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Garam masala is one of India’s quintessential spice blends, a staple of the Punjabi kitchen and popular in the north of the subcontinent. Traditional Gujarati and Tamil cuisines don’t use it, which means it is not a masala that features regularly in my own cooking. That said, I do enjoy the flavour profile immensely in certain dishes. Until recently, I would purchase readymade garam masala, but an increasing number of spice adulteration scares in India when it comes to commercial brands have convinced me that it is safer to prepare it at home myself. I found the process easy and the outcome fulfilling, and in some ways, this means that garam masala features a little more often in the recipes I choose too.

There is a vast amount of nuance when it comes to Indian spicing techniques and spice blends. There are differences between whole forms and powdered versions, and seasonality and availability also have an impact on what became considered traditional. Certain combinations are region-specific. Additionally, while many assume that red chillies are the base spice, this is historically inaccurate. The chilli family came to the subcontinent with the Portuguese. The core spice in this part of the world prior to this was pepper.

Garam masala has had only a scattering of appearances on this blog, used sparingly for dishes like roast potatoes and radish paratha. I have also used it in place of chana masala when making chole, rather than buying readymade chana masala. It traditionally features in black dal, moong dal and even certain meat preparations. I find that the flavour is very potent, so it is best to use a very small quantity, especially when the blend is homemade, as it will be purer. Adjust the quantity as required, based on your preferences and on what the dish calls for.

Nowadays, I roast the spices, but I clearly remember when my mother used to dry them in the sun in the summer heat. We were fond of chana and black dal and rarely went to restaurants, so garam masala was definitely a presence in her kitchen cabinet too. As I have said many times over many posts, my cooking skills came from her. She was as fond of exploring different cuisines and increasing her own repertoire as I am.

You may recall from prior posts that the more elaborate method of sun-drying is also something I do now and then or for specific spices, but this is of course climate-dependent. I presume that exposure to the elements may add more to the flavour, but overall I certainly lean towards homemade rather than storebought and that fact alone elevates any powder I prepare – roasted or sun-dried. I always make my powders in bulk, not only so that they may be used for a longer period, but also so that I can give them to my kids, who will utilise the same in their own kitchens. This gorgeous garam masala is now in all the places they live, and perhaps will be welcome in your home too.

Garam Masala
(Yield: Approximately 1 cup)

½ teaspoon nutmeg
2 strands mace
4 cloves
¼ cup coriander seeds
2 tablespoons cumin seeds
½ tablespoon black pepper corn
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
¼ teaspoon ajwain (carom) seeds
1 teaspoon methi (fenugreek) seeds
4-5 whole cardamom
6 cinnamon sticks
2 star anise

Begin by roasting all the big ingredients on a low flame. These would be cinnamon, star anise, nutmeg and mace. Add the smaller grains second: cardamom, methi, fennel, cumin, ajwain, coriander, pepper, cloves.

Once the ingredients release their fragrance, turn off the stove and remove the pan from the flame.

Allow to cool and blend in a spice grinder.

Store in an airtight glass jar. Use in curries of your choice for a well-rounded and deep flavour.

Over the years, I have shared numerous spice powder recipes, from to curry leaf podi to coconut podi and more. More will soon follow, so do stay connected!

Let’s face it: most children dislike radish. I did too, and it was only when I was studying Macrobiotics about a decade ago that I really began to appreciate the vegetable that was known to those of us in the course as daikon. After that, I began to look at the humble Indian mooli – which we get here in pink and white, and which are used in salads, curries and sambars – differently. There’s one particular usage of it that is my absolute favourite, and that is the mooli paratha or radish paratha.

Parathas are an excellent way of getting kids to eat ingredients they may not be fond of, which is probably how this particular one came into being. The stuffings also vary across regions – in Bengal, for instance, I believe that fish is commonly used. I once had some that was stuffed only with fresh cream, which was fascinating to me. They can be made quite healthy, as well as flavourful. They don’t need an accompaniment, but a pickle may sometimes complement them.

