stick to the bottom. The milk will be thick.

Once it has reduced, add the sugar and stir well. Take off the flame, cover and set aside to cool. Then, refrigerate for 2 hours.

Once it has cooled, remove from the fridge and add the orange segments and orange juice. The juice is optional, but elevates the overall flavour quite a bit. If you have some orange blossom extract on hand, go ahead and add a few drops too. Stir and put back into the refrigerator until cooled again.

When you are ready to serve this dish, you can either do so with your regular bowls, or else try my method of using the orange peel. To create the orange peel cups, cut each orange into half. Scoop out the flesh, being careful not to damage the peel. Set the segments aside for later. Pour the cooled kheer inside. Garnish if you’d like to (toasted pistachio can be a nice touch) and enjoy!

This is a cheerful dessert, as orange simply has that quality of boosting the mood. The aroma and the taste come together beautifully. I wouldn’t be surprised if, like my mother-in-law did today, you’ll be reaching out for a second helping too.

I don’t know whether sabudana wada, a savoury snack made of mashed potatoes with a coating of tapioca pearls, is a typically Maharashtrian dish or a typically Gujarati dish – but that to me is the beauty of India. Cultures blend and co-exist, respectfully. That is who we as a country really are, and we should not forget this.

I grew up in that kind of India, and while I was growing up I knew sabudana wada as not just a Gujarati dish but one specific to the Vaishnav community. This was because it was among the items that my mother, who observed fasts called Farali in which grains were not permitted, prepared during those times. What to my mother was a religious observance was an opportunity for tasty delights to me, as a child. As a fried dish, sabudana wada was logically delicious.  Other things that we ate during Farali were yam, potato and sweet potato preparations, some of which I will share with you soon.

While the dishes themselves were something I always appreciated and looked forward to, it is only with maturity and hindsight that I am able to see just how important those traditions were to my mother culturally. But more than that, I am able to appreciate how broad-minded she was in the way she raised us. She had come from a conservative family, and we lived in a joint family with our grandfather (who was with us up to the age of 89). He fasted devoutly, and so did she – but never did she impose the various fasts they both kept through the calendar on my siblings and I. Despite not having a formal education, she understood intrinsically that it was wrong to force her beliefs on us.

Interestingly, her leniency meant that by seeing and admiring her example, the traditions she held dear actually became imbued in us. I can see them live on in my daily life now, in the rituals I observe and the food I consume. The next generation, my children, who were raised quite liberally, similarly learn about culture from my example. They see how it is a part of who I am, and it becomes a part of them too.

When I think about my upbringing and that of my peer group, I feel as though we were all raised in a much more harmonious and open way, even though what was common in our generation was that parents and families tended to make all the big choices on their children’s behalf. From education to career to marriage and more, these decisions were not usually in our own hands (I rebelled on a few counts to chart my own path, but the norm was always to respect one’s parents’ wishes). But our so-called conservative parents had such a natural affinity for cross-cultural exchange.

My sister and I were sent to a convent school as it had the best curriculum in the city, and I remember well how I would pray at the chapel with all my heart – and then go home to eat authentic Vaishnav Gujarati meals and pray in my family’s altar too. I had a burqa-wearing friend at that same convent school too, and she is but one example of the mix of communities, languages and backgrounds that we grew up with. At school, it didn’t matter to anyone at all whether you wore a bindi or a hijab, as long as your shoes were polished and your uniform was pressed and your nails were tidily cut.

We had so many perspectives to open our minds. We played together, studied together and broke bread together without thinking of the differences between us – because where it really mattered, there were none.

That was the India I grew up in, one in which diversity was celebrated and not considered unusual in the least. If you are of my generation, I have little doubt that that was the India you grew up in too. Let’s not forget where we came from. Personally, I see food as going a long way in restoring that harmony.

On that note, let us return to the topic of sabudana wada – a lovely Indian snack for everyone to enjoy, background no bar. Just bring your appetite and a warm, open heart.

Sabudana Wada

(Yield: Approximately 10)

 

½ cup raw tapioca pearls (will become 1 cup)

2 tablespoons crushed peanuts

1 cup boiled and mashed potato

1 teaspoon ginger green chilli paste

Salt to taste

2 tablespoons coriander leaves (finely chopped)

1 teaspoon sugar

3-5 drops lemon juice

Oil for frying

Clean and wash the tapioca pearls and then soak them for 4-5 hours. Strain the water. Make sure it is strained well. The pearls need to be dry to the touch. If needed, you can spread them over a thin cloth and allow them to dry a little.

