Thepla for the Soul

Oooh! Did you make those again? Is that what we're having for dinner?

Sorry, kiddo! I am just digging into my archives. [pout]Another day, maybe? When I get fresh methi or I remember to grow my own, like Shyam does?

You promise? But of course!

She went away rather morose, knowing that she would get a third instalment of rotisserie chicken makeovers for dinner. I thought of making dal with unripe mangoes just for her but slaving over a warm stove, no matter how inviting, was not something I wanted to do with an achy back. I helped pack-up the Book Fair at her school yesterday and I knew I should not have helped lift those heavy boxes or move chairs but what is done is done.

Thepla is a spiced unleavened flatbread from my husband's home state of Gujarat. Although I'll have you know that I knew how to make this much before we knew each other. There are as many variations to methi na thepla as there are to batata vadas, all of them without onions and peas. I know not where my version hails from but I learned it by watching a Maharaj at work.

Methi na Thepla

• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 1/3 cup besan
• 1 bunch methi
• 1/2 bunch cilantro (optional)
• 2-3 tbsp oil
• 1/4 tsp mustard seeds
• pinch asafetida
• 1/4 tsp turmeric powder
• 1/2 tsp red chilli powder (optional)
• 3-4 Thai chillies (more, if you want to up the heat), sliced thin
• 4-5 kadipatta leaves (optional)
• 1 tsp grated ginger
• 1 cup yogurt, whisked (approx)
• Salt to taste

1. Wash methi and use only the leaves, discarding the stems. Pat dry and then chop fine.
2. Wash the cilantro and chop fine.
3. Mix the two flours and salt in a bowl.
4. Heat the oil in a small saucepan and add mustard seeds. When they splutter, add asafetida, followed by green chillies and then kadipatta. Keep a splatter guard handy to keep the mess at a minimum.
5. Make a 'well' or a depression in the flours and put the chopped methi leaves and chopped cilantro leaves into it.
6. Add grated ginger, turmeric powder, and red chilli powder.
7. Pour the hot oil over the leaves. You will hear them sizzle!
8. When the oil cools enough to handle, pick out the kadipatta leaves and if you wish, the green chillies, too. Gently rub the leaves and seasoned oil into the flour.
9. Knead a firm dough using only as much yogurt as required to bind the dough. You do not want the dough to be too soft or sticky.
   
10. Let the dough rest for at least 15-20 minutes. Cover with a damp paper towel or kitchen towel.
11. Heat a tava in the meanwhile.
12. Divide the dough into small balls, about 12-13 and roll them out till they are at least 6 inches in diameter.
    
    
13. They must be translucent.
    
14. Put the rolled out thepla onto the hot griddle. When its color has changed slightly or it developed little brown spots, flip it over.
15. Drizzle a little oil over the surface and spread it. Let the thepla cook some more and then flip it over again and drizzle some oil onto this side and spread it.
16. If you have the paratha-pressing contraption, press down on the thepla and rotate the thepla. Do this until both sides have cooked and have some pretty golden spots.
    
17. Serve hot or at room temperature with chundo or with yogurt mixed with jiralu.

Notes:

• I use a little more besan than what is specified in most recipes. We like the taste of besan and I remember seeing the Maharaj add a fairly large amount of besan in proportion to the whole wheat flour.
• Most thepla recipes do not use seasoned oil and I have found that this ups the taste-level significantly.
• Theplas need to be rolled out thin. If they are not transclucent, then you are making methi parathas, not theplas.
• Theplas need a large amount of oil and must be cooked using oil or ghee. They are usually stored at room temperature and are perfect finger food in lunch boxes as well as for picnics. You could use less oil but then you might end up with chewy or extra crisp theplas depending on how long you cook them.
• They are said to last at least 4-5 days in an air-tight container. Ours never last more than the next day.

Theplas spell a special type of comfort food for us. It really is food for the soul because when I make theplas there is no chatter, just the silent sound of eating. Sometimes those eating cannot even bear to pull the bottle of chundo out of the pantry and settle for ketchup.



Thepla recipes abound on the net:
About.com
Smita Serves You Right
CuisineCuisine.com
Madhuram's Eggless Cooking
Monsoon Spice

Paunk this

Well?

Update:
This is the famous Surati paunk, which is fresh jowar (sorgum) seeds. Since fresh is out of the question for us, I jumped for joy when I found a packet of dried paunk tucked away in one of the shelves of my Indian store. All I had to do was soak it in boiling water for 15 minutes to hydrate it and it was almost as good as the plump paunk that wends it way from Gujarat to Bombay every winter.

Fresh paunk can be served as is but the more popular way is to mix it up like chaat. So I sprinkled some red chilli powder and some salt, added a dash of lemon juice, garnished it with some spicy sev and cilantro. Medha said it tasted just like all the other 'Indian junk food' I make and approved heartily. Tomorrow, I will make a spicy paunk bhel.

Millet is a group of closely related crops with small seeds grown in arid and semi-arid regions of the world. In India, the two popular types of millet are bajra and jowar. Bhakri, a roti that is typically flattened out by hand and is considered part of a farmer's staple diet, is usually made from jowar or bajra flour or a mixture of both. Millet is considered to have 'warming' properties and is therefore recommended for consumption during winter.

That makes paunk just perfect for the kind of weather we're having currently. A hot cup of tea and a spicy paunk mixture! Ah! The snow, the wind and the freezing temperatures outside don't seem so bad anymore!

And yes, Anjali, jowar is indeed called jwar or jwari in Marathi. But this post was an ode to my husband's roots in Surat. So what if he had never heard of paunk before!

Another Update:
Paunk, young green jowar kernels, are called hurda in Marathi. Jyotsna Shahane of The Cook's Cottage has more information. Hat tip to my multi-lingual friend, Richa of As Dear As Salt, who is also a fount of knowledge.