It’s nippy tonight – it has snowed in the mountains and it is raining in Delhi.  Some beans and rice is just what I would like…

I was lucky to get a little of the stash of fresh cranberry beans that a cousin brought over from a visit to the valley and shared with my mom who, indulgently, shared it further with me.  I had never seen these beans fresh before.  They are called thool razma in Kashmiri. Much rounder than the regular kidney beans, they do indeed, resemble tiny spotted eggs!  I had never cooked with them or even eaten fresh ones before so I asked my mom for some general directions.  She suggested I cook them with potatoes using the usual Kashmiri combination of fennel and dried ginger powder.

Unfortunately that week I got no time to try offbeat stuff.  I was too busy even to photograph these prettiest of beans – those specks of pink-purple are rather attractive.  You would have agreed had I a picture of them before the yellowing.  The pods were getting squishy sitting inside the plastic bag.  It was no way to treat beans that were obviously special.  So, I shelled them and held them in the fridge one day more.

The next day I was determined to do justice to my exotic vegetables.  Each quince got the attention that is rightfully its royal due.  As did this cupful of cranberry beans.  After the marmalade was done, I put the beans and potatoes to cook on one burner while on the other I made short work of the last quince which was cooked with eggplant for a most satisfying bumtchoonth wangun.

The beans too turned out really well. These are very starchy; just how I like my beans! As I chatted with mom on the phone about the recipe she informed that my Nani would add a little yoghurt while cooking and I could imagine how that would be good. Who knows what else she omitted to tell me! I, of course, unlike my secretive but well-meaning mother, have not held back any ingredients. Before I forget the recipe I share it with you here.  And it is just in time for Sra’s Legume Love Affair too, which started at The Well-Seasoned Cook.

Fresh Cranberry Beans with Potatoes
(serves 2 – notice how my cooking portions have reduced? Symptom of empty-nest syndrome )

1 C shelled cranberry beans
1 potato, peeled and cubed
1 onion, chopped (about 1/2 C)
1 tomato, chopped (about 1/4-1/3 C)
1/2 t saunth (dried ginger) powder
1 T saunf (fennel) powder
1 1/2 t coriander powder
1 1/2 t red chilli powder
1/2 t turmeric powder
1 T yoghurt (optional)
1 T mustard oil (or peanut oil)
1/2 t garam masala (optional)
salt

Cook the shelled beans with a little water. You can do this by simmering in a pan till tender or, as I did, by cooking in a pressure cooker for 10 min.

Heat oil in a pressure cooker. Saute onions till pink. Add tomatoes and cook till the mixture has browned and the oil separates. Add all the powdered spices and stir till they are lightly roasted. Quickly add yoghurt (if using) or some water to prevent spices from burning. Add the cubed potatoes and the cooked beans and about a cup or cup-and-a-half of water. Add salt and give everything a stir. Close the lid of the cooker and pressure-cook on medium heat for 10 min. Turn heat off. Once the pressure has subsided remove the lid and stir in the garam masala. Add more water as needed – the dish should not be watery but have a thick gravy. Serve over steamed white rice.

If you take a good look, you will find that the majority of the posts on this blog are around memories. Mostly memories about food. Yet, from the moment Manisha announced her IFR: Memories I seem to have been at a loss for words! Her deadline, extended, is looming and I can feel the pressure as she churns out post after daily post on IFR.

Many of my vivid memories are around food, which must be true for a lot of you. Despite nostalgia rendering most things pink, resurrecting food of our memories usually turns out well. Unless you are attempting to recreate your mother’s cooking. That one is hard to get spot on. Few can rival a mother’s prowess. Hopefully, our children will look at our cooking the same way, and we will have our spot in the limelight.

Just like this summer, before leaving for college, the son finally awarded me a 10-on-10 for my rogan josh. He also added that not only had I cooked a swell rogan josh, I now had my own secret ingredient for it! Which was true – I had tweaked my mother’s recipe a tad – I added a teeny weeny bit of ground mace. What was I to do – after trying in vain to match her rogan josh for ten years, I rebelled and made it better . Well, not really. By that time I had likely put in my time – the minimum requisite to get certification – behind cooking rogan josh to have finally got the art down. Yes, recipes evolve…in an effort to better your mom’s cooking when you can’t make it just like her. I bet my son’s food memories are starting to stack up.

To say that Kashmiris obsess about food is to put it mildly. I am true to my community type. Growing up, I spent many a summer visiting our extended family in Srinagar. It is truly wonderful that we used to get to eat so many great meals, all home-cooked, at the homes of so many of my aunts and uncles. Except for my Nani’s house, everywhere else I was happy to stay for an extended period. There was no plan ever. You just decided to visit a relative and went. No one, including ourselves, knew how long we were planning to stay.

The morning breakfast was always tchot, a naan-like roti available baked fresh every morning at the kandurwan (naanwai – baker) at the street corner. As the lady of the house put some kahva on, a young cousin would run out to buy fresh tchot that was served, still warm, sometimes lathered with Amul butter, with the hot spicy kahva. This is one of the recurring food memories I have about those wondrous summers.  The tchot available at the kandarwans in NOIDA, are no good compared to the original.

A memory that flashes by every now and then, is sitting down for lunch with my grandfather on a day he was fasting. He shared with us khichdi made from coarsely pounded dried singara (water chestnut). Water chestnut flour is used to make pakoras or shankarpare during fasts, but never since have I seen anyone even mention khichri. I wonder if singara grits are even available today.

