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Recipe: A Perfect Medley – Masala Poori With Aloo

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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
1⁄3 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
1⁄3 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!

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Recipe: Somehow More Satisfying – Steamed Muthiya

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I shared one version of muthiya in my recipe for turiya muthiya shaak recently. In that dish, the muthiyas were small, deep-fried dumplings which contained fenugreek leaves, and which were soaked in the vegetable gravy. I mentioned in that post that larger deep-fried muthiyas are often enjoyed with snacks. There are even more kinds of muthiya out there too. There is one with grated bottle gourd, another version with fenugreek leaves, and even ones that utilise leftover khichdi or leftover rice – these are bound with flour, greens and spices, rolled and steamed and had as a wholesome, single-dish meal. I am sure more of these muthiyas will be explored on this blog in the time to come. Today, I want to share a steamed variant.

While steamed muthiya can certainly work well as a snack, I would recommend that these be had for high tea or even as a meal, as they are heavier than the smaller, deep-fried kind. Steamed muthiyas happen to be the hot favourite at home right now. I find myself preparing them at least once a week, usually for dinner. While many of us in India have the privilege of employing cooks in our home kitchens, in mine, there are certain recipes that only I will prepare even though I have help. Although my cooks over the years have been skilled and pick up my techniques, I get more satisfaction from making some meals from scratch. This is the case with many traditional Gujarati recipes. Somehow, not only do I enjoy the process, but the process itself evokes childhood memories and nostalgia, and a sense of connection to my late mother. I like to make such dishes as close to authentically as I was taught. Any kind of muthiya belongs to that treasured category.

Looking back, it’s obvious to me that our mother had really spoiled us all when we were growing up. Food was served to us fresh off the griddle, and always prepared with such attentiveness and care. Regardless of whether we enjoyed a dish or demanded another, she just didn’t cut corners when it comes to cooking. Steamed muthiya was something that my siblings and I didn’t like at all, and I remember that we often asked for pasta instead (funnily enough, we were not fond of pizza, but we did love a baked casserole with white sauce that our mom sometimes made). To us, what was exotic was most appealing. While my culinary curiosity and search for novelty remains, I have since learned to appreciate the traditional and the simple too.

While we kids didn’t like steamed muthiya, it was one of our father’s favourite dishes. As soon as the dumplings came out of the steamer, he would cut one up and dip it in methi masala, a traditional Gujarati condiment which contains chilli powder ground with fenugreek leaves. I have clear memories of how much he relished the freshly steamed muthiya. Another, possibly more popular method, is to take it off the steamer, slice it and sauté it in oil with mustard and sesame seeds. These steamed, sliced, sautéed muthiya are then eaten with green chutney. The healthier version, of course, is to have them as my dad did back in those days.

As we age, our tastes not only change, but so does the way that we perceive food. When I look back, it’s true that even our snack options were relatively healthy when I was growing up, because most items were homemade. Now that junk food is vastly available, I am glad to not be attracted to it, perhaps because of habits inculcated in childhood. I also consciously reach out for more nourishing options, not just in terms of snacks but even for our daily meals, our beverages and so on. I am happy to circle back to my mother’s ways.

This particular steamed muthiya recipe is hers. Other versions, equally authentic and traditional, will be different. This is true for any dish, as I’ve said before. It will be prepared differently in every family, community or region. For example, I have come across steamed muthiyas which contain chickpea flour. It’s not something my mother added, so I skip it just like she did, but you can incorporate some if you wish.

Steamed muthiya really is very simple to make. Prepare the dough, which is enriched with various spices (and in this case, fenugreek, which grows abundantly in Tamil Nadu in the summer, and is a staple of Gujarati cooking). Roll out the pieces, steam them, and eat them as soon as they’ve cooled enough. Or else, sauté them for added flavour. You’ll see what I mean below.

I have provided both the steamed and sautéed versions in the method. What I have observed is that when I have friends over for lunch, they seem to enjoy the steamed versions more (not just this kind, but those which use veggies or khichdi too). While the muthiyas are very filling, the fact that they are steamed makes them feel lighter. I notice that my guests reach out for more helpings. I am sure that the knowledge that they are healthier than fried goodies is reassuring. Despite being better dietarily-speaking, they are delicious.

I wonder which version you’ll enjoy more. Why not try both?

Steamed Muthiya
(Serves 2-3)

1⅓cup whole wheat flour
⅓ cup rava
1 full cup methi/fenugreek leaves (finely chopped)
2 tablespoons oil
Salt to taste
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
¼ teaspoon asafoetida
1 teaspoon dhaniya/coriander powder
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon ginger (grated)
1 green chili (finely chopped)
Juice of ½ lime
2-4 tablespoons water

Sautéed style
2 tablespoons oil
½ teaspoon mustard seeds
½ teaspoon sesame seeds

Chop the methi leaves finely. Rinse in water thoroughly.

Add the methi leaves to a bowl. Add oil, salt, turmeric, asafoetida, dhaniya, ginger, green chili, sugar and lime juice and massage well.

Now, add the flour and rava. If required, use 2 tablespoons of water to help mix into a soft pliable dough or batter.

Make long strips of the dough and place in the steamer. Steam for 20 minutes.

Once done, remove the muthiyas and allow to cool. Then, slice them into discs. You can serve them now, accompanied by condiments of your choice, or you can prepare the sautéed version if you prefer.

