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In my Gujarati household, we have always had a deep and old association with Parsees. The Dark Prince’s best friend, Sohrab, is a Parsee, and so was his grandfather’s best friend, Bachu Foi, in Ahmedabad. When we got married and his grandfather also became mine, so too did Bachu Foi. “Foi” means “paternal aunt”, and Bachu Foi was the gentlest, kindest soul I’ve ever known. When I met her, she was well into her 70s and happily single, and always seemed to be around when we visited our grandparents. In those years, I would arrive with my gaggle of toddlers who kept my hands full. Bachu Foi always knew when I was coming, and would move in with me for the duration of my visit. And she would make the best-I’ve-ever-had guava jelly. Well, I’d never had guava jelly before hers, but it set my taste for life.

Pink, sweet, luscious, diamond-shaped guava jelly. I treasured it not only because it was sweet, but because it was made by my very sweet Bachu Foi. The truth is that at the time, I was too involved with my little children to spare the time to patiently learn the recipe from her, but how I wish I had. As my culinary skills grew, over time I experimented and finally arrived at my own version. I would say it comes pretty close to what Bachu Foi used to make. After all, we both use the same basic ingredient: love.

I was not only busy with my kids, but also highly involved with trying to stay in the good books of my strict, disciplinarian grandfather. And Bachu Foi was ever on the lookout, ready to bail me out and take my side. These memories came flooding back to me on a recent trip to Ahmedabad for a book I am working on (ssshhh…). There, I met a relative of hers, an old gent who exclaimed, “Ah yes, I knew your grandpa – Bachu Foi was his girlfriend!”

I was quick to argue with him, “No, she was never his girlfriend!” Then I realised how futile it was to explain that they just shared such a beautiful friendship. I thought about how my grandmother, who was just as wonderful a person, was always around too. She was divinity personified, calm and chilled out, and not in the least threatened by Bachu Foi!

In my previous post, in which I shared a mood-uplifting Gujarati curry using the favourite fruit of my childhood, I’d mentioned that one other way in which I like to enjoy guavas is in jelly form, with a platter of crackers and a glass of wine. The combination of salty and sweet makes for a lovely treat. This was something I picked up in Cuba, during the only other time that I’ve experienced guava jelly close to Bachu Foi’s sublime creation. I was surprised to see guavas there then, not knowing their history, and brought back a big chunk of guava jelly. I later realized that they were the perfect substitute there for fig jam, which is usually served with wine, and it’s the same here. Our familiar, affordable guavas are perfect for the job.

The previous post is full of information about the goodness of guavas (they are loaded with Vitamin C), but let me be honest – this one is very, very indulgent! It is dedicated, with much love, to the memory of my Bachu Foi.

Guava Jelly

(Yield: approximately 15 pieces)

½ kilo guavas
6 cups water
¼ cup butter
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon rosewater
Sugar to measure

 

As I experimented with guava jelly recipes, I hit on what would make this one unique. One of re:store’s signature ingredients: rosewater. It adds a divine aroma to an already divine dessert. You may also know this dish by another name – sweet guava cheese.

Wash the guavas and place them in boiling water, and allow the water to bubble until the guavas turn soft. Then, remove them carefully and keep the water aside. Allow the guavas to cool slightly, then remove the skin. Next, remove the seeds from the fruit and keep them aside.

Add the seeds to 2 cups of the same water that was used to boil the guavas and allow them to cook for some more time. Cool.

Blend the flesh of the guavas and strain, along with the water containing the seeds. Collect the pulp in a pot and boil. Within a few minutes, add a quantity of sugar equivalent to the pulp. When I was making this recipe, I found that I added 3 cups. You may adjust the sugar quantity depending on the sweetness of the guavas and your own preferences.

Allow the mixture to boil, stirring constantly. This took me approximately 20-25 minutes. You will notice the pulp becoming thicker. Now, add the butter and lemon juice. Cook some more until the pulp starts to leave the edges of the pot. If you scrape to see, you should notice a dry pot.

Drop a glob of the pulp in cold water to check if it forms into a hard lump. Allow to cook some more.

Finally, add the rosewater. Stir well, and pour the thick pulp onto a greased plate. Remember that the quantity of the pulp will reduce as it cools, which you must allow it to do at room temperature for 3 hours.