Another elusive and rare fruit of this land is the bumtchoonth or quince. I had only the faintest memories of eating it but recurrent they nevertheless were, these memories. When I read bloggers rave about the quince, the craving for this somewhat exotic fruit grew stronger. A friend of mine is working on the conservation of Tibetan paintings in the monasteries of Leh and gets to visit the place often. Some time last year I asked him to be on the lookout for bumtchoonth, and would remind him every time he was headed that way.

Then two weeks ago my mother called me over for dinner and served bumtchoonth wangun (quince with eggplant)! A cousin had visited Kashmir and brought over some quince, cooking apples, and cranberry beans and shared the bounty with her.  I can’t remember when I last ate this exquisitely pared dish. Every perfect morsel, with a bit of eggplant and a portion of quince, was mixed into the rice with a little bit of the gravy and devoured in silence.

The following day I heard from my friend – he had procured some really strange looking fruit, seemingly, a cross between an apple and a pear, which the Kashmiri shopkeeper in Leh had assured him was the bumtchoonth. He was anxious to be delivered of the precious cargo; God knows I had bothered him enough.  It wasn’t really his fault that he was finding it hard to find the elusive fruit. Though much appreciated for its flavour and fragrance, quince is hard to prepare than your average fruit or vegetable. Coring it is not the easiest of jobs.  Only the occasional apple grower retains a tree or two in his orchard. The markets then are not exactly overflowing with the bounty as I had imagined. Somehow Maninder had managed to procure five beautiful pieces of perfectly ripe quince!

I got no time that week to cook with them. On the weekend my parents were visiting and my father made short work of one of the quinces. He likes the mouth-puckering sweet-sour taste of quince. I understand that not all quince are edible uncooked, but the Kashmir variety, it seems, is. I was planning all kinds of things with the remaining four…

The first one was peeled, sliced, cored and poached in syrup. It is sitting in a jar in the refrigerator to be served on ice cream. The second one I made into marmalade combined with a lime from my mother’s tree. Incidentally, marmalade originally meant jam of quince! You have to make a jam or a jelly with quince to really understand how pectin-rich this fruit is! Even though my hot jam looked fluid it has jelled as if there is gelatin in there! And the colour – a most delicate salmon pink!

The cores of all have been dried and preserved.  In Srinagar, quince was always served cored, with the core sold separately.  The cores, pips and all, were boiled in water and the resulting liquid was prized as a conditioner for hair.  Given the amount of pectin there, it must have been the equivalent of our modern-day gel!  I am keeping the cores for later jam making though.

Quince Jam

1 quince, peeled, cored, and rough chopped (about 2 cups)
1 lime, sliced thin
1 3/4 C water
2 C sugar

In a nonreactive pan simmer the quince and lime in water till the fruit is soft. Bring the cooked fruit to a rolling boil and add sugar, half a cup at a time, so that the contents continue to boil. Alternatively, warm the sugar and add to the pan. Continue to cook till setting point. To check for setting point, put a spoonful of the jam on a cold plate and chill.   If a skin forms that wrinkles when pushed then setting point has been reached. Pour the hot jam into sterilized bottles and screw on the lids. When cool, wipe any spills with a damp cloth, and store. [For more on jam making read this and this.]

That above is the bonus recipe. The one that I am going to share now, bumtchoonth wangun (quince with eggplant) is the special one. Buntchoonth wagun is a much loved dish of the Kashmiris. It was always there on the shradhha lunch menu. When quince are not to be found, they are often substituted with sour apples to prepare tchoonth wangun. In summer, dried apples are used to prepare tchoonth wangun. This was my first time cooking bumtchoonth wangun. Lucky for me, at my mum’s dinner the other night I did get to refresh my memory of it while getting tips on how to prepare it.

Bumtchoonth Wangun
(Quince with Eggplant)

1 quince, peeled, cored, and sliced
2 slender eggplant (light pink-purple ones preferred)
1 1/2 T fennel powder
2 t coriander powder
1 t ginger powder
1/2 t turmeric powder
1 t cayenne pepper powder
2 cloves
1 tejpatta
1 green cardamom
2 green chillies, slit (optional)
1/2 t Kashmiri or Punjabi garam masala
2 T yoghurt
a pinch hing
2-3 T mustard oil
salt to taste

Prepare quince. Halve eggplant along length, and cut into section about 2 inches long. I had 12 such sections.

Make a thin paste of all the powdered spices with a little water and keep ready. Heat oil in a karahi and saute the quince pieces till they are golden. Remove with a slotted spoon. In the remaining oil saute the eggplant sections till golden. If you have used up all the oil then add a teaspoon more. Add hing to the hot oil, followed by cloves, tejpatta, and the cardamom. Turn heat down and add the spice paste. Cook till the water evaporates and the spices start to roast. Stir briskly so that they do not burn. Add yoghurt and stir a minute or two. Add the sauteed quince and eggplant. Add water to cover the vegetables. Add the slit green chillies and salt. Simmer, covered, till quince is tender, about 30 minutes. Add more water if needed. The dish should have a little gravy but not be watery. Take off heat. Sprinkle with garam masala and serve over steamed rice.

It measured up to the memory alright.

[PS: I just had some of that marmalade on toast - it is the best marmalade ever!  Now all I have to do is be nice to Maninder and maybe he'll get me some more quince!]

My previous post didn’t quite make the cut for Express Indian: 6-ingredients-or-under because I had one ingredient too many and there were some protests that I was breaking my own rules. Little do you know that we Delhi-ites are like that only; we know rules are made so that they may be broken!  Nor are we about to turn over a new leaf just because the Commonwealth Games are round the bend and the honourable Minister of Home Affairs P. Chidambram feels we ought to mend our ways. Some things take time.

