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I love the flavour of lemongrass. I find it very versatile: it shines in dishes like this vegan whole corn and lemongrass soup, in my early morning tea and even as a semi-decorative element in kachoris. This ginger lemongrass rice is just one of many ways that this wonderfully aromatic herb is used in my home.

Indeed, not only is it used in my home but it is also grown in my home, which means that I have access to fresh green lemongrass leaves whenever I desire them. I currently have this plant on my terrace so that it gets direct sunlight. It sits alongside my jasmines, which I am very proud of. Not only is the visual of them growing together very pleasing, but the natural fragrances that waft there in summer – with the flowers in full bloom giving off a heady scent, alongside the lemongrass – are really so beautiful.

Despite being a long-term fan of lemongrass, this ginger lemongrass rice is a new addition to my repertoire. My daughter is visiting and she loves to cook Thai food, which is what inspired me to bring the ingredient into a lightly stir-fried rice. The method for doing so is a little different, and you can see how to prepare it in the recipe below.

This rice is meant to be accompanied by a side dish, and you can experiment with a variety of cuisines. If I am serving this alongside an Indian dish, fresh coriander or a bit of cumin in the preparation will bring out complementary flavours. If I am pairing it with a Continental dish like a baked spinach (by the way, I will share the recipe for this soon), I may add mint instead. The lemongrass and the ginger remain constants. However you choose to accompany it, the rice itself will be quite flavourful, as well as fragrant.

I have shared quite a few rice recipes here over the years, from biryani to porridge to dessert. In South India, rice grows abundantly, and I’ve also discussed before how the regeneration of native varieties is important. I recently heard the environmental scholar Vandana Shiva speak in Chennai, and I feel moved to share her message. She spoke about how India must maintain our rich agricultural heritage, that farmers should have their own seeds and distribution network and not allow big companies to patent them (this is quite controversial – Monsanto currently has a monopoly on the world’s seeds). She also encouraged farmers to go pesticide-free and focus on seasonal produce, and said that organic food will become more affordable as more farmers choose these methods. It was a very enlightening talk, and these thoughts were on my mind as I prepared this dish. I hope that you too will explore more about these subjects. After all, they relate to our everyday lives and choices.

All said and done, rice is a staple in India, and while it contains sugars and starch, in the right quantities it does more good than harm. I hope we can all come together to be more mindful about our consumption. We can do good, too – even as we indulge.

 

Ginger Lemongrass Rice

(Serves 2)

1 cup rice

5 cups water

2 tablespoons grated ginger

A bunch of fresh lemongrass leaves

Salt to taste

1 tablespoon sesame oil

Finely chopped coriander leaves (for garnishing)

I have used basmati for this dish, but I would recommend using any good South Indian or Asian rice variety. Do keep in mind my prior suggestions for additional ingredients depending on the side dishes you prepare to serve this with.

Rinse and soak the rice in a pot. Add the five cups of water. Add the lemongrass leaves and cook until the rice is tender. Strain and set aside. Remove the lemongrass leaves and discard them.

In a heated pan, add the oil. Now, add the ginger and sauté for a few minutes. Add the cooked, fragrant lemongrass rice along with the salt. Mix gently, allowing the flavours to spread into the rice.

Garnish and serve, along with any other dish. This ginger lemongrass rice will certainly elevate the flavours of its accompaniment, and vice versa. Enjoy!

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Recipe: Love At First Sip – Nandi’s Special Chai

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The new year has dawned, and with it much hope and optimism for what is to come. As I said in my previous post, which was a recipe for a festive boozy hot chocolate that I hope you enjoyed, every one of us has learned so many lessons recently. If we would just take time to reflect on them, we would all see how much we have to be grateful for. As for me – and if you’ve been on my journey here right from the start, you may already know this – I do a lot of my reflecting over a cup of delicious, hot chai. As I was doing so the other morning, enjoying the gentleness of that early hour and my solitude in my garden, my thoughts drifted to the tea itself. I had been making it in my special way for so many years that I had almost forgotten how unique it is. It’s my pleasure to share it with you today, and perhaps it will become your special way too.

Even though tea is now a ubiquitous part of my life, this wasn’t always the case. The humble beverage was once an aspirational one for me, as it often is for children. Growing up here in India, neither caffeine nor sodas were permitted for children in most families of my generation. We were always given milk instead, or a milk-based healthy drink such as Bournvita. Tea or coffee were drinks we could only watch adults consume, knowing they were forbidden to us!

For me, the most vivid childhood impression of tea was always from the summer holidays when my mother’s entire clan of nine siblings would meet along with all of their own children. From wherever we were in the country or the world, we would descend on their sleepy little hometown. That meant that 50 or 60 cousins would be under the same roof, and you can imagine what happy times these were. As for the adults, I would often notice how they would chatter all night long over cups of freshly-made tea. To me, tea represented their bond. I always associated it not only with grown-upness, but with a sense of camaraderie.

Funnily enough, both of my siblings grew up to reject caffeine, even though as kids all of us and our army of cousins were constantly asking when we would be able to try some chai for ourselves. This meant that I only became properly introduced to it in my mid-20s, once I’d gotten married. It was love at first sip, happily infused of course with the knowledge of fulfilling a long-held childhood wish.

Over time, I began to infuse my cuppa with more than just memories. Playing around with different flavourings over the years, I found a version that is perfect for me. My special chai uses both lemongrass and ginger. I have one cup of it every morning, and a half cup every afternoon. The time I spend with my tea is always a pleasant and even meditative few minutes, with and without company.

