How quickly this year is going.  January is almost over already!  But there is some cold left in this winter yet. It has been one of the coldest we have had in years with minimum temperatures touching the freezing point at the outskirts of Delhi.  I must say I love a good winter.  It is good excuse for all the rich food: sarson ka saag, gajar ka halwa, and paranthas stuffed with the best of winter vegetables!  With the son back – yes, he is home for his internship – I, in the best traditions of mothers the world over, am trying to put some meat on those bones.

As 2012 was drawing to a close, we undertook a cross-country drive.  The initial idea was to pick our son who was finishing up his college studies at Manipal.  In response to Murphy’s laws, things suddenly got busier at work and the planned vacation time had to be trimmed a little.  Pune was decided as the meeting point.  Yes, we drove all the way to Pune from Delhi, further on to Aurangabad, and then back to Delhi by car.  My American friends and readers may not think much of it but to drive long distances by car is definitely not the norm in India.  But TH loves to drive and had been hoping to do such a trip for a long time.  I overcame my dread of Indian highway driving and relented.  To my relief, I found much orderliness on the roads and we were none the worse for the two-day, 24 hour, 1600 km drive.  Kudos to TH ( I drove a mere few kilometers, but got halfway through my knitting project!).

Amer Fort, Jaipur

Udaipur Lake Palace

We had intended to start bright and early but slept through the 4am alarm to wake up at 5:30.  Which was all fine by me; I am not a morning person.  By the time we had filled up the car and checked the tire pressures, it was almost 8 as we were leaving Delhi.  A flat tire a couple of hours into the trip had us drive into Jaipur instead of taking the bypass.  We took the scenic route that passes by the beautiful Amer Fort.  The dhaba where we stopped later for lunch was a disappointment but the packed methi paranthas (and amla pickle) held us in good stead.  Our destination for the day was Himmatnagar but the coffee-break in Udaipur tuned into our halt for the night.  Next morning we were up really early and on the road before daybreak.  The drive out of Udaipur winding through the Aravalis with the setting moon was a pleasant, quiet start to the day. After letting Ahmedabad pass by without a detour for food, I was determined to get my hands on some Gujarati farsan in Vadodara.  Without getting too deep into the heart of the city we were able to procure dhokla, patra, and khandvi, all packed in paper packages and tied with string.

Golden Bridge (1881) across the Narmada, Bharuch

For Bharuch we had been warned about the traffic snarls on the by-pass road and advised to go into the city and across the narrow Golden Bridge.  In the market, just before the turn that brings you to the bridge, we located a small store (Sangam khari sheng, below Lucky Photo Studios) filled to the brim with peanuts!  We were seeking the famous Bharuch sheng!  It was amazing to watch the deft handiwork of the shopkeeper as he tied the newspaper-wrapped packages of the special salt-roasted peanuts with yards and yards of string!  We got enough to take home and to share with friends.

We were in Mumbai by evening and decided to spend the night with TH’s aunt who lives there.  Next morning we were again up before the sun and on our way to Pune.  People driving on the wrong side here seems to be quite the norm and we spotted signs that warned: “Beware of traffic on the wrong side!”  Driving through the ghats we were surprised by the thick fog that reduced visibility to nearly zero!  A few hours later we were in Chinchwad, on the outskirts of Pune, where we had friends, Kiran and Anju (the VOF gang) awaiting our arrival; cameras and flowers on the ready!  It truly was no mean achievement.

Our two days in Pune were spent buzzing between friends and relatives in an effort to meet as many as we could.  It may have been a little exhausting but we managed to cover quite some ground.  From Pune we left for Aurangabad to spend a few days with Anagha and Prasad, the remaining members of the VOF troupe.  This was our vacation with enough do-nothing time built into it.  Easy mornings and late nights, and lots of good food.  Thanks, Anagha and Prasad!

The rock-cut temples at Ajintha, Aurangabad

With Anagha and Prasad at Ajintha

Mother and Son!

Joyous Bulbul

At the Daulatabad Fort, Aurangabad

From there I took a flight to Mumbai where I was conducting a workshop with students of Architecture, and TH and our son took the road back to Delhi. In total, TH logged 3515km!

Happy New Year to all those reading!  Here’s to good things in the year to come!

My interest in food and cooking is known to most of my friends, family, and colleagues, and even students.  Towards the end of the term I bring some food, usually home-cooked, to the class on  a day when informal interactions are scheduled.  It is a pleasant way to conclude the semester.

Some students stay in touch after they graduate.  Some come and visit and we exchange notes as colleagues.  A special mention here is Ryan, who remembers to bring me foodie-things from his travels around the country; many times these are ingredients sourced from where they are grown (or brewed!).  Amongst the many gifts I have received from him are coffee from a Chikmagalur plantation, his aunt’s home-brewed plum wine, his mom’s fruitcake, Shrewsbury biscuits and ginger cookies from the famous Kayani bakery in Pune, toddy from Kerala, and Mahuwa (the drink!) from Madhya Pradesh.  Recently he brought me dried kokum and kokum syrup on his return from a visit to the Konkan.  He seems to be partial to the western coast; perhaps because of his ethnic roots.  Back from one such visit to the coast last year, he brought me a packet of Goan pork sausage.  Until then I had only read about it.

Remember I asked all of you to suggest recipes?  Raji had suggested I use it in a pulao, and Ryan shared a recipe for a curry cooked with the sausage and potatoes.  The Goan Chouriço, also known as linguica, is an important element in the Portuguese-influenced Goan Catholic cuisine.  Though often identified as a sausage, it is made with chopped pork instead of ground meat and cannot be consumed uncooked.  The prepared pork is combined with spices and vinegar, stuffed into cleaned cattle gut, and usually dried in the sun.  The resulting aged meat imparts a unique taste and aroma to whatever it is cooked with.

