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Aloo poori used to be a regular dish served in daily meals throughout India. That’s how I remember it. Increasingly, I notice that it has become more of an item enjoyed at celebrations. This is probably because people have become more health conscious, or at least that is what I believe based on what I observe. Poori is a kind of fried flatbread, usually puffed up and on the oily side. “Aloo” means “potato” in Hindi, indicating the curry it is eaten with. Together, they are delicious, and I understand both why people used to want to eat aloo poori frequently earlier, and why it plays a role in feasts today. Here, I share a masala aloo poori recipe.

As I said, aloo poori is really a pan-Indian dish. I am particularly familiar with two versions: Gujarati style and Tamil style. In Gujarati, the dish is known as “batata poori” (“batata” means “potato”), while here in Chennai I have encountered it in many restaurants under the name “poori potato”. There may be a Tamil name for it, of course. I have also enjoyed some more versions around the country. Every time I’ve been to Kolkata, I’ve ordered what they call “luchi aloo”, which happens to be a dish I really love. Marwaris often eat pooris with aam ki loonji, a mango condiment that’s neither a chutney nor a pickle, yet somehow both at once. It’s another interesting combination, and I’ll be sharing that recipe soon.

Regular poori, rather than spiced poori, is eaten everywhere, but I want to share a typically Gujarati version, which is masala poori. Traditionally, the poori and potato combination is eaten alongside a third party: a kheer. A kheer is a kind of milky dessert you may have encountered on this blog before. The savouriness of the masala poori contrasts well with the sweetness of the kheer. Potatoes always make people happy, of course. All together, masala poori with batata and kheer are just unbeatable.

I have shared many flatbreads from the Gujarat region earlier, most notably in this post [hyperlink] featuring a number of variants. They are usually made petite and two-bite sized. Pooris are also made small, but unlike some other flatbreads, like theplas [hyperlink], they are not travel-friendly. They are meant to be eaten fresh.

In fact, they aren’t even flatbreads, technically, since the whole proof of a well-made poori is that it fluffs up in the oil, rises and turns into a hollow ball. A flat poori is one that hasn’t been prepared well. A puffy poori is achieved when the dough has been made to the right consistency, neither tight nor soft. It needs to be pliable and well-massaged.

I learned the nuances of making a good poori from my mother. She showed me how they should puff up perfectly and always be served hot. Here, I’ve chosen to keep the potatoes very simple, since the pooris themselves are spiced and the kheer brings in its own rich range of flavours to complete the meal.

I also associate potatoes with my brother, and have many childhood memories of him preparing batata nu shaak or batata poori for us.

He genuinely enjoyed being in the kitchen. Although he was very macho, and was an athlete too – a rowing champion, in fact – he showed us early on that there’s no shame in a man cooking or doing household work. He loved to make the potatoes while our mother handled the pooris, and my sister and I would sit happily at the table, waiting to be served.

When I think about this now, it occurs to me how cooking together – even watching loved ones cooking, everyone being in the kitchen together – was a kind of bonding activity for us. We often talk about the importance of eating meals together as a family – but why not extend that to preparing them together, too? Such little things are the stuff of quality time in the moment, and such precious memories down the line…

Masala Poori With Aloo
(Serves: 3-4)

Masala Poori

1 ½ cups whole wheat flour
1 heaped tablespoon chickpea flour
13 teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon dhaniya (coriander) powder
Salt to taste
¼ teaspoon kasoori methi (fenugreek leaves) powder
1 pinch asafoetida
1 tablespoon curd
1 tablespoon oil
1 teaspoon ginger-green chili paste
13 cup water

Take the flours in a bowl. To these, add all the spices, along with the curd and the oil. Mix well using your fingertips and slowly add water as required to make a medium-soft dough.

Massage the dough well so it becomes smooth. You can use the help of a little oil on your palms to achieve a good dough.

Cover and set aside.

Heat the oil for frying. Make small rounds and start by rolling each one out.

Once the oil is hot enough, drop a rolled-out dough piece into the hot oil gently. Soon, it will fluff. Flip it over so it is cooked well on both sides. Repeat for all the dough circles.

Your masala pooris are now ready to be served hot.

Potato

350 grams potato
Salt to taste
2 tablespoons oil
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon cumin or coriander powder
½ teaspoon ginger paste
½ teaspoon green chilli paste

Wash, peel and cut the potatoes into small pieces.

Heat a kadai and add oil. Once the oil is hot, add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. After they begin to splutter, add the potatoes. Stir and add salt and turmeric. Mix again, then cover with a lid. Allow to cook on a low flame, stirring occasionally until the potatoes are tender and cooked.

Now add the remaining spices and mix well. Cover and allow to cook once again for a few minutes until all the flavours come together well.

Garnish with coriander leaves and serve hot with pooris.