To sauté, heat a pan and add 2 tablespoons of oil. Add mustard and sesame seeds. Once the seeds splutter, add the sliced muthiya. Stir often and allow to turn golden on both sides. Serve hot with a chutney of your choice.

I have shared numerous traditional Gujarati dishes on this blog over the years, and you’ll find a wide selection from appetizers to desserts in my archives. I hope you’ll enjoy exploring them!

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Recipe: A Tasty Take On Ridge Gourd – Turiya Muthiya Shaak

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Ridge gourd, a water-based vegetable known in Gujarati as “turiya”, happens to grow abundantly all year-round in Tamil Nadu. Here, it is called “peerkanga”. While it is a seasonal vegetable in other parts of the country, it seems to be available locally almost all the time. This means that I get to eat turiya muthiya shaak, a Gujarati dish that is among my favourites, almost whenever I want to. It’s an especially delicious way to consume a nutritious vegetable, and I think you’ll also enjoy trying it out.

The weather here in Chennai tends to be hot, hotter, monsoon or briefly pleasant – and ridge gourd grows abundantly in hot weather, which is why it’s easy to find locally. We have it at least twice a week in a few preparation styles. I have shared one recipe before, cooking it in coconut oil and with grated coconut, in the regional way. Right now, as the temperature rises, water-based vegetables are a must in order to keep our bodies better hydrated, and I strongly encourage you to include ridge gourd and similar ingredients in your diet too.

If you have explored my earlier recipe for ridge gourd, I would liken the addition of grated coconut there to the addition of muthiya here. Muthiya are small fried dumplings. Tiny and round, they could be likened to miniature vadas or bhajis. They are made with chickpea flour, and deep-fried before being added to the cooked vegetable. They soften up in the gravy, and add a great deal of flavour to it. Ridge gourd is itself plain-tasting, so seasonings and additions like muthiya in Gujarati cuisine or coconut in Tamil or other South Indian cuisines please the palate. I’d certainly be curious to know about more ways to enhance ridge gourd dishes.

Here, I have opted to make the muthiya healthier by incorporating methi, or fenugreek, which also imparts its own flavour to the dish. By the way, you can also prepare the muthiya a day in advance in order to save time on the day of serving. In fact, muthiya by itself can be a tasty snack. Here, size does matter: smaller ones will be added to a vegetable gravy like this one, whereas they need to be made bigger if they are to be eaten as snacks. The method, however, is essentially the same.

When I was growing up, my mother would often make a tin of bigger muthiya and we would have it with chai. When we had turiya muthiya shaak for lunch or dinner, my sister and I would fight over the deep-fried, deliciously soaked muthiya. We never cared much for vegetables, although our mother drilled it into us that they are good for us.

Now that we are older and wiser and mothers ourself, we value and appreciate how strict she was with ensuring that we ate them whether we liked them or not. This system is passed from generation to generation. Now, with adult children of my own, I am all the more aware that children do follow their parents’ eating habits – if not when they are growing up, then eventually. To all the young parents reading this, I want to say: show your kids how to eat healthy, eat clean and to respect food through your own example, not just with words. It makes a difference. The same goes for all our traits. If you want your kids to become caring individuals, you have to show them what it’s like to be one yourself. As parents and elders in a family, we need to be conscious about how generations after us adopt our habits and even our nature. Probably the simplest way to embody this knowledge well is by teaching them about the goodness of fruits and vegetables in your daily intake. As they grow, you will see the effect, even if it’s difficult to convince them right now.

In fact, a part of the inspiration behind my sharing this recipe is that I visited my son’s office space the other day, where as mentioned in another post, a small garden is run by the factory workers. There was fresh organic ridge gourd being harvested, and that’s what I brought home to prepare for us all, even though I grow some on my terrace too. I was glad to see my son’s support for this venture, and I hope that the lessons I inculcated in him about eating well continue to yield good things.

All these years since our childhood later, my sister and I both make, serve and eat lots of delicious vegetables – every day. We certainly aren’t fighting over muthiya anymore. In fact, I grew to love turiya muthiya shaak, turiya and all, and my sister happens to prepare it better than I do. She has long stopped asking what I want to eat when I visit her in Mumbai, having gotten familiar with my cravings over the years. Turiya muthiya shaak is invariably on the table at some point during my stay, and I relish it all the more because it is prepared by her.

Turiya Muthiya Shaak
(Serves 2-4)

Methi Muthiya

1 cup methi leaves (fenugreek leaves; finely chopped and rinsed well)
¼ tsp asafoetida
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon red chilli powder
¼ teaspoon turmeric
2 teaspoons sugar
Juice of 1 lime
A handful coriander leaves
1 teaspoon ginger (grated)
¼ cup whole wheat flour
1 full cup besan (chickpea flour)
2 tablespoon oil
Water as required

In a bowl, add the methi leaves and all the ingredients except the flours and the oil. Massage well.

Then, add the flours and make a dough. Sprinkle water as required. Add more besan if required.

Add the oil and massage well. Make small, elongated balls (as shown in the photographs), using more water if required to make them tight.

Deep fry these on a medium flame until golden. Set aside.

