She heard his audible sigh as he passed the dining room. She was busy taking pictures of juicy, fresh strawberries she had picked up that morning at the farmer's market. "How does he not get it still?" she wondered. She had been blogging for over a year now and as she had gotten more involved with her blog, she had started experimenting more with different cuisines, with photography techniques and with social media. She spent a pretty good amount of time on twitter and facebook and she had a respectable following.
How could she not get addicted to this wonderful medium? Living in a foreign land, this was her way to connect with people from all over the world. She had made friends, shared her frustrations and joys with them and a lot of times learned from them.
Just the other day, Supriya had taught her how to use manual mode on her point and shoot camera. She hadn't fully understood the technicalities of aperture and zoom, but she was excited and eager to experiment. The strawberries were the perfect subject.
She knew she sometimes got carried away and neglected to attend to everything else. Hence his deep sigh of resignation. She realized she had been at it for almost an hour. It was past breakfast time and he was probably hungry. Come to think of it, she was hungry too.
Showing posts with label onions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label onions. Show all posts
Apr 21, 2011
Business of being busy and an easy okra stir fry
This week has been busier than usual for me. Since it is Easter this Friday, the kid’s school had an Easter egg hunt on Monday. For the uninitiated, the hunt involves each kid carrying about a dozen candy filled plastic eggs to school and handing them over to the teacher. The teacher collects all the eggs, scatters them in the playground and lets the kids loose to hunt for a dozen eggs. One hopes that the kid doesn’t come back with the same eggs he turned in the first place. I ended up filling up two dozen of the multicolored ovals, because the kid got invited to a friend’s backyard Easter egg hunt the very next day.
Maybe it’s just me, but the last thing a five year old needs is two dozen candy filled eggs. Thankfully, my kid cares only for the occasional bouncy ball that may find its way in one of the eggs. The candy, he just dumps out or shares it with his friends.
If two Easter egg hunts weren’t exciting enough, we finally finished staining and filling up the 6x6 sandbox that he finished building last week. It had been sitting empty for almost a week before our good neighbors helped us haul 33 bags of sand back home. After an hour of hauling and emptying the 50 lb bags, the sandbox was full, the kid was happy and we were exhausted.
For him, I made bhendi chi kurkurit bhaji (stir fried crispy okra). I say for him, because I have never liked the slimy vegetable, even though it turns crunchy and not-at-all-slimy when cooked to a crisp on slow to medium flame. But he likes it, so every so often I will pick up a bunch of okra for him. He likes it with a little bit more oil than usual and with lots of caramelized onions. So that’s how I make it.
Do you see a pattern here that I mentioned in my last post, about doing things for each other? Though I have to admit, cooking okra this way is ridiculously simple, with just red chili powder and salt to spice it up. However, I am told that the sweetness of the caramelized onions and the crisp bite of the okra is a divine combination. My brother and sister swear by it and so does my better half. So, I give you bhendi chi kurkurit bhaji, which loosely translates to crispy stir fried okra.
I do have a few tips at the end of the post to get the crisp okra that is so desired but so easy to mess up into a slimy sludge. So do read them carefully before you go chopping and stirring some okra and onions in your pan.
Ingredients:
1-2 tblsps oil
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp red chili powder
1 cups of chopped onion, preferably red
2 cups of okra, cut into thin circles or slim stripes
Salt to taste
Method:
Heat oil in a wide pan and add the mustard seeds. As they start to sputter, lower the heat, add the turmeric powder and stir. Quickly add the red chili powder and the chopped onions, followed by the okra.
Our goal here is to minimize stirring in order to prevent possible sliminess that may occur. Sprinkle salt to taste, gently stir everything and cook uncovered on medium low flame for 20-25 minutes or till cooked through and crispy. Stir in between as needed. Serve with chappatis, dal and rice.
Tips:
Try to stir the okra as little as possible. The more you stir, the slimier it will get.
Do not and I repeat, Do Not, cover the pan at any stage of cooking the okra. It will get slimy.
Try to use a pan with a bigger surface area so as not to crowd the okra and subsequently steam it. The less crowded it is, the less slimy it will be.
Don’t put any water or liquids of any sort in the pan.
Eggs, eggs and more eggs.
Maybe it’s just me, but the last thing a five year old needs is two dozen candy filled eggs. Thankfully, my kid cares only for the occasional bouncy ball that may find its way in one of the eggs. The candy, he just dumps out or shares it with his friends.
If two Easter egg hunts weren’t exciting enough, we finally finished staining and filling up the 6x6 sandbox that he finished building last week. It had been sitting empty for almost a week before our good neighbors helped us haul 33 bags of sand back home. After an hour of hauling and emptying the 50 lb bags, the sandbox was full, the kid was happy and we were exhausted.
Yes, it is as big as it looks! (6X6)
No dinner was cooked that day. We had some eggs and bread, the kid a rava bhakri, which will be a post for another day. Today, after another exhausting day of dentist appointment, bathroom cleaning and carting the kid to and fro from school, the dinner was simple. The kid had dosas with leftover dal from the morning. He got a vegetable Panini for me from his office canteen which I had with some guacamole that he made and a few asparagus that I stir fried on the skillet.
For him, I made bhendi chi kurkurit bhaji (stir fried crispy okra). I say for him, because I have never liked the slimy vegetable, even though it turns crunchy and not-at-all-slimy when cooked to a crisp on slow to medium flame. But he likes it, so every so often I will pick up a bunch of okra for him. He likes it with a little bit more oil than usual and with lots of caramelized onions. So that’s how I make it.
Bhendi, Bhindi, Okra, ladyfinger. A cross-section of the slimy veggie
I do have a few tips at the end of the post to get the crisp okra that is so desired but so easy to mess up into a slimy sludge. So do read them carefully before you go chopping and stirring some okra and onions in your pan.
Bhendichi Kurkurit Bhaji
1-2 tblsps oil
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp red chili powder
1 cups of chopped onion, preferably red
2 cups of okra, cut into thin circles or slim stripes
Salt to taste
Method:
Heat oil in a wide pan and add the mustard seeds. As they start to sputter, lower the heat, add the turmeric powder and stir. Quickly add the red chili powder and the chopped onions, followed by the okra.
Our goal here is to minimize stirring in order to prevent possible sliminess that may occur. Sprinkle salt to taste, gently stir everything and cook uncovered on medium low flame for 20-25 minutes or till cooked through and crispy. Stir in between as needed. Serve with chappatis, dal and rice.
Tips:
Try to stir the okra as little as possible. The more you stir, the slimier it will get.
Do not and I repeat, Do Not, cover the pan at any stage of cooking the okra. It will get slimy.
Try to use a pan with a bigger surface area so as not to crowd the okra and subsequently steam it. The less crowded it is, the less slimy it will be.
Don’t put any water or liquids of any sort in the pan.
Sep 15, 2010
A guessing game for the tea party
My heartfelt thanks to all you lovely people who took the time to pause and read this post and then give you precious comments. I have had fun making this for Anita’s Tea Party. It was my first time attending and it was a blast. However, amidst all the fun was the backdrop of plagiarism and blatant lifting of copy and pictures, not just by fellow bloggers but by long standing institutions (?) like TOI. (Read her powerful post here.)
It is easy to stamp your feet and proclaim that a recipe does not have a copyright, especially if it is specific to a particular region or cuisine. However, there is copyright infringement when ingredients and sometimes the method of preparation is lifted blatantly and passed off as their own. I have never had the misfortune of my copy being lifted, and frankly I don’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or to feel slighted at the insignificance of my blog.
But ask a blogger whose content was stolen and she will tell you it is like slaving over a ten-course meal the whole day and then have the mother-in-law take the credit for your hard work. I sure would not want to be in either of their shoes, which is why I try my best to give credit where it is due. And if you, my dear readers, have ever felt tempted to pass off on giving credit, be aware. It is a small knit community and sooner or later you will be caught and exposed for it. So, go ahead and copy past that link you have been debating about. Link Karma is a powerful thing and it will come back to bite you or reward you, depending on how you treat it.
Now, back to the tea party...
“Hey, I’m leaving work now. Will be home in another 45 minutes,” he said over the phone. “Got another surprise for me?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” she asked with a smile in her voice. “Drive safe,” she said and hung up the phone.
A few weeks ago, when she started their little game of “guess what’s for tea?” she didn’t think it would come back to haunt her so soon. It had started out of a desire to connect with a man she barely knew. She would call him when he was driving home in his car and they would play the guessing game till he reached home.
The first time they played it, she had found a neat trick, while surfing the net, to make batata vadas without getting her hands dirty. He wasn’t much of a tea person and he didn’t care much for the fried stuff either. She, from the land of kachori and poha, missed the fare and the company. She would sit in the cold apartment and think back on the days when relatives and friends mingled and chatted over cups of hot tea in her parent’s two bed room home.
He, from the same land but without her attachments, was happy with some dal-chawal-sabzi-roti. But he had gradually got used to her waiting with the tea. “Now,” she thought happily, “he craves that cup of chai as much as I do.”
The batata vadas were a gamble, but she couldn’t have chosen a more opportune time to make them. It had been raining the whole day and by evening the clouds had ceased their pitter-patter. A cool breeze had picked up and the air smelled of wet earth. He had come home to find the apartment smelling of fried vadas and ginger infused chai. He had guessed right on the third try that she was making something deep fried.
Him, “Is it round or clumpy?”
Her, “It is round.”
“Is it yellow in color?”
“Yes.”
“Is it batata vada?”
It was almost too easy that first time. After that, she had to get creative each time, if not with the snack then with the hint. Like the time she told him it was something baked.
He had guessed everything from cakes to muffins to scones. “Well,” she had said when he looked at the chutney sandwich, “I meant the bread was baked. I didn’t say I baked it!” He had started laughing at her guile and she was happy and emboldened.