Don’t forget that you may want to enhance your meal even more with some kheer. I have shared several kheer recipes on this blog. Feel free to prepare one of your choice and serve it along with this masala poori with aloo!

Gujaratis love fried things. Full stop! We love them so much that we even start the day with them. Specifically, with pooris, which are our traditional breakfasts. We never feel guilty or bad about reaching out for our fried snacks either, which includes ganthia (fried mini pappad) and a variety of mixtures (popularly known as chevdo, which vary from region to region and can be sweet, tangy, or spicy). Ganthia and jalebi, a deep-fried sweet, are also popular as breakfast. It will come as no surprise that pooris – discs of dough which fluff up in hot oil – are another such staple. They also come in several variations. Crunchy, crispy-salty (to be had with tea), and soft. Today, I’ll be sharing how to make the soft version… with another typically Gujju twist.

That twist, of course, is sweetness. As you’d already have known from the long list of traditional desserts on this blog, Gujaratis love sweetness just as much or even more than we love fried things. The perfect combination of these two cravings is the kheer poori, which in simplest terms is a poori eaten with kheer, a milk-based sweet.

When I was growing up, cakes were not yet popular in Chennai, and this kheer poori was often a birthday treat that my mother made for us. Especially for me, because I just loved that combination of tastes and temperature: the saltiness and heat of the poori, the sweetness and coolness of the kheer. It was also something made for special occasions, which as you know are usually observed with an offering of sweets to the divine, as well as for weddings and other celebrations.

The frying of pooris is an art, and being a Gujarati, size does matter – in this case, the smaller, the more delicate and dainty, the better. My mother was strict about this. She always said that if a poori did not puff, if it did not bloom in the oil, then the person frying it just did not know how to make a good poori! Pooris are generally eaten hot and fresh. Not only did my mother tend not to serve unpuffed pooris at the table, but if a poori became flattened by the time it reached my plate, I would absolutely refuse to eat it as a child! Perhaps that’s why I became so keen on, and so good at, frying perfectly puffed ones later.

I’ve shared two kheer recipes earlier, and have linked to them below. So this recipe teaches you only how to make pooris – a standard in almost any Indian kitchen, but hard to perfect, as many will tell you! Alternately, you can eat your pooris with any accompaniment of your choice. Once you have the basics in place, it’s fun to experiment. If you don’t have a sweet tooth, you can always have pooris with a potato curry (like the Gujarati bataka-nu-shaak) or another accompaniment, like a pickle. Perhaps because it is so simple, a poori is also an incredibly versatile dish. And yes, you WILL need (and want) more than one, for sure!

 

 

Poori (With Kheer)

(Yield: 15-20 small pooris)

Ingredients

1 cup whole wheat flour

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon oil

¼ cup water

2 cups oil for deep frying

 

As I said above, I’ve provided two kheer recipes earlier, and you can pick which one to make based on seasonal availability and individual taste. Whether you go with the sitaphal kheer, the rose-coconut kheer, or your own variation, you should have this prepared and refrigerated first.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this with you before, but in most Gujarati homes, we regularly make fresh batches of green chilli and ginger paste. This keeps for two or three days, and we use a dollop of it in lieu of red chilli powder. If you prefer this taste, and have it on hand, you can substitute the red chilli powder in the ingredients for the same. I have fond memories of our helper when I was growing up using the stone rubi-kallu to make the paste. We rarely used the blender, and I can’t even remember if we had one at the time. Now, it’s such a necessity.

In a bowl, add all the ingredients (except the oil for deep frying) and make a dough. The dough should be equivalent to a tight smooth ball.

Now, divide the dough into round small balls ready for rolling out. Roll them out evenly shaped as far as possible. They should also have the same, even thickness. Take care that they are not too thin, as they will be unable to puff up if so. Did you get rolling practice when you made these rotis? If you did, it may be worth noting that this dough is similar to thepla dough, except we don’t add yoghurt.

Prepare the oil by heating it. You can check the heat by dropping a pin size drop of dough. If it gathers bubbles, then it means the oil is ready. On a high flame, drop the pooris in one at a time. Wait for each one to rise up, and then flip it over. You need to flip it over just once. The secret to the puffiness lies in a mixture of of the correct level of thickness, the heat of the oil, and timing. It takes practice, and despite my childhood aversion, deflated pooris are perfectly edible too.

The poori needs to fry for just 8-10 seconds after being flipped. When you remove them from the pan, you will notice that they will be darker on the bottom side, and this is normal. Place on a sheet to drain excess oil. Serve immediately with a generous helping of kheer, fresh from the fridge.

Hot, fluffy pooris are such wonderful comfort food. And when their heat melds with the chilled kheer, the combination is simply divine. The craving-busting deliciousness of fried dough and the sweetness of a Gujarati dessert – no wonder these were birthday treats when I was growing up! I hope you’ll enjoy this simple yet sinfully indulgent recipe. As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.