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Recipe: The Exotic “English Vegetable” – Harra Bhara Kebab

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Every summer during my childhood, my family would drive up to Ooty to get away from the heat in Chennai. There we’d be, little children in our little Fiat car, excited to reach the hills. The drive would take anywhere between 8 and 12 hours, and since our car didn’t have an AC, it would be sweltering for most of the ride. So we’d stick our heads out of the windows and enjoy the drive. There were no eateries along the way, so we’d pack picnics for the journey. This was a ritual for many families we knew, who would escape the summer weather during the school vacations, in favour of the refreshingly cool climate of the hills.

As we came closer to our destination, not only would the air and the temperature become more and more pleasing, but the curling streets and by-lanes winding up to Ooty would be lined with the stalls of farmers, selling fresh produce like carrots and green peas, and a variety of fruits and other vegetables which grow well in that climate. Green peas would be sold by the name “English vegetable”. Even today, if you go to the local produce markets in Chennai and other places, “English vegetable” is the term that is used. Strangely, there is evidence that suggests it could be found in India some two thousand years ago, but no doubt it was the British who cultivated it properly. And who introduced it from their own cuisine into ours.

Green peas are not actually vegetables, but legumes. They are rich in antioxidants and fibre, have a high protein content (four times that of carrots) and also contain vitamins, manganese, folate and other beneficial elements. Like most green things that farmers grow, they are good for you.

Indians are very innovative when it comes to the kitchen. So all over India, the “English vegetable” was quickly welcomed into the family like they would a good daughter-in-law. Indianised and masalafied recipes featuring the ingredient became popular. We are big foodies in this country, and always find intelligent ways to incorporate new culinary elements into our own styles. Green peas are versatile, so you can make everything from a rice dish like a green peas pulao to so much more. The most bizarre dish I’ve heard of was a green pea halwa, a kind of sticky sweet – any chance you’ve tasted it? From this end to that, once it became popularised by the British, people made interesting dishes using this exotic “English vegetable”. Somewhere in the North, the availability of the green pea gave rise to a dish known as harra bhara kebab.

Kebabs in India originated from Mughal cuisine, from the palace kitchens of the Sultans. Although traditionally made of meat, today we make kebabs out of everything, even quinoa or paneer. The closest English equivalent, since we are using the “English vegetable” today after all, would be a patty or cutlet. Kebabs are sometimes cooked on a skewer, though not always served on one.  The harra bhara kebab is a great hit at parties because it’s a fabulous vegetarian snack, especially for those who’d like to try a kebab but want to avoid the meat ones. The word harra bhara itself is a Hindi term – “harra” meaning “green” and “bhara” meaning “stuffed”.

While cooking this dish, the challenge is to add spices in such a way that the green peas and vegetables retain their colour. This is because the way it looks adds to your experience of eating it, and most cooks want to convey the freshness of the ingredients visually. Some add baking soda or other condiments to keep this so, but I always prefer to keep things natural.

There’s an abundance of green peas in the markets right now, so I decided to make harra bhara kebabs. And as the weather is slowly turning hotter, memories of those summer vacations and those calls of “English vegetable” in the street markets have come flooding back…

 

Harra Bhara Kebab

(Yield: 8-10 kebabs)

1 ½ cups green peas

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

3 tablespoons oil

1 finely chopped green chili

½ cup finely chopped onions

½ teaspoon ginger garlic paste

½ teaspoon garam masala

½ teaspoon aamchur powder

¼ teaspoon sugar

½ cup coriander leaves

½ cup mashed potatoes

Salt to taste

In a pan, add 1 tablespoon oil and the cumin seeds. Once the cumin seeds turn golden, add the onions. Sauté for 2 minutes and then add the ginger garlic paste. Sauté some more till the colour turns.

Now, add the green peas and green chili. On a medium flame, stir well, making sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Then, cover the pan with a lid so the peas soften a little bit.

Once the green pea mixture has softened slightly, add the salt, aamchur powder, garam masala, sugar and coriander leaves. Mix well and allow to cool completely.

Grind the peas mixture coarsely. Blend this with the mashed potatoes, using your fingers. Then, make small patties with your palms.

In a flat pan, add the remaining oil. Once the pan is heated, place the kebabs gently on the oil. Keep the flame between low to medium and turn them over gently. Make sure they’re done well on both sides. Remove from the pan.

These harra bhara kebabs are ideal for sharing and are a perfect finger food, especially for parties where you want to add a few exciting vegetarian options to the menu. Serve them with a dip of your choice. I like them with a green coriander chutney, which you may remember from this earlier snack recipe for banana methi fritters. A tamarind chutney will also go very well. I’d love to know what dip accompaniment you like best for these harra bhara kebabs when you try them out. Looking forward to your comments!

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Musings

Portugal Diary: Discovering Olive Country

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When a very dear friend invited us to Portugal to attend a wedding, I was thrilled to learn that the incredible hosts of the young bride had proud family connections to the landscape of olive trees. On the very first evening of the celebration, a meet-and-greet was held at an olive orchard. As the long summer day grew to dusk and sunset fell over the grove criss-crossed by fairy lights, we dipped wonderful country bread into olive oil and feasted. That was my first experience of the importance of olive oil in Portugal. I was determined to learn more about it, and I got my chance when we returned to Lisbon and I encountered a lovely little store named Oli-Stori.