Radish paratha is popular in North India as a Punjabi street food, and along with peas paratha is one of my two favourite versions of stuffed Indian flatbreads. To me, it is synonymous with some of the best food that Delhi – a city that I’m rarely in, but in which I have had many cherished moments and meals with loved ones – has to offer.

The radish paratha came into my life at a time when my dear friends Sujatha and Michael lived there. They would take me to a famous parathawalla near a railway station, a roadside vendor whose enterprise had grown quite large. There was always a crowd and a queue there. To me, it looked like there were hundreds of options on the menu. We would each order what we liked, and sit in the car and consume our stuffed parathas while they were hot. They all came with pickled onions, and were served rolled in a newspaper page with some kind of leaf inside it to mop up the oil. They were just such a joy to eat. Those experiences of sharing food and laughter in a parked vehicle became great memories, too.

I tried some different options out on occasion, but always came back to the radish paratha. It was absolutely delicious, and filling enough to count as a meal. That’s the thing about street food in India. The fancy restaurants have their charms, but there’s something about the food prepared by roadside hawkers and railway vendors that just hits the spot every time.

In the years since, I began recreating the radish paratha at home, and it has become fairly frequent at our dinner table. I have found that while radish is pungent on its own, it is also absorbent, which means that adding a good masala to it makes it very appealing. Try it out and see for yourself!

Radish Paratha

(Yield: 5 pieces)

150 grams radish (3 medium-sized)
Salt to taste
1 teaspoon green chili+ginger paste
½ teaspoon garam masala
1 teaspoon aamchur powder
1 teaspoon cumin powder
¼ teaspoon ajwain
3 tablespoons coriander leaves (finely chopped)
1½ cups whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon oil + oil for sautéing paratha

Clean and grate the radishes. Add ¼ teaspoon salt. Mix well and squeeze out the water really well. Set the radish water aside.

To the grated radish, add the cumin powder, pinch salt, coriander leaves, aamchur powder, ajwain, chili+ginger paste and garam masala. Mix with your fingertips.

In a bowl, add the flour and the squeezed-out water from the radish so there is zero waste.  Make a tight and smooth dough of the flour with the help of a little oil.

Now, it is time to roll out the parathas. Divide the dough into 10 small balls and set aside. Dust and roll a ball. Set aside and roll another.

Now, fill one flattened disc with 1 tablespoon of the radish filling and cover with another rolled out disc. Make sure you pinch the edges well. Using a rolling pin, roll gently over the paratha. Roll out 5 such filled parathas.

Heat a griddle and place one of the parathas on it. Allow to cook until a few spots are formed. Flip the paratha. Once it turns golden brown on both sides, apply a few drops of oil onto both sides and allow to cook until darkened. Transfer it onto a lined plate. Repeat with the remaining parathas.

Serve hot, with or without accompaniments. Yoghurt and pickle go well, but as I said the radish paratha is itself quite flavourful. It is also rather filling, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you also begin serving it for dinner, as I do.

Every day in a Gujarati household, you can be assured that there will be a big bowl of dal on the dining table at lunch. We always eat some version of a spiced lentil concoction with rotlis or rice, feasting on a fragrant dish that will give us a good boost of protein, folate and fibre. Pigeon pea or toor dal used to be a staple in my home, but now that I’m cooking for my dad as well, I had to find an alternative as he dislikes this dal. This gave me the fun challenge of finding different varieties which would please the palates of everyone whom I cook for. In these explorations, I hit upon an exciting compromise: mixed dal.