Once a much cherished family activity, few home-cooks today embrace the practice of chouriço making.   It can be bought off-the-shelf (in Bombay, Goa, and Pune) or through inside information of the few home-based practitioners that remain in Goa.  Here’s a recipe (with feni!) in case you want to try your hand at it.  Since it was my first time handling Goan Chouriço, I was surprised at how lumpy and unlike any other sausage the meat was once you ripped the outer skin to get to it.  It’s different but don’t let that discourage you.

First, I tried it in a pulao.  I started with browning some sliced onions in hot oil.  To this I added the crumbled chouriço and sauteed that for a bit.  Then I stirred in the soaked and drained rice, salt and water.  Once it started to boil, I lowered the heat to a simmer, covered and cooked till the rice was done.  I let it stand for 20 minutes before fluffing up and mixing in a chopped green pepper.   I allowed it to sit for some more time so that the peppers would heat through before finally serving it.  Cooked this way I found the pork chewy and dry, but it did impart a unique flavour to the rice.

My preferred recipe was the chouriço and potato curry. Braised like this the meat bits were tender. Salt and season lightly when using Goan chouriço because it is well seasoned and spicy hot. I added some salt to the dish while cooking since I was combining the meat with potatoes but used chilli sparingly.

Goan Chouriço and Potato Curry

6″ length of Goan chouriço
2 medium sized potatoes, scrubbed, peeled and diced
2 medium sized onions, chopped (about 3/4 C)
1 t ginger-garlic paste
1 t coriander powder
1/2 t cumin powder
1/2 t turmeric
1/2 t red chilli powder (optional)
2 t vinegar (optional)
2T peanut oil
salt (remember that the sausage is salted)

Saute onions in hot oil till lightly browned. Add the ginger-garlic past and fry till the raw smell is gone. Add all the powdered spices and give a good stir. Add the meat, potatoes and two cups of water. Stir. Add salt and the vinegar (if you want it extra tart). Cover and simmer till the meat is tender and the potatoes are done. Stir a couple of times during the cooking process to keep the curry from sticking; top up with more water as needed to give you a thick curry. Serve with steamed rice accompanied by a plain dal (such as this one) or dahi (plain yoghurt).

For many of us dal-chaval constitutes the ultimate comfort food.  It is hard to come up with food that is simpler or more satiating.  One such version of dal-chaval is the Maharashrian sada varan-bhat.

Many Sundays during our courting days I would visit V at his home for lunch.  Varan-bhat was frequently on the menu – it was a Sunday favorite with the family.  Sunday used to be the day of the weekly veggie shopping from the Shahadra mandi in the days before Mother’s Dairy Fruit and Vegetable Shops and Big Apple marts appeared in every neighbourhood.  Often I would arrive to find V and his father still not back from the market.  With fresh vegetables yet to arrive for re-stocking the fridge, varan-bhat must have been not only the logical meal but also one that would allow time needed for the sorting of the soon-to-arrive green-groceries.  I remember my MIL following a regimen of washing and drip-drying all the vegetables before stocking them for the week.  Bundles of greens (spinach, coriander, and methi) were  untied, picked over to remove damp or rotting stems, and then packed into bags; other vegetables were trimmed and washed and spread on a cloth to dry off for a while.  If I got there before it was all done, I too would lend a helping hand.  That is when I learnt to do a quick job of picking methi (hold a fistful of the leafy-stems in one hand and pull  at the stem-ends with the other!), and that stems could be left in while using green coriander!

In addition to all this Sunday family activity there was the matter of getting Sunday lunch on the table with V at home for the day and I, the future DIL, visiting.  Varan-bhat kept it simple yet special.  Sada (meaning ‘plain’ or ‘simple’) varan is tuvar/arhar cooked with turmeric, asafoetida, salt and a pinch of sugar, till it is tender enough to be mashed smooth.  Served over hot steaming rice with ghee, it is the first course in a traditional Maharashtrian meal.  We love it so much that these days we make it the entire meal!  While the potato bhaji, is optional (but it pairs rather well), as is the mango pickle, this coconut chutney, the wedge of lime, and the spoonful of ghee are essential.  Take a small portion of rice; make a depression on it, pour over the varan, spoon on some ghee, squeeze over some lime.  Mix it all together with some chutney and savour.  When I want it to be extraordinary, then I fry some cabbage pakoras to accompany the meal.

Sada varan was also the very first dish I was asked to cook in the Maharashtrian kitchen as a new bride.  I was aghast that I had over-cooked it!  That was before I knew that, south of the Vindhyas, dals are cooked to be mashed smooth!

Sada Varan
(A simple yellow dal)
Serves 4

1 1/2 C arhar (tuvar) dal
1/2 t turmeric
1/2 t compounded hing (the milder kind)
salt to taste
1/2 t sugar

Take the dal in a 1l capacity steel vessel and rinse in a couple of changes of water. Soak for at least 45min. Soaking ensures the dal will cook quicker and smoother. Add turmeric and hing to the soaked dal.  Top up the dal with more water if needed; there should be about 1/2″ of water covering the dal.  Fill a 3l (or larger) pressure cooker to about 1.5″ depth of water. Keep the trivet that came with your pressure cooker at the bottom of the cooker. Place the vessel with the dal in the cooker and cover with a steel plate; this will contain the foaming dal and prevent it from reaching the pressure vent. Place the pressure cooker on the smaller burner at full flame. Turn the flame to medium when full pressure had been attained or when you hear the first whistle. Cook on medium flame for 18 minutes (longer if you haven’t soaked the dal). Turn the heat off and wait till the pressure subsides. Remove the vessel from the cooker. Add salt and sugar and mash the contents till really smooth. Add water as needed to get a thick slurry consistency. Keep it hot till ready to serve with plain steamed rice.