It won’t surprise you to know that I’m quite particular when it comes to each ingredient in this tea. I tend to use homegrown lemongrass, but I am also partial to Maharashtrian lemongrass. Lemongrass tea is extremely popular in there, where it’s called “leelee cha” or “green tea”, in reference to the colour of the leaves, not to be confused with the other variant of green tea. So whenever a dear one is coming via the state, I insist that they bring me some. My husband is in Mumbai at the moment, and I’ve told him he isn’t permitted to return home without some lemongrass leaves from a local vendor! I’m so obsessed with having lemongrass in my tea that whenever I’m falling short of the ingredient, I tell the rest of my family that they’re just going to have to go without it and hoard it all for myself.

Complementing the spicy lemongrass is the equally piquant ginger, which is always freshly crushed. As for the tea leaves themselves, I used to have a fondness for the citrusy tang and rich colour of orange pekoe, but later it was several variants of tea sourced from the Nilgiris mountain range that became my favourites. Lately, with travel and access being more restricted, I’ve discovered some lovely Indian supermarket brands for good quality tea leaves too. I’m not a fan of tea bags, and believe that powdered tea leaves are one of the secrets to a great chai.

That reminds me of another cherished tea memory of mine. I’ve spoken many times about my travels to the Nilgiris (such as in my harra bhara kebab recipe, vegan passionfruit shrikand recipe and plum chutney recipe). Many lifelong Chennaiites like myself will have decades of holiday reminiscences from time spent in the coolest climes of Tamil Nadu. Among these for me are memories of a dear family friend who lived in the hills, Mrs. Bosen. She ran a kindergarten school, and my kids too have fond recollections of going there to play with the little ones and teaching them the alphabet. She represented the summer holidays to us, and we loved spending time with her. Her tea was so legendary that whenever she invited us over, we would adjust our entire schedule for the day around arriving just in time to have it. It was simply incomparable, and continues to be our benchmark for brilliantly-made tea even though the lovely lady herself is long gone. Sometimes, when the evening tea has come out exceptionally well, one of us will still remark, “Doesn’t this taste like Mrs. Bosen’s tea?”

I often feel that the water used in tea, an ingredient we take for granted, also makes a difference. Does tea sipped in the Nilgiris taste so much better because of the water there, in which leaves grown there are steeped? Or is that just the taste of nostalgia? Either way, I always make my tea with mineral water. Chennai has hard water in the taps, and soft water is certainly preferable for tea.

That said, I’ve certainly enjoyed a pan-Indian experience when it comes to tea. While I like mine with just a little splash of milk, in many parts of the country it’s made so that it’s often more milk than tea. Once I learned the reason for this – i.e. milk used to be a symbol of affluence, and from being a status marker it simply became a preference in many places – I understood that it’s all about the context. I may not have liked the variants with over-heaped chai masalas had I made them at home, but having those in North India in the winters where the extra helping kept me warmer made sense. Similarly with sugar, which I personally take less of, but I could appreciate in situations where it was used to turn a tea into a type of dessert too.

A confession: wherever I travel, no matter where else and how else I drink my chai, I always carry powdered tea leaves and some lemongrass with me, because I simply must have it my way at some point in the day. I’m sharing this recipe with you in the hope that it becomes your most trusted style of tea too.

Nandi’s Special Chai

(Yield: 1 cup)

1 full cup water

¼ inch ginger piece (crushed)

2 pinches of lemongrass leaves

1 teaspoon tea leaves

2 tablespoons milk

Honey/sugar to taste

Boil the water along with the fresh ginger and lemongrass leaves in a pot. When it begins to boil along the edges of the pot, add the tea leaves. This will happen within approximately 2 or 3 minutes.

Once it’s properly boiling, add the milk. As I said, I use just a splash, but you can adjust the quantity as required. You can certainly make this recipe with almond milk too. I often do, whenever I’m in a vegan mood myself.

After about 30 seconds, switch off the flame and cover the pot with with a lid. Covering it ensures the flavours will blend nicely. Let it sit for another half minute.

Now, strain the tea. Enjoy your cup with honey or sugar or neither, depending on your preference. If you’re like my husband, who hates mugs, I’m sure that proper tea cups are a must in your serving style. If you’re like anyone in my home, a slice of cake may tempt you too!

That first sip – ah, so satisfying. Tea is one of those things that anyone can learn how to prepare, but which becomes simply sublime when someone has a knack for getting it just right. I happen to be that person in my household, by unanimous vote. Although I’ve taught every single one of them the very same recipe I’m sharing with you today, they insist that I make it best, and so I’m always the designated tea-maker. Perhaps that’s because of the special ingredient, which is not so secret at all – love.

 

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Recipe: The Spice-It-Up Soup – Vegan Whole Corn & Lemongrass Soup

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Vegan Whole Corn & Lemongrass Soup

(Yield: 6-8 cups)

2 cobs of corn

½ teaspoon grated ginger

2-3 lemongrass stems

2 tablespoons olive oil/ butter

2 cups vegetable stock

2 tablespoons spring onion

1 green chilli/jalapeño

1 cup coconut milk

Salt to taste

 

Garnish:

2 tablespoons peanuts

Finely chopped spring onion

Finely chopped coriander leaves

Red chili flakes

1 teaspoon olive oil

 

Grate the corn from the cobs and keep aside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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