Today, she was in trouble. He was expecting a Q&A and she had zilch. She opened the fridge and spotted the cilantro-mint chutney from two days ago. “Nah, we had sandwiches yesterday.” There was half an onion wrapped in saran wrap. She was still getting used to the supersized onions of this land. She missed the small, red bulbs of her homeland that tasted sweet and sharp and pungent at the same time.
She banged the door of the fridge a bit harder than she wanted to and started rooting around the various cabinets. Her eyes lighted up as she saw the red and gold packet sitting forlorn in an upper shelf. “How did I miss this?” she said out loud.
She was transported back to her mother’s kitchen, trying to decipher the chatter from the hallway beyond and keeping an eye on the pot of boiling tea. Her mom was calling out to her to bring out the big kadhai where she and her sisters were sitting around gossiping. The smell of onions and cilantro and something else she couldn’t remember. The laughter and the talk as someone tossed and mixed everything in the big kadhai. Her mom scooping out the spicy goodness in stainless steel bowls. An aunt straining the tea into the mismatched tea cups.
She jumped when she heard the phone ringing. She had been clutching the red and gold packet for ten minutes. “Hello,” she said into the phone.
“It’s me. I am fifteen minutes away. Sorry couldn’t call you before for the Q&A,” he said on the other end.
“That’s ok, just come on home. I haven’t decided what I am making. We can just have toast and biscuits,” even as she said the words she realized she knew what she was going to make for this tea party.
She put a small kadai on the cook top and started dry roasting the puffed rice. The onion was unwrapped and chopped. A few sprigs of cilantro floated in a glass of water as she put the tea to boil in a saucepan. She reached for her Aaji’s dabbas and quickly added the sugar and tea leaves to the water.
She found a small tomato that she deseeded and chopped. Half a cucumber was stripped of its dark green coating, deseeded and cut into fine cubes. She almost reached for a sharp green chili but decided against it.
She took the now crispy puffed rice off the flames and mixed it in with the Haldiram’s khatta mitha, some bhujia and a handful of neylon sev. She looked up at the watch before reaching for the mint chutney in the fridge. “Five more minutes,” she thought as she started mixing the onions, tomatoes and cucumbers in the kadhai.
She looked over to see the water boiling, changing from a light tan to a dark brown color. She quickly added a splash of 1% milk and grated some ginger with the tiny grater her mother-in-law had given her.
The cilantro was demanding attention. She lifted the sprigs from their water bath and patted them in between two paper towels. As she chopped the cilantro over the mix, she smelled the heady smell of onions, cilantro and the salty-sugary-spicy aroma of the mixture.
“Almost like that day,” she wondered aloud and then remembered that there was something still missing. “It is not the mint chutney,” she thought. That was her addition; just like the dried cranberries she had found hiding behind the packet of raisins. What was it her mom had added that day? It was there, she knew, at the tip of her tongue. She could almost taste it, smell it, but it remained elusive.
“Ah well,” she shrugged as she took the tea off the heat. She heard the front door open as she started to strain the tea into the two mugs. And then it hit her, chat masala. How could she not remember chat masala for chat?!
The two sat down on the balcony with the tea and the big bowl of bhel. He popped a spoonful in his mouth and chewed it slowly, letting the flavors mingle and sing on his tongue. As he reached for some more, he said, “You know, this is what you should take to Anita’s tea party. It is perfect.”
It is easy to stamp your feet and proclaim that a recipe does not have a copyright, especially if it is specific to a particular region or cuisine. However, there is copyright infringement when ingredients and sometimes the method of preparation is lifted blatantly and passed off as their own. I have never had the misfortune of my copy being lifted, and frankly I don’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or to feel slighted at the insignificance of my blog.
But ask a blogger whose content was stolen and she will tell you it is like slaving over a ten-course meal the whole day and then have the mother-in-law take the credit for your hard work. I sure would not want to be in either of their shoes, which is why I try my best to give credit where it is due. And if you, my dear readers, have ever felt tempted to pass off on giving credit, be aware. It is a small knit community and sooner or later you will be caught and exposed for it. So, go ahead and copy past that link you have been debating about. Link Karma is a powerful thing and it will come back to bite you or reward you, depending on how you treat it.
Now, back to the tea party...
“Hey, I’m leaving work now. Will be home in another 45 minutes,” he said over the phone. “Got another surprise for me?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” she asked with a smile in her voice. “Drive safe,” she said and hung up the phone.
A few weeks ago, when she started their little game of “guess what’s for tea?” she didn’t think it would come back to haunt her so soon. It had started out of a desire to connect with a man she barely knew. She would call him when he was driving home in his car and they would play the guessing game till he reached home.
The first time they played it, she had found a neat trick, while surfing the net, to make batata vadas without getting her hands dirty. He wasn’t much of a tea person and he didn’t care much for the fried stuff either. She, from the land of kachori and poha, missed the fare and the company. She would sit in the cold apartment and think back on the days when relatives and friends mingled and chatted over cups of hot tea in her parent’s two bed room home.
He, from the same land but without her attachments, was happy with some dal-chawal-sabzi-roti. But he had gradually got used to her waiting with the tea. “Now,” she thought happily, “he craves that cup of chai as much as I do.”
The batata vadas were a gamble, but she couldn’t have chosen a more opportune time to make them. It had been raining the whole day and by evening the clouds had ceased their pitter-patter. A cool breeze had picked up and the air smelled of wet earth. He had come home to find the apartment smelling of fried vadas and ginger infused chai. He had guessed right on the third try that she was making something deep fried.
Him, “Is it round or clumpy?”
Her, “It is round.”
“Is it yellow in color?”
“Yes.”
“Is it batata vada?”
It was almost too easy that first time. After that, she had to get creative each time, if not with the snack then with the hint. Like the time she told him it was something baked.
He had guessed everything from cakes to muffins to scones. “Well,” she had said when he looked at the chutney sandwich, “I meant the bread was baked. I didn’t say I baked it!” He had started laughing at her guile and she was happy and emboldened.
Today, she was in trouble. He was expecting a Q&A and she had zilch. She opened the fridge and spotted the cilantro-mint chutney from two days ago. “Nah, we had sandwiches yesterday.” There was half an onion wrapped in saran wrap. She was still getting used to the supersized onions of this land. She missed the small, red bulbs of her homeland that tasted sweet and sharp and pungent at the same time.
She banged the door of the fridge a bit harder than she wanted to and started rooting around the various cabinets. Her eyes lighted up as she saw the red and gold packet sitting forlorn in an upper shelf. “How did I miss this?” she said out loud.
She was transported back to her mother’s kitchen, trying to decipher the chatter from the hallway beyond and keeping an eye on the pot of boiling tea. Her mom was calling out to her to bring out the big kadhai where she and her sisters were sitting around gossiping. The smell of onions and cilantro and something else she couldn’t remember. The laughter and the talk as someone tossed and mixed everything in the big kadhai. Her mom scooping out the spicy goodness in stainless steel bowls. An aunt straining the tea into the mismatched tea cups.
She jumped when she heard the phone ringing. She had been clutching the red and gold packet for ten minutes. “Hello,” she said into the phone.
“It’s me. I am fifteen minutes away. Sorry couldn’t call you before for the Q&A,” he said on the other end.
“That’s ok, just come on home. I haven’t decided what I am making. We can just have toast and biscuits,” even as she said the words she realized she knew what she was going to make for this tea party.
She put a small kadai on the cook top and started dry roasting the puffed rice. The onion was unwrapped and chopped. A few sprigs of cilantro floated in a glass of water as she put the tea to boil in a saucepan. She reached for her Aaji’s dabbas and quickly added the sugar and tea leaves to the water.
She found a small tomato that she deseeded and chopped. Half a cucumber was stripped of its dark green coating, deseeded and cut into fine cubes. She almost reached for a sharp green chili but decided against it.
She took the now crispy puffed rice off the flames and mixed it in with the Haldiram’s khatta mitha, some bhujia and a handful of neylon sev. She looked up at the watch before reaching for the mint chutney in the fridge. “Five more minutes,” she thought as she started mixing the onions, tomatoes and cucumbers in the kadhai.
She looked over to see the water boiling, changing from a light tan to a dark brown color. She quickly added a splash of 1% milk and grated some ginger with the tiny grater her mother-in-law had given her.
The cilantro was demanding attention. She lifted the sprigs from their water bath and patted them in between two paper towels. As she chopped the cilantro over the mix, she smelled the heady smell of onions, cilantro and the salty-sugary-spicy aroma of the mixture.
“Almost like that day,” she wondered aloud and then remembered that there was something still missing. “It is not the mint chutney,” she thought. That was her addition; just like the dried cranberries she had found hiding behind the packet of raisins. What was it her mom had added that day? It was there, she knew, at the tip of her tongue. She could almost taste it, smell it, but it remained elusive.
“Ah well,” she shrugged as she took the tea off the heat. She heard the front door open as she started to strain the tea into the two mugs. And then it hit her, chat masala. How could she not remember chat masala for chat?!
The two sat down on the balcony with the tea and the big bowl of bhel. He popped a spoonful in his mouth and chewed it slowly, letting the flavors mingle and sing on his tongue. As he reached for some more, he said, “You know, this is what you should take to Anita’s tea party. It is perfect.”
Aug 13, 2010
Chole Palak, not an authentic Punjabi recipe
This is an old post, that almost got lost in the archives of my word documents. It was written in response to Supriya's query if I had the recipe for chole palak on the blog. The chole palak in question were the pairing for the Tibetan bread that he had made. This then, is the old write up with some new reference added in for freshness.
What kind of chole masala do you use? If it is the store bought, then what brand do you prefer? I prefer Sanjeev Kapoor’s Chole Masala. It doesn’t have too much salt and the spices smell fresh. If you make your chole masala at home by roasting and grinding spices, then please share and send it to Aqua, who is hosting this month’s B2B for me. Interested to host it, email me here.