Steamed Basmati rice
(pressure cooker method)

1 C basmati rice
(serves 2-4, depending on appetites!)

Pick over the rice. Put it in a 1l capacity steel bowl and rinse in a few changes of water till the water runs almost clear. Drain. Add 2 (2 1/4 if your rice is old) cups of water. Soak for 20 minutes. Take 1″ of water in the base of the pressure cooker. Put the container with the soaked rice in the pressure cooker. Close the pressure cooker lid remembering to remove the weight. Put the cooker with the rice on the small burner of your stove at full flame. Turn the flame down to medium-low once steam starts to come out of the pressure vent. Cook on medium-low for 10-12min. Turn the flame off and put the weight back on. Let rest for 10 minutes before fluffing the rice with a fork. You will have the fluffiest grains without a fuss! The rice will come to no harm should you forget to turn the heat off precisely after 10minutes – no more burnt rice!

I have two PrestigeTTK pressure cookers that I use on a regular (daily!) basis.  The 5.5l one is stainless steel, and the cutesie 3l one is anodised aluminium.  On occasion, when I need all burners going, I also use a much older UK-made 5l Prestige aluminium pressure cooker (that doesn’t whistle anymore!) that was gifted to my MIL many decades ago.  “I cooked the varan-bhat in my Indian pressure cooker and it didn’t blow up in my face!”  Jaya, this is my entry to your pressure-cooking event over at Desi Soccer Mom.

This post is also going to MLLA #56, the monthly event focused on cooking with legumes.  Started by Susan (The Well Seasoned Cook) many years ago, this month it is being hosted by Lisa.  Check out the archives with a host of recipes on cooking with legumes!

Haerath mubarak to my Kashmiri readers, and a very happy Shivratri to the rest of you! There was much feasting at my mom’s last night where we gathered for Mahashivratri puja. Shivratri is the most important festivals for the Kashmiri Pandit community. The festival marks the end of winter in Kashmir. The preparations start weeks in advance and culminate in the final three days ending with doon pooza (walnut puja!) on Phalgun amavasya, which is tomorrow. [Read more about it here and here] For us, today is Salam, the day after Shivratri, the day the youngsters receive Shivratri kharcha (spending money!) from the elders in the family. We got it last night itself from my father!

The rituals are quite elaborate and food and cooking is an integral part. Every family has their traditions and the ceremonies are not complete without the cooking of certain dishes. In the puja last night we had vatuks (vessels for water) that symbolised Lord Shiva and his wife-to-be, Parvati, who were married in the presence of other gods and invitees (represented, in their turn, by smaller vatuks). Only the eldest family member observes a fast while the rest feast. Walnuts are soaked in another vessel, to which are offered tiny bits of fresh food from the meals cooked everyday. Meat and fish are traditional and are part of the puja offerings. In the last 25 years, since their relocation from the Valley, Kashmiri Pandits, on finding themselves amongst Vaishnavites, have started observing vegetarianism during this festival. In deference to tradition, my mother cooked fish the day before Shivratri. Last night’s menu for the Shiv-Parvati wedding: rajma, paneer kaliya, mujj chetin, dum-olu, palak-matar, steamed rice, roti (for the non-Kashmiris!), and modur polav.

Tomorrow will be the vatuk pooza, and the soaked walnuts will finally be ready for distribution amongst family and friends. It really is a great way to finish off the season’s walnuts, which would otherwise spoil soon. Try it – soak walnuts for 3-5 days; change the water everyday. Shell and peel the kernels before eating – they taste just like green walnuts do – sweet and tender!

During the first week of the Shivratri fortnight, married women visit their maika (mother’s house) for a hearty meal. Yes, I and my sister were at my mother’s last Friday too. Since both of us are married to non-Kashmiris, we get to visit on Shivratri-day as well! My mother and her sisters get to visit their brothers. The ritual involves the payment of a token ut-guth (literally, to and fro expenses ), and, for reasons not clear to me, salt! Salt is also a traditional house-warming gift for us!

Most communities, including Maharashtrians, celebrate Shivratri on the 14th day of the fortnight, which is today. People commonly observe a fast. I think last night’s elaborate pooja reminded TH of his customs and he decided to observe a fast today. As you all know, the only fasting day we observe here these days is Janmashtami. I promised him fasting food. Sabudana khichdi is what is for dinner for everyone. For lunch I cooked bhagar with danyachi amti, just as I remember my MIL making it.

Bhagar is made with a grain that grows (used to?) wild on uncultivated land. Known as sama ke chawal in North India, it is cooked just like regular rice and is commonly consumed during fasts when many other foods are taboo. It is easy to overcook it; follow my recipe and you will have the fluffiest bhagar. The amti is rich, made as it is from just peanuts, so go easy on the servings!

Danyachi amti
(Peanut amti)

Serves 3-4

1 C peanuts, roasted and skinned
2+ C water
4-5 hot green chillies, chopped
2-3 pieces amsul (kokum)
1 t salt
1 t sugar

Tempering:
1 t ghee
1 t cumin seeds
2 cloves
a few small pieces dalchini (cassia bark)

Grind the peanuts to a fine powder/paste. Use water to grind if you need. Thin the paste with water and transfer to a thick-bottom pan. To this slurry add the other ingredients and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring every now and then. Take off the heat and prepare the tempering. Heat ghee in a small pan. Add the tempering ingredients. When the cumin stops spluttering, pour the contents of the pan over the amti. Stir to mix, garnish with fresh green coriander and serve with bhagar.

Bhagar/Varyache tandool
(sama ke chawal)
serves 3-4

1 vati (katori) varyache tandool (about 200gms, or 3/4 C)
2 1/2 vati water
1 t ghee
1/2 t cumin seeds
1 green chilli, chopped
1/2 t salt

Heat ghee in a heavy bottomed pan. Add cumin seeds to the hot ghee, followed by the chopped green chilli. Stir for half a minute and add the ‘rice’. Stir the grains for a minute or two before adding the water. Add salt and bring to boil. Give a good stir and turn the heat down to a simmer. Cover and cook for 10 minutes. Let rest for a few minutes before fluffing with a fork. Serve hot with danyachi amti.