Do you remember my adventure in Italian coffee some time ago? In the same way that a little curiosity had sparked a beautiful long conversation, this European trip too gave me memories and knowledge to cherish. This was our second trip to Portugal, and we had been keen to do offbeat things and make a holiday of it after the wedding. Tourist guides and books mentioned only a little about olive oil, but I wanted to learn more. Back in Lisbon, it was a hotel concierge who told us about OliStori. We had an itinerary for the day ahead, but I insisted that we begin at that store. “I just want to pop in quickly and pick up a bottle,” I said. That’s exactly what would have happened if the co-owner, Isabelle Carreira, hadn’t been so sweet and gracious. We wound up spending almost the entire day in her lovely space.

As we walked up to the store, we saw that the door was only partially open. “Can we come in?” we enquired. Isabelle wasn’t ready for customers yet, but she asked us to sit down and be comfortable. She just wanted to head to the nearby bakery to buy some bread so we could enjoy a tasting. I was really taken by this – imagine leaving your entire store open to a couple of strangers! Charmed, I got excited and decided on the spot that I had to feature her on my blog.

Isabelle was born in France to Portuguese parents, and opened Oli-Stori together with her Portuguese-speaking French partner Thierry after 30 years in the restaurant business, when they realised that Lisbon did not have any shop that was specifically for olive oil. Theirs is a treasure trove of different varieties and brands sourced from all over the country. Portugal is not as famous for olive oil as Italy because they do not focus on the export market at all. However, the quality of their produce is just as spectacular.

OliStori is a smallish but beautifully done up space. I looked around cheerfully as we waited for her to open the store. The décor touches, I later learnt, tried to replicate elements from different farms that the oils are sourced from. There were horses and sheep, or a little doll, in every corner. These added to the warmth of the ambience. I took some impromptu photos as I looked around.

 

When Isabel returned with the bread, what began was part tasting, part storytelling and part educational session. She was so generous with her knowledge, and eager to share with us her wide experience.

Portugal is a small country, but has a diverse landscape, with different regions producing varying kinds of olive oil. Every oil sold in Isabelle and Thierry’s shop was sourced through their travels around the country, visiting olive farms, understanding the process of growing and what effects the weather conditions and soil types have on the produce. As she spoke, she had us sample a diverse range – it was almost like a wine tasting. And it’s true, the flavours differ!

Olive trees take 3-5 years of growth to be ready for the first harvest, and have a lifespan of up to 200 years. The fruits are sensitive to the soil and to climactic conditions. The Trás-os-Montes province in the North is especially famous. This province’s name means “behind the mountains”, and the olive trees here grow on terraced land. It is cold in winter, and hot in summer. The soil here is rich, and there doesn’t need to be much watering. These conditions are very interesting for the tree, and the olive oil here is intense and green, and has a fresh fragrance. It smells a little like tomatoes, in fact!

An olive oil I particularly enjoyed was from the brand Terras Dazibo, from the region Tras-o-Montes. It had a long flavour, starting sweet, then turning bitter behind the tongue and spicy as it goes down the throat. This extra virgin olive oil is created by a blend of different olives.

In Noura in the South, the trees are spaced far apart on the farm so that the roots can be more widespread. They don’t require much water, and produce black olives with a complex and light flavour. These black olives don’t grow in the north, where it is too cold. All kinds of geographic elements have an impact on the agriculture. In the Rio Maior region, for instance, the olives are saltier due to the river water that irrigates the crops. Verdeal olive oil is green and fresh, Cobrançosa is fruity and spicy, Picual is piquant (as per its name!), Madura is smooth,  These are but a few examples. We were spoilt for choice at OliStori!

The Portuguese government, despite having no interest in the export market, takes this produce seriously and offers a certification known as DOP (Denominação de Origem Protegida) to mark the best quality olive oils. Despite not having DOP certification, the regions of Duoro and Algarve also produce excellent ones. Duoro is better known for its porto wine, whereas Algarve is believed to focus more on about their production than on seeking certification.

If you’ve ever wondered what the differences are between virgin olive oil, extra virgin olive oil and cold-pressed olive oil… I finally learned them in Portugal, thanks to Isabelle. Extra virgin olive oil is from the very first fruit that is sent to the press, and has the lowest acidity (0%-0.8%). Virgin olive oil is pressed later, and cold-pressed olive oil is treated at a temperature under 25°C and is best for flavour fusions and guarantees the preservation of aromas. The brand Olival de Risca from the Alentejo region in the South is known for these. The additional fruit or vegetable is cut and added alongside the olives during the cold-pressing procedure. Some of these fusions include classic Mediterranean herbs, mandarin, garlic, basil, lemon and chili. Alentejo is very hot, which makes it suitable for black olives, which give oils with a complex and light taste. The trees here are spaced far apart, so the roots can be more extensive, and dry farming is the usual method so as to produce more concentrated oils.

Despite spending hours at OliStori, there was no way in which to taste every single kind of olive oil they had to offer. But I loved learning a little bit about several, and the packaging often told a story by itself. For instance, the Angelica brand features a picture of the current owner’s grandmother when she was young. I carefully selected a small number of beautiful bottles to bring back home. These can be stored for up to 20 months, provided the bottle is kept closed (I plan to refrigerate, thanks to my climate). Open bottles create oxidization, which breaks down the flavour and affects the quality of the oil.

As you probably know, olive oil is quite versatile and can be used to top fish, light foods like salads and as a dip for bread. I used some of my Portuguese stock recently in this South Indian fusion hummus recipe.