Mixed dals are made by most communities, and as I keep reiterating, the exact version will vary in each kitchen. They are a resourceful way of making use of whatever is in the pantry, through combining a selection of uncooked dals which may be in excess or the last dregs of which need to be finished. My sister, for instance, is an expert in a Jain version made with tomatoes, cumin and very basic spices. I’m never sure whether it’s the simplicity of the ingredients that makes it so nice, or the fact that she makes it for me with such love. The version I make is neither a Jain nor a traditionally Gujarati one, as it uses both onion and garlic, which are generally regarded as either taboo or sparingly used in our culture. In some ways, mine imitates the Punjabi version in its use of spices and condiments.

The recipe I am sharing today is a medley of six types of dals: masoor, split moong, regular/whole moong, urad, split black urad and toor. You can include any other variety you prefer, as well as deduct any that you don’t have on hand or dislike. This particular combination came about through a mix of practicality (I felt some of these dals were being used less than others in my kitchen) and health-consciousness. These humble lentils are powerhouses of nutrients.

I tend to buy each dal separately and then store them all mixed in even proportions. I have noticed that shopkeepers even sell them mixed these days, which you may find even more convenient. If you are wondering if this dish is a part of the “second helpings” series I had some time ago on my blog, the answer is that it’s not. This dal is prepared fresh using dry, mixed lentils.

While I add garlic and onions, giving it that Punjabi-style punch, I also use a North-Eastern and Bengali way of tempering known as the “panch-phoron”. The panch-phoron is a delectable five spice blend which consists of mustard seeds, cumin (jeera), fennel (saunf), fenugreek (methi) and nigella (kalonji). I love the richness of the flavours together. You may know that Gujaratis often add a pinch of methi to our dal. This is to counterbalance the sweetness of the jaggery in the traditional recipe, which is an ingredient I have opted not to use here. I prefer this mixed dal spicier. I also notice how the fennel in the panch-phoron works as a counterpoint to the garlic. There’s a purpose in every small thing that we do in cooking. To everything, there is a method and a reason.

I decided to try the panch-phoron tempering method as I particularly enjoy the Bengali dals when I’m in Kolkata. The flavours of mustard paste and this fine blend of spices are delightful, and theirs is a cuisine which I would very much like to explore more. This mixed dal of mine is one delicious step in that direction.

 

Mixed Dal

(Yield: 1 pot)

1 cup mixed dal

4-5 cups water

2-3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon panch-phoron

2 dry red chillies

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ cup finely cut onions

½ cup finely cut tomatoes

3-4 cloves garlic

A pinch of asafoetida (hing)

½ teaspoon garam masala

⅓ teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 stick cinnamon

Juice of 1 lemon

¼ cup finely chopped coriander leaves

Clean and wash the dal and place it in a pressure cooker. Add salt, turmeric and 4 cups of water. Allow it to cook until tender, for approximately 4-6 whistles. Once cooked, keep aside.

In a kadai, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the panch-phoron and the hing/asafoetida. Next, add the dry red chillies and then add the onions and garlic. Sauté for a minute and then add the tomatoes.

Add the remaining spices and sauté once again until the kitchen is fragrant with the scent of roasting spices.

Now, add the cooked, tender dal to the pan and stir evenly. If you prefer a thinner consistency, add more water.

Top it off with the lemon juice, and garnish with the finely chopped coriander leaves.

Serve this mixed dal while it’s still hot. For a simple yet complete meal, it’s perfect to be enjoyed with rice or breads such as paratha, naan or rotli. When serving a slightly more elaborate meal, it also works very well when accompanied by an Indian-style stir-fry.

As I mentioned earlier, not only is this dish a combination of mixed dals, but it’s also a medley of culinary influences. Bengali, North-Eastern and Punjabi seasonings come together and surprise the Gujarati palate with their spiciness. I’d love to know what you think of it, and how you choose to bring your own tastes and journeys to this simple and satisfying preparation.

If you’re a fan of lentils, here are a few more lentil-based favourites from the recipes I’ve shared earlier: khatta mung, dal dhokli, green moong bhel and green moong dhokla. It’s the versatility, simplicity, nutritiousness and sheer deliciousness of lentils that make them such a staple in our meals.