The son got to partake what I had originally planned for Sunday lunch: varan-bhat with coconut chutney; he doesn’t care for bhagar and amti. Yet. But I insisted he taste it. So, it is part of his memory. And doesn’t nostalgia always taste good?

Summer is here and the days of soup are almost behind us. But summer also means an urge to eat lighter and spend less time in the kitchen cooking that meal. That is when a soup is just what you need.

My father is a good gardener but he is no cook. He is fastidious when it comes to brewing his cuppa (and he needs many through the day) and always prefers to have it in a clear glass – something he must have picked up either from his Punjabi neighbours when he arrived in Delhi in the 60s, or from the way chai is served at any construction site in India. My Dad has spent a lifetime out in the sun, always preferring his time on a site to the time behind the desk.

He has never had to cook but seems to harbour an impression that he is a good one. His forays into the world of food are primarily limited to growing and consuming it. Lucky for him, his wife is a great cook. As mom has grown older I have noticed that my Dad feels a tad guilty about not helping in the kitchen. Which is why, I think, after his retirement he started to make his tea himself so that he could at least contribute less to the extra work he was creating.

There’s another thing about him. Used to bringing in armloads of harvest from his kitchen garden, he cannot resist fresh produce and will likely buy more than can be consumed by the two of them. We’ve all been there – who can resist luscious tomatoes or verdant greens! One such time, reluctant to have fresh tomatoes languish in the fridge, my dad decided to make soup. That winter I heard about soup once too often from him over the phone and I was curious. Sure enough, on one visit I found him pottering in the kitchen, cooking soup. He had the simplest of recipes (if you can call it one) for it and it sure gave him darned good soup. The pressure cooker was his friend and the ingredients were the fresh produce from the weekly market. He put it all into the cooker, one or two whistles, and it was done. After the pressure had subsided, he transfered the contents to the blender and whirred it to a smooth puree, seasoned it, and it was ready to be served.  I was very impressed with my Dad, the cook! He also wields the paring knife like a master and it is a pleasure to watch him slice and serve fruits. Of late, we have been admiring his beautiful flower arrangements, some using just leaves and branches. I wish I had taken a few pictures of his artwork last week to show you!

This is more an idea of a recipe than an exact recipe. My father usually uses tomatoes, an onion or two, a potato or two. I usually add a carrot and then there is no need for sugar. Sweet potatoes are a good addition as well. Last time I had some beets on hand and they gave the soup this beautiful, deep red colour. Sometimes I chop and saute the onion in a little butter before adding the rest of the vegetables, at other times I just put it all in and do it exactly as my father does. I have since bought my dad a hand-held blender which makes this soup a breeze to cook.

Beetroot Soup
based on Dad’s Vegetable Soup

2-3 beets, quartered
6-8 tomatoes, halved
1 medium sized potato, peeled and quartered
1 carrot or sweet potato, peeled and halved
a stick or two of celery (mine is homegrown and very thin, but with strong flavour; I used some leaves too)
1 medium onion, halved
a couple of cloves of garlic
2 bay leaves (or tejpatta will do just fine)
lots of crushed pepper
salt to taste
chopped coriander leaves

Put all the prepared vegetables with some water in the pressure cooker and cook for 2 whistles (about 8-10 minutes), or cook covered in a pan till tender. Once the pressure has subsided, open the lid of the pressure cooker. Remove the bay leaves (or tejpatta) and puree the contents using an immersion blender. Season the soup to taste. Thin it with water to desired consistency. Garnish with some of the reserved chopped celery, and coriander leaves. You may add a little bit of butter or a swirl of cream if you like. Serve with crusty, homemade bread or bread sticks.

Check out more quick and easy recipes you can cook in the pressure cooker over at Jaya’s pressure cooking event roundup!

Have you heard of Champa Shashthi?  In my Maharashtrian side of the family it is associated with a ceremonial pooja the beginnings of which are somewhat obscure.  This winter I was visiting friends who celebrate this day with special prayers.  In their family, the day of the pooja marks the end of a period of abstaining from certain foods such as eggs and meat, and brinjals (eggplant).  Minor ceremonies are observed on the two days preceding Shashthi as well.

The celebration of this festival in our family has an interesting story.  This festival is not traditional to the Konkanasth Brahmin community to which my husband’s family belongs.  A long time ago, and I mean a really long time ago, traveling was an activity associated with uncertainty, hardship, and unknown risks, undertaken only for essential business or pilgrimage.  At such a time, a family embarking on one such pilgrimage handed over the Champa Shashthi Puja to their neighbour and friend in the village, V’s ancestor, like a precious thing for safekeeping.  They never returned to claim it back, and that is how we have this untraditional ritual as our heritage.  Our family continues to fulfill a promise made a very long time ago.  I remember my mother-in-law asking me if she should perform the udyapan, a special puja to mark the end, but I wouldn’t agree.  How could I not want to be part of this beautiful legend, our very own legend!

We, my husband, son, and I,  are hardly religious people but I do believe that without religion, you may end up distancing yourself from what is your culture.  Food is very strongly tied to culture and religion.  One day, several years back, I realised we had not cooked sabudana khichdi in a very long time (years!). Since my mother-in-law’s passing no one in the family was observing any fasts anymore!  We brought back the Janmashtami fast and now observe it as a family.  The much loved sabudana khichdi is on the menu at least once a year.