Then, cut into shapes and remove gently. I use the diamond shape, just like Bachu Foi – that gem of a person – did.

You’ll find the guava jelly to be chewy, sticky and sweet. I’ve used approximate quantities in the recipe above, so do experiment and see what suits you. As I mentioned, I don’t really know how to make Bachu Foi’s exact recipe, and so I also want to share the method as to how I arrived at mine. I did it by reading at least 20 different recipes from various sources, adjusting according to my culinary sense and taste. So here’s a big Thank You to all the other food bloggers out there, especially on Instagram, who generously share their recipes too! Here’s adding mine to the collection, with love for Bachu Foi…

 

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!

When we were young, our mother used to give us a bitter herbal drink, made of a powder called sudarshan churna, which was effective in deworming and improving immunity. Every Sunday, we would have to stand in a row, and would be made to gulp down that horrible liquid. But it worked. Later on, I tried to make my own kids do the same but I could not convince them. Perhaps one day they too will learn the value of these healing home remedies, just as I eventually did. I was thinking about some of them from my childhood as I prepared some herbal medicines for a chest congestion I’m recovering from. There’s the sniffle season drink, of course, which you may remember. But of equal importance is a shot of turmeric that I have daily, which has been coming to my rescue.

There are so many reasons why I so lovingly made this essential ingredient the logo for re:store (the bright stamp you see in the header above is it, and you’ll see it on the packaging when you put in orders as well). Turmeric is a powerhouse, which is why it is a vital ingredient in many traditional healing systems. Siddha, Ayurveda and Unani medicine treat it as crucial. Surprisingly, it is not believed to be native to India. But its usage here is so extensive that it can be said to be ubiquitously Indian. Not only are the edible variants used widely in cooking and healing, but the “kasturi manjal”, as it is known in Tamil, is prized as a beauty enhancer. In South Indian aesthetics, applying it on the face and leaving it on the skin is appreciated. You still see women everywhere with positively yellow, glowing faces. It’s very much a part of our landscape and sense of beauty. Turmeric is also auspicious in Indian culture. You see the stalks being used in the Pongal rituals in Tamil Nadu (which is the time during which it is harvested; Pongal was in mid-January, and turmeric is currently in season. And you also see it being given as a blessing gift by Gujaratis.

Turmeric is best-known for its antioxidant, antibiotic and antiseptic properties. To boost immunity, and assist in recovering from infections, there’s nothing like turmeric. Its usage is so simple – for instance, if we had a cough when we were kids, our mother would just give us a tablespoon or even a finger of turmeric power mixed with honey before bedtime. It would ease the severity of the cough as we slept. Even today, when I cut myself in the kitchen, which I do often, I just take a pinch of turmeric and place it over the cut. It always heals quickly.

This recipe would literally be a single-ingredient one if it wasn’t for one more addition. Ghee, also known as clarified butter. Ghee is fat-soluble, and I use a small drop of it here so that the body can absorb the turmeric better. It’s often used in Ayurvedic medicines for the same reason. It’s optional (vegans may avoid it), but I also feel it slightly improves the taste.

But the turmeric is really the main thing, a star among ingredients for healing remedies. And that’s why I keep talking about it, and why it’s the symbol of re:store. To me, it is the epitome of good health and represents it in every shape and form. Wherever it originally came from, it belongs to India now, and you can grow it in your own backyard. I’m all for ingredients that can be homegrown, so you know just what goes into your body, and even my turmeric powder is homemade. Whether it goes into a drink like this or into a curry, it’s wonderful to know exactly where our food comes from.

Health-Boosting Turmeric Shot

(Yield: 1 cup / 2 shots)

Ingredients

Turmeric (fresh or powdered)

A drop of ghee

 

This might be the simplest recipe I have ever shared on this blog. But believe me, it is also one of the most effective. Once you see how much it helps you fight off small infections, allowing you to not have to resort to antibiotics, I have no doubt you will make it for yourself and your family frequently.

You can make it with either fresh or powdered turmeric, depending on what’s on hand. If using the former: wash, cut and remove the skin from the fresh turmeric root. You will get about a ½ cup’s worth. Now, finely chop it, then grind it in a blender, adding a tablespoon of water to help it blend properly. Once the turmeric root has been well crushed, sieve the juice through a fine muslin cloth or cheese cloth. Pour into a glass and add a drop of ghee or melted butter.