Bitter tastes, very spicy tastes, complex long tastes, short and sharp tastes, fruity tastes, herbal tastes – for the first time, I understood olive oil to be as varied as wine. There were just so many to try. I’m so grateful to Isabelle for her generosity with her knowledge, time and stock of olive oils. And those hours spent in the charming OliStori are among my loveliest recent memories of Europe. If you’re ever in Lisbon, be sure to take a little walk up a slope on the cobbled street of Rua de Madelena and send Isabel my love. Oh, and OliStori also sells balsamic vinegars – but that would need another day, another trip and another post!

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Recipes

Recipe: A Story From The School Lunchbox – Spinach Rice

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When my daughter was in school, I would send her off every day with a lunchbox that contained as much variety as possible. Whether it was noodles, pizza or something else, I always made her something delicious – but with a healthy twist. Her best friend, a girl from Andhra Pradesh, brought her mother’s spinach rice in her own lunchbox every day. And the girls would exchange lunchboxes. My daughter loved that traditional spinach rice, and her best friend couldn’t get enough of my cooking experiments! When I discovered what was going on, I simply started packing extra of whatever I sent her, so both girls could eat more of our homemade meals.

Recently, this friend visited us, and the girls sat with me and reminisced about the good old days of their childhoods. Soon, they got to talking about the lunchbox swaps, and my daughter was nostalgic, saying how much she missed that spinach rice. As it is made of affordable and readily available ingredients, some variation of spinach rice is a staple in households all over the country. “Spinach” is an entire category of leafy greens. In South India, there are so many kinds available that certain dishes are matched according to the tastes of each. For instance, in Tamil Nadu, the thick small leaves of paruppu keerai (literally “dhal spinach”) go with dhal, the smaller leaves of siri keerai (“little spinach”) taste good with garlic, and are usually stir-fried with the same, and so on. What is known as dill rice in the West is also a kind of spinach rice here.

Spinach, as the cartoon character Popeye popularised, is great for developing a strong and healthy body. It is a muscle-builder, and packed with vitamins, calcium, antioxidants and other nourishing elements. It’s also collagen-rich, which means your skin and hair benefit from it. It is typically the kind of leafy green that kids resist eating, as some kinds are bitter, which is why I was so happy to find out about my daughter’s lunchbox exchanges long ago!

In my previous post, I mentioned a nifty slicer I picked up on my travels, and while these modern conveniences are much enjoyed, I still trust and hold on to our time-honoured appliances. For instance, I have the traditional Tamil aruvamanai, a hooked grater meant to be used while seated on the floor. The lovely thing about such devices is that they are durable in a way that modern devices, especially plastic ones, just aren’t. While this is mostly part of the décor, I’m not averse to using it when I want to. What better way to recreate a nostalgic dish than by using an antique appliance? I pulled out the old aruvamanai and sliced the spinach leaves for this recipe with it…

 

Spinach Rice

(Yield: 4-5 cups)

Ingredients
1 tomato
1 onion
2 cups spinach leaves
¾ cups raw rice
2 tablespoon mung dal
1 tooth garlic
1 green chilli
¼ teaspoon turmeric
¼ teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
1 tablespoon oil
Salt to taste

In a pressure cooker, add the spinach leaves, mung dal, onion, tomato, turmeric, chili, garlic, salt and 3 cups of water. Allow to cook for 2 whistles. In case you do not want to use a pressure cooker, you may cook the same ingredients covered with a lid on a medium flame, until well-cooked and soft to the touch.

Meanwhile, wash and soak the rice in water.

In a pan, add oil, then the cumin seeds and mustard seeds. Once they splutter, add the washed raw rice.

Now, open the cooled pressure cooker. Add the washed and soaked rice to the spinach and allow them all to cook for two more whistles. The spinach rice is now ready.

Serve hot – or in a lunchbox, for your growing children, who may surprise you with their tastes!

The Telugu cuisine of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana is known for being spicy, and the spinach rice recipe above, generously shared by my daughter’s friend’s mother, is no different. My daughter says that it tastes just like she remembered it from school. It’s in the original style, of course, but I must take credit for the most special ingredient – her mother’s love!

 

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Recipes

Recipe: Loaf of Love – Birthday Banana Bread

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June is my birthday month, which means one word, and a very special one for re:store at that: CAKE! As I mentioned in an earlier post, my mother once attended a baking course at a catering institute in Chennai when my siblings and I were still in school. For an entire month, she’d bring home the most delectable samples. We couldn’t wait to get home and eat them! The smells and memories of that adventurous time when she started making all these new desserts for us are still with me, and a huge part of the inspiration behind re:store. During that course was when my mother had started to maintain a cherished notebook of baking recipes, which was gifted to me eventually. One of those recipes is what I’ve pulled out for you today – banana bread.

Growing up, I was not a great fan of the extremely nutritious banana, so this was a great way to make sure I ate it. Bananas have been proven to dramatically reduce the risk of heart disease, thanks to being packed with potassium. They improve the digestive system and are said to be beneficial for everything from asthma to weight loss. They are carb-rich, so they boost energy quickly. They are also naturally sweet, which means any dessert you put them in requires less sugar.

Lately I’ve been nostalgic about my growing years and it led me to dig out some old photos from back then. Here are two: an old studio portrait of my mother, who as you know inspires most of my work, and a shot of me from my teenage years by my dear friend Rags Raghavan, who has taught me a great deal about using the camera. Looking at the portrait of my mother, I feel grateful for how re:store has grown from my imagination into what it is today. My mother was in her 20s when it was taken and was about to be married. She went on to become my first, most important culinary mentor, and still is to this day. I remember days spent after school helping with chores in the kitchen; back then I didn’t realize the values I imbibed would be such an important part of me and my journey with re:store. Many of my cooking methods are identical to those of my mother’s kitchen. Grow your herbs yourself, never waste a morsel, always feed and care for staff, and a bunch of other values and tips. Even today, I pester my mother for traditional Gujarati recipes on my weekly visits, and she happily obliges.

