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In my previous post on bottle gourd thepla, a Gujarati flatbread variation, I mentioned that aloo methi sabzi is a perfect accompaniment. Aloo methi sabzi – or potato roast with fenugreek leaves – is very quick to make and tastes simply delicious. Besides – who doesn’t love potatoes?

I always seem to have some boiled potatoes ready in the kitchen, because I use them extensively. In Indian cuisine, this may be in the form of chaats, aloo tikkis, stuffed aloo parathas or more. They are just as useful for dishes from other cuisines, as potatoes really are enjoyed all around the world. Drop me a message or a comment if you’d like the recipes for any of the dishes I’ve named, or if there’s something more creative you’d like to explore together.

They really are such a versatile vegetable, and I like keeping them handy. When they are just lying around and I suspect they may go bad soon, I usually just boil them up and whip up some aloo methi sabzi. It’s the kind of dish that doesn’t ever go to waste in my house.

As it takes little time to prepare, as long as the potatoes have already been boiled, this is also my go-to recipe on days when my husband wakes up and says “Okay, I have to carry lunch to work today – it looks like I can’t come home in between”. With such short notice, sautéing this dish and putting some theplas in his tiffin box are the best way to make sure he gets a fulfilling lunch, made fast and fuss-free.

It’s so true that whatever one is most used to in the kitchen comes together effortlessly, and this recipe is in that category for me. The thepla part comes so easy too – I could make them blindfolded! But as a cook and as a person, I enjoy the challenge of learning new things. Right now, I am hungry for more skills that take me out of my comfort zone, or help me improve. I’m back to my sloka chanting classes after a break, and I am also restarting learning to speak Spanish. I mentioned recently how much I want to study Italian cuisine, and the thought of learning about authentic pasta and gelato has fired my imagination. I’d love to do an exchange programme with an Italian chef – perhaps they could teach me their recipes, and I could teach them some from my part of the world.

All that said, amidst such exciting pursuits, comfort food that doesn’t require thought and energy is much cherished. This aloo methi sabzi isn’t just an easy, tasty dish for me, but it also carries with it many childhood memories. Quite unusually for our generation, my brother was very interested in cooking. As the oldest child, he was put in charge of meals while our mother was travelling. I can still recall sitting on the kitchen floor with my sister, both of us literally and figuratively looking up at him as he worked, the smell of aloo methi sabzi wafting around us. This simple dish, paired with a standard thepla, was obviously his go-to as well. So my favourite memories of aloo methi sabzi are also memories of him.

When I think about it, I recognise just how much of a hub of activity the kitchen was when we were growing up. The boys and men did not keep out, as was the norm at the time. While my father didn’t cook, he chose to be in charge of groceries, not because he could go out more freely as a man, but because he was very interested in and wanted to contribute to the workings of a kitchen. It was quite wonderful, and very rare, for that time: a brother who cooked and a father who knew all about groceries.

 

Aloo Methi Sabzi

(Yield: Serves 2)

 

3 medium sized potatoes

1 cup finely chopped methi (fenugreek) leaves

Salt to taste

2 tablespoons oil

¼ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 green chilli (split length-wise)

1½ teaspoons cumin-coriander powder

 

Heat the oil in a kadai. Once it is hot, add the cumin seeds. When they splutter, add the split green chilli. Then, add the chopped potatoes. I sometimes add spinach as well, to make it even healthier.

Following this, add the methi leaves and all the masala. Stir all the ingredients together well and allow to cook.

As I said – the method for aloo methi sabzi is quite simple. Once the dish has cooked, serve hot alongside theplas, other flatbreads or rice. Or put it in a lunch box, and enjoy a home-cooked meal a few hours later.

Here are a couple more of my favourite potato preparations: a Gujarati potato brinjal curry that is close to my heart and also evokes my childhood, and spicy patatas bravas from Spain that always inspire me to keep exploring the world. As I said before, everyone seems to love potatoes, so I’m curious to know: what are some of your own favourites?

I seem to be on a toast spree at home, as my family has been very thrilled by my sourdough stylings lately. This has been a hassle-free and highly creative time of experimenting, as I have been exploring the use of different toppings to break the monotony of having toast at breakfast. In addition to my family, in the recent past we have been entertaining quite a bit with house guests. While most out-of-towners prefer the idli and dosa standards of local cuisine here, the toasts I whip up add some variety to their choices. This cherry tomato yoghurt toast in particular was perfect for a day when a friend from the Mediterranean was feeling a little nostalgic for some comfort food.

That’s right: Greek yogurt is one of the key components to this dish. I came across the use of yoghurt on toast during various travels in Europe, and the dahi-lover in me was naturally charmed. I believe it is used as it is lighter than ricotta and mozzarella, yet provides the nutrients of dairy while being easier to digest. However, it can certainly be substituted with feta cheese or any other fresh cheese that is available in your part of the world. If you don’t have Greek yoghurt, hung curd is a great option.