Meanwhile, here is another Express recipe, this time from TH’s home state of Maharashtra: second to none, the Shrikhand, a creamy dessert that comes together in no time and involves no cooking.  But do plan ahead, more so if you are planning to make the chukka (hung curd) at home.  Shrikhand tastes best if you allow 12-24 hours for the delicate  flavours to meld.  Some like shrikhand to be really smooth and achieve this by passing the mix through a sieve.  In our house we like some texture to shrikhand and skip this step.  My mother-in-law used to add a few spoonfuls of malai (clotted cream) to the chukka.  Every now and then there would be a tiny nugget of the soured malai that gave the shrikhand an additional richness and texture.  But gone are those days of buying fresh water-buffalo milk every morning (long live low-fat lifestyles), skimming the malai off, adding some yoghurt for culture, and collecting it over the next week or two to make butter and ghee. The buttermilk from churning this cultured clotted cream made the best kadhi. Undoubtedly. Sigh.

Getting back to shrikhand.  These days packaged shrikhand comes in many flavours; amrakhand which has the pulp of alphonso mangoes mixed in, is one very popular flavour.  Some like to add berries.  The one that we like is the the homemade kind with saffron as the primary flavour.  Yes, the classic kind.  I know, I am predictable.  And ingredients – exactly six, including salt!  Does it make the cut, Manisha?

Kesari Shrikhand
(Saffron Shrikhand)

Should serve 3-4

2l yoghurt made from 3% or full cream milk
1/3 C sugar (or to taste)
a generous pinch saffron strands
a generous pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 t salt (or to taste) (not optional!)
1/4 cup almonds, blanched and chopped (chironji is the traditional nut)

Hang yoghurt overnight in muslin (how to). You should have about 2 cups of chukka. Remove it into a mixing bowl. Crush half of the saffron. Or you can grind it using a teaspoon of milk. Add to the bowl. Add the rest of the ingredients. Using a metal spoon mix everything vigorously. Grate some nutmeg over it all; just a hint – be bashful. Add remaining strands of saffron. Mix again. Refrigerate 12-24 hours to allow the flavours to develop. Give a good mix – the saffron strands will bleed their gorgeous colour into the shrikhand. Taste for sweetness. Adjust salt. Spoon into small bowls; a little goes a long way.

That brings up the tail for this year’s Party. The Party got off to a slow start; there were some who had to be roused from their slumber, almost like waking up Kumbhakarana. The delay had the party coincide with the festive season of Navratri, Dussehra, and Durga Puja, which all culminated on Vijay Dashmi (day before) yesterday. All-night enactment of the Ramayana during the ten days of Dussehra is still a popular neighbourhood event much enjoyed all over North Indian.

I am so glad you could join in this celebration of the triumph of good over evil.  The Party menu (in the order of appearance):

Lisa (Beyond Russia) – Ayurvedic Avocado Salad
Preeti (Relishing Recipes) – Chocolate Peda
Pavani (Simple Food Bowl) – Andhra style Spinach Soya-granules Fry, Almond Mysore Pak
Kriyatv (Melting Pot) – Fish Fry (Konkani?)
Xiaolu (6Bittersweet) – Potato Methi (Aloo Methi) (Punjab/UP)
Madhuli (My Food Court) – spicy Masala Puri Chaat (Bombay?)
The Cooker – Corn Pulao (Maharashtra style) and an economy of instructions
Sapna (a reader contribution!) – Jhatpat Arbi (Punjab/UP)
Archana (another reader!) – Paneer Jalfrezi (Colonial)
SE (Denufood) – Hirvi Kobi Tava bhaji, and Tomato Halwa (Maharashtra)
Pel (Elaichi Etcetera) – Crab-Apple Pickles! (Konkani style)
Manisha (Indian Food Rocks) – not quite Paan, even better! Jeera Goli (Maharashtra)
Musical (Musical’s Kitchen) – Shimla Mirch Paneer (Punjabi to the core!)
Yours Truly – Palak Panir (Punjab), if I may be permitted…if not, then Shrikhand (above) (Maharashtra)
Aparna (My Diverse Kitchen) – Thengai Barfi (Cardamom flavoured Coconut Squares) (from, where else but, the coconut state – Kerala!)
Sra (When My Soup Came Alive) – Prawns and Greens (Andhra)
Shwetha (Cookie Shutter) – Fried Chicken (Andhra?)
Sig (Live to Eat) – Chicken Fry (Chettinad!) – much as she resisted, we got quite the heirloom recipe from her!
ISG (Daily Musing) – Beetroot Raita (bonus: Tomato Rice!) (Kongu Tamilian)
Sandeepa (Bong Mom’s Cookbook) – Narkel Naru (tender coconut ladoos from Bengal)
Lavanya (Pieces of paper, squiggly lines) – the evergreen Avial (Kerala)
and just in, Nirmala (Amma’s special) – delicately flavoured Rose milk payasam (Kerala wins!)

I have been cooking a lot of express-Indian these past few months. In fact, my usual cooking is reasonably Express, and predominantly Indian. But this was additionally challenging because I was looking for 6 ingredients or less. I am going to take some creative license and add oil to the list of not-to-be-counted ingredients. There is just a tablespoon of it anyway.