When I do not have fresh turmeric available, I do use powdered turmeric. For this recipe, blend a ½ teaspoon of turmeric powder with 1 cup of water. Once blended, add a drop of ghee.

You require no more than a ½ cup of the drink for each dosage. Have it once a day, in addition to any other remedies you may be taking. You will find that it boosts your immunity, and helps clear any infection more quickly.

And finally, even though it’s a herbal medicine – it’s also such a beautiful drink to look at! That vivid colour is so uplifting. Simply put, it stands for health, home and happiness to me.

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you may not be surprised to hear me say that green moong is my favourite among lentils (you may know it as mung bean, green gram or pachai payiru). As you’d have seen, I’m so in love with its versatility that it’s found a place in recipes as diverse as this crunchy teatime snack and in this deeply filling meal-in-a-bowl. With Republic Day this weekend, honouring the Indian constitution, I thought of how to best honour a different kind of Indian constitution – and once again, the humble yet power-packed mung bean was what came to mind.

Green is one of the three stripes of the tricolour and greenness is something that I think we need and must celebrate in this country. It’s a colour that evokes fecundity, growth and serenity. In my previous post, I talked about the harvest festival Sankranti. As a farm-owner, and someone very invested in using the goods of my garden in my kitchen, “green” is a way of life for me. I hope that this year will be good for farms and farmers everywhere, for political calmness, and for harmony and oneness with nature.

The recipe I am sharing today is for green moong dhokla – a healthy, fermented, steamed dish that can be eaten as a main course, a snack or an accompaniment. Soft and flavourful, a dhokla is so ubiquitously Gujarati that it’s a stereotype. I’ve literally heard people say “Dhokla!” when they hear what my ethnicity is. We have so many varieties, and my personal favourite is actually the buckwheat kind which is eaten on Agyaras, the eleventh day of each month which is traditionally observed by Gujarati Vaishnavites as a relaxed fast during which no grains or salt are consumed, but buckwheat, fruits, yams, potatoes and the like are allowed. I’m not one for fasting, but I always look forward to having some dhokla when I’m around someone who is!

Once again, it was my sister who taught me how to make this – one more classic item from the Gujarati cuisine that she learnt after getting married, just like this til-ka-chikki. She has a knack for making it in practically a snap of the fingers – often, I’d ask for a plate of green moong dhokla, go downstairs for a bit, and come up to see it was already prepared.

This green moong dhokla is eye-catching thanks to its colour, which is always a great way to get kids to eat something that’s good for them. As you may remember from earlier posts, moong is extremely nutritious. It is a great source of fibre, potassium, manganese, folate and various vitamins and minerals. They are also an excellent source of protein, and I would say crucial to a vegetarian or vegan diet. They are known to lower blood pressure and sugar levels, prevent heat stroke, aid digestion, reduce the risk of cardiac disease, and possibly assist in weight loss.

A dhokla could be described as a kind of savoury sponge cake, steamed rather than baked. Every kind of dhokla is delicious, in my opinion. But as a Gujarati, I’m biased. Why don’t you try this version and tell me what you think?

Green Moong Dhokla

(Yield: 15-20 pieces)

1 cup green moong (mung beans)

½ teaspoon ground green chilli paste

1 teaspoon ginger paste

2+2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 cup coriander leaves

½ cup capsicum

½ teaspoon sugar

½ teaspoon eno powder

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

½ teaspoon cumin seeds

A few curry leaves

Salt to taste

Grated coconut (optional)

 

Soak the green moong overnight. In the morning, rinse the moong, remove the water and put the beans in a blender along with salt, coriander leaves, ginger paste and green chilli paste. You may need to add approximately a ½ cup of water to allow it to grind well. The The consistency of the batter needs to be a little thicker than that of pancake, or in other words, like idly batter.

Now, add 2 tablespoons of oil, and the lemon juice and finely cut capsicum to the batter.

Grease a plate and keep ready. Now, add eno fruit salt to the batter and mix gently. Pour the batter onto the greased plate, cover it and steam for 15 minutes. Below, you can see a traditional Gujarati dhokla cooker which my mom gave to me. I believed it was a part of her own wedding gifts. I’d forgotten that I’d had it and could use it. It’s still in perfect condition, and so compact and ideal. You can also see how it allows for cooking in layers.