Next, boil the potatoes until tender. Peel and mash the potatoes well while they are hot and set aside.

Now, add all the remaining ingredients together and mix well. Massage with the palms of your hands until you form a dough. Divide the dough into small discs. Sabudana wadas are ideally dainty, small and pretty, although you are welcome to make bigger-sized ones if you prefer.

In a pan on a medium flame, add oil. Heat the oil and drop the wadas and fry until they are golden and crisp on both sides.

They are now ready to be served. Enjoy with green chutney or ketchup.

Sabudana wada goes perfectly with a cup of chai. These lovely little snacks are ideal for a rainy day evening. We enjoy them very much at home, and I hope you will too.

 

I’m the inquisitive type, and I love to know about everything that I eat. Recently, an ice cream recipe I was trying out called for guar gum, which made me wonder about its relationship to guar or cluster beans. With a little insight from Wikipedia, I learned this fun fact: guar gum, widely used internationally, comes from the guar seed and is exported from India. Guar gum is a thickening agent, and used in food industries around the world. Unfortunately, the processing the raw seed undergoes renders the final product rather unhealthy. Still, that takes away nothing from the goodness of guar itself. This wonderfully healthy vegetable hasn’t made an appearance on my blog so far, probably because it is not enjoyed by most of my family. But I know from experience that it is an acquired taste. I’ve been making it in a typical Gujarati style recently, in the form of guar dhokli. You may remember my dal dhokli recipe from years ago, and will be familiar with the stew-like concept behind it. This is similar: parcels of dough, known as dhokli, are cooked in a gravy – this one, full of nourishing guar.

Cluster beans are a bitter vegetable. The dhokli part of the dish balances this flavour out. Guar dhokli on the whole is a dish with several textures and flavours, and healthy too. As someone who enjoys a wide variety of vegetables, including unpopular ones like this one, I can safely say that a nice preparation, along with awareness of the benefits of an ingredient, can change one’s mind about it. This one contains: glyconutrients and a low glycemic index (making them good for diabetic diets) and folic acid (good for pregnancy diets). More generally, it is good for blood circulation, lowers bad cholesterol, and is rich in minerals, iron and Vitamins A, B and K.

As I mentioned, my family members aren’t fans, but I am. However, I too detested guar when I was growing up. My mother would make guar dhokli often and I would pick the guar out of the gravy and just eat the dhoklis, much to her fury! Funnily enough, once I got married and moved away, whenever I visited her I would request guar dhokli. It had a nostalgic quotient, and it truly began to grow on me. At this point, I would even go as far as to call guar one of my favourite vegetables. Some day, when my kids find themselves having a strange craving for it, they can look up this recipe. I am certain they will also have a change of palate as they get older.

The typical thaali that we eat at my house daily consists of a dal bhaat (dal and rice), rotli and a shaak, which is some kind of vegetable curry. This is the most basic Gujarati meal, and will be found at most households at lunch-time. Some may make it more elaborate by having one dry vegetable and a gravy one, or a savoury item and a sweet. But the core three elements remain. What happens in my home is that I often end up cooking some guar or some ridge gourd (which I I enjoy in a South Indian stir-fry, and have shared the recipe before) or some other vegetable that the others don’t like. So this just-for-me preparation becomes one extra dish, in addition to the core three.

When it comes to my kitchen, there are certain items that only I make. This guar dhokli happens to be one of them. Another one of my specialties is this Gujarati potato and brinjal curry. These recipes were transferred from my mother’s hands to mine, and somehow they just don’t taste the same unless I make them myself.

While preparing this guar dhokli, I pondered about how this authentic recipe has been preserved through the generations. My mother was only 19 when she moved to Chennai, and my siblings and I were born and raised here, just as my own children were. Still, we speak pure and perfect Gujarati at home, and the majority of the dishes we ate growing up were authentic ones. Even as I enjoy fusion food and amalgamating cuisines, I still find a way to maintain cultural and language traditions, even while integrating elements and influences. Food, of course, is the most beautiful way to do this – it’s amazing how we can enjoy diversity and also enjoy authenticity at the dining table.

Guar Dhokli

(Yield: 3-4)

 

Gravy

¼ kilogram cluster beans

2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

1 tbsp dhaniya jeera powder (coriander and cumin powder)

½ teaspoon sugar

2 cups water

 

Dhokli

¼ cup whole wheat flour

¼ cup chickpea flour

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

A pinch of chilli powder

1 teaspoon oil

¼ cup (or less) water

 

First, prepare the dhoklis. Make a tight dough with the above ingredients, adjusting the water accordingly. Now, make small discs with the palm of your hand. Set aside.