Yes, really. And, no cream. Sorry to have been the harbinger of this disappointing information but it is true that in the ‘real’ palak-panir (pah-luk-pun-nir) there is no cream. The creamed-spinach is likely the contribution of some restaurant-cook to fulfill the expectations of Indian food (quasi-Punjabi-Mughlai in most restaurants abroad) shimmering in that layer of floating fat. You do serve sarson-ka-saag makhan mar ke (splattered-with-butter) but not palak panir. Or, maybe, the name-change that this dish underwent when it was exported to the Western shores might have had something to do with this. Palak-(ka-saag)-panir got mixed up with the aforementioned saag and somewhere along the way became saag panir.  Saag is the generic word for ‘greens’ in Punjabi, but when used by itself usually refers to mustard greens. I believe I have come across recipes (on food blogs) for mustard greens cooked with panir. Inspired? ConFusion? I will keep my counsel.  Maybe Punjabi-kudi can shed more light on this subject…

Palak Panir
(Spinach with panir)

Serves 4

1 bunch spinach, about 400-500gms
200 gms panir, cubed
1 T grated ginger
1 onion chopped fine (about 1/3 C)
1 tomato, chopped fine
1/2 t kashmiri veri masala* (or garam masala + pinch of hing)
1 T oil or butter
salt
1 t red chilli powder (optional)
2 green chillies, slit
1 T oil

Rinse spinach in cold water.  Trim out any thick stems and blanch in boiling water. Drain, reserving the liquid. Soak cubed panir in this hot water; it will absorb the broth and swell in size.

Heat oil in a heavy bottom pan or karahi. Add grated ginger.  Stir till fragrant (a few seconds). Add onion and saute till transparent. Add the chopped tomato and cook till it is mushy and the oil separates. Add red chilli powder and green chillies. Saute for a minute and remove the green chillies. Remove from heat. Mix in the blanched spinach and make a coarse puree using a hand-held blender. Put the spinach back on the stove. Add the panir and its soaking broth. Break off a piece of veri masala, pound, and add to the simmering mix. Season with salt. Simmer 5 minutes. Remove to a serving bowl and garnish with the reserved green chillies. Serve with roti or paranthas.

Last week I cooked it for dinner in under 20 minutes, not including blanching spinach, which I had done while fixing my morning tea.  This, my friends, is the real palak-panir.  Which is not to say that the inspired versions are not worthy.  But, you need to meet the original to be inspired.

With that, welcome to this year’s Mad Party, though the conversation here has become quite tame.  Remember those early days of madness?  Will they ever come back?  Ah, Memories… don’t hold back!

PS: For what it’s worth, A Mad Tea Party attained another milestone of sorts this month - 1 million hits!

* Veri masala is my inspired addition to the dish, which most likely uses only garam masala.  But like all favourite family dishes this too carries the signature of its cook.  This recipe has evolved over time and reflects my attempts at recreating the elusive flavours of other good cooks (here, a bit of my friend Prati’s palak-panir).  I find that the slightest hint of Kashmiri veri masala rounds off the ‘bitterness’ of spinach rather well, and I always add it to my North-Indian spinach preparations.  Veri masala is available at the INA Market in Delhi at stores that stock Kashmiri spices – Durga Stores, near the exotic-veggies market, is one such store.

It was hard to come up with a title that had already not been used!  Quick Indian Cooking, Express Cooking, Simple Indian Food, Quick and Easy Indian Cooking, and my own section, Under-30-minutes! And yet, people want to continue to shroud Indian cuisine under difficult and complex.  Complex – I sure hope it is!  How can you expect simple from a culture that can say ‘cook’ in 1652 different languages! Even when we use just 5 ingredients to create a dish, it still turns out with shades of complexity!  But that, I think, is the sign of a cuisine that has evolved… over millenia, in our case.

The notion that Indian Cuisine is too complicated, too time consuming, and too rich is widespread.  That should make us a nation of smart (though idle), fat people. Which, urban India might actually be – fat, not idle – but I digress.  We have another Party coming up.  For the First one we all fried poori and served it with potato bhaji.  For the Second Party we chose to share our deep fried love with batata vada in its many avatars.  For this Third Edition, I am thinking we should address some of  Manisha’s concerns and see how we can help dispel the notion that Indian cooking is all about toiling in the kitchen, deciphering complicated techniques and recipes, and dousing it all in some heavy cream before serving.

India is the flavour of the season.  Which means that more people than ever before now know where to look for it on the globe.  There is also a growing awareness about the  myriad mini-Indias that exist within her, complete with their own language, culture and, of course, cuisine.  In India there is nothing known as Indian Food, or curry powder, for that matter!  We do have Kashmiri, Punjabi, Maharashtrain, Bengali, Andhra, Tamil cuisines…. which itself is a nomenclature quite inadequate to express the distinctive regional variations found within the states!  In cultural complexity it will not be an exaggeration to equate India to the European Union where the States of India are akin to the European member Nations!  European – a complex cuisine?  You bet!  Break the whole into its parts, and the mist starts to lift.

So, how about we find some of the less complicated gems from within the regional Indian cuisines and bring them to the Party – A Mad Tea Party – III? The dish should have six ingredients (or less), and it should be possible to cook it in 30 minutes (or less).  Time needed for soaking ingredients, rising time etc, need not be included into this calculation.  Essentially time when you can be fully occupied doing something else entirely is exempt from inclusion.  If you like, you may also subtract unsupervised time such as “pressure cook for 10 min,” “cover and cook for 15 min,” if no stirring at all is needed, as in the cooking of soaked beans and lentils in a pressure cooker.  This will ensure that those of us not having access to canned products or not wanting to use such processed ingredients are not disadvantaged on account of time.

If you can make a meal of it in the stipulated 30 minutes, all the better for it.  Since frozen vegetables are part of our lives now, these are permissible.  For those who would like to use fresh, veggie preparation time may be indicated separate from the other preparation and/or cooking time.  The essential part being, that it should be possible to cook the dish in 30 minutes of active time, using whatever shortcuts available to us today.