Once steamed, remove the plate and allow the dhokla to cool. Cut into a desired shape. Square or rectangular pieces are the standard. I’ve done diamonds here.

In a small pan, add the remaining oil and the cumin and mustard seeds and wait for them to splutter. Once they start to splutter, add the curry leaves. Then, pour these over the cut dhokla. Garnish with coriander leaves and some grated coconut.

The green moong dhokla is now ready to serve. Spongy, spicy, and so very nice on the eyes with that gorgeous matcha cake colour. Like I said: have a piece as a snack, a couple as a side dish, or polish off the plate and call it a full meal. But honestly, I’d be surprised if you can stop at just one. These light, fluffy but very flavourful dhoklas demand to be devoured!

 

Sankranti, the harvest festival, is here and as we celebrate by giving thanks for the crops we eat daily, it’s til-ka-chikki that strikes me as a perfect dish for the occasion. The chief ingredient of this crunchy sweet is sesame, which is believed to have been cultivated in India for over 5500 years. As a form of produce that can grow with relatively little supervision, and in less than ideal conditions, there is no doubt to me that many of our ancestors would have considered it a perfect if not vital part of their Sankranti. Sankranti is known by various names throughout the country – it is also observed as Pongal, Bihu, Maghi and by other names depending on region. No matter where, it falls in mid-January and is a time when the sun is worshipped for its life-giving properties.

“Til” is the Gujarati word for sesame, as well as in other languages including Hindi and Punjabi. The English word “sesame” is from the Arabic “semsem”, indicating oil or liquid fat. This is because it is an oilseed produce. It’s an excellent digestive aid as it’s full of fiber, and also has high copper, manganese and calcium content, in addition to other vitamins and minerals.

Chikkis are a whole category of snacks, usually sweet thanks to the sticky jaggery that holds them together. We also make them with groundnuts, puffed rice (mora mora) and other variations, depending on the season. You can make them either in bars or in balls, and they also make a great ice cream topping when crushed. Til-ka-chikki is basically a sesame brittle, and today I’ll share the method to make them into bars.

I used to have a huge mental block about til-ka-chikki as I simply hadn’t known how to make it. My sister got married when she was just out of college, and she hadn’t learned how to cook yet. She went to her mother-in-law’s house, where she learned how to make the most beautiful traditional Gujarati dishes. I was still in high school at the time, and am still envious to this day about the culinary skills she picked up back then. Meanwhile, in my mother’s house, I was still studying but also began to slowly pick up recipes and techniques in the kitchen. I was probably inspired by my sister’s newfound talents, and our mother started me off on the basics, like rotli. Over time, I began to regard not only my mother and my own mother-in-law as my culinary teachers, but my older sister as well. My sister’s repertoire is vast. Even to this day, each time I visit her, I insist that she teaches me an entirely new dish  every time.

I overcame my mental block when I finally learned how to make this til-ka-chikki a couple of years ago, with her guidance. And I’ll admit that I am still learning. I don’t quite have the confidence to make it on my own yet, but every experiment has ended in happy mouths and sticky fingers. It would be great if you could learn it together alongside me. We could master it together, just as my sister has.

As with most traditional Gujarati sweets and snacks, this too requires only three ingredients. In this case, they are jaggery, sesame and ghee. If you’d like a vegan version, replace the ghee with a flavourless oil of your choice. Til-ka-chikki is also offered as a prasad, so while it is a simple dish it can also be a part of prayers for festive and special occasions. For Sankranti, of course, it’s a beautiful way to honour the sun that gave us this ancient and nutritious crop.

 

Til-Ka-Chikki (Sesame Brittle)

(Yield: 10-15 pieces)

 

Ingredients

½ cup sesame seeds

½ cup jaggery

1 tablespoon ghee

Grease an overturned steel plate and a rolling pin and keep these ready. Next, in a wok or kadai, roast the sesame seeds on a low flame. Occasionally increase to a medium flame for short spans. The sesame will take about 7 minutes to roast. Keep stirring until the colour changes.

Once roasted, transfer to a plate and allow to cool. Once cooled, taste a few seeds to check if they have a crunch to it. This means they are ready.