Then, prepare the gravy. First, wash and cut the guar into the desired size.

In a pressure cooker, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the ajwain. Next, add the chopped guar. Add 1 cup of water and allow the vegetable to cook until it is tender. This takes no more than 1 whistle.

Once cooled, open the lid and add another cup of hot water and then add the dhoklis that were set aside earlier.

Add the remaining spices and stir gently.

Once cooked, allow to cool for about 5-8 minutes. Your guar dhokli is now ready.

This dish is best served with rotis or rice, since it has a gravy component.

There you have it – guar dhokli, a dish that can turn a rather unpopular vegetable into a hit. Try it yourself and tell me what you think. I hope this recipe inspires you to bring the cluster bean into your repertoire, on repeat!

Peas are in abundance right now – they are in season, cheap to purchase, good for health, and I for one am glad they are flooding the local market. It feels like I am making something with them every day. Recipes I’ve shared with you in the past, like this harra bhara kebab, pea-pomegranate festive kachori and chura matar are being relished at my dining table. I’ve even begun using peas as substitutes for staples. For instance, I usually send my family members off to their offices with some aloo paratha in their tiffin carriers, but the potatoes have been swapped out for – you guessed it – peas. I would like for you to experience the lovely pea-stuffed parathas that they are enjoying at the moment too, so that’s exactly the recipe that I’ve decided to share this week.

Since I am now preparing as well as eating these pea parathas daily, I’ve observed that they are healthier and lighter than aloo parathas, which makes them more suitable for the mid-day meal when one’s work has to be resumed after. The best accompaniment for them is yoghurt and a cup of simple salad – add these two elements and you’re all set with a nice lunch. Traditionally, parathas are meant to be generous in size, but I prefer to make them small. They look pretty and dainty, fit more easily into your Tupperware or tiffin carrier, and the overall presentation just looks and feels nicer. That’s quite important for any meal, not just a special one. When a loved one opens their lunchbox at the office, the dishes within would have been prepared hours earlier and may no longer be warm or as fresh, so making them look attractive makes a difference.

I’ve been using peas grown in my region, but I must admit a preference for those harvested in Jaipur or Delhi at this time of year. The weather there is more conducive to this vegetable, and the yield is smaller in size and so sweet that it can be eaten raw (and even used in desserts, like in peas halwa). I have friends who grow peas on farms there, and visits from or to them during this season would always include some fresh produce. Sadly, no one is able to travel much at the moment, but the local variants are still much enjoyed in my home.

As I was preparing the peas for my photo shoot, I smiled as I recalled helping out in the kitchen when I was growing up. When we were kids, my siblings and I would have a competition about who would peel and shell the most peas. These were a chore that our mother often assigned to us, and this is how we would make it more interesting. The winner had no reward and the loser had no punishment, but this game was just a way for us to pep up a boring activity. Once again, as I did while sharing the previous recipe, I reminisce about how kids of my generation always found ways to keep ourselves entertained. We were innovative and creative in the absence of technology. What sorts of games did you play to make chores go by faster?

Peas Paratha

(Yield: 4-6)

 

Peas stuffing

1 full cup crushed green peas

1 teaspoon aamchur powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon ginger/green chilli paste

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil (to roast the peas)

 

Paratha dough

1½ cups whole-wheat flour

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil

+ Oil for shallow frying

 

Divide the dough and the stuffing separately into equally-sized small balls (lime/lemon-sized).

Roll one dough ball out, and place a spoonful of the peas stuffing in the centre. Gather the dough around the peas and make a smooth round ball, using gentle pressure.

Dust some flour onto the ball and roll out again delicately, making sure the peas do not come out of the dough.

The method of stuffing the paratha with peas is similar to the method for making puran poli, which you can refer to in this post here.

Heat the tava over a medium flame. Once it is hot, place the rolled paratha on it and cook. Flip and spread a ½ teaspoon of oil evenly around the edges and shallow fry both sides until light golden brown spots appear. Repeat with the remaining parathas. Serve.

As I said earlier, some yoghurt and a bit of salad are great accompaniments, but even eaten on its own this peas paratha is flavourful. It is a perfect light meal, and it is lunchbox-friendly, cost-friendly and health-friendly too!