Nowadays, I take so many photos digitally, carefully styling and selecting the best ones. Back then, we had manual cameras, with film rolls that had to be brought from abroad. You couldn’t edit those pictures, and you could not take so many either. My first film camera was a gift from my father-in-law, and my kids and family were my first subjects. I still have a soft spot for the old photography methods. They feel authentic to me in a way that I still try to replicate somehow in my modern shoots.

More than being commercially successful, what matters to me is that I am passionate about what I do. I enjoy styling my shoots so much. I am proud to say I work with pleasure!

Food and photography are two sides of re:store, and two big parts of my heart. So without further ado, here’s my birthday gift to you…

 

Birthday Banana Bread

(Yield: 1 loaf)

Ingredients

150 grams unsalted butter

200 grams sugar

3 eggs

110 ml buttermilk

3 bananas

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

350 grams flour

100 grams walnuts

 

Prepare a 10′ loaf tin, by buttering and dusting with flour.

Beat the butter and sugar until light and creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after every addition. Once the eggs have been blended well, add the bananas and buttermilk.

Sift the flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. Fold into the batter. Now add half the broken walnuts as well.

Using a spatula, blend the batter well once more, then spoon it all into the loaf tin.

Take the remaining finely chopped walnuts and sprinkle on top to decorate.

Bake for 45 minutes to an hour, until a skewer comes out clean when inserted.

Allow to cool and remove from tin. Slice and serve with a hot beverage of your preference.

I’ve chosen to share this banana bread recipe with you because while it’s a cake, it’s also one of the healthier desserts you can have. If, like me, you have an eye on your fitness, you certainly won’t feel like you’ve cheated on your diet plan. If you’re a fan of banana and looking for something slightly more decadent, try the deep-fried deliciousness of my banana-methi fritters!

I always think of the recipes on this blog as a gift for those who live far away from my kitchen – if you can’t treat yourself to one of my homemade cakes, you can at least try to make it yourself!

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Musings

Dear Coco…

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My dear Coco,

The amount of joy you brought into our lives was immeasurable. I still remember you as the little girl who came into my home in my arms and I had to reassure you that none would do you harm. You grew into a beautiful lady and bore 11 pups, all of whom settled into beautiful and happy homes, hopefully like yours.

I have learnt so much from you. How you were a good, kind mother and so patient and loving and nurturing. You taught me patience too, and calmness. You were full of life and loved everyone who came home – no bias, no racism. You are and will always be my loving baby.

You aged gracefully and with dignity and class. The way you carried yourself. The way you spent hours hoping Mum would give you some more watermelon, which I did. I don’t think papad will be the same in this home. Or any meal, without you by my side.

My days began with a cup of tea and biscuit for you, without which you would not let me sip and enjoy a sip. We would sit together under the frangipani and listen to the parrots on the mango tree and enjoy our morning silent conversations with ourselves. You loved dosas when you were pregnant and would eat them every day. You always got fresh home cooked meals, and never dog food. You loved fruits and ate healthy, just like me. You loved the crackle of crisp papad and would follow me around like a mascot. You would sleep beside me, like your son Max now does, and until the end you tried to climb the stairs to sleep with me. He has the same zest for life as you did. Despite being a hunting breed, you were a gentle soul. My loving senior citizen lived in diapers in the last few months.

Your grace and presence is in everything. But life has to move on and you have found light….

Love,

Mum

 

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Recipes

Recipe: Summer Sweetness – Rose Sherbet

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My childhood summers were almost always spent in Vijayawada, where my maternal grandparents lived. If you’ve followed my blog for some time, you may remember when I mentioned their huge fridge or the vetiver-scented curtains in their rooms. So many precious memories were made there as we grew up. Maybe one reason why the scent and flavour of roses are such a vital element in the re:store kitchen is because they always evoke for me one very special taste from those long-ago days:  rose sherbet.

This is my aunt’s recipe, and she made it almost ceremonially every summer in Vijayawada. Or so it felt to me, at least, because the luscious colours and fragrance – and that wonderful, cool taste at the end of it all – were so grand. The household had a very traditional kitchen, despite the ultra-modern fridge, and there was no dining table. In one corner was a puja area, where the gods were always served first, which is why our custom is to never taste food as it is being cooked. Followed by the offering to the gods, the kids would be served. Leaves would be laid on the floor in rows, and my siblings, cousins and I would sit down cross-legged and eat. Banana leaves are popular in South India, but we also used sal or banyan leaves, known as patravali (and locally as istrakku). Leaves are not only a traditional form of crockery, they are also environmentally-friendly. They are biodegradable and are a single-use item, thus requiring no water wastage during cleaning.

Sitting on the floor expectantly, the leaf before me, I would glance up and look at the amazing array of glass bottles on the shelves. My aunt collected these in every colour and shape, and this beautiful mismatched display was used to store her luscious rose sherbet. We would each be treated to a single glass of it after lunch, so I always looked forward to the end of the meal. The sherbet would be mixed with either water or milk. The latter was a healthy concession (because this is a sugary beverage), as well as a way to get us kids excited about drinking milk.