Turiya Shaak

4 cups chopped ridge gourd
¼ cup yellow mung dal
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 cup water
Salt to taste
1 small tomato (chopped)
1 teaspoon dhaniya powder (coriander powder)
1 green chilli
2 tablespoons oil
½ teaspoon mustard seeds

Soak the mung dal until soft. Set aside.

Peel and chop the ridge gourd into cubes.

Heat the oil in a small pressure cooker. Add the mustard seeds. Once they splutter, add the dal and the chopped gourd along with the water. Next, add the turmeric. Mix and cook for 1 whistle, or until the dal is tender.

Allow to cool, then open the cooker.

To put together your turiya muthiya shaak, take another kadai. Add a little oil and add more mustard seeds, the green chilli and the tomato and stir until the tomato pieces are tender. Now, add the vegetable and dal mixture to this. Allow some amount of gravy.

Finally, add the muthiya and allow to soften. Cook for a few minutes. Adjust the salt if required.

Remove from the flame and serve with rotis or rice.

This blog has a large and growing selection of traditional Gujarati recipes – sometimes authentic, sometimes with a twist – and I hope you’ll take some time to explore more of them!

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Recipe: Spicy Summer Greens – Simple Red Amaranth Stir-Fry

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Often, I find that I have cravings to eat leafy greens. Yes, cravings for dishes that most of us start out rejecting! As we grow older, we come to appreciate their tastes better, as well as begin to understand the numerous benefits that come from consuming them. Now, I am eager to discover the subtle flavours of each variety I encounter. When I say leafy greens, I don’t necessarily mean lettuce, arugula and the like. Here in India, we have hundreds of varieties of what can broadly be called spinach. Amaranth is one of them, and this simple red amaranth stir-fry is a lovely way to add more greens to your meals. Or in this case: reds!

These amaranth leaves are reddish-purple, which make them quite eye-catching both fresh and once they have been cooked. I would describe red amaranth as being bold, both in its hue and its flavour, which is quite savoury. Green amaranth also exists, but the red variety has more antioxidants, as well as more protein as compared even to spinach. It has become quite a popular vegetable of late, and while I don’t have that many memories of it in particular, it’s possible that I’ve eaten it innumerable times in the past without thinking too much about it – until I really began to get interested in leafy goodness, that is.

Red amaranth has been catching my eye at my local market lately, which is why I picked some up. I often do this. I visit the market and explore whatever is in season. Through the year, I find different kinds of leafy vegetables, and am often curious to learn their names and uses. In Tamil, all greens are broadly defined as “keerai”. Amaranth is “thandu keerai”, “aru keerai” or “senkeerai”. My daughter always makes fun of me because every other month I say she should be eating “this keerai” or “that keerai”, and it’s a running joke in our house that she constantly has to learn the names of new keerais – and eat them too, of course.

Both of these – learning about food and eating it – are activities I enjoy, so of course I hope to spread the love of both. For instance, I know that my local market, while perfectly sufficient for my usual needs, does not actually bring in all the varieties of greens available in this region. I know this because I have seen other culinary bloggers post online about certain kinds which I haven’t had access or exposure to. It’s always so inspiring to see the amazing work that people are doing when it comes to returning to roots and eating traditionally, locally and seasonally. I’m intrigued by what interesting new-to-me ingredients are out there, and sometimes I keep an eye out for a particular one that I’ve heard about and hope to experiment with, especially when I am travelling within the state.

I like to cook most of the greens that I work with in a simple way, one that is adaptable across varieties. You can use the method below for greens other than red amaranth too. It’s a basic South Indian stir-fry style, specifically Tamil Nadu style, that I use here, which results in a spicy side dish that is both delicious as well as healthy. No matter what kind of greens I prepare, I like to have a big cup with my lunch, which is more often than not a Gujarati thaali.

This is where my own roots come in. While I will prepare a South Indian spinach, I’ll enjoy it with a Gujarati kadhi. This is my preferred combination for summer, as the yoghurt-based kadhi offsets the flavour of the stir-fried greens. I find that a dal will make the meal too heavy at this time. But a cooling kadhi and a bold red amaranth stir-fry are just perfect together.

Simple Red Amaranth Stir-Fry
(Serves 3-5)

5 cups chopped red amaranth
3 tablespoons gingelly oil
½ teaspoon urad dal
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
1 green chilli
¼ cup grated coconut
Salt to taste

Rinse the red amaranth, or any spinach or greens of your choice. Do so well, in 2-3 changes of water. Set aside.

Heat a kadai and add the oil. Then, add the urad dal. Once it turns golden, add the mustard seeds. When they splutter, add the green chilli. Sauté these, and then add the spinach. Stir, then cover with a lid for about 5-8 minutes.

Remove the lid and allow the water to evaporate.

Next, add the salt and the grated coconut. Mix well.

As I said, this is indeed a simple stir-fry, and I’m sure you’ll find that the preparation method works for most kinds of greens. I would recommend enjoying your stir-fried red amaranth leaves with warm rice or rotis.

If you would like to explore more greens-based recipes from my archive, I’d recommend starting with purslane dal or spinach rice, in keeping with the South Indian theme, and then following the tags to discover more dishes for you to enjoy!