Champa Shashthi falls on the sixth day of the bright half of the Hindu month of Margashirsha, usually coinciding with the first half of December.  Coincidentally, this day is also my Dad’s birthday!  Since I married into the family, he has become the guest of honour at the ceremonial lunch.  There is a set menu for lunch on this day: sada varan-bhat, bharit (raita made with pumpkin, or sometimes with eggplant), cabbage pakoras (surely my MIL’s contribution?), a bit of puran, puran poli,  katachi amti, and potato bhaji.  The first thing put on the thali, starting from the left, is a pinch of salt.  Also placed on this side is coconut chutney, bharit, and a wedge of lime with the pakoras also adjusted somewhere there.  In the front part of the thali is served a small mound of steamed rice topped with hot sada varan and a spoon of ghee.  At the top center of the thali is placed a katori of katachi amti, with the potato bhaji to the right of it.  There is another interesting ritual to the serving.  Three thalis are prepared as an offering: the first with one serving of each of the items on the menu, the second with two of each, and the third with three of each!  After offering prasad to the Gods, the first thali is served to the head of the household, the second thali to the invited Brahmin, and the third thali (with the three servings) is meant for the house-help.

As with any puja, the food is cooked fresh.  This means an early start to the day.   Making puran poli is the most elaborate element in this traditional meal.  I soak the dal for the puran the night before and it is the first thing I cook in the morning.   After this initial cooking, the dal is put back on the fire with sugar added.  This is cooked down till thick and then passed through a food-mill to give a smooth paste.  These days I use an immersion blender to puree the mix but the results from a food-mill are definitely superior.  The cooled paste is formed into small balls of puran that become the stuffing for puran poli.  Bits of dal caught in the mesh of the food-mill and the rinse water from washing the food-mill and the puran pan is used to make the absolutely divine katachi amti, an intensely sweet, soupy, spicy accompaniment to this traditional meal.

Making puran poli requires a little skill (comes with practice!), and needs time and patience.  You are a very lucky person if you have someone who can make it for you or if you can purchase it from home-cooks, as you can in Bombay and Pune.  This recipe makes 30 puran polis; if you are making this for the first time, I suggest you halve the recipe so that the process goes faster and you are less inclined to throw in the towel. If an opportunity presents, watch someone making these; that will demystify the steps. The slideshow should help too. If you are adept at making stuffed paranthas, then this is just a teeny step up.

Puran poli is the traditional sweet on Holi in many Maharashtrian homes, and this post comes well in time for that. Karnataka and Andhra have their own variations.  Some recipes use jaggery in place of sugar, and the spicing can be different.  I make it just like my mother-in-law did.

Happy Holi, everyone!

Puran Poli
(makes 30-35)

For the puran:
2 C chana dal, soaked for at least 3 hours
2 C sugar
1 t powdered cardamom seeds

Dough for the poli:
2 C very fine atta, or all purpose flour (or a mix of the two)
2 T oil
water
salt
rice flour for dusting

Making puran:
Cover the dal with half-inch of water and cook in the pressure cooker till tender, about 15min. Drain the cooked dal to remove any extra water. Transfer the dal to a heavy bottom pan, add sugar, and put the mixture back on the fire. Cook stirring continuously till the paste has thickened and will hold shape on cooling. The mixture splatters a lot as it bubbles, so take care to protect your hand as you stir. Mix in the powdered cardamom. Once the mixture has cooled a little, pass it through a food-mill. When the paste has cooled completely, form into balls about 1″ across. Clean and rinse the food-mill and the puran pan, reserving all the washing liquid and any undercooked dal caught in the food-mill to make katachi amti (recipe to follow). Puran may be prepared a day ahead.

Preparing the dough:
Mix the oil into the flour and using water make a very soft and stretchy dough. The dough is much softer than that for regular roti which makes it easy to roll very thin. Let rest 20 minutes. Knead a little, adding more water if required to get the right consistency – it is stretchy without being sticky. Smear the dough with a little oil and place about a teaspoon full of salt on the side.

Making puran poli:
Dip your fingers into oil, and then into the salt, and pinch of a small piece of the dough, about the size that you do for a small roti. Press it into the rice flour and make a depression into the ball, spreading it a little as you go, between your thumbs and fingers. Place a ball of puran into the depression and coax the dough over, and around to enclose the puran. This is where having a very soft dough helps – it stretches and gives easily to wrap around the ball of puran. Press flat. Dust the board liberally and gently roll the poli, turning it slightly as you roll. Roll as thin as you can, the dough ends up making an almost translucent covering for the sweet dal stuffing. Brush off any extra flour from the poli. Gently transfer the poli to a medium-hot tava (griddle), using the rolling pin as a support if needed. Cook for a minute till the poli develops golden spots. Flip and cook on the other side. The poli will usually puff up. Using a soft cloth brush off any flour that might be on the poli. Fold over and remove to cool on kitchen paper. Brush off any flour that may have found its way to the tava before cooking the next poli. You might need to adjust the heat up or down to cook the polis just right: they should have golden spots not black. Store the cooled polis in an airtight container. They can stay at room temperature for two days. Refrigerate if you are planning to eat them over the week.

To serve, spread a spoonful or more of melted ghee and enjoy! Some people like to dip them in cold milk, but soaked in ghee is my preferred way.

Puran poli brings up the 200th post on the blog!  Slow…but steady.

I am an unashamed television junkie. There is a lot I could do instead if I didn’t spend about 2 hours a day watching TV. My days are packed enough with work, including teaching and preparing for the lectures, that by about 7 o’clock all I am good for is sitting on the couch, staring at the TV and sipping tea. These days it is a couple of episodes of some cooking show or other, followed by the Australian series, Packed to the Rafters. Food Safari, hosted by Maeve O’Meara, is by far, my favourite food show. Fox Traveller is also the lone channel that my cable fella still airs in English, the rest (History, Discovery, and Nat Geo) are now available only in Hindi in my hood. Believe me, it is weird to hear Nigella speak in Hinglish. Still, some shows and documentaries are interesting enough that I don’t mind the language. Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against any language, least of all a language I have grown up speaking. But, you will be hard pressed to follow this Hindi dubbing unless you know English very well! The dubbing, especially for the cooking shows, seems to retain all the verbs, adjectives, and most nouns, in English – there is little that is truly translated!