In the past, my attempts at making authentic Punjabi chole, the kind that are immersed in thick, black gravy and the garbanzo beans so soft you could break them with the touch of your tooth, have failed miserably. Before you ask or venture, yes, I have tried Anita’s recipe and mine didn’t even come close to what hers looked like and I am pretty sure they didn’t taste like hers either. I will chalk it to my inability to follow a recipe to a T or the lack of patience with the bhunoeing of the spices.
Recently, Manisha wondered here why the chole gravy needed to be black? I have not the faintest clue. For me, it brings back memories of lunches I have had as a teenager at Pujabi friend’s homes. The chole were almost always served with white bread and I have to admit the combination was awesome. To this day, if I am eating chole by myself, I toast two pieces of thick sourdough bread to eat with it.
But I digress. A few months ago, in an attempt to finish off a bunch of spinach leaves in danger of wilting in the fridge, I added them to the boiling chole gravy. To my delight, the pinkish/ yellowish gravy started turning black and by the time the spinach was cooked through I had the chole of my dreams or at least the color I desired. Though they did not taste like the authentic version, they looked every bit as good. And since then, I make sure I have spinach on hand before I soak garbanzo beans.
A few weeks ago, with no spinach or any other green to turn my chole black, I resorted to the original tea leaves method. Lurking in an overlooked corner of the kitchen I had found a half empty box of tea bags. I popped one in the cooker with the soaked chana and eight whistles later the beans were all black and soft and ready to eat as is.
Encouraged, I followed Anita’s tip and roasted the onions and ginger garlic paste with the chole masala (store-bought) till everything was a luscious black color. Added some fresh tomato puree which did nothing to change the color of the gravy and then added the darkened chana to it. The result was exactly what I wanted and it looked and felt like what Anita would have made, I think. We had it again with the Tibetan bread and it was good to the last bite.
Here’s my Indian pairing for his Tibetan bread.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
1 can garbanzo beans or 1/2 cup of dry beans soaked in plenty of water overnight
1 tea bag (black tea)
1 small onion, chopped fine
1 small tomato, chopped or pureed
1 tbsp ginger garlic paste
1 tsp chole masala/ garam masala
1/2 tsp dhana jeera powder (cumin-coriander powder)
1/2 red chili powder
1 bunch of chopped spinach (optional)
Method:
Pressure cook the garbanzo beans with the tea bag for 6-8 whistles or whatever it takes for your cooker to get them cooked through.
Heat a tablespoon of oil. Add the onions and sauté till almost brown and fragrant.
Mix in the ginger garlic paste and the dry spices (chana masala, dhana jeera and red chili powder).
Cook on medium low heat till the raw smell of ginger garlic and the dry spices turns fragrant. Continue cooking till everything starts looking dark and mysterious.
Add the chopped/ pureed tomato and cook for another five minutes. Do not under any duress add canned tomato puree. It is way too tomatoey and will change the color of your gravy from a dark black to a muddy pink.
Mash a couple of tablespoons of chickpeas in the cooking mix and stir. Add the cooked chana and the liquid it was cooking in to the onion-tomato mix and boil on medium till the gravy turns thick, about 20 minutes more.
If using spinach, add at this point. They will turn the gravy even darker. Serve with roti, naan, bread or rice.
Manisha made Rest of the World Chhole.
The chole palak go to Simona of Briciole who is hosting Susan's MLLA #26.
Before I leave, here's a shout out to Sra, who is there for me via email when I need to bitch about another blogger trend I am not happy with. Check out her blog for some "humor" and some amazing fiction, if you are feeling down and low.
Another shout out to Jacqueline who has started The Food Blog Diary to chronicle the numerous events and giveaways happening in the blogosphere. She graciously put both my events on the blog within hours of receiving my email.
What kind of chole masala do you use? If it is the store bought, then what brand do you prefer? I prefer Sanjeev Kapoor’s Chole Masala. It doesn’t have too much salt and the spices smell fresh. If you make your chole masala at home by roasting and grinding spices, then please share and send it to Aqua, who is hosting this month’s B2B for me. Interested to host it, email me here.
In the past, my attempts at making authentic Punjabi chole, the kind that are immersed in thick, black gravy and the garbanzo beans so soft you could break them with the touch of your tooth, have failed miserably. Before you ask or venture, yes, I have tried Anita’s recipe and mine didn’t even come close to what hers looked like and I am pretty sure they didn’t taste like hers either. I will chalk it to my inability to follow a recipe to a T or the lack of patience with the bhunoeing of the spices.
Recently, Manisha wondered here why the chole gravy needed to be black? I have not the faintest clue. For me, it brings back memories of lunches I have had as a teenager at Pujabi friend’s homes. The chole were almost always served with white bread and I have to admit the combination was awesome. To this day, if I am eating chole by myself, I toast two pieces of thick sourdough bread to eat with it.
But I digress. A few months ago, in an attempt to finish off a bunch of spinach leaves in danger of wilting in the fridge, I added them to the boiling chole gravy. To my delight, the pinkish/ yellowish gravy started turning black and by the time the spinach was cooked through I had the chole of my dreams or at least the color I desired. Though they did not taste like the authentic version, they looked every bit as good. And since then, I make sure I have spinach on hand before I soak garbanzo beans.
A few weeks ago, with no spinach or any other green to turn my chole black, I resorted to the original tea leaves method. Lurking in an overlooked corner of the kitchen I had found a half empty box of tea bags. I popped one in the cooker with the soaked chana and eight whistles later the beans were all black and soft and ready to eat as is.
Encouraged, I followed Anita’s tip and roasted the onions and ginger garlic paste with the chole masala (store-bought) till everything was a luscious black color. Added some fresh tomato puree which did nothing to change the color of the gravy and then added the darkened chana to it. The result was exactly what I wanted and it looked and felt like what Anita would have made, I think. We had it again with the Tibetan bread and it was good to the last bite.
Here’s my Indian pairing for his Tibetan bread.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
1 can garbanzo beans or 1/2 cup of dry beans soaked in plenty of water overnight
1 tea bag (black tea)
1 small onion, chopped fine
1 small tomato, chopped or pureed
1 tbsp ginger garlic paste
1 tsp chole masala/ garam masala
1/2 tsp dhana jeera powder (cumin-coriander powder)
1/2 red chili powder
1 bunch of chopped spinach (optional)
Method:
Pressure cook the garbanzo beans with the tea bag for 6-8 whistles or whatever it takes for your cooker to get them cooked through.
Heat a tablespoon of oil. Add the onions and sauté till almost brown and fragrant.
Mix in the ginger garlic paste and the dry spices (chana masala, dhana jeera and red chili powder).
Cook on medium low heat till the raw smell of ginger garlic and the dry spices turns fragrant. Continue cooking till everything starts looking dark and mysterious.
Add the chopped/ pureed tomato and cook for another five minutes. Do not under any duress add canned tomato puree. It is way too tomatoey and will change the color of your gravy from a dark black to a muddy pink.
Mash a couple of tablespoons of chickpeas in the cooking mix and stir. Add the cooked chana and the liquid it was cooking in to the onion-tomato mix and boil on medium till the gravy turns thick, about 20 minutes more.
If using spinach, add at this point. They will turn the gravy even darker. Serve with roti, naan, bread or rice.
Manisha made Rest of the World Chhole.
The chole palak go to Simona of Briciole who is hosting Susan's MLLA #26.
Before I leave, here's a shout out to Sra, who is there for me via email when I need to bitch about another blogger trend I am not happy with. Check out her blog for some "humor" and some amazing fiction, if you are feeling down and low.
Another shout out to Jacqueline who has started The Food Blog Diary to chronicle the numerous events and giveaways happening in the blogosphere. She graciously put both my events on the blog within hours of receiving my email.
Aug 3, 2010
Vegetable Stock for the soul and of Chalks and Chopsticks
All I have managed before the grace period (Aug 5th) expires is to post this robust vegetable stock which has the distinction of being made by him. It is a part of his weekend ritual to chop and dice carrots, celery, onions and any other veggies that may have been left over from the week. He will then proceed to make a simple stock that will last us a week.
Unlike store bought stocks, you can adjust the amount of salt you put in and this is a fat-free version of the more buttery stocks, where the veggies are first sautéed in butter before being boiled in water.
I have never frozen the stock because it gets added to soups, dals, risottos, curries, khichdis and pulaos I make for the family over the week. The picky eater is unaware that the khichdi he is eating has concentrates from carrots, celery, mushrooms and onions.
Here’s his (not the kid but the spouse) simple but delicious vegetable stock that adds a layer of flavor to everything it gets added to.
Vegetable Stock (adapted from the book, Zuppe, Risotti, Polenta!)
Ingredients:
1 medium onion, chopped in big pieces
1 carrot or 8-10 baby carrots (chop the big carrots in 3-4 pieces)
2 celery stalks, chopped in fours
A few stalks of cilantro (optional)
Leftover veggies like spinach, greens of every kind, broccoli, mushrooms, peas and cabbage.*
Whole spices: (add more of the following for a spicier version)
4-6 black peppercorns
1-2 cloves
1/2 stick of cinnamon
1 tsp of fennel seeds
1 bay leaf (optional)
Salt
Method:
Put all the ingredients together in 4 ½ pints of lightly salted water. Bring to a gentle boil, lower the heat and simmer for an hour. The stock will reduce and get a dark tinge brown to tan, depending on the veggies used.
Let cool, before straining and transferring to air tight containers. Keep in the refrigerator for up to ten days. I always use up the stock by the then so I can’t vouch for the stocks fridge shelf life. If you do not have immediate plans to use it all up, freeze it in ice cube trays. Once frozen, remove and transfer to a freezer container or Ziploc bag.
*Avoid starchy vegetables like potatoes and do not overdo the broccoli, cabbage and cauliflower, for obvious reasons.