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Recipe: A Tasty, Tangy Dal – Tomato Pappu

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On our first wedding anniversary, decades ago now, my husband and I went out to dinner with our entire family. We went to a lovely fine dining restaurant in Chennai which serves South Indian fare. It was during this evening that I tasted tomato pappu for the first time. I relished it. While I have eaten it numerous times since, over the years – although not very frequently, because this is still a place that we save for special occasions – it took a long while before it occurred to me to try replicating it at home, which I did only recently. It surprised me to learn that at its heart tomato pappu is a very simple dish, using everyday ingredients and requiring a familiar preparation style. I’m glad to be able to share it with you too.

Tomato pappu is essentially a dal which has equal quantities of tomatoes and lentils. It originated in Andhra Pradesh. Telugu cuisine is not one I know much about, but I am eager to learn more, and I think this dish is a good place to start.

Interestingly enough, while I have lived in Tamil Nadu all my life, my mother had grown up in Vijayawada, in Andhra Pradesh. But when I first took her for a meal at this restaurant and ordered tomato pappu, it turned out to be her first exposure to it. While she spoke the language and knew the culture well, she had also been brought up in a very traditional Gujarati household and it was clear that Telugu food itself was a bit unfamiliar to her. It was lovely to introduce her to a dish from the region she grew up in. She had a curious mind that I inherited, and I remember her saying, “We should learn how to make this too.” Like me, she had absolutely loved it.

I went back to that restaurant recently, and only then did I decide to make good on my mother’s suggestion and finally learn to prepare tomato pappu. Although my dear mother is no longer around to enjoy it with me, the dish is imbued with so many memories over the years of celebratory meals with loved ones. Now that I have begun to make it at home, we will no doubt savour it more often, and it will come to be a part of even more of our experiences together.

As I sit here and write this post, my curious side emerges yet again, and I wonder whether the tomatoes can be replaced with some other vegetable. This is what I do all the time at home and for the re:store blog – innovating existing recipes while also exploring traditional ones. I’m thinking that carrots or perhaps spinach would be good substitutes. Both will certainly be healthy and tasty. I’ll keep you posted about how my experiments go, as always.

That’s the thing about cooking: one can get so very creative in the kitchen. Once you have mastered the basics, you can use your intuition and expand your repertoire. It’s all about having a sense of which ingredient might work, which flavour, what goes well with something or really doesn’t. For instance, I would not attempt a capsicum pappu as I am dubious about if that might work. At the same time, I’ve been marvellously surprised by dishes I’ve tasted around the world that bring seemingly incongruous elements together. The challenge is finding out what is complementary, through trial and error. Sometimes, though, you just know something will work, and it does.

When I think back to how I didn’t know anything about this delicious tomato pappu when I first tasted it, and couldn’t even identify its ingredients beyond tomatoes, I can see what a long way I have come in my culinary life. Now, this dish is no longer something I eat only at restaurants. It’s become something even better: a part of my regular meals.

Tomato Pappu
(Yield: Serves 2-4)

½ cup toor dal
2 cups water
2 medium-sized tomatoes
3 cloves garlic
A handful of curry leaves
Pulp from a lime-sized ball of tamarind
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon red chili powder
2 green chillies
1 tsp grated ginger
½ teaspoon asafoetida
2 teaspoons oil

Tempering
1 tablespoon ghee
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon asafoetida
1 dry red chili

Rinse and clean the dal. Add the dal to water and turmeric powder and pressure cook until tender. Set aside.

Heat a kadai. Add the oil. To this, add ginger, garlic, curry leaves, asafoetida, turmeric powder and salt. Sauté for a few minutes. Next, add the tamarind pulp. Allow to cook a little and then add the tomatoes.

Sauté until the tomatoes are tender. Mash it all well together.

Now, add the dal mixture and give it a good stir. Allow to cook a little. Set aside.

Prepare the tempering by adding ghee to a heated kadai, then adding all the remaining ingredients. Once the seeds splutter, add the tempering to the dal mixture.

Serve this tomato pappu hot, with rice. I also find that it pairs nicely with dosa or idiappam. If you’re a fan of dals or of South Indian cuisines more broadly, there are many more recipes on this blog for you to enjoy!

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Recipe: Currying Flavour – Curry Leaf Podi

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Even though I grew up in Chennai and have enjoyed the regional cuisine throughout my life, when it comes to podis or condiment powders, I didn’t quite understand the nuances of the food type until I was older and began to really consider the technicalities of the art of cooking. I did not know, for instance, that idli podi is different from molagai podi (the recipe for which I shared with you recently), or that curry leaf podi is different from both of these. There are many other varieties too, of course, and each kind has particular uses.

As a child, at friends’ homes and at wedding celebrations, I would consume podis but didn’t really notice what kind was served. At most, I would wonder why a little spoonful of powder would be on one side of the banana leaf, and I would taste it but I would not necessarily think beyond that. By now of course, my awareness has deepened, and so has my expertise in preparation. I’m glad to share this curry leaf podi recipe with you, and I hope you’ll be able to discern its uniqueness too.

Curry leaf podi is usually enjoyed mixed into either gingelly oil or ghee and eaten as an accompaniment to hot rice, or else idly or dosa. It enhances the flavour of the main dish, and significantly cuts down on cooking time when one needs to eat in a hurry. It is the key to a very simple and fast meal that is still tasty. It also works beautifully when a meal contains a few more dishes, adding a touch of spice that elevates the plate (or the leaf) on the whole. Unlike pickles, which are very pungently flavoured, a podi is subtler while still packing a punch. The quantities consumed are more liberal as opposed to pickles, which is why blending into rice becomes possible. I also presume – or maybe I just imagine – that podis were traditionally used mostly in summertime when the curry leaf plant thrives and there is a dearth of vegetables, other than some water-based ones. Nature’s seasons and human resourcefulness both have deep impacts on how we eat, when we eat and how much we eat.