The rules are simple:

• Cook an Indian party dish* using  not more than 6 ingredients (not counting salt and chillies), in 30 minutes max. (from the kitchen to the table). The chosen dish need not be fat free but, must not be swimming in grease of any kind, including fresh cream.  Write a post about it (with or without a recipe ; list the ingredients used and the time taken to prepare the dish) – the region it belongs to, how you enjoyed it, maybe a picture of the dish and/or the family enjoying the dish. (Old posts don’t count!)
• Deadline: You have till September 13 to do this.
• Too hot to cook? Go out and eat one of these light dishes at a restaurant! The portion will be right, and you don’t have to stew even for 30 min! Write a post about it, and how you really enjoyed it!
• Link to this post. You may, if you like, use a Pingback and it will automatically show up in the comments here. Or leave a comment on this post which will lead us to your post!
• Don’t have a blog? You can still join the party; just leave a comment here about how you enjoyed your easy Indian dish! You may, if you like, provide a link to any pictures you may have posted on a photo-sharing site such as Flickr or Photobucket.  I will include your name in the list of those who participated!

* Any dish that you think you will include in a Party menu for your friends counts as a Party Dish.

Have a Party!

We decided to make a holiday of dropping A off at his college where he begins a new chapter in his life. I put in extra hours at work, squeezed in that second visit to Calcutta, (and stayed away from the blog!) and we were all set.

But let me start at the very beginning… because there is food there as well…

We started for the airport giving ourselves ample time having learnt our lesson just last month when TH and son nearly didn’t make it to the flight on the day they were to report for admissions! What can I say, we are a very laid-back family!

Yet, I didn’t make time for packing some lunch. I don’t care much for the “gourmet sandwiches” they sell on the flight. But where was the need to worry when we now have a spanking new Terminal at the Delhi Airport with all the choice we need, right? W-r-o-n-g.

We checked in and, naturally, there was time to amble around. TH and son went gadget shopping and I followed my nose to the barista. Baker Street cafe – interesting name I thought. The stuffed puff pastries looked so inviting… and wouldn’t they just be the answer to Indigo’s chilled paranthas and samosas? I bought two chicken patties and one paneer – for the vegetarian in the family – put into a neat brown paper bag with napkins. I was looking forward to lunch on the plane.

An hour into the flight Indigo announced it’s delicious fare. But, this time I am prepared! Or so I thought.  For the all well meaning governmental efforts to ban food off the streets of Delhi to make it a world-class city (what is that?) we seem to have overlooked the over-priced under-refrigerated food sold in the newly-opened cafes at our world-class Terminal 1D, and elsewhere! The food only looks fresh; it has probably been sitting there a few hours. And in the case of Baker Street cafe, a few hours in warmed cases!

You know how big that bite is when you have been anticipating the creamy subtly spiced chicken-mince stuffed inside the flakiest pastry? I took that bite. Err… that did not taste right… Baker Street was no Wenger’s that was for sure. Still… a second bite, a bit tentative this time. Nope all was not well. So I did the ’spoiled food’ test – broke off a piece of the aforementioned food – sure enough, there was that stringy slime! Yuk, thoo! TH’s paneer patty wasn’t spoiled (yet), but it was not as if it was good. So chilled samosas it was. How I wish Indigo would invest in a food warmer. I love the airlines, I really do.

And in case you are wondering how will you get a taste of Delhi chaat, don’t stress – like all other efforts at making us law-abiding citizens, this too has failed and faded from memory.  For once, I am not complaining.

We had an eventful flight to Goa.  Indigo has a reputation for being on time.  But this is monsoon season, so turbulent weather is taken for granted.  The plane before us had had a rough landing and had skid off the runway. It was being towed away when were all lined up to land.  The Captain assured us we had enough fuel.  Which was a good thing.  We circled over Goa for a long time, the turbulent patch becoming more familiar as we flew through it again and again.  I doubt if Indigo made any profit on that flight that day.  At last, after an additional hour in the air, the pilot announced we were on track.  The houses grew bigger and bigger, and the green crisper and lusher, but suddenly instead of lowering the landing gear we went full throttle and up… The Captain had spotted a pack of dogs on the runway!  Once more is the charm.

We, therefore, could not make the connecting train to Udupi, which is not the sleepy town that the station makes you think it is.  Karnataka is one of the more ‘developed’ states of India, with a poverty ratio much lower than the country’s average.  Teeniest of villages have good road or rail access.  Signs of renewal were everywhere – roads being upgraded, railway stations being spruced up.  Udupi enjoys a special status as a college town.  Manipal University was established here over 60 years ago and has grown to enjoy a formidable reputation, especially for its College of Medicine.  All this has meant better health facilities for the locals.  Udupi today boasts health parameters that rival developed countries!

From my impressions I would gather that much of the local cuisine gems are still confined to home kitchens.  I found much the same fare at all the restaurants in Udupi at least.  Recall the amazing variety I had sampled in under three days during my last visit?  But anywhere you go you are sure to get a mean idli-sambar or masala dosa, and filter kapi to die for; it is, after all,  the town that has given us the no-nonsense Udupi restaurants that surround us!

Which is not to say I didn’t make any new finds.  I tasted gudbud ice cream.  How could I not?  All of you were recommending it! Gudbud is a sundae – scoops of various flavours of ice cream (vanilla + strawberry is what I had) layered with plentyful nuts and chopped fresh fruit.  I tasted the wondrously sweet small local bananas; I would guess they were either the Rasthali or neypoovan variety.  In Southern India the connoisseurs get to pick from local banana varieties while all we get in Delhi are the sad Cavendish.

Jog falls…behind the umbrellas and the mist. Here is what Jog (pronounced – Joag) falls look like when she lifts her veil.  Spectacular.