Other vegetable stock recipes:
Aqua’s Mushroom Stock
Sunshinemom’s Vegetable Stock
*******************
Of Chalks and Chopsticks
If you haven’t heard of (and I can’t imagine you not having heard of it by now) Of Chalks and Chopsticks, let me clue you in. This is a monthly event, conceived by Aqua and calls for food inspired fiction or fiction inspired by food, whichever way you want to looks at it, from bloggers and non-bloggers alike. Here are the rules:
Send in your entries at this address by September 5th.
The subject line should say: Of Chalks and Chopsticks – 4
The email should provide:
The Blogger’s name
Title and URL of the post
Some information, borrowed from earlier editions
The writing should be original, i.e. yours.
There is no word limit or theme – you can write on anything as long as the story has food as a centerpiece. That is, a food related/ themed story.
The story could be based on real life, just make it sound like a story and not a regular post.
Old posts are accepted but a new one is always more exciting.
These posts can be shared with other events.
Link you post to this and Aqua’s post.
PS: This is not a part of the original rules but I will make one anyway. Try to pen an intelligent, cogent piece of writing, even if it is just a paragraph. If you have a great story idea but are not sure of your writing skills or coherence of the story, send it to me or one of the writers for a look over. We can give you suggestions and help you out the best we can. And please, keep the use of excessive exclamations out!
For inspiration and some excellent stories, stay tuned for Sra's roundup.
Aug 1, 2010
A tale of independence, Baingan Bharta and Global Kadai
Mrs. Mohini Kamath was chopping a mountain of onions while the two big eggplants cooked in the oven. She brushed away the tears trickling down her face and started on the garlic. She always liked to mince the garlic with some chopped onions mixed in. With the heat of the oven, the tiny apartment had become cozy and she started humming a Bollywood tune as she washed the tomatoes and started chopping them.
“Aren’t we in a good mood?” she said to herself as she peeked into the oven to see if the eggplants were charred. She decided to give it a few more minutes before she turned off the oven. “They won’t have the same smoky flavor as back home but it is better than cooking it in the microwave,” she had explained to Naina the first time she oiled and put the eggplants in the oven.
Naina didn’t know how to cook. All she managed in the mornings, before Mrs. Kamath arrived at her apartment was a weak cup of tea. “I have to give it to that girl. She listens when I tell her something which is more than I can say of my own flesh and blood.” She remembered how she had told Naina to grate some ginger in the tea and boil it a little longer. Now, stepping in from the harsh winter outside, Mrs. Kamath arrived to a hot, steaming cup of adrak wali chai (ginger tea).
“My own daughter-in-law never offered me a glass of water,” she thought as she took some wheat flour and started kneading it with water. She did not realize she had stopped humming and was kneading the dough with a ferocity that would have surprised her if she could have seen herself.
It was ironic, she thought, how a cup of tea offered by stranger could make her feel appreciated. “Is that what happens when your family disappoints you?” she wondered.
“Aunty, this is so yummy!” Naina had come looking for her in her room. “How did she know I made the food?” She could overhear the guests appreciating the food she had slaved over all day, crispy Aloo Tikkis, spicy Baingan Bharta, creamy Aloo Dum, hearty Palak Paneer, subtly flavored jeera rice, Vegetable Pulao and cardamom infused Shikhand.
She waited for her son or his wife (that’s how she thought of her nowadays) to tell everyone that she had made the food. But all she heard was her daughter-in-laws’ “Thank you,” in that exaggerated accent she put on in front of company, as if she was the one who made all that food.
“Why are you in your room Aunty? Come out and meet everybody,” Naina had implored her. How could Mrs. Kamath tell her that she had been instructed by her son to stay in her room till the party was over and all his friend’s had gone home? She wanted to believe it was “his wife’s” instructions he was following, but she knew that it was as much her son’s wish as hers.
“Ma, you must be tired after all the cooking. Why don’t you rest in your room while the party is on? You will get bored anyways,” he had said but she knew what it really meant: “You are good enough to cook the food but not meet my friends.” She had been banished with a movie to watch on the small television in her room. Now, this strange girl had strolled into her room with a knock and was asking her to come out.
“Na beti (daughter), I am tired. I want to watch this movie and then go to bed,” she had tried to muster a smile but her lips failed her.
“That’s ok aunty, I understand,” Naina had said with a knowing look and went away.
She had come back a few days later, when Mrs. Kamath was alone in the afternoon. “Aunty, I was in the neighborhood and thought I will check on you. May I come in?” she had asked.
Eager for company and a friendly voice she had let her in. Over a cup of tea Naina told her what she had come for.
“I know I am asking you this behind your son’s back but if I asked him, he would just turn me down. I was wondering if you would cook for me and my husband. We both work long hours and we love your cooking. We will pay you $600 a month,” Naina had said.
Mrs. Kamath had never in her life thought she would cook for other people for a living. She had lived a comfortable, middle class life in India, taking care of the house and raising a son while her husband worked. She had never felt the need to work the way some of her friends did, delegating cooking and household chores to maids. Then, she had looked down her nose at them. “That is karma for you,” she thought. If two years ago someone had told her she would be living in this foreign land and considering cooking for young couples who did not have the time or know-how to cook, she would have scoffed.
After her husband’s death, she had started to feel lonely and when her son asked her to move to US with his family, Mrs. Kamath accepted immediately. It took her all of six month to convert her savings to dollars, sell off the house and move into her son’s house.
“What a mistake that was,” she muttered as she remembered how her status in her son’s house had been reduced to that of a maid who cooked, cleaned and laundered. If only her son had more time to sometimes sit with her and chat. Or if the grandkids would gather around her and hear the stories she had wanted to share. Instead, they would go from school, to different activities and in their free time watch TV rather than spend time with their “old” grandma.
“What do you think, Aunty?” Naina’s voice had brought her back from her reverie. “Like you said beti, I don’t think my son would like that,” she had replied with a tight smile.
“Will you at least think about it?” Naina had asked her before leaving.
It had taken several months for Mrs. Kamath to finally decide to leave her son’s house. In the end, she figured she might as well get paid and appreciated for what she did for free every day.
But before she could leave, she had to learn how to drive. Mrs. Kamath smiled as she thought of the day she had asked her son to teach her how to drive. “Beta (son), then you or bahu won’t have to bother with groceries and supplies,” she had reasoned. She had surprised herself with her guile. Once she had her driver’s license her independence would be complete.
Naina and her husband, Ajit, had helped her get a cheap apartment and a few of their friends had hired her as a cook. She brought Ajit’s ten year old reliable car and she was all set to embark on her new journey.
She had figured out that with her savings and her income from cooking for a few families, she could live comfortably. On weekends, she had started babysitting, not only to supplement her income but also to while away her time.
Her son and daughter-in-law were not happy at what they perceived was her desertion. “What will people think?” was her daughter-in-law’s concern. Her son tried to dissuade her in his own way. “How are you going to manage by yourself? You don’t know enough English to get by. Why do you want to leave?”
How could she tell this son of hers why she wanted to leave and be on her own? All her life she had always put the interests of others before her and she had been happy to do it, or so she thought. Here, in this land, away from relatives and friends, she finally had a chance to try it out on her own. She wanted to do what she liked doing best but with dignity and respect. Mrs. Kamath knew her son wouldn’t understand. She could only hope that one day he would. Till then, she had the baingan bharta to finish.
(End of fiction)
This piece of fiction, written for Of Chalks and Chopsticks, conceived by Aqua and hosted by Sra, is based on some of the older women I have come across in the US. They work here as cooks and nannies. For many of them, food is the only tie that connects them to their roots back home.
Mrs. Kamath’s Baingan Bharta (eggplant mash)
Ingredients:
1 large eggplant
1 tsp of cumin seeds
1 tsp of turmeric powder
1 big onion, chopped fine
1 green chili, chopped fine
5-6 cloves of garlic, minced fine
1/2 tablespoon of ginger-garlic paste
2 medium sized tomatoes, chopped fine
1 tsp of dhana-jeera powder (cumin-coriander)
1 tsp of garam masala
A handful of peas (optional)
Cilantro for garnish
Method:
Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Oil the eggplant, put it on a cookie sheet lined with foil and bake it in the oven for 20-25 minutes. Turn off the oven and leave the eggplant in the cooling oven.
Heat a couple of tablespoon of oil in a heavy skillet. On medium heat, add the cumin and turmeric, stir for a minute till the turmeric starts smelling fragrant.
Add the green chili and chopped onions. Cook till onions turn translucent, about 5-8 minutes on medium heat. Halfway through, add the chopped garlic and the ginger-garlic paste.
Toss in the garam masala and dhana jeera powder as the ginger-garlic paste starts giving off a delicious aroma. Stir for a few minutes before adding the peas and the tomatoes. Cover and cook till the tomatoes are mushy and the peas are tender.
Meanwhile, take the eggplants out of the oven and gently peel off the charred skin. The oil should make it easy to peel. Chop the skinless eggplant, making it as mushy as possible.
Add this to the cooking tomato-onion-peas mix. Add salt and cook for another ten minutes before turning off the heat.
Garnish with chopped cilantro and some lime. Serve with chapattis or rice.
July has not only been one of the hottest months in our neck of the woods, it also has been a busy month for me. I have been constantly falling behind in my posts. This story should have been up and running by 31st of July but since I was running late, Sra graciously let me submit it before she did the roundup. If you liked my story and want to read an excellent piece of fiction on first love, head on over to her blog.
Speaking of which, my roundup for the B2B event will be up after the 5th of this month. So, if you have any last minute entrees, send them in.