I have shared about the goodness of curry leaves before, along with some photos of the flowering shrub. You may have also noticed lush stems of it in many of my photographs across this blog. That is because whenever I want to incorporate a natural element into a frame, I often step into the garden and pluck some for my photoshoot. Here, we often take it for granted as it grows in many backyards. It is used across South Indian cuisines, and is truly one of the most delicious herbs in this part of the country. It imparts any dish it is used in with a distinct flavour. More often than not, most of us pick out the curry leaves and abandon them on the side of the plate, since the flavour has already been steeped into the dish, but this is a waste. The leaves have a nice taste themselves, and moreover are rich with antioxidants.

If you ever visit me at home, you may find me adding curry leaves to a Gujarati dal perhaps – but that is only because of my exposure, for it is hardly used in my ancestral cooking, if at all. It doesn’t grow there, but as I often say, I grew up right here – like this plant! Of course, my fusion experiments go beyond these two cultures, such as in the making of this curry leaf hummus. Here, however, I offer a condiment that is as authentic as possible.

Curry Leaf Podi
(Yield: Approximately 1½ cups)

1 tablespoon urad dal
1 tablespoon channa dal
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
1 cup fresh curry leaves
3-5 red dried red chilies
1 tablespoon desiccated coconut
½ teaspoon asafoetida
1 tablespoon oil
Salt to taste

Rinse and wash the curry leaves well. Then, pat them dry in a cloth. Lay them out in the sun to dry. In summer, they will dry up in a day. Alternatively, you could place them in the oven on a low temperature and allow them to dehydrate until they are crisp to the touch.

When ready to prepare the curry leaf podi, add the oil in a pan. Dry roast the urad dal, channa dal, sesame seeds, dried red chillies and cumin seeds until the ingredients are golden. Finally, add the desiccated coconut and asafoetida. Allow all these to roast all together for a short time.

In a blender jar, add all the roasted ingredients along with the dried curry leaves and salt. Blend until you get a coarse powder.

Store in an airtight jar. Serve with rice, idly and dosa, or experiment with using this condiment in your own versatile ways. I would eat it with rotis and theplas too, for instance. I have shared various other condiment recipes in the past – not just powders, but pickles and more too – and I hope you’ll explore my archives and find other interesting ways to liven up your enjoyment of a meal too.

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Recipe: Of Temples And Travellers – Tamarind Rice

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I may sound like I am repeating myself, but what I am about to say (again) is just one of those basic facts about me: if you put a gun to my head and ask me to choose whether I like Gujarati cuisine or Tamil cuisine better, I would very quickly and quite happily admit that it’s the latter. Even though I am Gujarati, I grew up here in Chennai, and as much as I love the food of my culture, the food of my surroundings has my heart. Among the dishes I cherish most is tamarind rice, and I’ll tell you why.

South India has been described as the rice bowl of the country, and there are hundreds of varieties grown here, as I’ve discussed in the past. The different cuisines in the Southern states also lean heavily towards rice dishes, as well as those that use rice flour as a chief ingredient. As with all parts of India, traditional food is always thoughtfully designed to serve two objectives in particular: healthiness and seasonality. Certain items are prepared year-round, and I believe tamarind rice falls into this category.

That impression may have been formed of course by the fact that tamarind rice is the standard prasadam, or food served to the deities and then to devotees, across temples in South India. Perhaps that is because it is fast and easy to make, and because the tamarind acts like a preservative, allowing the dish to keep better as well as to travel a bit – which is great if someone wants to take some home after a pilgrimage.

Moreover, a selection of flavourful dishes is also always served on the side in elaborate banana leaf meals at special events like weddings. Coconut rice and lemon rice will be present as well, but it’s the tamarind rice that I always reach out for most eagerly.

Tamarind itself is an ingredient that’s important in this part of the world. Its English name comes from the Arabic term “tamr hindī”, or “date of India”, referencing its value as a trade item. While the tree is indigenous to Africa, it is so thoroughly naturalized on the Indian subcontinent that even its scientific name, Tamarindus indica, carries a nod to this region. Not only was the fruit coveted globally, but the tree has been valued here through time. I remember encountering many stories in books as a child in which tamarind trees were considered the trees of travellers. This was because they were planted alongside routes in order to provide shade and coolness. The canopy is huge and a person or small group can easily rest beneath one. There are still many tamarind trees around in Chennai today, though perhaps not as many as when I was growing up. I have fond memories of the ones that grew in my school’s compound. We would wait for strong breezes to blow the fruit off, to the ground, and race to collect them.

The raw, deseeded fruit can be soaked and used to flavour food, or else made into a chutney, which my mother would prepare quite often back then. She would also make tamarind rice, and let me be honest – as much as I am in awe of her culinary skills, I’ll be honest and say that it wasn’t her finest dish. It was sort of her own version, and I knew even back then that it wasn’t quite as tasty as the tamarind rice served in the temple near my grandparents’ house. Still, it was a start, and I appreciate that for a busy homemaker it would have been a simple dish to put together on days when she had less time to cook.