The beautiful organic cherry tomatoes I had at home, which I’d been using on pizzas, were perfect to layer on the toast. The overall effect was quite visually pleasing too.

While I had been toying with the idea of a European-style open-faced toast with yoghurt for a while, I only prepared it for the first time quite recently. This was when the Italian friend I mentioned earlier visited us. He would speak often about his Nona (grandmother) and her amazing cuisine and how much he was missing her during his travels. One day, he remarked that he was craving for a dish that was not Indian and that could sort of transport him back to her kitchen. I can safely say from his appreciative reaction that this toast did exactly that. While the varieties of tomatoes available here differ, he told me that this simple breakfast was the closest he had felt to the tastes of home.

I must say, I too have had a craving for a while: to study authentic Italian cooking. My friend has been asking me to come visit and learn his cuisine from his beloved Nona. If I take him up on his offer, I will be sure to come back with a crateful or two of fresh Italian tomatoes!

Cherry Tomato Yoghurt Toast

(Yield: 1 slice)

I large sourdough slice

½ cup Greek yoghurt or hung curd

1 cup cherry tomatoes

Salt to taste

A pinch of pepper

2 teaspoons olive oil

 

Toast the sourdough slice.

Spread the Greek yoghurt over the toasted slice.

Bake or sauté the cherry tomatoes in a pan, and arrange them over the yoghurt. Sprinkle salt and pepper. Add any herbs you like, such as fresh basil or oregano, drizzle with the olive oil, and serve.

Simplicity is crucial in putting a good breakfast toast together, to save time in the mornings. As you can see, this is a recipe that perfectly fits that criteria. It is easy to prepare, and is very healthy. Honestly, even one slice is quite filling. Did I mention that it’s also delicious? Try it out for yourself and tell me what you think!

As you probably know by now, I have mango trees in my garden. At home, we really do take these for granted. Sometimes, there are so many fruits ripening out there that we don’t even try to stop the monkeys in the neighbourhood from coming to make a meal of them. One of the varieties that we grow, known as the parrot beak or killimooku, is best enjoyed when it is still raw. It is not unbearably tangy, which makes it just perfect for condiments like this raw mango chutney. You may also remember it from this vegan raw mango dal and other raw mango recipes I’ve shared before.

Initially, the challenge for me was always about making it a green chutney, as I like the colour. Invariably, my many trials would result in a chutney that was blackish or another shade. While the taste remains the same, the visual effect differs. Both as a photographer and as a cook, I believe the eyes eat first. I wanted that beautiful, pure green of the fruit to be captured in the dish as well. So I persevered until I hit upon the perfect method to create a green raw mango chutney.

I have made and shared another green chutney before, a coriander one. I have also made and shared a raw mango thovayal, which is a coarse chutney from Tamil cuisine. But I have never shared a raw mango chutney itself so far, and this may be because it has taken me this long to figure out how to ensure it comes out green and stays that way!

I hope this will be the case when you try it out too, as that lovely green is such a delight to look at. I am not sure what the trick is exactly – whether it is the tiny pinch of turmeric, or the ice cool water. I am sure there’s a scientific reason, something about chemistry or temperature, that I just haven’t gotten to the bottom of. I do want to assure you again that if your chutney turns out anything other than green, it should still be fine to consume!

I somehow prefer this recipe to the coriander chutney, taste-wise. I enjoy it with dhoklas and other Gujarati savouries. It is absolutely delicious as a dollop of hot rice, in lieu of a pickle, along with some ghee. I also wonder whether it would work as a pesto replacement in a toastie. Since it’s the season, I may give this experiment a shot one of these days.

My inspiration for this really comes from the region I live in and grew up in. Tamil cuisine is full of chutneys and thovayals, and I’ve not really encountered raw mango used this way in Gujarati cuisines. It is not only the flesh that is used. I have recently seen a chutney made only with the seed, from the beginning of the season when it is tender. Mango peel, as well as ridge gourd peel, are also turned into similar condiments. I may also experiment with this, perhaps by cooking the skin a bit.

Once again, despite so often taking it for granted, I am reminded of just how versatile the mango plant is. Not only are all parts of its fruit edible, but its leaves too are used in prayers, as they are considered auspicious. Those lush green trees, beautifully blossoming away in summers, bring much needed cool relief. Whatever we do, we go full circle and come back to the beauty of nature – don’t we?