Another thing – during the monsoons along the Konkan coast, it never rains. It only pours! But it is not the spanner you might mistake it for. It is life sustaining. And people just go about their work as usual, rolling up their lungi or just not minding pants invariably wet at the ankles. One afternoon, we were drenched in less than half a minute when we stepped off the bus from Mangalore and took a tad long to open the umbrella.

In the little time we had free (college admissions being the prime reason we were there, remember?) we did get to  taste a good thali meal at Mangalore, a visit to the vegetable market near the Udupi bus stand and the famous Krishna temple nearby, and plenty servings of  idli, dosa, and khara bhaath.  Needless to add, I started my day with a tumbler of strong filter coffee every morning.  If I could get coffee like that I might give up tea!

Shops around the Krishna temple at Udupi overflow with exquisitely crafted wooden tools and containers. I fell in love with the traditional rice measures made with the wood of the jackfruit tree. I also bought a pointy slender tool meant to flip appe! There were masala dabbas in all sizes, and churners and mashers so well crafted that now I wish I had bought a couple. So what if I already have more than I need, I can always be a collector!

I brought home some familiar and some new flavours: local boiled rice, mor milagai, jackfruit papads, plantain chips, Mangalore wheat halva; even a sambar cucumber!

Ah, yes, the Quiz.  Those, indeed, are flower buds of the arecanut tree, a favoured offering to Lord Krishna!  Many of you guessed correct:  Anjali, anonymous, Manisha (did you cheat a little?), M, Raaga, Ammu, Shilpa (with help from her Aayi!).  Well done, girls!

Happy Janmashtami and Independence Day folks!  Which also means it is Anniversary month here – time for the annual Mad Tea Party.  Any ideas?

I was thinking with some of us wishing to correct the misconception that Indian food is hard to cook, maybe we can showcase something that is festive, sinful but does not involve hours in the kitchen, the last place anyone wants to linger in in this muggy weather.  What could it be?

(Haven’t heard of The Party? Here is how the madness started!)

Idyllic six days of soaking in the monsoon…literally as well.  In these parts, it never rains – it only pours!  I’ll begin at the beginning but am fighting deadlines – how oft am I allowed to use this as an excuse? Also, I have a house full of guests; does that count?

Local bananas = ambrosia.

Are these cakes and biscuits bright or what?

And what do we have here in the basket?!

Yes, it is a Quiz!

Yes, I was in Calcutta last week!

Although I don’t bring you food, I will have you know shukto is my new favorite mixed vegetable!  In the two work-filled days I did manage two wholesome Bengali meals.  And loved every morsel of them!  I had no idea I might like Bengali food so completely!  Though I can begin to guess why it should be so… mustard oil, fish, rice…aren’t these the best foundations to build a cuisine on?!

Bengalis really love mustard.  Mustard seeds, mustard paste, mustard oil, and mustard Ambassadors.  I agree with all of the aforesaid mustard avatars.  I even love the nose-stinging pungent mustard paste served with mouralla machher peyaji at 6 Ballygunj Road. Dinner here the night before I flew out was outstanding.  I again requested shukto, sauted mixed vegetables in a sauce rich with poppy seeds, mustard seeds, and milk.  Our colleague’s wife guided us through the rest of the menu to help order an everyday-Bengali meal that included bhetki paturi (fish seasoned with mustard paste and steamed in banana leaves), moong dal, kasha mangsho (rich Bengali mutton curry), a posto of potatoes and tori (marrow) – I forget what it was called – served with crisp puffed loochi and steamed white rice.  I couldn’t do justice to the mutton but did save myself some room for mishti doi, the only one in the gang to do so that night.

Lunch the previous day had comprised of jhur jhure aloo bhaja – the finest fried juliennes of potato, pabda jhal – a sweet water fish cooked in a mustard gravy (surprise!), shukto (this one was a mix of green beans, eggplant, bittergourd, drumsticks, bori, and green bananas), masur dal, aloo posto, and pineapple chutney, served with steamed white rice.  It was a surprisingly authentic Bengali lunch for a dingy place that called itself Sweet and Sour… no surprise – it also served Chinese.  We would have been pushing it had we ventured any further (from work) in the middle of that hectic humid day; this was just across the road and the Bengalis on the team ate there.

Many eons ago I had made an attempt to cook the most basic of Bengali dals – moong dal -  from the very reliable A Taste of India which had ended in utter disappointment.  It was my first attempt at roasting dal that was not for a podi or part of tempering, and I likely, roasted it a tad bit too much. It was enough to put off further explorations into this fine cuisine. What a loss it has been!

The one Bengali dish I do know how to cook, and one that is a favourite, is begun bhaja – sliced eggplant (or sectioned, when using the smaller long variety) seasoned with salt and turmeric and fried in mustard oil.  That is all there is to it (there you have it, the recipe!).  Give me two fat slices of that soft eggplant imbued with the distinct smokiness that is mustard oil, and I am a happy camper.  In fact, I make extra rotis when begun bhaja is on the menu!

Alas, I had no time for the myriad street foods I saw Bengalis gorging on all over the sidewalks of Calcutta. But not for long; I plan on being back there pretty soon!

Before that, tell me what I must not miss when in Udupi – I am headed there! I might be able to squeeze in Mangalore as well!

I know, I know – I have been neglecting the blog.  I think i might have writer’s block.  The thing with writing is that you must just keep at it; that’s the only way to get past it.  You cut yourself some slack, waiting for inspiration to strike, and before you know it you have arrived at Writer’s Block!  Sticky place, that.

Yet it’s not as if it has been an uneventful month.  The Big News is that the son has graduated from highschool. Pappu pass ho gaya!! Not just that, he has also managed a place at a good college down South to study the subject he wishes to.  Yes, if all goes as per plan, he is slated to become an engineer in four years.