I do think, though, that the voice-over for Jamie (Jamie’s America, and Jamie’s 15-Minute Meals, on TLC) is rather good; that is how he would sound were he to speak Hindi! While surfing I have also caught many episodes of David Rocco’s Amalfie Getaway on Fox. This time around he was being marketed more for his good looks than for the cooking!  Anyhow, I got an opportunity to meet the Italian-Canadian actor, producer, and host of popular food and travel shows, in person last month! ITC Maurya had organised a lunch meeting with him for Delhi food bloggers at their West View restaurant. The restaurant does enjoy expansive views of the Central Ridge and its green forest cover, a view seen by but a few! Unfortunately, currently it is open to service for dinner only.

David Rocco was in Delhi to conclude shooting for a new series, David Rocco’s Dolce India, to be aired later this year. After a busy morning wrapping up the shoot, he was all charm at the lunch table surrounded by women-only bloggers and hotel staff.  On the menu were his recipes (no, he didn’t cook for us, unfortunately).  We chatted as the lunch progressed, talking about family, food, and cooking.  To David good food is about the best ingredients and being passionate about them.  Naturally, talk veered to extra virgin olive oil.  Apparently, there is no messing with a good quality Olive Oil, and it don’t come cheap.  If it is cheap, it ain’t the real thing.  So, all you friends of mine, living yonder, you know what to send me – good quality, extra virgin, olive oil!  Some comparisons were made with butter, and how it was overrated (along with French cooking!) and could be replaced in most recipes with olive oil.  But Sangeeta (there’s a kindred soul!) and I stated that we were in no hurry to give up butter.  It tastes darned good.  Besides, I don’t even have access to good olive oil, right?  When I do, I will use it for salads and to drizzle on top to finish a dish.  Always remember, there is that carbon footprint to worry about, so keep your imports to a minimum.  Apparently, olive groves are coming up in nearby Rajasthan, so we may soon have good, local olive oil!

While we were on fats, I had to ask David if he thought olive oil was suited to Indian cooking and whether he had tried cooking with mustard oil.  He is partial to olive oil but he admitted that no oil can hold up to Indian cooking and frying like good old mustard oil!  He mentioned his recent hour-long pakora-frying frenzy with mustard oil, and admitted there was no way olive oil (or any other ‘exotic’ oil) could hold up to that.  [I told you so, already! - On choosing the right oil, consuming red meat, etc.]

Olive oil is being fiercely marketed in India as the healthy alternative. There are many who have been brain-washed into believing that soybean oil, rice bran oil, and safflower oil are better and lighter than the oils used traditionally, namely, mustard, peanut, and sesame.  The misinformation is now so widespread that peanut oil has almost disappeared from the shelves of most super markets!  I have to go to the mom-and-pop stores in nearby Laxmi Nagar to stock up on peanut oil.  I just follow a simple rule – mustard oil for North Indian food, peanut or sesame oil for South Indian.  I reserve olive oil for Italian and Mediterranean cooking, and it all works out well.

The recipes for the food on the menu were David’s but had been prepared under the supervision of ITC Maurya’s well known Chef Manisha Bhasin.  David Rocco’s recipes are simple, about the ingredients, and not about fussy plating.  This was evident in the first course itself, pasta with morsels of soft aubergine, a combination that I had not come across before.  The risotto highlighted the humble beet, but the Saltimbocca di Pollo, chicken with sage cooked in marsala wine, stole the show – the wine reduction was simply fabulous.  I went easy on the wine since I had to drive Reeta and myself back! David left the group for an interview on the sides as we were served dessert.  Smart move; he avoided the disapproving clucks all around. He was back only for good-byes but not before a round of picture taking!  The group (touched based with Deeba after a long time; the others - Charis, Parul, and Ruchira – I was meeting for the first time) stayed back for a round of coffee and tea.  Thanks for a lovely afternoon, ITC Maurya!

The dessert? Nothing to write home about.

As we move to bigger urban centers, and into smaller and smaller lots and apartments, we are removed more and more from the food we eat, from the act of growing our own food.  Much of what was once common in every home garden is gradually getting lost, at least to us city folk.  My parents maintain a small garden patch in their urban lot and even in that tiny space my mom forages for amaranth.  Yes, forage; they don’t grow it from seed, it just volunteers!  When we were younger and had a large kitchen garden inside the IITD campus,  kulfa (purslane) was another green found growing wild.

My father and his brothers are avid gardeners.  Even in the constraints of their urban homes, you will find them pottering around.  My uncle, in Pune, gardens out of huge planters on his rooftop growing runner beans, and Kashmiri favourites haak, sotchal (common mallow), and monjji (kohl rabi).  I have been very lucky, despite an urban upbringing, to have grown up in a home with a garden, and knowing a little about how food makes it to the table.  In my own typical city house I grow herbs in pots, I have a curry leaf tree and a lime tree, and grape vines that climb up the pergola on my first floor terrace.

Many wild greens used to be part of a regular Kashmiri diet – abuj, vopal haak, vasta haak, hund, to name just a few.  Today, I would be hard pressed to even identify them.

Sotchal (common mallow), on the left, foreground. Photo credit: Kritika Walia

Once a fortnight I walk to the Laxmi Nagar subzi mandi in the evening -  a 20 minute walk.  The neighbourhood super markets stock only common vegetables and fruits.  This week I needed some jimikand (elephant-foot yam) for avial.  I usually make the trip on a Wednesday or Saturday, the days my regular subziwala, who stocks only greens, brings special varieties like scochal, haak, and bok choy.  This Saturday I found mounds of pumpkin shoots as also shoots of bottle gourd.  I called my mother and in the background cacophony of the noisy street market it was agreed that I should buy some and bring them to her the next day.