Raw Mango Chutney

(Yield: 1½ cups)

2 tablespoons coconut

2 tablespoons roasted chickpeas

Salt to taste

1 cup coriander leaves (no stalks)

¼ cup mint leaves

2 pods garlic

1 cup raw mango

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

½ teaspoon sugar

2 green chillies

¼ cup cold water

A pinch of turmeric

 

Seasoning:

1 tablespoon sesame oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

A few curry leaves

 

Wash and peel the mangoes and cut them into pieces.

In a blender, add all the ingredients and blend until you have a smooth paste.

Prepare the seasoning. Heat the oil and add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Once the mustard seeds start to splutter, add the curry leaves. Immediately, pour the seasoning over the prepared chutney.

Your raw mango chutney is now ready to be enjoyed. If you are a fan of Indian dips like this one, I hope you’ll also explore my recipes for ginger chutney, plum chutney, wood-apple chutney and date chutney.

 

Summers in India are usually a time when many people prefer to eat lighter meals, but a heatwave like we are experiencing now makes this all the more important. You may find yourself automatically desiring light meals when the climate is hot, and there’s a science to this. Heavy food affects the metabolism, taking longer to digest, and this process increases the heat in the body. The lighter the meal, the lower the amount of internal heat generated during the digestion process. For some, a light meal may be some cooling yogurt and rice, or may even constitute simply of a tall and refreshing glass of buttermilk. As a lover of salads, I find that they are ideal for this season, and can pack many nutrients into a simple (and yes, light) dish. This sprouted salad, using homegrown sprouts and an assortment of fresh veggies, is one I’ve been making very often, and I’m glad to share it with you too.

At the start of this year, I shared the method for growing sprouts at home. You can use any legume of your choice, including fenugreek, beans and more. I love my green mung sprouts, as you may recall from that post, along with brown chana sprouts. Brown chana, also known as black chickpea, is believed to be high in iron due to its colour. As a darker legume, it’s usually eaten in the winters (as it’s heavier on the digestion than the lighter looking ones). Nature has a wonderful logic to it, which we can attune our appetites to, so as to make the most of seasonal produce. For me, I have found that the health quotient of brown chana makes it appropriate even for summer consumption, and it has made its way into this dish. It is rich not only in iron but also in protein, vitamins, calcium, phytochemicals and magnesium, and has benefits for the heart and brain functions and regularising cholesterol and blood sugar.

I’ve had my share of carb binges, partying, exotic meals in exotic destinations and culinary indulgences of all sorts. As I’ve said before, moderation is key. For me, eating right is a conscious choice, especially as I get older, and I’ve found that one of the key elements to this is ensuring that I get adequate protein in every meal. From experience, I can tell you that there is no scarcity of choice for vegetarians. This sprouted salad is an excellent example. Adding sautéed pieces of tofu or paneer will also increase the protein component of the dish.

Now, there may be something familiar about this recipe to long-term friends of re:store. That’s because re:store was one of the first entrepreneurships in Chennai to open up salad subscriptions. Back when I started the company in 2015, salads were a major component of the menu, though I’ve since honed my focus on baked goods. This one was among the bestselling items, and if you’ve eaten it before and had a craving for it anytime since, here you go – this is the recipe I used then and still do, shared with love.

That also reminds me: that was around the time when complimentary food stopped being served on many flights, so I began to pack a small container of this sprouted salad as my mid-air snack on many occasions. I still do this, in fact. This healthy salad is my preferred travel companion for short flights. It ensures that I’m feeling nourished and energised by a protein boost when I land and head into my appointments at my destination. It has the same effect on tired minds and bodies in need of rejuvenation in the summer heat.

Sprouted Salad

(Serves 2)

 

Fresh Ingredients

2-3 tablespoons spring onions

¼ cup capsicum

¼ cup raw mango (grated)

a handful of cherry tomatoes

½ cup steamed sprouts

1 tablespoon jalapenos (finely chopped)

a handful of coriander leaves (finely chopped)

¼ cup cucumber

 

Dressing ingredients

Salt to taste

1 pinch pepper

1 teaspoon honey or maple syrup

Juice of ½ a lemon

1 teaspoon pomegranate balsamic (optional)

 

Pumpkin seeds

Chopped almonds

 

In a bowl, add all the fresh ingredients. Keep refrigerated until ready to serve.

Just before serving, add all the ingredients for the dressing and mix well.

When ready to serve, assemble all the ingredients, including the seeds and nuts, the dressing and the fresh ingredients. Mix well and gently. That’s all there is to it. Enjoy this delicious, nutritious salad and let it bring its refreshing qualities to your heat-busting methods.

You may have noticed the use of raw mango in this dish. I know some of you may be wondering whether my long-standing tradition of sharing ripe mango recipes and desserts, since the fruit is in season, will continue this year. However, given the heatwave, I thought I’d do something different and focus on replenishing and energy-boosting recipes. Don’t forget to drink lots of water, and you can always keep hydration interesting with a hearty lassi. On the subject of mangoes and indulgences, the recipe archive is right here for you to explore!