Sherbet is a drink brought to India from the Middle East, as its name indicates, coming from the Turkish “şerbet”, Persian “sharbat” and Arabic “sharba”. Naturally cooling, it is a concentrate made of either flowers or fruits, which is diluted. It is sometimes spiced but always sweetened.

I had the good fortune of having my aunt visit recently. She is in her 80s now and as we reminisced about the good times, we ended up making a fresh batch of rose sherbet in my home. Now it’s my shelves that are lined with those gleaming pink bottles.

The roses we used are the pretty local ones known as “paneer roja”, which may be familiar to you as damask rose or country rose. They grow well in the tough weather conditions of Chennai, and they are so fragrant. Prepare for your entire kitchen to smell like heaven as you make this recipe. And why not? You deserve it. On those long summer days, like the ones we’ve started to have in Chennai now, it’s the perfect cheat day beverage. So cooling and so decadent!

 

Rose Sherbet

(Yield: Approximately 2 litres)

Ingredients

2 litres water

150 grams rose petals

1½  kilograms sugar

1 teaspoon citric acid

1 teaspoon rose extract

2 pinches of raspberry colour

Pick and clean the rose petals. Place them in a vessel, cover with a lid, and let them soak in water overnight.

The following morning, crush the petals well using your hands or a hand blender. The water will now change colour.

Squeeze the petals using your hands and strain and pour the rose water into a big steel pot and place it over a medium flame. Discard the petals. Add the sugar and stir constantly. Be careful not to allow the sugar to crystallise – this is a precise art.

Boil and stir until the water turns sticky when touched between your fingers. Then, turn off the flame and add the citric acid. Make sure you stir the pot well and the citric acid blends completely. Cover the pot with a net and allow to cool.

After a few hours, add some rose extract and the raspberry red colour to the sherbet. The latter is optional, but look at how delightful the drink looks when you do it! Kids will especially get a thrill from that rich colour.

Strain the sherbet, then use a funnel to pour the syrup into glass bottles. Store in a cool place. This beverage does not require refrigeration.

To serve, add 2 tablespoons of the syrup into a glass. Pour cold water until it fills the glass and mix lightly.

In my home, the favourite finishing touch is always a topping of ice cubes and a squeeze of lemon. Rose sherbet is so very refreshing, as well as so lovely to look at. You’ll have to do what my aunt did when we were kids and restrict yourself – just one sugary-sweet glass a day!

 

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Recipes

Recipe: Second Helpings – Gujarati Masala Curd Rice

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I hope you’ve been enjoying this series on traditional dishes made from leftovers (please see Part 1 and Part 2, if you haven’t already). To recap: in the absence of refrigeration, and because of the need to conserve resources, many cuisines in India and elsewhere developed sub-genres. These culinary sub-genres make use of extras either prepared during the initial cooking, or kept aside after the meal. Using these leftovers, a new dish is prepared. Fridges are really quite new for most of India. I remember visiting my grandparents’ home in Vijayawada one summer when they had purchased a huge fridge. It was such a novelty that neighbours would visit just to see the machine. Besides, not wasting food has long been considered a cultural virtue.

Today, the recipe I want to share with you is a classic go-to dish: masala curd rice, made in my mother’s Gujarati style. It was a staple in my house for Sunday dinner while I was growing up. This was because we had school the next day, and our mother would be busy helping us with our homework. In those days, we had no help at home, so our dad taught us how to iron our own uniforms and polish our own shoes. These tasks would keep us occupied on Sundays as we prepared for the school week ahead. By the time dinner came, we were usually too tired to think much. So we never minded the unfussiness of the meal. And mom, of course, was always relieved to make this easy dish.

Leftover rice is something that lends itself easily to a variety of dishes. For instance, there are theplas, which you may remember from this post on Indian breads. There are also muthias, which are made by adding flour and spices to the rice, rolling them and steaming them.

South Indians have their own methods too, including their own curd rice (known as thayirsadam), as well as pazhayachoru, in which rice is fermented overnight with a green chilli in it. This was originally a staple among farmers, who started their days early and needed to have a meal ready in the morning. You may be surprised to know that it is very healthy. The American Nutrition Association in fact recommends rice soaked the previous day as the best breakfast, with a host of benefits for the health including increased energy, decreased hypertension and good digestion.

This Gujarati Masala Curd Rice is yoghurt-based, which means that it is of course rich in probiotics and excellent for digestion. The spices used are available in literally every kitchen cabinet in India.

 

Gujarati Masala Curd Rice

(Yield: 1 ½ cups)

Ingredients

1 cup cooked rice

½ cup yoghurt

1 tsp chickpea flour

Salt to taste

1 dried red chilli (not too spicy)

A few curry leaves

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon coriander/cumin powder

Asafoetida (optional)

2 teaspoon oil

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

Remember: the key to the dishes in this Second Helpings series is their simplicity. This one in particular is so simple, yet so filling.

In a pot, add the oil and once it’s hot, add the cumin and mustard seeds. Wait till they splutter, and then add the red chilli and curry leaves. Immediately after, add the yoghurt and flour and stir so that the yoghurt does not split. Now, add all the remaining ingredients and stir.

Garnish with coriander leaves and serve hot. Gujarati Masala Curd Rice is a meal in itself, and is both flavourful and cooling. Ideal for summers, for light evening meals following afternoon feasts and as comfort food in general.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this Second Helpings series. I’d love to hear from you in the comments below about the dishes you make, or remember eating as you grew up, that fall into the resourceful, innovative category of “leftovers”. I’m sure your parents were so excellent at whipping up what seemed like a whole new dish that you didn’t always know that that’s actually what they were!