In the same wok or kadai, add the ghee. Then, add the jaggery and stir constantly on a low flame. As with the roasting of the sesame seeds, you may occasionally increase the flame to a medium for short spans, then immediately reduce it to a low again. Take care that the jaggery does not burn. Do see this video for reference: re:store sesame brittle video – 1

Mine took approximately 9 minutes to turn into a reddish colour. Once this happens, turn off the flame. Add the sesame seeds and stir well.

Drop the mixture onto the greased, overturned plate and immediately start to spread it out as thin as possible. You may need to use your fingers (dipped in water), while the rolling pin is coated with ghee. With this combination, try and spread it out in such a way that you mark lines for the pieces later.

Allow the spread mixture, striped with lines to form bars, to cool. Once it has completely cooled, place the plate on the stove and warm from below. The entire piece will come out as a whole. Break it along the marked lines. Store in an airtight container.

 

Here’s another process video: re:store sesame brittle video – 2

I want to say that this til-ka-chikki is easy to make, but I’ve already told you honestly that it’s not. But I love a challenge in the kitchen, and try again and again to better then perfect my dishes. Even with my photoshoots, it’s the same. When the end result comes out well, it’s all the more delicious when I know the effort that’s gone into it! Tell me how it goes when you try your hand at this dish. Wishing you and your loved ones a happy Sankranti!

 

When I was growing up, it was believed in every Indian home that milk provided everything that a child’s developing body needed. Proteins, minerals, the works. This was true to an extent, of course, as milk contains an impressive range of nutrients that the human body needs. There were no fancy gyms back then, but I have fond memories of my siblings and friends and I going to the club and rowing. You needed to have strength to row, and being a vegetarian family, my mum made dairy a big priority so that our fitness and wellness needs were met. We consumed milk fresh and on its own, but also with Bournvita or Complan at different times to keep us going through the day or before going to bed. Coffee and tea were seldom given to children, and in Gujarati households were practically taboo to the point that I did not drink tea until after I was married. But milk was had aplenty. And when winters came around, my mother would prepare a special masala milk loaded with nutty goodness. With almonds, pistachios and good old milk, we had what would be called the perfect protein shake today.

Although I’m now a proponent of this protein-rich pudding that I devour each morning after my workout, I felt sentimental about this simple, nutty masala milk from my childhood days. I then remembered that my mother used to be particularly keen on us having this instead of regular milk during winters, so that we were more fortified. Although Chennai doesn’t experience winter like you may know it, it does rain a lot and kids certainly fall ill during this time. But for us, the Indian “ishtyle” masala milk was just a treat. In some ways, this beverage was our version of a hot chocolate, which is why I share the recipe with you as a Christmas drink.

Second to milk, most Indians still believe that dried fruits and nuts are the best source of protein. Obviously, our ancestors already knew the nutrient values that others are only discovering now. Nowadays, thanks to a growing health consciousness, instead of the customary mithai exchange during festive occasions, we have taken to exchanging pretty parcels of fruits and nuts with well-wishers. As you may know, I use both generously in my muesli, one of re:store’s bestsellers. My mother used nuts to make this masala, but I’ve taken it a step further…

I also feel that the milk we had when we were younger was much less adulterated. Cows were treated better, and most of all, we had the sense that we could trust what we were buying. But milk has nothing to do with the recipe I am sharing with you today, despite its status as a crucial part of my childhood version of this beverage. As you know, I often experiment with vegan ingredients as many of re:store’s clientele enjoy them. So here’s my own twist to my mother’s trusted recipe. Not only is this masala milk vegan, but I also share how to make vegan milk rather than rely on a store-bought product. This way, you can ensure that what you and your family consume is of the best quality.

Vegan Masala Milk

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

Ingredients

Nutty Milk Masala

1 cup whole almonds

1 cup shelled unsalted pistachios

2 pinches saffron

10 pods cardamom

Vegan Milk

¾ cup cashew nuts

1 cup hot water

1 teaspoon milk masala (or more)

2 teaspoons honey (or sweetener of your choice – dates, maple syrup or sugar)

Begin by preparing the nut-based masala, and set it aside. All these ingredients should remain dry until they are added to the milk. You can prepare a larger quantity so you can store and use it later. My mother would make a batch at a time and just blend it into (regular) milk when it was serving time.

Peel the cardamom and add to the remaining ingredients: saffron, pistachios and almonds. Blend. You can make this powder as coarse or as fine as you prefer. If you would like a crunchy taste to your masala milk – which also tastes amazing – you can hand-pound the ingredients instead of using a blender. Store in a clean glass jar and use as required.