Is it against the protocol to announce another event before the roundup? I don’t know, but Cilantro’s Global Kadai rules stipulate that I announce it on the first of August. So sticking to the rules of the host, I would like to challenge you to Indianize tofu. There is a wide array of possibilities here, for example, substituting paneer with tofu to make palak tofu or making tofu stuffed paranthas instead of aloo paranthas. If you live in a part of the world where access to tofu is limited or nil, try making your own, like this. With so much creativity out there, I am pretty sure there will be some great recipes. Here are the simple rules:
1. Make an Indian recipe using tofu as the main or one of the ingedients.
2. Include a link back to this post and to Cilantro's original post.
3. Make sure the recipe is an original one. If it is adapted from another blog or a recipe book, give it its due credit and link.
4. The last date for submission is September 1st. If you are late by a couple of days, email me at this address. If I haven't posted the roundup, I will accept and include your entry.
5. Older posts are welcome as long as you link them to this event announcement and Cilantro's. No need to repost them.
6. Don't have a blog, but have a great recipe to share? Email it on the above address with your name, location and the name of the dish. You will get your name on the blog and we will get another recipe for our collection.
“Aren’t we in a good mood?” she said to herself as she peeked into the oven to see if the eggplants were charred. She decided to give it a few more minutes before she turned off the oven. “They won’t have the same smoky flavor as back home but it is better than cooking it in the microwave,” she had explained to Naina the first time she oiled and put the eggplants in the oven.
Naina didn’t know how to cook. All she managed in the mornings, before Mrs. Kamath arrived at her apartment was a weak cup of tea. “I have to give it to that girl. She listens when I tell her something which is more than I can say of my own flesh and blood.” She remembered how she had told Naina to grate some ginger in the tea and boil it a little longer. Now, stepping in from the harsh winter outside, Mrs. Kamath arrived to a hot, steaming cup of adrak wali chai (ginger tea).
“My own daughter-in-law never offered me a glass of water,” she thought as she took some wheat flour and started kneading it with water. She did not realize she had stopped humming and was kneading the dough with a ferocity that would have surprised her if she could have seen herself.
It was ironic, she thought, how a cup of tea offered by stranger could make her feel appreciated. “Is that what happens when your family disappoints you?” she wondered.
“Aunty, this is so yummy!” Naina had come looking for her in her room. “How did she know I made the food?” She could overhear the guests appreciating the food she had slaved over all day, crispy Aloo Tikkis, spicy Baingan Bharta, creamy Aloo Dum, hearty Palak Paneer, subtly flavored jeera rice, Vegetable Pulao and cardamom infused Shikhand.
She waited for her son or his wife (that’s how she thought of her nowadays) to tell everyone that she had made the food. But all she heard was her daughter-in-laws’ “Thank you,” in that exaggerated accent she put on in front of company, as if she was the one who made all that food.
“Why are you in your room Aunty? Come out and meet everybody,” Naina had implored her. How could Mrs. Kamath tell her that she had been instructed by her son to stay in her room till the party was over and all his friend’s had gone home? She wanted to believe it was “his wife’s” instructions he was following, but she knew that it was as much her son’s wish as hers.
“Ma, you must be tired after all the cooking. Why don’t you rest in your room while the party is on? You will get bored anyways,” he had said but she knew what it really meant: “You are good enough to cook the food but not meet my friends.” She had been banished with a movie to watch on the small television in her room. Now, this strange girl had strolled into her room with a knock and was asking her to come out.
“Na beti (daughter), I am tired. I want to watch this movie and then go to bed,” she had tried to muster a smile but her lips failed her.
“That’s ok aunty, I understand,” Naina had said with a knowing look and went away.
She had come back a few days later, when Mrs. Kamath was alone in the afternoon. “Aunty, I was in the neighborhood and thought I will check on you. May I come in?” she had asked.
Eager for company and a friendly voice she had let her in. Over a cup of tea Naina told her what she had come for.
“I know I am asking you this behind your son’s back but if I asked him, he would just turn me down. I was wondering if you would cook for me and my husband. We both work long hours and we love your cooking. We will pay you $600 a month,” Naina had said.
Mrs. Kamath had never in her life thought she would cook for other people for a living. She had lived a comfortable, middle class life in India, taking care of the house and raising a son while her husband worked. She had never felt the need to work the way some of her friends did, delegating cooking and household chores to maids. Then, she had looked down her nose at them. “That is karma for you,” she thought. If two years ago someone had told her she would be living in this foreign land and considering cooking for young couples who did not have the time or know-how to cook, she would have scoffed.
After her husband’s death, she had started to feel lonely and when her son asked her to move to US with his family, Mrs. Kamath accepted immediately. It took her all of six month to convert her savings to dollars, sell off the house and move into her son’s house.
“What a mistake that was,” she muttered as she remembered how her status in her son’s house had been reduced to that of a maid who cooked, cleaned and laundered. If only her son had more time to sometimes sit with her and chat. Or if the grandkids would gather around her and hear the stories she had wanted to share. Instead, they would go from school, to different activities and in their free time watch TV rather than spend time with their “old” grandma.
“What do you think, Aunty?” Naina’s voice had brought her back from her reverie. “Like you said beti, I don’t think my son would like that,” she had replied with a tight smile.
“Will you at least think about it?” Naina had asked her before leaving.
It had taken several months for Mrs. Kamath to finally decide to leave her son’s house. In the end, she figured she might as well get paid and appreciated for what she did for free every day.
But before she could leave, she had to learn how to drive. Mrs. Kamath smiled as she thought of the day she had asked her son to teach her how to drive. “Beta (son), then you or bahu won’t have to bother with groceries and supplies,” she had reasoned. She had surprised herself with her guile. Once she had her driver’s license her independence would be complete.
Naina and her husband, Ajit, had helped her get a cheap apartment and a few of their friends had hired her as a cook. She brought Ajit’s ten year old reliable car and she was all set to embark on her new journey.
She had figured out that with her savings and her income from cooking for a few families, she could live comfortably. On weekends, she had started babysitting, not only to supplement her income but also to while away her time.
Her son and daughter-in-law were not happy at what they perceived was her desertion. “What will people think?” was her daughter-in-law’s concern. Her son tried to dissuade her in his own way. “How are you going to manage by yourself? You don’t know enough English to get by. Why do you want to leave?”
How could she tell this son of hers why she wanted to leave and be on her own? All her life she had always put the interests of others before her and she had been happy to do it, or so she thought. Here, in this land, away from relatives and friends, she finally had a chance to try it out on her own. She wanted to do what she liked doing best but with dignity and respect. Mrs. Kamath knew her son wouldn’t understand. She could only hope that one day he would. Till then, she had the baingan bharta to finish.
(End of fiction)
This piece of fiction, written for Of Chalks and Chopsticks, conceived by Aqua and hosted by Sra, is based on some of the older women I have come across in the US. They work here as cooks and nannies. For many of them, food is the only tie that connects them to their roots back home.
Ingredients:
1 large eggplant
1 tsp of cumin seeds
1 tsp of turmeric powder
1 big onion, chopped fine
1 green chili, chopped fine
5-6 cloves of garlic, minced fine
1/2 tablespoon of ginger-garlic paste
2 medium sized tomatoes, chopped fine
1 tsp of dhana-jeera powder (cumin-coriander)
1 tsp of garam masala
A handful of peas (optional)
Cilantro for garnish
Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Oil the eggplant, put it on a cookie sheet lined with foil and bake it in the oven for 20-25 minutes. Turn off the oven and leave the eggplant in the cooling oven.
Heat a couple of tablespoon of oil in a heavy skillet. On medium heat, add the cumin and turmeric, stir for a minute till the turmeric starts smelling fragrant.
Add the green chili and chopped onions. Cook till onions turn translucent, about 5-8 minutes on medium heat. Halfway through, add the chopped garlic and the ginger-garlic paste.
Toss in the garam masala and dhana jeera powder as the ginger-garlic paste starts giving off a delicious aroma. Stir for a few minutes before adding the peas and the tomatoes. Cover and cook till the tomatoes are mushy and the peas are tender.
Meanwhile, take the eggplants out of the oven and gently peel off the charred skin. The oil should make it easy to peel. Chop the skinless eggplant, making it as mushy as possible.
Add this to the cooking tomato-onion-peas mix. Add salt and cook for another ten minutes before turning off the heat.
Garnish with chopped cilantro and some lime. Serve with chapattis or rice.
*********
July has not only been one of the hottest months in our neck of the woods, it also has been a busy month for me. I have been constantly falling behind in my posts. This story should have been up and running by 31st of July but since I was running late, Sra graciously let me submit it before she did the roundup. If you liked my story and want to read an excellent piece of fiction on first love, head on over to her blog.
Speaking of which, my roundup for the B2B event will be up after the 5th of this month. So, if you have any last minute entrees, send them in.
Is it against the protocol to announce another event before the roundup? I don’t know, but Cilantro’s Global Kadai rules stipulate that I announce it on the first of August. So sticking to the rules of the host, I would like to challenge you to Indianize tofu. There is a wide array of possibilities here, for example, substituting paneer with tofu to make palak tofu or making tofu stuffed paranthas instead of aloo paranthas. If you live in a part of the world where access to tofu is limited or nil, try making your own, like this. With so much creativity out there, I am pretty sure there will be some great recipes. Here are the simple rules:
1. Make an Indian recipe using tofu as the main or one of the ingedients.
2. Include a link back to this post and to Cilantro's original post.
3. Make sure the recipe is an original one. If it is adapted from another blog or a recipe book, give it its due credit and link.
4. The last date for submission is September 1st. If you are late by a couple of days, email me at this address. If I haven't posted the roundup, I will accept and include your entry.
5. Older posts are welcome as long as you link them to this event announcement and Cilantro's. No need to repost them.
6. Don't have a blog, but have a great recipe to share? Email it on the above address with your name, location and the name of the dish. You will get your name on the blog and we will get another recipe for our collection.