Nowadays, there are even easier ways of making tamarind rice. Readymade mixtures are sold in shops, almost in a pickle form, and mixing a dollop with cooked rice is all it takes. But I’ve always felt that there’s a special pleasure in making things from scratch. This particular recipe was taught to me by a sloka teacher I had a few years ago. After classes, she would come into my kitchen and teach me some authentic recipes, including this ginger chutney. She made a delicious tamarind rice paste, and the method she taught me is what goes into this preparation.

As for the rice used, I’ve gone ahead with the common ponni, which is a small-grained, boiled variety. This is easily accessible to me, and I suggest you choose one that is available wherever you are in the world. A short, stout rice works best to absorb the deep flavours of the paste and spices.

Tamarind Rice
(Yield: Serves 4)

2 cups cooked rice

Spice Powder
½ teaspoon methi/fenugreek seeds
2 teaspoons coriander seeds
2 teaspoons sesame seeds
6-8 dry red chilies
1 teaspoon whole black pepper

Tamarind paste
¼ cup sesame oil
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
2 teaspoons channa dal
½ teaspoon turmeric
3-4 dry red chilies
1 teaspoon urad dal
A handful of curry leaves
½ teaspoon asafoetida powder
¼ cup peanuts
Salt to taste
1 tablespoon jaggery
1 large lime-sized ball of tamarind
2 cups water

Dry roast each of the spice powder ingredients separately. Allow to cool and then powder them all together. Set aside. Soak the tamarind ball in warm water. Once soaked, squeeze and extract the pulp as much as possible. Discard the fibre.

Heat a pan and add the oil. Now, add the mustard seeds, chillies, channa dal and urad dal. Roast slightly and then add the asafoetida and curry leaves.

Add the tamarind pulp, salt and turmeric powder. Stir. Cover and allow to simmer until the raw smell of tamarind goes away. This will take approximately 10-15 minutes.

Remove from the flame and allow to cool.

To assemble the tamarind rice, put the 2 cups of cooked rice in a bowl. Add ¼ cup of the tamarind mixture. Using your hands, gently mix it well into the rice. Add 1 tablespoon of sesame oil to bring all the flavours together. Tamarind rice need not be eaten hot, and this is now ready to serve. Store the remaining tamarind mixture in a glass jar and refrigerate. I’d say it can be used for about a couple of weeks.

Rice is such a fixture in many homes in Asia and other parts of the world, and it can get a little boring. I have more recipes in the archives that may bring some novelty to your rice consumption, and I hope you’ll explore them.

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Recipe: Something To Relish – South Indian Roast Potatoes

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When it comes to recipes, sometimes just having one of a certain dish isn’t enough. I have shared my own version of roast potatoes on this blog in the past, but lately I have felt inspired to start making them in the Tamil Nadu style more often. As someone born and brought up in Chennai, this dish is one that I have known and enjoyed all my life, as will anyone who loves a spicy accompaniment.

When I said I was feeling inspired, this was in part because one of my favourite pastimes is surfing the Internet for all things to do with food. I love looking up and reading about the subject, seeing what people out there are making, and watching videos not just on trends but also on classic dishes. They may or may not be authentic, but they are exciting just the same. I choose whichever I am interested in, tweak the recipes a bit based on my preferences, and they often turn out yummy. Through this blog, I am a part of that community too, and contribute to it. It feels special to know that we are all inspirations to one another, and to me this is true whether in the art world or in cooking or in writing or in so many other arenas. Online and offline, my passion for recipes – creating them, discovering them, and sharing them – is joy-bringing, I love being gifted or gifting nice cookbooks too. It has long been a dream of mine to publish one of my own, and this is the year in which that will come to fruition.

Coming back to the South Indian-style roast potatoes, let me just say at the outset that it’s okay to indulge in carbs and a little extra oil sometimes. I try not to do either too often, so when I do I choose my favourites and make sure I relish them. This dish is one I have become such a pro at that I even make the masala at home, powdering and keeping a fair quantity to use as needed. I have shared the recipe for that too, and recommend that you take a little extra time to prepare that too. You’ll taste and smell the difference it makes.

The aroma and flavour truly take me back to my school days, when many of my friends would bring curd rice in their tiffin boxes with roast potatoes on the side. The moment that lunch was unpacked was special: the fragrance of deep-fried, well-seasoned potatoes would rise. It would be irresistible. We loved sharing our lunches, as I’ve shared in earlier posts like this spinach rice recipe.

I will admit: carb-consciousness has made me like potatoes somewhat less now than I used to, or at least eat them less often. But as a child and a teenager, I simply adored them. So much so that when I first started learning how to cook, I told my mom that the first dish I would prepare on my own would feature this ingredient. I had also been inspired by my older brother. When our mom travelled, he would make my sister and I sit in the kitchen and watch as he prepared potato sabzi and roti for us. So at around age 14 or 15, under her supervision, I made a simple sautéed potato dish with barely anything but salt. Salt, heat and oil are all that’s really needed to make a potato taste good, anyhow.

Still, what a long way I have come since that basic fried potato dish! From nothing-but-salt to grinding my own spices, from the easiest way to the elaborate and the innovative. I continue to learn every day, and the journey goes on. I am so glad to have you along on mine, sharing recipes that make life more delicious.