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Recipes

Recipe: Second Helpings: Rotli Na Ladoo

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In my previous post, I gave you a fresh spin on the classic dal dhokli, a dinner staple made with leftovers from lunch. In fact, the use of leftovers was so well-designed in traditional cuisines that afternoon snacks would be planned in the morning, and dinnertime planned even while making lunch – and each would be built on the other. In India, no meal is complete without a sweet, and resourceful cooks through the generations also found ways to make sweet snacks using the remnants of a previous meal. Which brings me to the second dish of the promised trio in this series.

While I was growing up, my mother would often cook a little extra dal and rotli in the morning. Some of it would go into the lunch thali, and some of that would go into the evening’s dal dhokli. And she often found a way to make sure that there was just a little extra rotli to be turned into a wonderful after-school treat: rotli na ladoo.

Just as leftover-based dishes developed to fulfil practical needs like conserving supplies, snacks were often made at home because inexpensive candies and savouries were not freely available like they are now. The Chennai of my childhood wasn’t as developed as it is now, and we didn’t have the chips and junk food that the kids of today enjoy. But I consider myself all the more fortunate for it. From an early age, I was exposed to a culinary ethic that has kept me in good stead. Some of its features include: never wasting food as it is precious, using healthy and nourishing ingredients, and not tasting food while it is being cooked as it is first an offering to god (this trained me to be able to read a dish using sight and smell).

Today, my mother has difficulties with her eyesight but still cooks for herself and her family, using her hands and trusting the fragrances. There is so much wisdom in her kitchen, and when I visit her I still learn new things – and moreover, there are certain dishes, like her sabudana khichdi, that never taste quite the same to me when anyone else makes it. My daughter today makes those same demands of me, for things that taste of my heart and my love.

My very resourceful mother even attended a baking class when I was kid, a rarity in Chennai at the time. So our homemade snacks and sweets included some rather exotic treats occasionally, but the rotli na ladoo holds a place in my heart like no other. There are only three ingredients, and it takes all of three minutes to make it. Well, there is a fourth, secret ingredient. And you can guess what that is.

 

 

Rotli Na Ladoo

(Yield: approximately 10 pieces)

Ingredients

2 cups rotli (torn into tiny pieces or coarsely blended)

1/3 cup jaggery

1 tablespoon ghee

In a pan, add the ghee. Once it has warmed, add the jaggery. Allow it to melt, stirring continuously on a medium-low flame, making sure it doesn’t get burnt. When it starts to bubble after a few minutes, add the rotli bits and turn off the flame.

Once you’ve added the rotli pieces, mix everything properly. Now, it’s time to use your hands. Grease your palms and bind a handful of the hot rotli mixture together. Gently press between your palms to shape into a somewhat rounded shape, then very gently roll it. Be careful, as it may crumble. It’s as simple as that, but if you’re having trouble shaping the balls, you can eat the well-blended mixture in a bowl. It will taste the same, but will require utensils! Allow to cool, and enjoy.

The above three-ingredient method is assuming that you already have rotlis prepared. If you don’t, and are making them from scratch, the ingredients and method are below. Rotlis are essentially theplas without the masala and yoghurt, so if you’ve tried your hand at the recipes in this post on Gujarati breads, you should find this easy.

Don’t forget that if you have lots of leftovers from the method below, you can always make yourself some delicious traditional dal dhokli, or eat it with lavender shrikhand. The possibilities for breads are endless!

 

 

Rotli

Ingredients

(Yields: 12)

1 cup whole wheat flour

A pinch of salt

1 tablespoon sunflower oil

100 ml water or less

In a mixing bowl, blend the flour and salt. Now add the 1 tablespoon of oil. Slowly add water and continue mixing, until you feel the mixture is slightly tougher to the touch than bread dough. You do not need to use the entire 100ml. Allow to sit for half an hour.

Make small lemon-sized balls. Dust both sides of the ball with flour. Now, dusting more flour as you do, roll out the dough into discs. Make them as thin as you can.

On a heated iron pan, place the rotli on a medium flame for 30-40 seconds. Then turn it to the other side. Now increase the flame, lift the pan, remove the rotli using tongs and place it directly on the flame. Allow it to fluff or rise. Flip over so it cooks on both sides. Set aside and spread ghee over it. Repeat until all the rotlis are made.

I like storing these ladoos in a “rotli no dabbo”, a traditional box used for breads. It looks beautiful, but also serves a practical purpose. Notice the intricate “jali” work that rings the box. This is a form of ventilation that cools the rotli and removes moisture.

 

 

I have fond memories of eating rotli na ladoos in the afternoons, after returning home from school. They are so perfect with a glass of milk or a cup of tea after an exhausting day! It’s funny how torn pieces of bread can be turned into a delicious snack with a little jaggery, a little heat – and a pair of hands that make everything with love.

Do stay tuned for the third and final part of this Second Helpings series. Any guesses on what it might be?

 

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Recipe: Second Helpings: Dal Dhokli

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We don’t believe in wasting food in India. What had once been a pragmatic necessity – there could be no leftovers, because there were no fridges! – has settled into cultural practice. Respect for food is also an important part of our culture, so you’ll find that most families, regardless of economic background, will try their best to never let a meal go to waste. From practical concerns like the lack of cold storage or having to be sparing with expenses, a whole sub-genre of cuisines was developed. Dishes that exist because of other dishes – and which some say taste even better in the second round.