Paneer makhani is a staple in North Indian cuisine, and is loved by people across the country, but not many know that it is a far cry from the original preparation that it is based on. From my understanding, the authentic Mughlai dish did not use tomatoes, which were not available or at least not widely cultivated in India till the last couple of centuries. Tomatoes are a major part of the recipe as it is widely made today. Another element is that the cooks who invented the dish did not use fat such as oil, butter or ghee. Instead, they splashed yoghurt, which would release natural fat. This is what the meats and the gravies of the Mughlai kitchen would be cooked in. Having a sense of the evolution of paneer makhani – a curry using paneer, or Indian cottage cheese – has made me quite happy to share the version that is made in my own kitchen.

While my version caters to my family’s likes and dislikes, it is really focused on one member in particular. Everyone who knows us knows how much my son Prasan loves his paneer makhani. If I talk about this love in detail, he will be furious with me for putting it out in public, so I’ll try not to divulge too much. Suffice to say: he has adored it since childhood. When he visits our relatives, like my aunt or my sister, they usually ring me up and ask me exactly how to make it in the way he prefers. They know that he will only be satisfied with their meal if there’s a serving of his favourite dish. If they’re unable to prepare it that day, they organise for it to be at the table anyway. So this recipe is for them also – next time, they can just find it right here on this blog, as can you.

When we get together as an extended family, a good paneer makhani is a mainstay at most meals. I’ve noticed this to be true at all sorts of gatherings and feasts across communities in India as well. It is also a dish that pleases people of all ages. Children seem to appreciate it as much as the elderly. Whether it was one of my kids when they were little or my mother-in-law as a senior citizen today, I’m never surprised to see anyone at all reach out for another helping.

Paneer Makhani

(Yield: Approximately 2 servings)

 

50 grams onion

180 grams tomato (roughly chopped)

2 cardamom pods

½ teaspoon cumin

2 cloves

1 piece cinnamon stick

1 bay leaf

1 teaspoon garlic-ginger paste

4-5 pieces broken cashewnut

1 tablespoon oil (to sauté)

 

1 teaspoon Kashmiri chilli powder

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon turmeric

¼ teaspoon dhaniya-jeera (coriander-cumin) powder

 

1 tablespoon ghee

½ teaspoon sugar

¼ teaspoon garam masala

100 grams paneer

½ teaspoon kasoori methi (dried fenugreek leaves)

Add the oil to a kadai. Allow to heat, then add the cumin seeds. Immediately after, add the onions, cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, cashew nuts, garlic-ginger paste and the bay leaf. Sauté for about 1 minute. Then, add the roughly chopped tomatoes.

Now, add the salt, turmeric, chilli powder and dhaniya-jeera powder. Stir, cover and allow to cook until the tomatoes are tender.

Allow to cool and blend well. Strain and set aside.

Heat a kadai, and add the ghee. Once it has melted, add the blended purée that had been set aside. If required, add a little water to make the gravy in the consistency you prefer. Other options are to add butter or 2 tablespoons of fresh cream. I have added neither. I sometimes do, but rarely, as Prasan and the rest of us prefer it with less of the same. If you choose to, remember to add the milk or cream finally, else it will split.

Now, add the sugar and allow the gravy to cook well. Finally, add the paneer pieces. I occasionally sneak in some green peas, but my kids don’t like them in this dish. But they do go well with paneer in general, so you may want to try them out. Garnish with a sprinkle of kasoori methi. The gravy can be used as a base for other dishes, such as chicken or vegetable curries, and I’d love to know how you decide to use it.

Serve with flatbread, such as naan or rotis, or rice. Now that I have the hang of sourdough naan, that’s what I tend to serve my Prasan-style paneer makhani with.

There you have it: one of the top dishes at my dining table, made with love every single time. On that note… I’ve mentioned my son quite a number of times in this post, which means I may just have to head to the kitchen and whip up a fresh bowl of paneer makhani. You see, it’s become a bit of a running joke that whenever he is annoyed or upset, a little bit of his beloved gravy will calm him down! Having said this, I’d better get to making it right away, I suspect!

When I shared the recipe for sabudana wada last week, I also remembered the other delights that my mother would prepare when she observed Farali fasts, in which grains were not permitted. The food was the only part of those fasts that I enjoyed as a child, but how much I enjoyed it! Sweet potatoes, fruits, a variety of tubers (and really, who doesn’t love tubers?) filled our plates and our tummies during those days. I presume the diet was carb-heavy to compensate for the lack of energy-boosting nutrients in the forbidden grains. My mother would often prepare sliced yam, which was boiled then deep-fried or pan-fried. Years later, I encountered yam chips in the home of a dear friend, and these came back to mind. So this newfound recipe contains elements of my childhood memories too.