South Indian Roast Potatoes
(Yield: Serves 2)

250 grams potatoes
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon turmeric powder
¼ tsp mustard seeds
½ teaspoon urad dal
¼ tsp cumin seeds
¼ tsp asafoetida
A few curry leaves
2-3 tablespoons oil
3-4 Kashmiri red chillies (whole)
2 tablespoons onions (finely chopped)

Spice powder
1 tsp urad dal
½ teaspoon methi seeds
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon channa dal
1 teaspoon oil

Boil, peel and dice the potatoes. Set aside.

In a pan, begin to prepare the spice powder by adding the one teaspoon of oil. Once it has heated, add all the spice powder ingredients and roast until golden. Remove onto a plate and allow to cool. Now blend coarsely and keep ready.

In the same pan, add the 2 tablespoons of oil, and once heated add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds and urad dal. Once they turn golden and splutter, add the red chilies, curry leaves and asafoetida.

To this, add the onions first. Sauté and then add the potatoes and the freshly-made spice powder. Sprinkle with salt and turmeric powder. Mix this all together well. Allow to roast until it all comes together well and the potatoes are slightly golden at the bottom.

This dish works as a great accompaniment for dosas, rotis or any kind of rice dish. If you’d like to explore more potato dishes or more South Indian flavours, there’s more in the blog archives where this came from!

 

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Recipe: A Herbal Curd Curry – Methi Kadhi

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On the first Sunday of every month, through my childhood, my mother would make my siblings and I stand in a line and consume a very bitter Ayurvedic powder, which was mixed into a quarter glass of water for each of us. This was a non-negotiable, and we hated it, dreading those Sundays for that very reason. We were forced to drink it up because her claim was that it cleared the stomach of any bugs, infections or worms and contributed to overall good health. I don’t know exactly what was in that powder, which was from a brand that has now long become obsolete, but I presume it contained fenugreek leaves – known in Gujarati as methi – because of the taste, as well as its medicinal potency. It took many years, but eventually I realised my mother was right. I believe her now, and I use methi liberally in my cooking. It even makes its way into a yogurt-based curry known as kadhi. As a result, methi kadhi is both nutritious and tasty.

I have shared a kadhi recipe in the past, and this is a variation that, as mentioned, boosts the healthiness quotient. That recipe contained a few grains of methi, which I also add to various dals, whereas this one utilizes fresh leaves. Fenugreek is extremely beneficial in both seed and leaf form, and is considered by many to be a superfood. A herb that originated in the Mediterranean region, it has been cultivated in India for at least 3000 years and plays a major role in North Indian cuisines. It is known to lower blood sugar and cholesterol, improve digestion and fertility, support the immune system and even enhance skin and hair health.

I mentioned recently that I enjoyed sprouting microgreens as a kid, and methi was among the seeds I used. My sister would also grow hers separately, and we would compare notes. I don’t think we ended up consuming our homegrown herbs, but I do remember the pure joy of seeing the small shoots. Nowadays, I buy the fresh green leaves, but I prepare my own kasoori methi or dried fenugreek powder at home. It is methi season now, and the best place to prepare the powder is at my home in Ahmedabad. The combination of the winter sun and general climate there are ideal for this, whereas Chennai is more humid year-round. The leaves dry up in a day or two. I store them to use through the year, and I make enough for my homes as well as my children’s.

There are two varieties of methi that are generally available. There is one with small, thick leaves that doesn’t grow more than 6 inches, and a bigger, bushier variety. I prefer using the small one when I need fresh leaves, and the bigger one for powdering. While I feel the former is more potent in taste, the yield quantity I require for the powder is better achieved by using the latter.

Kadhis don’t appear on my dining table that frequently, because I prefer to serve dals and lentils daily instead as they contain more protein. In fact, I ate it much more frequently as a child as my father loved it and thus my mother would prepare it very regularly. I myself preferred it to dal back then, and enjoyed it when combined with a plain khichdi. This means that when I prepare any kind of kadhi now, I look forward to it all the more, since the dish was a childhood favourite that has become infrequent.

Methi Kadhi
(Yield: Serves 4)

1 cup yogurt
2 tablespoons besan (split brown chickpea flour)
1½ cups water
1½ cups methi (fenugreek leaves)
1 tablespoon ginger + green chilli paste
2 tablespoons oil
2 tablespoons ghee
Salt to taste
½ teaspoon jeera seeds (cumin)
1 cinnamon stick
2 cloves
½ teaspoon asafoetida

Take the yogurt in a bowl. Add the besan and water to it, and beat well until there are no lumps. Set aside.

Clean and finely chop the methi leaves. In a kadai, add the oil and once it has heated, add the methi leaves. Sauté until tender. Add the ginger+green chili paste.

To this, add the yoghurt and besan mixture. Add salt and cook until the raw flavour of the flour leaves and the mixture thickens. Stir continuously as it cooks, otherwise it will separate.

Now, prepare the tempering. In a frying pan, add the ghee. Once it has heated, add the jeera, cinnamon stick, cloves and asafoetida. Pour this over the kadhi.

Your methi kadhi is now ready to serve. As mentioned, it pairs perfectly with khichdi.