Jul 11, 2010
Anatomy of an onion and the contest winner
Breakfast on weekdays is a staid affair in our house. He eats his at work (eggs), I eat oatmeal with raisins and the kid loves his cheerios with raisins and milk. Weekends are pretty much the same except on the days when the house doesn’t need cleaning, the laundry is done and folded away and the lawn has been mowed the day before. Then, I like to make the ubiquitous Maharashtrian breakfast of kanda poha, except I make the pimped up version, Indori kanda poha, complete with all the fixings of sev and onions and pomegranate seeds.
Last weekend, while prepping for the aforementioned poha, as I chopped in two the unnaturally big onion, I was struck by the even concentric ridges and the smooth, shiny, beautiful red of the onion. I cradled the half cut onion in my palms and admired the beauty of its contours. This is what I captured with my humble point and shoot digital. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
My favorite!
On a parting note, the Coming Clean call for entrees received a total of one entry from M who blogs at Eating Matters. I am not the least bit insulted by this obvious rejection of the simple call for clicks by the foodie community. For now, I will just assume that none of you had a corner in your kitchen or pantry worthy enough to be photographed and put up on the blog. Except of course M, who gets a second link for being the only participant and for having a smashing, minimalist pantry.
The neat ridges and the smooth texture
On the subject of links and entrees, I was touched by how many of you liked my piece of fiction and suggested a title for it. I stand corrected on my assumption that I was being ignored. There were more suggestions that I expected and I had a tough time deciding the winner. Here are the nominees:Nupur’s Coming Home, a title liked by a lot of you.
Srivalli's suggestions were in sync with Nupur's: Homecoming and Healed Heart.
The spin offs on curd rice with Fresh curds for a fresh start, rice plate with a clean slate and curd rice for the soul, the first two suggested by SS, and the last one by Sweet Artichoke.
Some titles suggested and inspired by Scarlett O’Hara and the positive ending of the story: Tomorrow is another day, A positive Attitude and Hope, suggested by Vaishali , Bangalore Baker and PJ, in that order.
Two along the lines of fire and rebirth: Rise of the phoenix and Coming back to life, suggested by Cool Lassie and Aqua respectively.
And the lone category of witty title: Links that matter, because it highlights the bond between mother and daugheter as well as the prize of the contest, suggested by who else but the witty and word wise Sra.
A vote on fb yielded no majority votes so I picked a title that tickled me with its tongue-in-cheek intent. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, the winner is Sra whose Soup came alive is redolent with much more tongue-in-cheek sentences and titles like The links that matter. In keeping with my promise, starting from this post, Sra’s blog gets linked for the next nine posts I write.
Speaking of which, the next post is my review of Ruth Reichl’s Garlic and Sapphires, which was due on the first of this month and by the time gets posted will be late by two weeks.
Don't forget to send in your entrees for the Back to Basics event.
A parting shot
May 28, 2010
Of quiet husbands and risotto surprises
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction (except for the recipe) and may or may not have some resemblence to persons living.
“You are going to be late for class,” he said as she dunked her toast and sipped her tea at a leisurely pace.
“Don’t worry, I have plenty of time. It takes 25 minutes to reach school, 35 max if there is traffic,” she replied in her nonchalant way.
He just shrugged and went back to reading his book. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to point out that the traffic increased at this time of the day.
She had always been like this, relaxed and completely out of sync with time; he sometimes wondered how she got anything done at all.
Earlier in their marriage, he used to get exasperated. “I am so glad you are not a doctor. Your patients would have died waiting for you on the operating table.” She would just laugh and walk away.
In time, he had learnt to relax around her laid back attitude but there were times when he still bristled when she went about her business as if time was infinite. Most of the time, he just shrugged and let go. It was easier that way, less stressful.
“Ok, I am ready. How do I look?” she asked with that twinkle in her eyes he had grown to love so much.
“Good,” he said. He wasn’t the loquacious one in this union. She pecked him on his cheek, got into the car and sped off.
“I hope she reaches school in time,” he muttered under his breath as he headed back into the house.
He was glad she was finally doing something with her life. The ten years they had been married he had stood by her as she squandered away her life on trivial pursuits instead of doing something productive with her talent.
“At least she woke up before she turned 50,” he thought as he went back to the book he was reading. He had picked it up at a garage sale for a dollar. It was called Risotto, Polenta and Pasta, a Taste of Italy.
He decided he would try his hand at making risotto. He knew she didn’t like him cooking without her present.
“You make too much mess and you are not very efficient with the chopping and the pots and pans. Let me help you,” she would insist.
He hated being told how to cook or her interfering “help”. He had his own ideas and even if he was wrong, he wanted to find it out for himself.
Today was the perfect chance. She won’t be back for another four hours. He can drive down to the grocery store for the supplies; cook to his heart’s content and even clean up the kitchen decently before she came home.
He set about in his meticulous way writing down the ingredients he needed for the risotto. The list was a big point of contention between the two. He believed in them, she didn’t. Today, he gets to do things his own way.
“You are going to be late for class,” he said as she dunked her toast and sipped her tea at a leisurely pace.
“Don’t worry, I have plenty of time. It takes 25 minutes to reach school, 35 max if there is traffic,” she replied in her nonchalant way.
He just shrugged and went back to reading his book. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to point out that the traffic increased at this time of the day.
She had always been like this, relaxed and completely out of sync with time; he sometimes wondered how she got anything done at all.
Earlier in their marriage, he used to get exasperated. “I am so glad you are not a doctor. Your patients would have died waiting for you on the operating table.” She would just laugh and walk away.
In time, he had learnt to relax around her laid back attitude but there were times when he still bristled when she went about her business as if time was infinite. Most of the time, he just shrugged and let go. It was easier that way, less stressful.
“Ok, I am ready. How do I look?” she asked with that twinkle in her eyes he had grown to love so much.
“Good,” he said. He wasn’t the loquacious one in this union. She pecked him on his cheek, got into the car and sped off.
“I hope she reaches school in time,” he muttered under his breath as he headed back into the house.
He was glad she was finally doing something with her life. The ten years they had been married he had stood by her as she squandered away her life on trivial pursuits instead of doing something productive with her talent.
“At least she woke up before she turned 50,” he thought as he went back to the book he was reading. He had picked it up at a garage sale for a dollar. It was called Risotto, Polenta and Pasta, a Taste of Italy.
He decided he would try his hand at making risotto. He knew she didn’t like him cooking without her present.
“You make too much mess and you are not very efficient with the chopping and the pots and pans. Let me help you,” she would insist.
He hated being told how to cook or her interfering “help”. He had his own ideas and even if he was wrong, he wanted to find it out for himself.
Today was the perfect chance. She won’t be back for another four hours. He can drive down to the grocery store for the supplies; cook to his heart’s content and even clean up the kitchen decently before she came home.
He set about in his meticulous way writing down the ingredients he needed for the risotto. The list was a big point of contention between the two. He believed in them, she didn’t. Today, he gets to do things his own way.
May 19, 2010
Something old, something borrowed, something green
Palak Paneer (Cottage cheese in Spinach curry)
How do you come back after more than a month of hiatus? First order of business: Update 359 Days of DSM, which had been gathering cobwebs since I decided to hang up my blogging gloves and pick up US Government and History books. DSM is almost updated. It took almost two weeks to update a month and a half of clicks. As of today, only three days remain to be uploaded. Fruits of procrastination are not sweet, believe me!
Next, to figure out blogger in draft and revamp DSM to look all spiffy and hi-tech like, err... the other spiffy and hi-tech blogs.
While in the midst of updating a daily blog (yes, I am aware it is an oxymoron) and revamping the original blog, I decided to do a quick Google search for Kothimbir Vadi (roughly translated, steamed cilantro pudding?) and landed on Nupur’s One Hot Stove and almost sizzled with excitement over her The Adaptation Edition. A perfect come back for yours truly who has a hard time following a recipe to a T.
Besides, the way I look at it, Indian cooking is versatile enough to substitute chole masala instead of garam masala and add cream cheese instead of heavy cream in a restaurant-style curry. The result is unpredictable but rarely, if ever, undesirable.
Take note all those Nay-Sayers who think Indian cooking is too involved. Most of the time, a teaspoon or two of garam masala, some turmeric, red chili and mustard and/or cumin seeds is all you need in your pantry to cook up Indian food.
Next, to figure out blogger in draft and revamp DSM to look all spiffy and hi-tech like, err... the other spiffy and hi-tech blogs.
While in the midst of updating a daily blog (yes, I am aware it is an oxymoron) and revamping the original blog, I decided to do a quick Google search for Kothimbir Vadi (roughly translated, steamed cilantro pudding?) and landed on Nupur’s One Hot Stove and almost sizzled with excitement over her The Adaptation Edition. A perfect come back for yours truly who has a hard time following a recipe to a T.
Besides, the way I look at it, Indian cooking is versatile enough to substitute chole masala instead of garam masala and add cream cheese instead of heavy cream in a restaurant-style curry. The result is unpredictable but rarely, if ever, undesirable.
Jan 28, 2010
Indori Kanda Poha and battle of the sexes
Indori: Born and bought up in Indore, MP, India; a foodie to the core; has aloo kachori, bhutte ka keese, garadu and kanda poha in the blood; one with a laid back attitude; easy going; likes to eat namkeen and laung sev with everything.
I have been late for my own event. But if you are an Indori (ref above) like me you would know it is nothing personal. We are a laid back lot, who do nothing in a hurry and take their time getting things done. (Just read the repetitious sentence to know what I mean!).
Which is a problem if you are married to a go getter, “hate lounging in bed”, up at the crack of dawn kind of fellow. There is no clause that makes it mandatory to disclose ‘sleeping in’ preferences before couples get hitched in an arranged marriage.
As a result, the first few months of our marriage were tumultuous, with me struggling to get used to the “leave in half an hour” to mean “leave in half an hour” concept of time. Him on the other hand had to get used to my, shall we say, easy as it goes attitude, in which half an hour could mean anything between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.