As with most recipes that I learnt from my mother, and that I continue to share here on this blog, the masala or spices she used were very simple – salt, pepper and an optional dash of lime was all she used in her fried or sautéed yam dish. This ensured that the flavour of the actual vegetable or produce being used came through. This version, however, plays with more spice. One day, when I was visiting my dear friend Sujata Pelletier, her cook Annapurna spontaneously put together a crispy yam snack that reminded me of my mother’s fried yams, but was also distinct. In Annapurna’s version, the slices were thinner and the spices more pronounced. This was the one I wanted to prepare, so I called them up for the recipe and to double check that my ingredient guesses were correct. They were elated to hear that it was going to be written about, and I’m excited for them to see the photographs in this post.

Annapurna really is such an appropriate name for a person who cooks. “Annam” means “food”, and “purna” means “filled to the brim, overflowing”. Annapurna is also the name of the Hindu goddess of nourishment. That little bit of trivia makes recreating this dish in my home all the more delightful for me.

Yam is a very nutritious ingredient, absolutely packed with Vitamin A, C and B5. It helps with the absorption of other nutrients as well, and has a positive effect on cognitive function, menopausal symptoms, your metabolic and respiratory systems and more. I sometimes feel it is under-rated, and to this I say: never judge a book by its cover. While it’s rustic and not particularly attractive to the eye, it’s a vegetable with a fabulous taste. If you’re fairly new to this ingredient, a word of caution: be sure to oil your hands before you cut into it. Raw yam contains calcium oxalate, which makes the fingers itch!

But once they’re nicely fried, your fingers will itch in a different way – you won’t be able to stop at just one!

Yam Chips

(Yield: 2-4 servings)

 

14 kilogram yam

Salt to taste

3 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon chilli powder

1 tomato (only pulp)

¼ teaspoon turmeric

 

Slice the yam and boil in water, along with the turmeric, until slightly tender. Drain well and keep aside.

On a plate, place the yam slices and add the chilli powder, salt and tomato pulp. Mix well until well coated. Let sit for half an hour.

In a pan, add the oil and once it has heated, place the slices gently on the hot oil. Allow them to turn golden and crisp on both sides. You may prefer to air-fry them as well (you can do the same for the sabudana wadas, by the way) They are now ready to serve.

You can enjoy your crispy yam chips just as they are, as a delicious snack, or have them along with hot rice and dal to add more texture and flavour to your meal.

Looking back, I can now see how a wide variety of other dishes from around the world would be suitable for Farali fasting too. These Spanish-style patatas bravas come to mind immediately. Do you observe similar fasts, and how do you plan your menus for the fast-breaking, or within the parameters of what is permitted?

I don’t know whether sabudana wada, a savoury snack made of mashed potatoes with a coating of tapioca pearls, is a typically Maharashtrian dish or a typically Gujarati dish – but that to me is the beauty of India. Cultures blend and co-exist, respectfully. That is who we as a country really are, and we should not forget this.

I grew up in that kind of India, and while I was growing up I knew sabudana wada as not just a Gujarati dish but one specific to the Vaishnav community. This was because it was among the items that my mother, who observed fasts called Farali in which grains were not permitted, prepared during those times. What to my mother was a religious observance was an opportunity for tasty delights to me, as a child. As a fried dish, sabudana wada was logically delicious.  Other things that we ate during Farali were yam, potato and sweet potato preparations, some of which I will share with you soon.

While the dishes themselves were something I always appreciated and looked forward to, it is only with maturity and hindsight that I am able to see just how important those traditions were to my mother culturally. But more than that, I am able to appreciate how broad-minded she was in the way she raised us. She had come from a conservative family, and we lived in a joint family with our grandfather (who was with us up to the age of 89). He fasted devoutly, and so did she – but never did she impose the various fasts they both kept through the calendar on my siblings and I. Despite not having a formal education, she understood intrinsically that it was wrong to force her beliefs on us.

Interestingly, her leniency meant that by seeing and admiring her example, the traditions she held dear actually became imbued in us. I can see them live on in my daily life now, in the rituals I observe and the food I consume. The next generation, my children, who were raised quite liberally, similarly learn about culture from my example. They see how it is a part of who I am, and it becomes a part of them too.

When I think about my upbringing and that of my peer group, I feel as though we were all raised in a much more harmonious and open way, even though what was common in our generation was that parents and families tended to make all the big choices on their children’s behalf. From education to career to marriage and more, these decisions were not usually in our own hands (I rebelled on a few counts to chart my own path, but the norm was always to respect one’s parents’ wishes). But our so-called conservative parents had such a natural affinity for cross-cultural exchange.