Sunday afternoon I was at my parents’ place.  First, we all sat down to a cup of shir chai.  Later, I helped mom prep the shoots and leaves.   We wished there had been some baby pumpkins in there.  She also mentioned how delicious the flowers are, batter-fried.  Then she was a blur of activity.  Mom cooked the shoots in a simple stir fry with eggplant exactly like she cooks sotchal.  I got half the portion to take home.  Dad stepped into the garden and returned with fresh haak that I cooked for lunch yesterday.  For lunch today I thawed fish cooked with monjji (kohl rabi – this too was from dad’s garden) that mom had saved for me and the son – the last serving of fish until September.  That is a lot of different greens for this week! [PS: There was malabari spinach in the mixed veggies for dinner!]

The other day I was out with my class at Purana Quila, and I came across a wide carpet of sotchal growing in a swale!  I could identify it only because I had seen it growing in my father’s garden. There might be an opportunity for urban foraging in Delhi, but the tragedy is that few of us in the city can spot an edible green from a weed.  What we can do is to try and grow, even if in pots, some of the lesser known greens and reconnect with some nutritious foods that were staples in our grandmothers’ kitchens.  Easier still, we can start with familiarising ourselves with all those ‘weird’ greens that the greengrocer has on offer in the mandi.

Go out, find your pumpkin patch, and bring in an armload of the tender shoots and leaves, and try my traditional Kashmiri recipe, al kanjji te wangun – pumpkin shoots with eggplant.  Pumpkin shoots are cooked all over Asia and Africa. You could try a Malaysian style masak lemak pucuk labu, pumpkin shoots cooked with coconut milk, or this simple Thai stir fry (with pictures explaining how to prep the leaves).  The Nepalese cook them much like Indians, with oil and spices.  This recipe for mukimo, a Kenyan potato mash, contains within it hints of an Indian infusion.  The comment section of this post is full of suggestions on how to cook with pumpkin shoots – there is even a chutney from India!

There is some effort involved in preparing the shoots.  First, remove all the tendrils and discard.  Also discard tough stems and very large, coarse leaves.  The top 2 inches of the shoots are good as they are, snap and keep.  Retain any baby pumpkins that might be there on the shoots.  You have to now ‘string’ the remaining stems and fuzzy leaves.  Break the top of a shoot and gently pull it down the stem and all the way to the leaf.  You may use a knife to pull at the strings or outer skin of the shoots, if you prefer. Repeat till all the tough skin, strings, and fuzz are removed.  Tear leaves into two or three pieces and crush lightly in your fist.  Chop the stems into inch or inch and a half long sections.  Rinse and drain.

Al kanjji te wangun
Pumpkin shoots with eggplant

500gms tender pumpkin shoots (before prepping)
1 medium eggplant (the long, slender kind), medium diced
a few green chillies, snapped into two pieces
1/4 cup mustard oil
a pinch of hing
1-2 dried red chillies, broken into two pieces
1t Kahsmiri mirch powder (cayenne pepper) or to taste
1t Kashmiri veri masala (can be found at Durga Masale at INA market in Delhi; you may substitute with garam masala but it is not the same)
salt

Heat oil in a karahi or a heavy bottomed pan. When it starts to smoke add the eggplant pieces. Fry the eggplant, stirring all the time, till the pieces are golden. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. To the hot oil add a generous pinch of hing. Add the prepared shoots with the chillies.  Stir.  Add the remaining ingredients, stir, and cover.  Cover and cook on medium heat, for 5 min.  Remove the lid and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the eggplant and stir gently.  Cook for a few minutes till the shoots are tender (not mushy).  Serve with steamed white rice.

BOOK REVIEW AND RECIPE FROM BONG MOM’S COOKBOOK BY SANDEEPA MUKHERJEE DUTTA

Pour yourself a cup of tea, find a cool spot [Delhi is HOT at the moment] and watch, through the window of this charming book, as the Bong Mom goes about her day in her suburban US home.  Weekday stories of hectic mornings with two girls to ready for school, and stories of relaxed Sunday mornings with phulko luchi and aloo chorchori.  It is not a cookbook but food is the central theme that ties the stories together.

A Bong Mom’s Cookbook could be a glimpse into your own life, more so if you are a foodie, and who isn’t one?  I could relate to the anecdotes about childhood summer holidays filled with food memories.  Isn’t it amazing how some memories are so clear in our minds?  And their associations stay with us forever.

In winter when the first flush of fresh sweet green peas flooded the markets, my Dida would make koraishutir kochuri for those evenings of adda.  Making them needed a little preparation.  soon after lunch Dida would climb three flights of stairs to the terrace where the winter sun cast a warm glow.  My mother, a couple of aunts, cousins and I would follow.  we would spread out coloured maadur and settle down, our feet stretched out on the reed rugs.  Sitting there, we would shell the tender peas from their fleshy, pale green pods, biting on their sweetness every now and then.  Other mashis would join us.  They would passionately discuss Uttam Kumar’s new movie, discuss the third aunt’s daughter-in-law and complain about the peas this year not being as sweet as those in their childhood.  I would wander off to perch myself on a stack of loose red bricks and peer over the high railing to watch the busy road below where men on bicycles carried heavenly liquid notun gur in earthen pots and sweet balls of rice crispies, their seller shouting ‘Joynagar er Moa chai…M-o-a’ in a raspy voice.  When the cold winds from the north rustled through the glossy leaves of the jackfruit tree in the garden and the shadows from the railing stretched long enough to reach the jar of pickles kept out for sunning, we knew it was time to go down to the warm kitchen.