On a normal weekend morning I like nothing better than to get up at a godly hour (around 9 AM), make a nice cup of ginger tea and talk about the plans for the day, which may or may not get done by the end of the day. In my world it is perfectly acceptable as long as the meal that you planned on eating turned out right. He, on the other hand will be up at 6.30 AM (an ungodly hour, according to me), paying bills, catching up on emails and exercising. For him, the taste of food is secondary to the act of consuming it.
Nine years later, I still like my weekend breakfast to be poha, Indori style, with lots of onions, fennel seeds, peas and potatoes (the only thing missing are hot jalebis from the neighborhood halwai). He, who has grown up on upma and idli sambhar for breakfast, thought adding veggies to poha was tantamount to sacrilege. “That’s not poha, that’s vegetables cooked with poha!”
But what he didn’t bargain for was the “persistent foodie” that is inherent in every Indori. We may be laidback but we know our food and eventually we will convert you. By the end of our first year, T was making better poha than I and adding the ‘vegetables’ to them with restrained relish.
So here’s our recipe for Indori Kanda Poha that I first posted here, sans any photos. Another Indori Kanda Poha recipe can be found here.
Ingredients:
2 cups thick poha (flattened rice)
1 cup onion, chopped
1 small potato, chopped in thin, bite size pieces
¼ cup peas, frozen or fresh
For Tadka:
1 tsp Rai/ black mustard seeds
1 tsp Haldi/ turmeric
2-3 green chilies, sliced in small pieces
4-5 curry leaves/ kari patta
1 tsp fennel seeds/ saunf (necessary)
1/2 tsp sugar (necessary)
For Garnish:
When the list of garnish ingredients is as long as that of the main ingredients you know it is an Indori recipe. The following are optional but recomended (either one or two or all) to enjoy the Indori experience.
Cilantro
Fresh pomegranate seeds
Grated, dry or fresh coconut
Chopped onion
Lemon wedges
Grapes (you better believe it)
Namkeen/ sev/ chavana
Jeeravan powder (like a chat masala but made just for sprinkling on poha)
Method:
Wash the poha twice in water, drain and keep it aside. The poha should be wet like a sponge but not soaking in water.
Heat oil and add mustard seeds. When they start spluttering, add curry leaves and chopped green chilli, fennel seeds and onion. Let the onions sweat on medium heat till they turn pink.
Add haldi and cook till the smell of raw haldi goes away.
Add the chopped potatoes and the peas and salt them. Cover and cook till the potatoes are fully cooked.
Add the poha and mix the onion-potato-peas together. Add salt and a pinch of sugar. Cover the poha with a lid and let it steam on low for 5 minutes.
Turn the heat off and garnish with chopped coriander and the above mentioned toppings of your choice.
And after that delectable feast of Indori poha and chai, I leave you with not one but two like minded fellow Indoris. Because we like nothing better than to talk about food before, during and after a meal.
The following was found here:
I think, Indore is one of the few places in the world where u can set up a small ’’thela’ serving poha -jalebi (Poha is a local dish, jalebi is a sweet dish) and if the taste is approved by the Indoriens, be assured u can earn enough for generations to come. When it comes to food, Indori chatoras stand a class apart. Poha, jalebi, garadu, sabudani ke kichrhi, somose-kachori, patis, khaman, pani puri - u name it and u have it. U come here with a new product and if its passed by the ’chotori jubaan’ of Indorians, don’t b surprised if u become a lakhpati in no time, a crorepati too is very much on cards - it happens only in Indore :-)
Excerpt from Rajat Jain's blog Useless Ramblings:
The other side-effects include missing the delicious Indian food. Being a foodie (and hence, a "bit" overweight) that I am, I obviously miss it. Especially when you order for a Daal Tadka, and get a layer of water above some half cooked and non-spicy cereals. Or when you have to contend with "maide ki roti."
Nah, whom am I kidding? An obsessed Indoree that I am, there was no chance on earth (or in heaven. I don't like hell.) that I could forget carrying Poha—Indoree Poha—with me. Two kilograms of Poha would be enough for 2 months. Or will they? Probably depending on how well I'd control my staple diet!
The poha with all the garnishes is off to Anita's Kitchen and to Sir's Corner who is hosting JFI: Fennel this month, started by Indira.
I have been late for my own event. But if you are an Indori (ref above) like me you would know it is nothing personal. We are a laid back lot, who do nothing in a hurry and take their time getting things done. (Just read the repetitious sentence to know what I mean!).
Which is a problem if you are married to a go getter, “hate lounging in bed”, up at the crack of dawn kind of fellow. There is no clause that makes it mandatory to disclose ‘sleeping in’ preferences before couples get hitched in an arranged marriage.
As a result, the first few months of our marriage were tumultuous, with me struggling to get used to the “leave in half an hour” to mean “leave in half an hour” concept of time. Him on the other hand had to get used to my, shall we say, easy as it goes attitude, in which half an hour could mean anything between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.
Nine years later, I still like my weekend breakfast to be poha, Indori style, with lots of onions, fennel seeds, peas and potatoes (the only thing missing are hot jalebis from the neighborhood halwai). He, who has grown up on upma and idli sambhar for breakfast, thought adding veggies to poha was tantamount to sacrilege. “That’s not poha, that’s vegetables cooked with poha!”
But what he didn’t bargain for was the “persistent foodie” that is inherent in every Indori. We may be laidback but we know our food and eventually we will convert you. By the end of our first year, T was making better poha than I and adding the ‘vegetables’ to them with restrained relish.
Ingredients:
2 cups thick poha (flattened rice)
1 cup onion, chopped
1 small potato, chopped in thin, bite size pieces
¼ cup peas, frozen or fresh
For Tadka:
1 tsp Rai/ black mustard seeds
1 tsp Haldi/ turmeric
2-3 green chilies, sliced in small pieces
4-5 curry leaves/ kari patta
1 tsp fennel seeds/ saunf (necessary)
1/2 tsp sugar (necessary)
For Garnish:
When the list of garnish ingredients is as long as that of the main ingredients you know it is an Indori recipe. The following are optional but recomended (either one or two or all) to enjoy the Indori experience.
Cilantro
Fresh pomegranate seeds
Grated, dry or fresh coconut
Chopped onion
Lemon wedges
Grapes (you better believe it)
Namkeen/ sev/ chavana
Jeeravan powder (like a chat masala but made just for sprinkling on poha)
Wash the poha twice in water, drain and keep it aside. The poha should be wet like a sponge but not soaking in water.
Heat oil and add mustard seeds. When they start spluttering, add curry leaves and chopped green chilli, fennel seeds and onion. Let the onions sweat on medium heat till they turn pink.
Add haldi and cook till the smell of raw haldi goes away.
Add the chopped potatoes and the peas and salt them. Cover and cook till the potatoes are fully cooked.
Add the poha and mix the onion-potato-peas together. Add salt and a pinch of sugar. Cover the poha with a lid and let it steam on low for 5 minutes.
Turn the heat off and garnish with chopped coriander and the above mentioned toppings of your choice.
And after that delectable feast of Indori poha and chai, I leave you with not one but two like minded fellow Indoris. Because we like nothing better than to talk about food before, during and after a meal.
The following was found here:
I think, Indore is one of the few places in the world where u can set up a small ’’thela’ serving poha -jalebi (Poha is a local dish, jalebi is a sweet dish) and if the taste is approved by the Indoriens, be assured u can earn enough for generations to come. When it comes to food, Indori chatoras stand a class apart. Poha, jalebi, garadu, sabudani ke kichrhi, somose-kachori, patis, khaman, pani puri - u name it and u have it. U come here with a new product and if its passed by the ’chotori jubaan’ of Indorians, don’t b surprised if u become a lakhpati in no time, a crorepati too is very much on cards - it happens only in Indore :-)
Excerpt from Rajat Jain's blog Useless Ramblings:
The other side-effects include missing the delicious Indian food. Being a foodie (and hence, a "bit" overweight) that I am, I obviously miss it. Especially when you order for a Daal Tadka, and get a layer of water above some half cooked and non-spicy cereals. Or when you have to contend with "maide ki roti."
Nah, whom am I kidding? An obsessed Indoree that I am, there was no chance on earth (or in heaven. I don't like hell.) that I could forget carrying Poha—Indoree Poha—with me. Two kilograms of Poha would be enough for 2 months. Or will they? Probably depending on how well I'd control my staple diet!
The poha with all the garnishes is off to Anita's Kitchen and to Sir's Corner who is hosting JFI: Fennel this month, started by Indira.
Nov 26, 2009
Sprouted whole Moong Usal
And how to sprout moong beans?
One hot, humid day, I forgot to grind my soaked moong dal rice mix and it sat on the counter the whole day. The next day I found my whole moong was sprouting tiny buds. So, I grinded the mix for my dosa and then proceeded to soak some more sprouted moong dal for my usal (not to be confused with usual).
The process of sprouting beans/ legumes is easy but does take time so planning a day or two ahead is necessary. Here is the easy 1-2-3 step to sprouting beans (okay, so there are more than three steps to doing this. But it is still easy).
1. Soak in plenty of water for 8 – 10 hours or overnight.
I used 3 cups of water to soak 1/2 cups of moong beans
2. Drain all the water. The beans will have doubled in volume and become plump and soft.
3. Take a damp cotton towel/ dish cloth and dump the moong beans in the center. Loosely wrap the ends around, put it in a covered pot and keep it in a dark, warm place (ex. under the stove top, in the oven or covered by a bigger pot).
4. Forget about it for 24 – 30 hours.
5. Take out the bean pot, open the dish cloth and behold glorious sprouted moong or any other beans of your choice.
You may be tempted to ask, “Why go through the trouble of sprouting the beans?” and here’s my answer. The benefits of sprouting beans are many. The sprouting process not only doubles the volume of the beans it also increases the vitamin, mineral and protein content of beans and decreases the calories and carbohydrate content. Plus they taste good even raw. So go ahead and sprout some beans today and cook them the usal way.