The traditional Gujarati lunch is known as a thaali, and comprises of rice, rotli, dal and a vegetable. This is the basic variant – to this, some may add a sweet or a second vegetable as a staple. If there was a sufficient amount of dal and rotli left over from lunch, you could be sure that dinner that evening would be dal dhokli.

Dal dhokli is a meal in a bowl, a stew-like dish. To make it using leftovers, simply tear the rotli into pieces, add it to the daal and heat them up. What I’d like to share with you today, however, is a from-scratch variation on the classic.

“Dal” (or “daal”/”dhal” if you prefer) is a catch-all term for split pulses, which are notably protein-rich and therefore a vital part of vegetarian diets in India. Lentils and legumes have made several appearances on this blog, such as rajma in this vegan chilli recipe and  green moong in this street food-inspired chaat recipe. For this re:store style dal dhokli recipe, the dal I’ve used is the popular toor dal, also known as pigeon pea. Toor dal is available year-round, while some other dals are eaten seasonally, such as the heavier channa and urad dals in winter. It’s the main ingredient of sambar, which makes it a staple in South Indian kitchens, and is known as thuvaram paruppu in Tamil.

My version of dal dhokli, made fresh and with a stuffing, is what my sister calls “Indian ravioli”. Despite this chic comparison, it is made of the simplest ingredients – accessible, affordable and always familiar.

 

Dal Dhokli

(Yield: 3-5 servings)

Ingredients

Dal

¼  cup dal
4-5 cups water
2 teaspoon cumin powder
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon coriander powder
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
Approximately 1 tablespoon jaggery
Juice of 1 lemon
Finely chopped coriander leaves
2 tablespoons peanuts
1 tablespoon ghee
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
A pinch of asafoetida
Salt to taste

 

Wheat flour dough

½ cup wheat flour
1 tablespoon oil
2-4 tablespoons water
A pinch of salt

 

Green peas filling

1 cup green peas
1 teaspoon oil
1 tablespoon grated coconut
¼ teaspoon garam masala
Salt to taste

 

Cooking my ravioli-style daal dhokli requires the preparation of three items – dal, pastry dough and pea stuffing – followed by their assembly. Please note the separate ingredients for each part, above.

Make a dough with all ingredients listed for the same. It will be a little tight to the touch and smooth. Keep aside.

Crush the green peas partially. In a hot pan, pour the oil then add the crushed green peas. Stir the peas on a medium flame so that they do not stick to the bottom. Add the salt and masala and stir for 3-4 minutes. Now switch off the flame and finally add the coconut. Stir gently and keep aside to cool.

Roll out the dough into small discs. Do not make them too thin as they may tear while cooking. Take a spoonful of the green peas filling and place it at the centre of the disc. Join the edges together and once sealed, roll it gently into a flat round. Essentially, what you’re making is a kachori, a South Asian fried pastry. For a more detailed explanation about how to fold this pastry, with a video demo, see my earlier post here. Prepare all the kachoris and set them aside.

To make the dal, add the lentils and 2 cups of water in the pressure cooker and boil until soft. Allow to cool, then mash the dal. Now add 2 cups of water as well as the cumin powder, coriander powder, turmeric powder and salt to the dal. Allow to boil for approximately 5 minutes. Then add the jaggery and peanuts, letting the flavours blend, simmering on a medium flame. Stir occasionally.

As you do this, add ghee or oil to a small pan to lightly fry the mustard and cumin seeds. Once they start to splutter, add the asafoetida and immediately pour the sauté into the dal and stir.

The dal will be boiling by now. Make sure the flame remains on medium, and begin to gently introduce the kachoris into the dal. Once they are added, carefully stir. Allow to cook for 10-15 minutes.

Turn off the flame. Garnish with coriander leaves. You may also wish to add a sprinkling of something crunchy, such as finely chopped nuts. Serve while hot, as it is best enjoyed that way.

Many of you may have grown up eating dal dhokli at home, and I’d love to hear what you think of this modern twist, re:store style and ravioli inspired!

This post is the first of a three-part series on Gujarati dishes that are traditionally made from leftovers. Stay tuned for a sweet follow-up in a fortnight…

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Recipe: The Sweet & The Savoury – Chilla (North Indian Crepes)

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What’s the go-to dish in your home when you don’t want to think about what to make? For me it is the chilla, and it was also my mother’s staple dish. Once I began to cook, I saw that it was not a lack of inspiration but ease that makes certain dishes a part of cooking-on-default mode. Whether the dish in question is idli, upma, macaroni – or in my case, chilla – it’s something you’re so good at that you don’t even have to spend a moment mulling it.

Chilla was what we had for dinner whenever my mother was busy or tired, or if we were in a post-festive feasting slump. Chilla is a kind of crepe, made with powdered pulses and flavoured with vegetables and spices. Like all staples, each cook will have her own variations – and her family will definitely grow up on the same. My mother made two: a moong dal chilla and a sweetened variant. The deal was that only if I ate the savoury one would I be given the sweet one – which itself was quite healthy, considering it was made of jaggery and whole wheat.

Instead of moong dal, which is most often used, I prefer to make savoury chillas using chickpea flour, also known as besan. I love chickpeas because they are so versatile and so easily accessible – they’re found everywhere from Mexico to Lebanon (hummus!) to right here in India, and have been cultivated by humans for at least 7,500 years. The many names this humble and popular legume has attests to this fact: Bengal gram, garbanzo bean, channa and Egyptian pea are but some. Did you know that in the 1700s, a German writer brewed them to drink instead of coffee, and Germany cultivated them for the same purpose during World War 1?