Then, make the vegan milk itself. As those of you familiar with vegan diets know, soy, seeds, or almonds or other nuts are the usual source. In this case, I have used cashew nuts. Soak the cashew nuts in water for about 3 hours. Then, remove the water that was used for soaking. Add the hot water, and blend the nuts until they are thick and creamy. If you prefer the consistency to be thinner, add more hot water. Voila – vegan milk! If you’ve ever wondered what it is, you now know how easy it is to make.

Once the vegan milk has been well blended, add the masala prepared earlier and stir. Serve in small cups. I find this vegan milk masala to be very filling and heavy, so I prefer small portions. Sweeten as per your liking.

What I love about this recipe is that it has a bit of novelty to it, as well as a bit of nostalgia. Just perfect for Christmas time, especially if you’re watching your diet this year – don’t you think?

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.

As I may have said a few times before: I’m very, very fond of yoghurt! Ever since childhood, it’s been an absolute requirement for me that every meal must contain yoghurt in some form. As I most often consume traditional Indian (particularly my native Gujarati) cuisines, this doesn’t require me to stretch my imagination or change my palate in any way. You may also recall that my yoghurt is homemade. It is made from a small amount of curd culture saved from the previous pot-full, allowed to set overnight, and consumed delicious and fresh every day.

I find that yoghurt enhances and adds flavour, and depending on how it is made can also add textures and tastes that go beyond what you imagine curd can do. Because it is such a staple in Indian homes, you will find that there are unique systems of making it that depend entirely on the people there. Even a religious view plays a role. For example, my mom’s home is Vaishnav and my in-laws are Jain. So the latter use onions and garlic very sparingly, whereas these were not restricted while I was growing up. The recipes I learnt in both homes were different. So although yoghurt is a vital part of the diet in both my homes, this particular dish is something I learnt after getting married.

From various previous posts, you would know about the Gujarati thaali, the set meal that contains a little bit of every flavour and texture. So you’d be familiar with raita, the thin yoghurt condiment that adds a bit of coolness of the meal, and helps with digestion. Raita is eaten throughout the subcontinent, in dozens of variants. For instance, an onion or kara boondi raita goes perfectly paired with a biryani, adding crunch as well. I have fond memories of long, lazy Sunday lunches during which I’d reach for more helpings of my mother-in-law’s banana-mustard-cucumber raita. I’m delighted to share the recipe for this simple but complexly flavoured dip today.

Banana, as you may remember from this banana-methi fritters recipe is a powerhouse of a fruit, packed with nutrients. It’s also a natural sweetener, and you know how Gujaratis love our sweets. In every kind of dish, you’ll find either jaggery or banana, or both! The sweetness of the banana in this raita naturally offsets the bitterness of the cucumber, which is another powerhouse. Cucumbers have a high water content, aiding rehydration, and are rich in potassium, magnesium and fibre. Adding a touch is spice is the mustard, which is a great source of selenium, zinc and calcium and known for its anti-inflammatory properties. Let me let you in on a secret – I never use the grinder to grind mustard as I don’t like the taste. Instead, I use the rolling pin that we use for rotlis. It’s lovely how such simple and clever innovations happen in the kitchen. I love picking up such techniques.

The flavours and textures of the three, as different as they are, blend very well in the yoghurt base: the banana soft and sweet, the mustard sharp, and the cucumber crunchy.

 

Banana-Mustard-Cucumber Raita

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

 

Ingredients

Raita:

2 cups plain yoghurt

1 cup finely cut banana

½ cup cut cucumber

1 tablespoon finely cut coriander leaves

1 ½ teaspoons mustard seeds

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

Salt to taste

 

Seasoning:

½ teaspoon sunflower oil

¼ teaspoon whole mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

 

Take the mustard seeds and crush them using any simple method that you use at home. As I said above, I use a rolling pin and board, the same as I use to make rotlis. This crushes the seeds just the way I like it – not too fine, but uneven and broken. You can use the hand pounder too, if you prefer. Crush and set aside.

Place the yoghurt in a bowl and beat well until there are no lumps and the yoghurt is smooth. Now add the salt, cumin powder and crushed mustard powder. The fresh flavour is the key element to this raita.