The book is replete with such recollections and makes you nostalgic about days gone by.  Even the mention of the brass pump-stove in her Chhoto Dida’s kitchen made me dreamy eyed!  The book also chronicles the process of orienting oneself in a new world, the quintessential immigrant from India, in the landscape of America, the land (or superstore!) of mind-boggling choices.  But the resourceful Bengali (as others of similar ilk) soon figure out where to source their Bangla fish.  Many amongst us also know all about packing that bag for the first trip to the US – the pressure cooker and spices take precedence over everything else.

It is hard to believe that the Bong Mom started to cook in earnest only after landing in America!  As a young professional in Bombay, she lived mostly on cafeteria food with an occasional street food trail that started with a Frankie-roll at Churchgate and ended with warm rabri at Malad.  This can only make you miss home food even more and it is only natural that phone calls home got “…gradually…peppered with more recipes than I had ever asked for.”

We also learn that, despite the obvious obsession with fish, Bongs Also Eat Veggies!  This chapter contains what I found to be the most hilarious recounting of an episode of mistaken identity which got the Bong Mom and her husband, the H-man, an invitation to the most elaborate Bengali feast when they were still struggling students in the US.  As they are chatted up they realise they have been mixed up with an illustrious researcher of nano-porous materials, which they obviously are not.  They decide to leave quietly but not before completing the meal, partaking of the last course – mishti – of lyangcha and bhapa doi.  The incident and the meal left a lasting impression and pushed the Bong Mom to start her blog.

There is the tongue-in-cheek humor directed at herself and all the food bloggers out there – our passion, bordering on obsession, about taking pictures and the lengths we will go to to style the picture just for the blog.

Beautiful plates, pretty countryside, food set out in a way I have only dared to imagine. A sprig of thyme daintily tucked in, a swirl of cream, a sprinkle of coarse pink salt all done painstakingly to perfection. people eat like that, even with toddlers tugging at their aprons? They have rolled up napkins and beautiful crockery set out on distressed wood tables for a quiet lunch at home? No one actually gulps down dal and rice, licking their fingers and standing by the corner, like me?

Don’t underestimate the H-man either.  He makes a mean dhone pata chicken and is the critic to beware of.  He has serious observations about what makes an egg curry.  But of course, his mother’s spicy dim kosha is legendary.  You will find recipes for both in the book!

Another great thing about the book is that you can start reading from wherever you open the book; the chronology is not central to enjoying the book.  In fact, that is how I read it: I was just flipping through and before I knew it, I had gone through about half the book as the TV tried to vie for my attention in vain!  If you want to order your own copy of this immensely readable book (and not just for the Bengali recipes), here’s a link to the Flipkart page.  I suggest you do it right away!  I wish the book had included a recipe index; it would make it so much easier to get to the recipe that you are looking for.  For more Bengali recipes (with pictures!) you can always go to the Bong Mom’s blog!  You can also download the QR code reader and scan the code on your smartphone from the last page of the book to search through her blog.

I picked the mustardy shorshe dharosh to try.  It is not for the weak, but if you are like me and like strong tasting foods, give this one a try.  I love, love, the spiciness of mustard, and was not overwhelmed by the quantity of mustard in this.  If you are chicken (by the way, shorshe chicken is great too – I tried a recipe last month and both the son and I loved it!), then follow Sandeepa’s tip and use just the water from the mustard paste for a more mellow mustard flavour.

PS: I almost forgot!  I have two copies of Bong Mom’s Cookbook from the publisher to giveaway to the readers of A Mad Tea Party!  If you would like to enter the giveaway, just leave a comment on this post; tell me why you would like to have a copy of your own!  Two winners will be picked randomly.  The giveaway is open to readers in the US and India only (you make up 98% of my readers!).  The giveaway is open for two weeks (till June 10th) after which I will pick the winners, who will have a week to get in touch with me.

Shorshe Dharosh
Okra in a mustard sauce

(reproduced from A Bong Mom’s Cookbook, by Sandeepa Mukherjee Dutta)

18-20 bhindi/okra

To make mustard paste:
1 tbsp mustard seeds
1/2 tbsp posto/poppy seeds
2 tbsp fresh grated coconut (optional)
1 tbsp yoghurt
1 tbsp water
4 green chillies
salt to taste

1 tbsp kasundi. If you do not have kasundi, double your mustard paste by using 2 tbsp mustard and 1 tbsp poppy seeds.

For tempering:
1/4 tsp nigella seeds
1/2 tsp turmeric powder

salt to taste
sugar to taste (optional)
2 tbsp mustard oil

Wash the okra and then pat dry. Chop off the head and tail after drying.

Soak mustard and poppy seeds in water for 20 minutes and then make a paste with all ingredients listed under ‘mustard paste’. The paste should be smooth. If more water is needed add a small quantity. Instead of the paste you can also use the readymade mustard powder.

Note: If the pungency of the mustard is too much for you, you can sieve the mustard paste and use the mustardy water, but then you need more of the paste to make enough liquid.

Heat 1 tbsp oil in a shallow frying pan. saute the okra with a sprinkle of turmeric at medium heat. Cover and saute for about 4 minutes till okra is lightly but not fully cooked. Sprinkle salt and remove and keep aside.

Heat another tbsp oil. Temper the oil with nigella seeds. When the seeds start spluttering, lower the heat and add the mustard paste. Cook the paste for minute at low-medium heat. add the kasundi. Then add the lightly fried okra. Add 1/4 tsp turmeric powder. Raise the heat and toss everything well together for one more minute.

Now add 4-5 tbsp water and salt to taste and cover the pan. If you have added kasundi be careful with the salt. Let the okra cook in the mustard sauce. If needed add a little more water. The tender okra will cook fast and be done in about 5- minutes. remove the cover and check. The sauce will be thick and clinging to the okra. Add a little sugar and mix nicely. Drizzle a tsp mustard oil and serve hot. Tastes best with white rice.