My sister and I were sent to a convent school as it had the best curriculum in the city, and I remember well how I would pray at the chapel with all my heart – and then go home to eat authentic Vaishnav Gujarati meals and pray in my family’s altar too. I had a burqa-wearing friend at that same convent school too, and she is but one example of the mix of communities, languages and backgrounds that we grew up with. At school, it didn’t matter to anyone at all whether you wore a bindi or a hijab, as long as your shoes were polished and your uniform was pressed and your nails were tidily cut.

We had so many perspectives to open our minds. We played together, studied together and broke bread together without thinking of the differences between us – because where it really mattered, there were none.

That was the India I grew up in, one in which diversity was celebrated and not considered unusual in the least. If you are of my generation, I have little doubt that that was the India you grew up in too. Let’s not forget where we came from. Personally, I see food as going a long way in restoring that harmony.

On that note, let us return to the topic of sabudana wada – a lovely Indian snack for everyone to enjoy, background no bar. Just bring your appetite and a warm, open heart.

Sabudana Wada

(Yield: Approximately 10)

 

½ cup raw tapioca pearls (will become 1 cup)

2 tablespoons crushed peanuts

1 cup boiled and mashed potato

1 teaspoon ginger green chilli paste

Salt to taste

2 tablespoons coriander leaves (finely chopped)

1 teaspoon sugar

3-5 drops lemon juice

Oil for frying

Clean and wash the tapioca pearls and then soak them for 4-5 hours. Strain the water. Make sure it is strained well. The pearls need to be dry to the touch. If needed, you can spread them over a thin cloth and allow them to dry a little.

Next, boil the potatoes until tender. Peel and mash the potatoes well while they are hot and set aside.

Now, add all the remaining ingredients together and mix well. Massage with the palms of your hands until you form a dough. Divide the dough into small discs. Sabudana wadas are ideally dainty, small and pretty, although you are welcome to make bigger-sized ones if you prefer.

In a pan on a medium flame, add oil. Heat the oil and drop the wadas and fry until they are golden and crisp on both sides.

They are now ready to be served. Enjoy with green chutney or ketchup.

Sabudana wada goes perfectly with a cup of chai. These lovely little snacks are ideal for a rainy day evening. We enjoy them very much at home, and I hope you will too.

 

I have been very inspired to make some pea soup thanks to seeing it on the Instagram feeds of many people whom I’ve been following keenly lately. I find the bright green hue of pea soup very, very attractive. We feast with the eyes first, as I say often. The colour green itself denotes good health, promotes a sense of calmness, and has associations with healing. Peas are still in abundance on the market right now, as I mentioned in my previous post on peas paratha (I hope you enjoyed that one; always happy to hear from you!). So my inspiration, which became both my photographic and culinary craving, was fulfilled. So, of course, was my appetite.

The technique that I find works best while making soup is to ensure that the flavour of the vegetable used is not drowned through the addition of too many spices. What I also enjoy deeply is tasting the flavour of the vegetable itself. You may have noticed this about my zucchini soup recipe too, which kept things minimal so as to elevate the key element. Personally, I also prefer my food in general to not be intensely spicy. This is rather un-Indian of me, but I do love to savour every ingredient. To me, when you cook and eat mindfully, you can taste the season of the harvest, the sunshine and natural elements that raised the crop, the work of those who brought it to us, and of course the love within the preparation itself. There is something about such an experience that contributes to well-being, just as much as power-packed ingredients ensure that our health and immunity stay strong.

In fact, when I was studying Macrobiotics, we were taught to hand-crush rather than use a blender. So the ingredients would be coarsely ground. In a soup, we have not just the liquid, but could also chew on the small pieces. This was where I learned the unique pleasure of slowly tasting the vegetable properly. Coming from a traditional Indian household, I hadn’t really grown up with soups, even though my mother was very inquisitive about culinary methods and was among the first in our community to take baking and foreign cooking classes. So I did not get into them until much later, and my fondness for them is associated with that time in my life where I learned all about the Macrobiotics ethos and began to observe the difference it made to my life. In fact, have a slight preference for soups over salads (although I do love both, as you know), and that is probably for this reason.

A mindful and mildly-seasoned method of preparing soup helps you distinguish between the different kinds, the different vegetables used. In the case of this recipe, if you have access to homegrown or organic peas, you will especially notice the distinct flavour. Those can be particularly sweet and fresh. They also cook faster. Soups are easier to consume as well, and are both filling and light at the same time. I hope you’ll explore my other recipes in this category if you are a fan of them too.

 

Pea Soup

(Yield: 2 servings)

 

1 cup shelled peas

¼ cup spring onions

2 teaspoons olive oil/butter

Salt to taste

A pinch of pepper

2 cups hot water

1 tablespoon fresh cream (for garnish)

 

Add the olive oil in a pan. Once it has heated, add the spring onions. Sauté for a few minutes, until tender.