This is also a month of birthdays in the family, and everyone is a year older.  The son can vote now.  As for me, well… I don’t think 44 is any kind of a milestone…  After 40, they seem to whiz by.

Yet, this birthday ended up special in many ways.  The day began with the usual phone calls from my Mom and sis.  Then my neighbour T walked in to wish me and reminded me about our lunch appointment – yes, T took me out to lunch!  It was after a very long time that I actually liked everything I had ordered at a restaurant.  Thank you, T, for a wonderful afternoon!

Thank you, Manisha and Kay for your birthday wishes here!  And now that I am on FB, there were birthday wishes galore (Musical, Ritu, Pel, and Meeta, and my collegemates Keshav, and Ami!).  My friend Prati sent an SMS but I made sure she called!  This year I also received my first bunch of birthday roses – thank you, Raaga (and Sachin) – what a wonderful surprise that was!

Tea was at my Mom’s where my sister had baked me a cake!  There were other goodies too which I only nibbled at… Back home I found TH had planned aloo paranthas!  He fixed me a dirty Mojito while I waited to make some room for the paranthas.  And before I hit the sack my dear friend Manisha called to make sure I was having a good time!

All in all, a darn good way to ring in the double four!

Another first this month, in the kitchen, were dolmas.  Remember the grapevine picture from the previous post?  Seeing that, two Flickr friends screamed, “Dolmas!”  But ask them for a recipe and what I get are rave recollections of the ones they have had and a vague list of ingredients.  You should have heard the exclamation points implied!

Many recipes for dolma include some meat along with rice as the basic ingredients.  Robert mentioned raisins and nuts, and Pel thought that sounded so much better than his recipe.  I searched and was happy to find this version of meatless dolmas that seemed a lot like the one Robert was talking about!  It is always a good if I do not need to start with two variations to accommodate the vegetarians in the family when attempting a new dish.

You can use grape leaves preserved in brine or grow a vine like me!  You can even freeze leaves for later use.  Pick leaves that are large yet tender.  You will need a few extra to line the cooking pot.  Here Lulu shows you how you can prepare your own leaves!

My leaves were probably not very large, and I think I could have stuffed them some more.  But for my first attempt these medium sized dolmas were great!  The rice is subtly flavoured with oregano, mint, and cinnamon, which made it taste so good, almost a little exotic!  Grape leaves have their own unique taste which is set off perfectly with a hint of lime and olive oil.  If you have never tried making them, do it now!

Dolmas: Stuffed Grape Leaves

20+ prepared grape leaves
juice of 1 lime
1 1/2 C boiling water

for the stuffing:
1/2 C long grain rice such as basmati, rinsed and drained
1 T olive oil
1 small onion, chopped fine
2 t chopped raisins (or sultanas)
2 T chopped pine nuts (I used cashews)
1 t fresh oregano (or a good pinch of the dried kind)
1 t fresh mint, minced (or a good pinch of the dried kind)
generous sprinkle of cinnamon, and pepper
salt

Heat oil on medium heat in a pan. Saute onions for a couple of minutes, stirring constantly. Add the drained rice and continue to stir another couple of minutes. Now add chopped raisins, nuts, oregano, and mint. Continue to cook this for 2 minutes, stirring all the time. Allow the mixture to cool a bit before adding cinnamon and freshly ground pepper. Season with salt.

To stuff the leaves, lay a prepared vine leaf smooth side down, stem end near you. Place a generous teaspoonful of the stuffing in the center shaping it into a rectangle. Fold stem end over, then fold over the sides. Roll up, not too tight, to make a dolma about 5cm long and 1.5cm thick (mine were smaller). Line a flat bottom heavy pan with a single layer of vine leaves. Place the dolmas, seamside down, in the plan in neat rows. Pour over the lime juice and boiled water. Weigh down the dolmas with a plate to help them retain their shape as they cook. Cover and cook on a simmer for 30-40 min. Time will vary with quantity. Keep an eye on the water; top with more if you think it has been absorbed before the cooking time is over. It is okay if there is some remnant water at the end of the cooking time; this will be absorbed as the dolmas cool. Transfer carefully to a serving plate. Serve chilled or at room temperature, with additional lime wedges if desired.

Despite what you might be beginning to think. I haven’t fallen through any hole and disappeared from the surface of this earth.  Though, I came pretty close to just that this past weekend.

Given the hectic work pace of the past month, a fleeting thought that this might be our last chance to find some time with a young son on the threshold of adulthood (and college), and the by-now oppressive Delhi summer, we decided to steal a quick trip into the neighbouring Himalayan foothills.  A few calls and we were booked for an extended weekend in the tea gardens of Palampur.

But I am not going to be able to tell you anything about the tea there.  We never made it that far.  We had a nasty accident just a few hours out of Delhi and are really lucky to have made it back at all!  It even seemed a bit surreal after the crazy moments of the actual crash for the first few seconds of which we did not even know what was going on.  There we were turned 180 degrees and looking at the giant trailer that had just fish-tailed us!  Thankfully, the truck loaded with reinforcement steel wasn’t going too fast and came to a stop without dragging us too far or crushing into us further.  It was all over in a matter of seconds.  I looked around – all seemed okay, got out of the car and walked over to the side…. I was pretty amazed at my steady steps!

Good karma.   And another chance at A Mad Tea Party!

A silver lining of the botched trip was that I was able to be in town for a visiting friend.  Shilpa was going to come over with her daughter and friends for A Mad Tea Party.