The usal is just a simple sauté of onions, garlic and tomatoes with some garam masala thrown in for good measure. For the purist in search of the authentic, adding a little grated coconut will achieve the desired result. I usually omit it in pursuit of retaining the earthy flavor of the moong beans.
Supriya of Red Chilies recently posted this version of cooking moong beans which is also super easy and tastes delicious.
Ingredients:
1/2 cup moong beans, sprouted
1 small onion, chopped fine
1 tomato, chopped fine
2-4 garlic cloves
1 tbsp grated coconut (optional)
1 small potato, chopped into cubes (optional)
1 tsp mustard seeds
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp turmeric
1 green chili, chopped fine
1 tsp garam masala
Cilantro for garnish
Method:
Grind the onion, coconut (if using), tomato and garlic cloves.
Heat a tablespoon of oil in the small, 3 liter pressure cooker. Alternatively, use a pan with a tight fitting lid. Add the mustard seeds and lower the heat when they start popping.
Add the cumin seeds, green chilli, turmeric powder and garam masala. Let it cook for 30 sec before adding the onion-tomato paste.
Cook till the raw smell of onions turns fragrant and the watery paste turns thick. This should take about 10 min on medium flame.
Add the sprouted moong beans, adjust the water and put the cooker lid on. Turn off the heat after one whistle.
If using, add the cubed potato before adding the onion-tomato paste. Coat it with the spices and cook for a few minutes.
The sprouted moong bean usal goes to Susan's MLLA-17, currently hosted by Sra of When My Soup came Alive.
One hot, humid day, I forgot to grind my soaked moong dal rice mix and it sat on the counter the whole day. The next day I found my whole moong was sprouting tiny buds. So, I grinded the mix for my dosa and then proceeded to soak some more sprouted moong dal for my usal (not to be confused with usual).
The process of sprouting beans/ legumes is easy but does take time so planning a day or two ahead is necessary. Here is the easy 1-2-3 step to sprouting beans (okay, so there are more than three steps to doing this. But it is still easy).
I used 3 cups of water to soak 1/2 cups of moong beans
4. Forget about it for 24 – 30 hours.
You may be tempted to ask, “Why go through the trouble of sprouting the beans?” and here’s my answer. The benefits of sprouting beans are many. The sprouting process not only doubles the volume of the beans it also increases the vitamin, mineral and protein content of beans and decreases the calories and carbohydrate content. Plus they taste good even raw. So go ahead and sprout some beans today and cook them the usal way.
The usal is just a simple sauté of onions, garlic and tomatoes with some garam masala thrown in for good measure. For the purist in search of the authentic, adding a little grated coconut will achieve the desired result. I usually omit it in pursuit of retaining the earthy flavor of the moong beans.
Supriya of Red Chilies recently posted this version of cooking moong beans which is also super easy and tastes delicious.
1/2 cup moong beans, sprouted
1 small onion, chopped fine
1 tomato, chopped fine
2-4 garlic cloves
1 tbsp grated coconut (optional)
1 small potato, chopped into cubes (optional)
1 tsp mustard seeds
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp turmeric
1 green chili, chopped fine
1 tsp garam masala
Cilantro for garnish
Grind the onion, coconut (if using), tomato and garlic cloves.
Heat a tablespoon of oil in the small, 3 liter pressure cooker. Alternatively, use a pan with a tight fitting lid. Add the mustard seeds and lower the heat when they start popping.
Add the cumin seeds, green chilli, turmeric powder and garam masala. Let it cook for 30 sec before adding the onion-tomato paste.
Cook till the raw smell of onions turns fragrant and the watery paste turns thick. This should take about 10 min on medium flame.
Add the sprouted moong beans, adjust the water and put the cooker lid on. Turn off the heat after one whistle.
If using a pan, add the tight fitting lid and cook for about 20 minutes or till the beans are cooked through but not mushy.
Transfer to a serving bowl and garnish with chopped cilantro. The usal can be eaten as a side with dal and rotis or as a main dish with rotis.
Notes: If cooking in a pressure cooker, make sure to turn the heat off after one whistle. If not the beans will still taste good but will not hold their shape and will be mushy.
If using, add the cubed potato before adding the onion-tomato paste. Coat it with the spices and cook for a few minutes.
The sprouted moong bean usal goes to Susan's MLLA-17, currently hosted by Sra of When My Soup came Alive.
Aug 25, 2009
Read Pomegranate Soup and slurp red lentil soup
It is hard to believe Pomegranate Soup is Marsha Mehran’s first novel. It is not so hard to believe her love affair with food. It comes across through the novel’s heroine Marjan who cooks everything in her restaurant with the utmost care and attention. The oldest of the three sisters, she is thrust into the role of a parent and caretaker to Bahar and Layla at an early age. The novel moves deftly between Khomani revolution era Iran and the present day Irish village of Ballinacroagh (Ba-li-na-crow).
The sisters escape the increasingly volatile Iran with their lives and a few treasured possessions and manage to find a life in England for a few years before they have to flee Bahar’s dark past once more. They try to make a new life for themselves in the little Irish village by opening The Babylon Café that serves Persian fare. With its rich aromas of spices and herbs it attracts an eclectic mix of villagers, from the local priest to the town hairdresser and the church social ladies to teenagers and children who come to eat the elephant ears Marjan cooks every day.
The sisters quickly discover that all is not well when the town bully Thomas McGuire finds out that the Italian café he had coveted for years has been converted into the Babylon Café. He starts a campaign to run the sisters run out of business by every means possible and they find themselves fighting a different enemy altogether. This time around their weapons are the cherished recipes Marjan took with her as they fled Iran and their shield the few patrons who find their lives changed when they eat her delicious food.
Mehran cooks a sweat and spicy tale of the three sisters and the bond they share. They are not unlike a pomegranate with its seeds sticking together under a hard shell. But once the shell is broken, the sisters give up their sweetness for the world to enjoy.
For the recipe inspired by the book I wanted to make the elephant ears that Marjan makes every day by rolling out the dough, deep frying in oil and sprinkling with sugar. But since I am on calorie count I decided to go with the red lentil soup. Red lentils or split masoor dal do not take long to cook on the stove top. However, you can cook these in the pressure cooker. This is my shortcut recipe adapted from the book’s original recipe.
Red Lentil Soup (Masoor dal)
I am sending this click off to Jugalbandi's CLICK - ALLIUM.
Ingredients:
1 cup dry red lentils
1 medium onion, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
4-6 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tsp ground turmeric
4 tsp ground cumin
3 cups water / chicken or vegetable broth
Salt to taste
2 tsp ground black pepper
For garnish:
1 small onion, chopped in half moons
2 tsps olive oil
Method:
Wash the lentils thrice in water and keep aside.
In a pot heat a tablespoon of oil and fry the chopped onions, garlic, turmeric and cumin until soft and fragrant. Add the chopped tomatoes and cook till soft. Add the lentils, broth and water to the pot. Add salt and black pepper and bring the soup to a boil. Lower heat, cover and simmer for 20 minutes or till the lentils are cooked through.
Fry the onion for the garnish in olive oil until crisp but not blackened. Add as a garnish over individual bowls of soup.
I am sending this off to Susan’s MLLA – 14 and to Sireesha's Soup and Juice event.
The sisters escape the increasingly volatile Iran with their lives and a few treasured possessions and manage to find a life in England for a few years before they have to flee Bahar’s dark past once more. They try to make a new life for themselves in the little Irish village by opening The Babylon Café that serves Persian fare. With its rich aromas of spices and herbs it attracts an eclectic mix of villagers, from the local priest to the town hairdresser and the church social ladies to teenagers and children who come to eat the elephant ears Marjan cooks every day.The sisters quickly discover that all is not well when the town bully Thomas McGuire finds out that the Italian café he had coveted for years has been converted into the Babylon Café. He starts a campaign to run the sisters run out of business by every means possible and they find themselves fighting a different enemy altogether. This time around their weapons are the cherished recipes Marjan took with her as they fled Iran and their shield the few patrons who find their lives changed when they eat her delicious food.
Mehran cooks a sweat and spicy tale of the three sisters and the bond they share. They are not unlike a pomegranate with its seeds sticking together under a hard shell. But once the shell is broken, the sisters give up their sweetness for the world to enjoy.For the recipe inspired by the book I wanted to make the elephant ears that Marjan makes every day by rolling out the dough, deep frying in oil and sprinkling with sugar. But since I am on calorie count I decided to go with the red lentil soup. Red lentils or split masoor dal do not take long to cook on the stove top. However, you can cook these in the pressure cooker. This is my shortcut recipe adapted from the book’s original recipe.
Red Lentil Soup (Masoor dal)
I am sending this click off to Jugalbandi's CLICK - ALLIUM.
Ingredients:
1 cup dry red lentils
1 medium onion, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
4-6 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tsp ground turmeric
4 tsp ground cumin
3 cups water / chicken or vegetable broth
Salt to taste
2 tsp ground black pepper
For garnish:
1 small onion, chopped in half moons
2 tsps olive oil
Method:
Wash the lentils thrice in water and keep aside.
In a pot heat a tablespoon of oil and fry the chopped onions, garlic, turmeric and cumin until soft and fragrant. Add the chopped tomatoes and cook till soft. Add the lentils, broth and water to the pot. Add salt and black pepper and bring the soup to a boil. Lower heat, cover and simmer for 20 minutes or till the lentils are cooked through.
Fry the onion for the garnish in olive oil until crisp but not blackened. Add as a garnish over individual bowls of soup.
I am sending this off to Susan’s MLLA – 14 and to Sireesha's Soup and Juice event.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Possibly related posts