While there is an Indian belief that curd should be avoided at night and during winter, I would suggest that even if you follow that custom, the use of methi and besan in this kadhi provide a counterbalance. Don’t deprive yourself of this deliciousness, in any season! I may eat less of it now than I did growing up, but I certainly still do!

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Recipe: Packed To Go – Paneer & Mint Paratha

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What has become a challenge for me recently, cooking-wise, is figuring out how to pack nourishing and interesting lunches for the office-goers in my home. While I love having a hot Gujarati thaali ready for them, it isn’t always possible for them to come home mid-day. Sometimes, they have to travel a little far, as is common in India, or the day’s schedule is especially busy. It is always better to have home-cooked food in any case, and I prefer that they do so. This means that quite often lately, my mornings begin with a question: “Oh gosh, what shall I prepare for them today?” This is different from the regular daily musings over what to cook, because time is of the essence. The food has to be packed, and made to suit various likes and dislikes, before they leave. This paneer mint paratha is a recipe that came about to fulfil exactly this need.

I know that some of my readers may wonder why these lunchboxes aren’t prepared in advance, but that is because in India it is customary to cook fresh food each day. It is rarely carried forward, except for specific dishes, such as those in the Second Helpings series that I did long ago. Leftovers are consumed as soon as possible, and innovatively. Even so, fresh, hot, home-cooked food is just a preference and a way of life for most Indians.  I think there are many reasons behind why this is the norm. One is that culturally, we don’t believe in wastage so we tend to cook in exact quantities. More often than not, even if we can afford to waste food, we prefer not to because the high levels of poverty here make an impression on us and make us conscientious. The idea is to cook only as much as is required, consume all of it, and then make more food for the next day.

Coming back to the paneer mint paratha: as I said, it is one among several recipes that I’m able to make fresh in the mornings and pack off with my loved ones for their workday lunches. My own workday therefore begins even earlier than theirs, but I’m fortunate to have household staff who help me cope with the demands of a very active kitchen that functions both for my family as well as for re:store. If you have a similar lifestyle, juggling other people’s schedules and preferences while also working either at home or beyond it, dishes like this will come very handy. The same is true if it’s your own lunchbox that you’re packing for.

A good lunchbox has to have a fair bit of thought behind it. The items in it should keep well and still maintain their taste and texture hours after packing, even if reheating is not possible. Items that may spill need to be very carefully packed. Something like this paratha, which doesn’t require a curry and is flavourful on its own, is a safer bet. That said, some curd or buttermilk on the side rounds out the meal, as does a pickle or chutney. These enhance the experience of eating on the go. I really believe that there should be something to look forward to during such lunch breaks, even if they are short and without frills. Filling the tummy is only one aspect of it. Even if eaten straight out of a lunchbox while pausing for just a few minutes, the meal should be appealing and rejuvenate the person who eats it so that they can carry on with the rest of their busy day.

I also came up with this particular paratha because I’ve been growing some herbs and basic vegetables in my garden, including tomatoes and – you guessed it – mint. These grow fast and are pretty easy to cultivate too. Little experiments like this are a lifelong fascination for me. As a child, I would sprinkle mustard seeds on a steel plate and be fascinated by the little shoots that appeared when I would check on them a few mornings later. That always excited me and made me proud. Now, we call these microgreens and incorporate them into healthy diets. Growing various sprouts or certain herbs ourselves is not difficult at all, even if we don’t have the space to grow plants.

Mint works especially well in summers as it has a cooling effect, but I feel it’s great at any time. It pairs well with so many other ingredients, and always gives a very refreshing touch to a dish. The paneer here can be replaced with peas, for instance. Or you can keep the paneer – that is, retain the protein boost – and include peas too. This is a compact lunch, flavour-packed, healthy and very delicious. Whether you’re eating it on the go or in a more relaxed way at home, you and your family are sure to enjoy it too.

Paneer & Mint Paratha

(Yield: 5 parathas)

Paratha

1 cup whole wheat flour
½ cup maida
¼ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons oil
¾ cup water

Filling

1 cup paneer
2 tablespoons mint leaves (finely chopped)
1 tablespoons coriander leaves (finely chopped)
¼ teaspoon aamchur powder
¼ teaspoon chaat masala
½ teaspoon green chili-ginger paste
Salt to taste

Ghee for frying

First, prepare the dough for the paratha. In a bowl, add the flours and the salt. To this, add water. Make a tight and smooth dough. Set aside for at least 30 minutes.

Prepare the filling by adding all the ingredients to a bowl. Mix gently. Set aside.

Now, roll out the dough into 5 balls. You may find that you have some extra, which you can use for plain parathas.

Using the help of some flour, dust 1 ball and roll it out into a disc. Repeat with all five. Place a spoonful of the filling in the centre of each disc and seal the edges by folding the corners of the dough. Gently roll out the filled discs into small parathas.

Heat a griddle on a medium flame, and place a rolled-out paratha on it. Allow to cook on both sides with the help of some ghee. Roast both sides well until golden. Repeat with the remaining parathas.

Your paneer mint parathas are now ready. You may want to serve them hot with pickle or chutney of your choice, or else pack them into a lunchbox that you or a loved one can look forward to, a little later in the day! If you’re a fan of Indian breads, don’t miss my post on different rotis. There are also a range of paneer dishes to explore on the blog.

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