Or so she hoped.  The problem was that we were all still in the vacation mode, not inclined to move the slightest bit in any direction that remotely indicated that things were back on routine-track.  So late mornings over tea and paper were fine, as was sitting on the couch in front of the idiot box.  No, this is not what we do on a typical holiday.  In case you forgot, we did not get the holiday we had planned.  This was our brain pretending that there was no office upstairs.  Or, more likely, we were going through some psychological resolution stages to come to terms with what surely was some deep seated trauma of an accident that could have been much much worse and had stunned our brains  into believing that a good way to pass a hot day was to sit and watch whatever there was on TV.

A non-functioning remote coupled with a possessed television set that changed channels and other controls on its own meant we couldn’t really pick.  The fact that all channels were creating the same tamasha about the impending elections results meant we didn’t need to.  What a relief it was eventually to see all the pundits proven wrong by the Indian electorate when the actual results started to come in!

Shilpa’s call for directions to my place finally shook me out of my inertia.  I knew there could be no Mad Tea Party without food.  If it ruined their dinner, so be it.

4:00 PM – I scanned the fridge and pantry.  I was out of everything!  Sugar. Flour.  Even the crisper had only tomatoes (what can I say – I prepared well for the holiday!).  In the full heat of the 4 O’clock sun I sent the son to buy these two basic ingredients which he agreed to after extracting a promise that I would not attempt to make it any healthier than it needs to be.  In other words – “no whole wheat flour!”

It’s been a while since I baked a cake.  Almost a year I think.  And those last couple of times I have instinctively turned to search for a new recipe on the Net. As I did the same on the laptop by the couch realisation dawned that I did not really have the luxury of time to scan through dozens of recipes to come up with a list of ingredients.  Shilpa and Co. were on their way and would be here in 30 minutes with the worst Sunday traffic I could hope for!

In this day of food blogs one tends to forget that there are good old tried-and-tested-and-perfected recipes we swore by before the blogs came along!  There in lies the danger of actually losing some of these gems because, if you are like me, then you have never bothered to write them down anywhere.  I decided to trust the sluggish brain, ditch the search, and scurry into the kitchen.

I emptied the oven and turned it on, found the cake tin and oiled and floured it.  The son was back from the grocer with the flour and sugar.  I was all set to at least have the kitchen smelling as expected by the time Shilpa and friends arrived!

The flour was sifted, eggs, oil, and sugar whisked till creamy, flavourings added, everything combined and poured into the prepared tin and put into the oven. Phew.  4:30 PM.  Now to neaten the house some.  Sorry, no time.  The bell rang.  They were here.  Already!

Four smart looking girls had arrived and my maid hadn’t!  I took them upstairs to the terrace to bide some time show off my garden and to grab a bunch of fresh spearmint.  Why not quiz them about my other mint? Peppermint – sorry, no one guessed correct.

By the time we were back downstairs the maid had arrived! Yay!  She put on some water for tea and helped me prep for onions bhajjias.  Lucky for me, I did have enough besan!  Onions and potatoes were in stock but I let the potatoes alone for once – nothing like onion pakoras.  Fresh mint, hot home grown green chillies, and walnuts were whirred with some water and salt, removed to a serving dish; mixed with some yoghurt we had my Kashmiri Pudna Chatin, a tasty dip.  While the maid chopped the onions I fried some of my home made potato chips.  She took over the frying as I mixed the batter for the pakoras.  The cake was perfuming the house, and the tea was steeping…

Yes, we had a Party!

Here is the simplest of cakes anyone can bake.  If you have been afraid to attempt one, remember that, at least for this cake, a little inaccuracy in measurement is not going to ruin anything.  This is the recipe I used this Sunday to turn out a very impressive looking cake.  It is a recipe from memory so I doubt if I have ever made it exactly like so.  In fact, I am sure I have never made it exactly like this.

And even if something should go wrong with your first attempt (which it shouldn’t if you are using fresh ingredients at room temperature), remember that I have burnt my share of cakes to get here.  The oil crept into the recipe not in an attempt to make it healthier but as a substitute for the more-expensive butter – my mother used to get pretty mad at us (me and my younger sis) charring expensive ingredients.  In our defense, we were struggling with the most rudimentary of those old round box ovens which did not even have temperature control when I started to bake! It was a challenge to bake a cake that was not burnt on the outside and undercooked inside!

Substituting with oil also saved us from creaming butter and sugar till our fingers fell off (I didn’t have an electric beater at the time), though butter does impart a very rich taste.  If you decide to use butter make sure it is at room temperature. We eventully graduated to baking a cake in half hour with the same oven.  My mom would request one every now and then to take to school for tea with her colleagues.

My Tea-time Coffee Cake

1C + 1T maida (all purpose flour)
1t baking powder
1/3 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
2 medium sized eggs
3/5 C oil
3/4 C granulated sugar
1 heaped T instant coffee powder (optional)
3-4 T cold milk
1t vanilla essence
1/3 C slivered almonds

Sift flour with baking powder and soda. Mix in salt. Oil a 9″ cake tin, dust with flour; tap upside down to remove excess flour. Dissolve the coffee powder in the milk.
Turn oven on to Gas Mark 6.
In a mixing bowl whisk together eggs, oil and sugar with a hand-held mixer (not a hand-blender) till the sugar has dissolved completely. This takes a few minutes because our sugar here comes in large grain size.
Add the coffee-flavoured milk, and vanilla essence. Mix till combined. Keeping the mixer on the lowest speed add in the flour. Beat till well combined. Pour into the prepared tin. Sprinkle evenly with slivered almonds. Bake in the center of the oven for 40-50 minutes or till a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Cool (if you have the time). Slice and serve with tea or coffee.

Sorry, no pictures this time. We were too busy partying! But I am going to bake this again soon, very soon. And if Shilpa took a picture and posts it on Flickr, I’ll be sure to link!