Then, add the peas. Stir, lower the flame and cover with a lid. Allow the peas to cook until they are tender to the touch.

Add the hot water and then add salt and pepper, to your preferred degree of seasoning.

Stir, then remove from the flame. Allow to cool. Then, blend this peas mixture into a thick, coarse purée. You may use your blender for convenience, or you may experiment with the Macrobiotics way described earlier.

Return the blended mixture, now a proper soup, to the pot. Allow to cook, stirring occasionally. You may adjust the water quantity to your preference.

One it has cooked, scoop out the soup into bowls and serve garnished with fresh cream. You could also sprinkle some more spring onions, fresh and finely chopped.

As I said earlier, the secret to this one is really in keeping the spices as minimal as possible. I believe that salt, pepper and a hint of lime (if you like tanginess) are more than enough to add flavour to a good soup, and everything or anything else is an additional twist.

Soups are always soothing to consume. They really are a comfort food. I hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as I do, and that you have the kind of experience that I do when I have it – savouring the taste of the peas slowly and enjoying the warmth of the soup.

 

I’m the inquisitive type, and I love to know about everything that I eat. Recently, an ice cream recipe I was trying out called for guar gum, which made me wonder about its relationship to guar or cluster beans. With a little insight from Wikipedia, I learned this fun fact: guar gum, widely used internationally, comes from the guar seed and is exported from India. Guar gum is a thickening agent, and used in food industries around the world. Unfortunately, the processing the raw seed undergoes renders the final product rather unhealthy. Still, that takes away nothing from the goodness of guar itself. This wonderfully healthy vegetable hasn’t made an appearance on my blog so far, probably because it is not enjoyed by most of my family. But I know from experience that it is an acquired taste. I’ve been making it in a typical Gujarati style recently, in the form of guar dhokli. You may remember my dal dhokli recipe from years ago, and will be familiar with the stew-like concept behind it. This is similar: parcels of dough, known as dhokli, are cooked in a gravy – this one, full of nourishing guar.

Cluster beans are a bitter vegetable. The dhokli part of the dish balances this flavour out. Guar dhokli on the whole is a dish with several textures and flavours, and healthy too. As someone who enjoys a wide variety of vegetables, including unpopular ones like this one, I can safely say that a nice preparation, along with awareness of the benefits of an ingredient, can change one’s mind about it. This one contains: glyconutrients and a low glycemic index (making them good for diabetic diets) and folic acid (good for pregnancy diets). More generally, it is good for blood circulation, lowers bad cholesterol, and is rich in minerals, iron and Vitamins A, B and K.

As I mentioned, my family members aren’t fans, but I am. However, I too detested guar when I was growing up. My mother would make guar dhokli often and I would pick the guar out of the gravy and just eat the dhoklis, much to her fury! Funnily enough, once I got married and moved away, whenever I visited her I would request guar dhokli. It had a nostalgic quotient, and it truly began to grow on me. At this point, I would even go as far as to call guar one of my favourite vegetables. Some day, when my kids find themselves having a strange craving for it, they can look up this recipe. I am certain they will also have a change of palate as they get older.

The typical thaali that we eat at my house daily consists of a dal bhaat (dal and rice), rotli and a shaak, which is some kind of vegetable curry. This is the most basic Gujarati meal, and will be found at most households at lunch-time. Some may make it more elaborate by having one dry vegetable and a gravy one, or a savoury item and a sweet. But the core three elements remain. What happens in my home is that I often end up cooking some guar or some ridge gourd (which I I enjoy in a South Indian stir-fry, and have shared the recipe before) or some other vegetable that the others don’t like. So this just-for-me preparation becomes one extra dish, in addition to the core three.

When it comes to my kitchen, there are certain items that only I make. This guar dhokli happens to be one of them. Another one of my specialties is this Gujarati potato and brinjal curry. These recipes were transferred from my mother’s hands to mine, and somehow they just don’t taste the same unless I make them myself.

While preparing this guar dhokli, I pondered about how this authentic recipe has been preserved through the generations. My mother was only 19 when she moved to Chennai, and my siblings and I were born and raised here, just as my own children were. Still, we speak pure and perfect Gujarati at home, and the majority of the dishes we ate growing up were authentic ones. Even as I enjoy fusion food and amalgamating cuisines, I still find a way to maintain cultural and language traditions, even while integrating elements and influences. Food, of course, is the most beautiful way to do this – it’s amazing how we can enjoy diversity and also enjoy authenticity at the dining table.