Now, add the banana, cucumber and coriander leaves. Mix well.

Then, prepare the seasoning. Pour the oil into a small pan. Once hot, add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Wait till the seeds splutter, then pour over the raita. Decorate by sprinkling some chili powder for colour, along with some roasted cumin powder and some finely cut coriander leaves.

As I said earlier, there are numerous other kinds of raita, enjoyed all over India. And while I’m nostalgic for my mother-in-law’s Sunday lunch raita, this banana-mustard-cucumber combination I’ve shared above, the current favourite in my home is in fact the sweet and crunchy pomegranate raita. Do you have a variant that you make often? I’d love to know what you think of mine in the comments.

With the festival of Navaratri coming up, when chickpeas are served to guests in many homes in a simple dish called sundal, I had the humble legume on my mind once again. Only this time, I felt inspired to pair it with another ingredient that’s an essential in every South Indian home: the curry leaf. With the occasional rains we are enjoying in Chennai at the moment, my curry leaf bush has been in full bloom. And when I have so much in my garden or farm, you know that it usually tends to go straight into my kitchen. I took these two local ingredients and put them together in a fusion dish: curry leaf and green chilli hummus.

Hummus is a Middle Eastern dish that is a part of daily cuisines in that part of the world, and is usually eaten with breads. It’s also popular everywhere as a party snack, a perfect dip for everything from sliced vegetables to skewered meat. I’ve tasted a lot of beetroot hummus, so I knew that the basic puree lends itself well to flavourings. That’s when my curry leaves caught my eye.

Also known as “sweet neem”, curry leaf is an ingredient that we almost take for granted in our Indian kitchens. Tempered or fresh sprigs are thrown into curries, the powder is eaten with rice, and so on. It adds flavour to so many dishes that it’s just a ubiquitous part of our cooking. With a range of health benefits, including antioxidant and anti-diabetic properties, it’s no wonder that our ancestors incorporated it into as many meals as they could.  Now that I grow curry leaves in my own home, I have been learning a little about the plant too. Did you know that the tiny berries, which are not used in cooking, are actually high in Vitamin C – but that their seeds are poisonous?

Long ago, my hummus attempts would be so mediocre that a good friend would send me tubs as I so enjoyed the dish. Over time, I learned how to make it and stopped depending on those shipments, just as I stopped depending on store-bought cakes and even began to experiement with homegrown ingredients. Trial and error is the key to learning, and by studying different recipes and adding my own touches, I finally arrived on a version I loved.

The main ingredient in hummus is the humble chickpea, which is a staple not only in the Middle East but all over India in its many forms. It’s eaten boiled for a healthy snack, powdered and roasted and used as a binder, and known by so many names – puttukadalai, chana dal, kabuli (did this come to us by way of Kabul, I wonder?), chole and so on. Abroad, you may know this legume as garbanzo beans. The darker variants have a higher iron content, while the chana dal I use for thus hummus is rich in protein and fibre, thus filling you quickly and also aiding weight loss. It is known to lower cholesterol and diabetic risk, and also has high zinc and folate content.

The traditional hummus has a bland, though satisfying, taste. I thought of how I could kick it up a notch. That’s when I decided to add the equally ubiquitous green chilli, which is rich in Vitamin C, great for digestion – and very piquant!

Tahini, which is made of ground white sesame, and olive oil round out the Middle Eastern flavours. Fortunately, these are widely available at good supermarkets in India and other countries. I used some wonderful olive oil I picked up in Portugal recently, which will be featuring in my blog soon.

The day after I made this curry leaf and green chilli hummus at home, I went to Goa and to my delight, my good friend the designer Wendell Rodricks served the very same dish in his home! I squealed! The coincidence was just too thrilling, and I wanted to share my recipe immediately, so you too can serve it soon.

Curry Leaf & Green Chilli Hummus

(Yield: 1 bowl)

 

Ingredients

1¼ cups cooked/boiled chickpeas

3-4 garlic cloves

1 tablespoon tahini

2 tablespoons lemon juice

½ teaspoon salt

¼ cup olive oil

1 cup washed curry leaves

1 green chilli

Water

 

In a blender, add the curry leaves and green chilli with 2 tablespoons of water. Blend until you get a smooth paste. Keep aside.