Chickpeas are widely loved as a healthy ingredient, for they are rich in protein, which is one reason why they are so popular with vegans.

In Indian cuisine, chickpeas are eaten whole in dishes such as sundal, a fun salad that is popular on Chennai’s beaches, and in dough form to make the pastry for fried goodies like fritters, among other variations. The ingredient works perfectly in both sweet and savoury items, and is also a thickening agent like cornflour or agar-agar.

I now have great respect for the humble chickpea, but it must be said: growing up, I’d argue with my mother about having to eat it. My reasoning was that: since I used powdered chickpea to wash my face (it exfoliates the skin gently and is an ancient beauty treatment), I should not also have to consume it!

Of course, I love to have my ingredients be made or processed at home as much as possible, and by “home” in this case I mean Arumugam Chettiar’s quaint flour mill. Established in 1939, the mill uses a 10hp machine, with two grinding plates, that was imported from England by his grandfather. These machines are no longer available, and what you get now are pulverisers. But there’s nothing like old-fashioned, time-honoured methods when it comes to food. Along with chilli, ginger and other dry powders, I buy channa dal and have it ground to make chickpea powder.

 

I’m going to share both the recipes for savoury and sweet chilla with you, so that you can strike a version of my deal with my mother – whether that’s with your own kids, or just your diet plan!

 

Chilla – Savoury

(Yield – 4-5 crepes)

Ingredients
1 cup chickpea flour

2 cups water

½ teaspoon cumin powder

½ teaspoon grated ginger and garlic paste

½ cup finely chopped fenugreek (methi) leaves

½ teaspoon salt

Blend the water with the chickpea flour until there are no lumps. Add the salt, turmeric, cumin powder, grated ginger and garlic paste and fenugreek leaves, and mix the batter well. The consistency should be a little thicker than crepe batter.

Fenugreek in batter may remind you of theplas, one of the many types of Indian breads. A note about the ingredient: most people soak fenugreek leaves in water with salt, to remove the bitterness. This is something I don’t like to do because I don’t see why the flavour should be removed. With regards to these chillas especially, the taste of the savoury one is offset by the sweet one beautifully.

You may replace the fenugreek with another spinach available to you, or even with finely chopped vegetables like onions, grated carrots, bell peppers or coriander leaves.

Heat an iron griddle or a non-stick skillet and pour a few drops of oil on it. I make both my savoury and sweet chillas on an iron pan. Mine is a seasoned one, hence it does not stick. But if you do not have one, use a non-stick vessel.

Wait till the skillet is hot, then turn the flame down. This is a delicate moment, because if the batter falls on a too-hot pan, it will spread unevenly. My trick for this is that when the skillet is very heated, I sprinkle a little water on it and allow it to sizzle. This cools it down just enough so that I can pour the batter.

Spoon the batter onto the skillet. Spread it in a circular motion, much like you would a regular crepe. The video below gives you a look at the technique, if you’re unfamiliar with it. For those who make dosas, you will already be experts at this.

As the chilla fries, drizzle a few drops of oil around (not on) it, so that it can be removed easily. Increase the flame. You will know when it’s ready to be flipped when the edges begin to rise and turn golden. Do not attempt to flip the chilla earlier, as it will tear.

Using a spatula, flip the chilla and allow its other side to cook as well. Both sides should be a lovely golden colour before you take it off the skillet.

Then make the next one, and so on, until you have enough. Fold each chilla in half and serve with green chutney or date chutney, both of which I’ve shared recipes for earlier on this blog. I also top these savoury chillas with finely chopped vegetables, with gives the health factor an extra boost, and makes them even more filling. Just a couple will give you a light but complete meal – provided you’re able to stop eating them, that is!

 

 

Chilla – Sweet

(Yield – 5 small crepes)

Ingredients
1 cup whole wheat flour
½ cup jaggery
1 ½ cup water
1 teaspoon ghee per crepe (oil for a vegan option)

Warm the water a little and allow the jaggery to melt into it. Stir well until all the lumps are removed.

Wait till the jaggery-infused water has cooled, then strain it so the sediments are removed.

To this, add the whole wheat flour and blend it so it’s a little thicker than regular crepe batter. You may have to adjust the quantity of water added to make it just the right consistency.

Now, pour a drop of ghee or oil on a non-stick skillet. When it is hot, lower the flame. Start spooning out about half the batter onto the skillet, in small and well-spaced quantities. These sweet chillas are ideally dessert, so they are smaller than the savoury chillas.

Using a circular motion with the spoon, make small crepes on the skillet (as shown in the video above). Keep the flame on medium, so as to ensure that the chillas don’t burn. When one side has begun to turn golden, flip it over. Both sides will be thoroughly cooked in about 2-3 minutes.

The process of frying the sweet chilla is almost identical to making the savoury one, so do refer to the above recipe for more extensive notes and tips. They do not need to be served with an accompaniment.

These delicious chillas are very much comfort food to me, and I hope they find the same place in your cooking repertoire. The sweet ones are especially popular with kids, and as I said earlier – if they crave it, offer it to them as a reward for eating the savoury one!

I’ve come to understand that most Indian palates require something sweet and something savoury in order to feel satisfied. Life is all about both the sweet and the savoury isn’t it? And sometimes, like in the fenugreek-flavoured chilla, a hint of the bitter too. But that’s why the order of eating makes such sense: after everything else, one is always assured of sweetness.

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