Guar Dhokli

(Yield: 3-4)

 

Gravy

¼ kilogram cluster beans

2 tablespoons oil

1 teaspoon ajwain (carom seeds)

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

1 tbsp dhaniya jeera powder (coriander and cumin powder)

½ teaspoon sugar

2 cups water

 

Dhokli

¼ cup whole wheat flour

¼ cup chickpea flour

Salt to taste

A pinch of turmeric

A pinch of chilli powder

1 teaspoon oil

¼ cup (or less) water

 

First, prepare the dhoklis. Make a tight dough with the above ingredients, adjusting the water accordingly. Now, make small discs with the palm of your hand. Set aside.

Then, prepare the gravy. First, wash and cut the guar into the desired size.

In a pressure cooker, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the ajwain. Next, add the chopped guar. Add 1 cup of water and allow the vegetable to cook until it is tender. This takes no more than 1 whistle.

Once cooled, open the lid and add another cup of hot water and then add the dhoklis that were set aside earlier.

Add the remaining spices and stir gently.

Once cooked, allow to cool for about 5-8 minutes. Your guar dhokli is now ready.

This dish is best served with rotis or rice, since it has a gravy component.

There you have it – guar dhokli, a dish that can turn a rather unpopular vegetable into a hit. Try it yourself and tell me what you think. I hope this recipe inspires you to bring the cluster bean into your repertoire, on repeat!

Peas are in abundance right now – they are in season, cheap to purchase, good for health, and I for one am glad they are flooding the local market. It feels like I am making something with them every day. Recipes I’ve shared with you in the past, like this harra bhara kebab, pea-pomegranate festive kachori and chura matar are being relished at my dining table. I’ve even begun using peas as substitutes for staples. For instance, I usually send my family members off to their offices with some aloo paratha in their tiffin carriers, but the potatoes have been swapped out for – you guessed it – peas. I would like for you to experience the lovely pea-stuffed parathas that they are enjoying at the moment too, so that’s exactly the recipe that I’ve decided to share this week.

Since I am now preparing as well as eating these pea parathas daily, I’ve observed that they are healthier and lighter than aloo parathas, which makes them more suitable for the mid-day meal when one’s work has to be resumed after. The best accompaniment for them is yoghurt and a cup of simple salad – add these two elements and you’re all set with a nice lunch. Traditionally, parathas are meant to be generous in size, but I prefer to make them small. They look pretty and dainty, fit more easily into your Tupperware or tiffin carrier, and the overall presentation just looks and feels nicer. That’s quite important for any meal, not just a special one. When a loved one opens their lunchbox at the office, the dishes within would have been prepared hours earlier and may no longer be warm or as fresh, so making them look attractive makes a difference.

I’ve been using peas grown in my region, but I must admit a preference for those harvested in Jaipur or Delhi at this time of year. The weather there is more conducive to this vegetable, and the yield is smaller in size and so sweet that it can be eaten raw (and even used in desserts, like in peas halwa). I have friends who grow peas on farms there, and visits from or to them during this season would always include some fresh produce. Sadly, no one is able to travel much at the moment, but the local variants are still much enjoyed in my home.

As I was preparing the peas for my photo shoot, I smiled as I recalled helping out in the kitchen when I was growing up. When we were kids, my siblings and I would have a competition about who would peel and shell the most peas. These were a chore that our mother often assigned to us, and this is how we would make it more interesting. The winner had no reward and the loser had no punishment, but this game was just a way for us to pep up a boring activity. Once again, as I did while sharing the previous recipe, I reminisce about how kids of my generation always found ways to keep ourselves entertained. We were innovative and creative in the absence of technology. What sorts of games did you play to make chores go by faster?

Peas Paratha

(Yield: 4-6)

 

Peas stuffing

1 full cup crushed green peas

1 teaspoon aamchur powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon ginger/green chilli paste

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil (to roast the peas)

 

Paratha dough

1½ cups whole-wheat flour

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil

+ Oil for shallow frying

 

Divide the dough and the stuffing separately into equally-sized small balls (lime/lemon-sized).

Roll one dough ball out, and place a spoonful of the peas stuffing in the centre. Gather the dough around the peas and make a smooth round ball, using gentle pressure.

Dust some flour onto the ball and roll out again delicately, making sure the peas do not come out of the dough.

The method of stuffing the paratha with peas is similar to the method for making puran poli, which you can refer to in this post here.

Heat the tava over a medium flame. Once it is hot, place the rolled paratha on it and cook. Flip and spread a ½ teaspoon of oil evenly around the edges and shallow fry both sides until light golden brown spots appear. Repeat with the remaining parathas. Serve.

As I said earlier, some yoghurt and a bit of salad are great accompaniments, but even eaten on its own this peas paratha is flavourful. It is a perfect light meal, and it is lunchbox-friendly, cost-friendly and health-friendly too!