Next, blend the soft cooked chickpeas along with garlic, tahini, salt, half the olive oil and lemon juice.  Blend well until the paste is smooth and looks creamy.

Now, add the blended curry leaf paste to the creamy chickpeas and whir once again until it all mixes well. Adjust the salt and lemon quantities to suit your taste.

If you feel it needs to be creamier, add more water or olive oil to the blend, until it achieves a dip-like consistency.

The curry leaf hummus is now ready to serve. You can have it the traditional way, with flatbreads, whether that’s the Middle Eastern pita or the North Indian naan. Or some healthy quinoa chips, for a wholesome snack. Crunchy vegetables like carrot or celery sticks, toasties, or rice crisps (to keep that South Indian sensibility) are also excellent accompaniments. With a mildly yet surprisingly flavourful curry leaf hummus like this – it’s the dip that’s the main dish, not the accompaniment!

And if you just can’t get enough of that flavour, why not try my curry leaf and raw mango cooler as well?

I enjoy the creative challenges of coming up with innovative dishes, and salads are a category I worked on happily during the earlier stages of re:store’s journey. Before turning my focus more intently towards baking and photography, I used to take orders for salads. The orders generally came from people who were fitness-focused or preferred to eat smaller meals at work. But that was no reason to eat the same thing every day. So I planned menus of 10-15 salads, rotating them every 3 months.

The salads were inspired by so many cuisines, and people I met, and using a schedule was also something new for me. Before going into business, I’d usually just throw whatever was on hand into a salad. Another thing I learnt was that keeping veggies fresh in India was not easy when they weren’t consumed immediately. Especially when the salad travelled from the re:store kitchen to another’s home, and then commuted with them to their office. So if I put in a fancy leafy vegetable, by the time the customer opened the container at their desk at lunchtime, it would have started to look and taste different. Through trial and error, I figured out ways to use only local and seasonal produce in my salad experiments.

Another thing I don’t believe in is using store-bought dressings, so I made them all from scratch, matching each one to the ingredients used. Naturally, I am also very particular about the hygienic handling of raw vegetables, so I always prepared salads only on the day of delivery.

We often think of salads as a part of Western cuisine, but they are often found in Indian cuisines as well. Whether it’s a home-cooked Gujarati meal or a South Indian one, some kind of raw, cut veggies will be served. While a vegetable smoothie may be a great way to substitute an unhealthy beverage, there are benefits to salads that go beyond taste. God made vegetables crunchy because they are meant to be eaten that way – it all begins by using the teeth and jaw muscles!

The Gujarati word for salad is “kachumber”, and while my recipe contains very diverse ingredients, at its core you could consider it an update on the traditional one. You know how much I love millets, and this salad uses foxtail millet as a base, for substance as much as for its many superfood properties. All the ingredients are available locally and inexpensively. I sometimes use sunflower seeds instead of pumpkin, but the latter are more authentically Macrobiotic here. Even the green peas come from Ooty, not so far away from me at all.

I’d love to share with you some nostalgia about salads and childhood, but let me be honest. Like many people, I often refused to eat vegetables growing up – but now look me, advocating for them!

 

Indian Veg Millet Salad

(Yield: 1 bowl)

Ingredients

Salad

120 grams cooked foxtail millet

½ cup steamed green peas

1 tablespoon pumpkin seeds

1 tablespoon finely chopped shallots

¼ cup cucumber

¼ cup finely cut raw mango

A handful of pomegranate arils

A few sprigs of fresh methi (fenugreek) leaves

 

Dressing

2 tablespoons sweet lime juice

1½ tablespoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon olive oil

A pinch of pepper

Salt to taste

Place all the fresh ingredients in a beautiful bowl. I have mentioned the quantity of the vegetables – however, you can eyeball the amount and decide for yourself how much you want to use. And of course, innovate. Add or delete ingredients depending on your fridge stock. You could even use any other millet if that suits you.

In a small jar, add all the ingredients for the dressing. Shake vigorously. Pour on the salad before serving and mix together till the dressing coats all the vegetables.

That’s all there is to it. A citrusy, profoundly simple dressing lifts the flavours of an unusual but deeply Indian salad. You have the sweetness of pomegranate, the tartiness of raw mango, the crunchiness of seeds and more. A medley of textures. Just mix it all up! I hope you’ll enjoy this easy recipe from the “salad days” of re:store, excuse the pun!