Month: November 2014

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Village of cannibals and their dosa huts!

“But, pleeeez, can I have a headman’s hut?” asks my daughter. No, it’s not a resort and we are not looking at cute cottages…

What we are looking at is a plateful of small, hut shaped dosas! Kanch has just waited for me to make a whole village of little dosas shaped like huts before weaving a story around them about a headman and his wife and his honchos and his kids before she begins to nibble at the huts. My exhortations to please eat before the dosas are stone cold make no dent in her consciousness – the story of the headman, his family’s little huts, their cannibalistic tendencies, the firepot in the centre (a mound of chutney that she builds up into a volcano) is just too fascinating! And just as the hapless explorer (her Akka – big sister) is about to be put into the pot on the fire, along comes our heroine (K, of course!!) – rushing out of the littlest hut where she’s been hiding – to vanquish the would-be assassins!

And so on to a LARGE hut shaped dosa again – the headman’s hut before she begins to eat!

Alphabet dosas spelling out their whole names were also much loved but the conical, “hut-shaped” dosas were and still are favourites! A teacher friend of mine told me about a child in her class who, when given an assignment to draw his house, drew a tall, rectangular structure with little squares of windows in them! She said this was the first time that she’d seen anyone drawing anything other than a “hut” – the wigwam shaped structure that we all grew up drawing as the simplest shape of a house! So my friend draws the hut and asks the kid whether he recognises it. He stares at it for a while before guessing, “upside-down funnel?” He’d never in his life – and this in India – seen a house like a cone! Am sure that Kanch would have asnwered that it was a dosa!

So here’s to the hut dosa!

DOSA:

  • Urad dal – 1 cup
  • Parboiled rice – 2.5 cups
  • Raw rice – 1/2 cup
  • Methi – fenugreek – seeds – 1 tsp
  • Salt
  • Sesame oil – 1/2 teaspoon for each dosa
  • Ghee – a couple of teaspoons

Soak the raw rice and parboiled rice together with the methi seeds. Soak the urad dal separately. Both overnight or for four hours.Drain and grind separately into a smooth but very slightly gritty batter adding water to make it a thick pouring consistency. Mix both batters together in a large vessel and let ferment for at least 6 hours in a warm place. Overnight is good. The batter will almost double. Whip well adding the salt. Or just buy the batter!

Now comes the part that calls for the serious skills! Heat a nonstick pan (preferable). Pour 2-3 drops of oil on top and sprinkle a few drops of water on top – the dosa master (my husband) throws the water with a flourish so it can splatter the wall behind – but it does sizzle amazingly! On high heat, pour one ladleful of batter in the centre of the pan and spread it with the bottom of the ladle into a thin pancake. Immediately lower the flame and pour a few drops of oil around the edge of the dosa and a couple of drops of ghee in the centre. Cook uncovered for about a minute till it turns golden brown on the underside – peek to see. Flip over and turn up the flame. The dosa cooks in a few seconds on the second side. Flip off the pan and serve with chutney/ chutney podi/ sambar/ cannibal’s blood!!

If you want a “hut” dosa, as soon as you pour the batter and spread it, cut a radius in the batter with the edge of your ladle. Cook as normal. Don’t flip over. Pick up the cut edge and roll on the pan into a cone. Let the cone sit open edge down for 3 or 4 seconds to get  completely done. Carefully slide on to a plate. Build your village!

Happy hunting!

 

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Of boiled school cabbages, kings and boot polish!

 
For all you quizzers out there – Billy Bunter and Jennings – what do they have in common?
 
Other than the obvious British schoolboy storybook characters?
 
A: Both famous for dissing school dinners at which boiled cabbage featured prominently!
 
Strangely, the girls’ school stories – Mallory Towers and St.Clare’s – don’t mention this at all – either they didn’t cook it at girls’ schools or Enid Blyton glossed over something so sulphurous in favour of potted meat sandwiches – the latter seems more likely!!  
 
The time has come…
To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.
 
Thus spake the Walrus through Lewis Carroll. And thus echoes this blog too… Strangely, I’ve never encountered dislike for cabbages in India – I think maybe we just cook it better?? 😉
 
Whether it is the South Indian “cabbage koora/palya/poriyal” “aloo patta gobi”, the Bengali “bandh gobi tarkari” or the humble cabbage elevated into a kofta, I haven’t heard many complaints either from children or adults about eating it. N.B: My older daughter has just informed me that she is going to develop ‘food preferences’ from now on and cabbage is ‘off the list’!!
 
Remember ye olde Greek dude called Diogenes? The guy who spent his life searching for an honest man? (He should have searched amongst Indian politicians -he’d have given it up sooner and devoted his life to something more fruitful – like growing cabbages or something! Well, anyway, our chappie believed in the goodness of cabbages and ate them everyday (bit much, don’t you agree?) for his health. The story goes that D ran into a young man of the Hedonist school (pleasure-seeking fellas much given to polishing the shoes of the rich with their ahem… salivary emissions) and told him (as though he couldn’t leave the poor fellow alone – he might actually have had a thing for Cherry Blossom shoe polish!) that if he lived on cabbages, he wouldn’t have to flatter the rich and powerful. Now the young man was anything but a cabbagehead; pat came the reply “If  YOU, Mr. D, flattered the powerful, YOU wouldn’t be obliged to live on cabbage either!!”
 
Whatever the rival merits of cabbage and shoe polish, it must be noted that ole’ Diogenes lived to the ripe age of ninety while our hedonist pal departed to seek a better brand boot polish in the Hades at forty!
 
So therefore, daughter dear, heed the lesson taught – the worm that eats cabbage is safe, the non-cabbage worm gets caught!
 
And now for our daily cabbage koora:
 
CABBAGE KOORA/PORIYAL/PALYA
 
Cabbage – shredded finely – 1/2 kg
Onion – chopped – 1 small
Curry leaves – 2 sprigs
Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp
Sesame oil – 2 tsp
Urad dal – 1/2 tsp
Asafoetida – 1 large pinch
Coriander – 2 tbsp
Grated fresh coconut – 1/2 cup
Green chilies – 2-3
Salt
 
Pulse the coconut and green chilies together in the mixer till the chili is just minced. Set aside. Heat the oil in a saucepan. Add mustard seeds. When they begin to pop, add the urad dal and asafoetida. Add the curry leaves and the onions and saute till slightly discoloured. Add the cabbage, sprinkle a couple of tbsp of water over the top. Cover and cook on a low heat for 6-7 minutes till almost done. Add the salt, mix well and continue to cook on a low heat for a couple of minutes more. The cabbage must still have a bit of resistance when you bite it. Switch off, sprinkle the coconut -chili mixture ad coriander on top and mix well. Rest for a few minutes before serving  with rice / rotis or who am i to judge? – shoe polish!
 
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“Vijay Vargals” and unfair exchanges!

“Guess what happened at school today?” asks Arch bursting with news as she comes back home.

“What?”

“Deepshika actually wanted one of my burgers at lunch!” – comes back a shocked, horrified response.

“So, did you give her one?” I ask – innocently. After all, I had packed four large and four small burgers – to be shared out with her friends at lunchtime!

“How, Amma? They were BURGERS!” as though I had asked her to gift away the family heirlooms! Come to think of it, Arch would probably have gifted these away quite happily – if it came to a choice between the heirlooms and a burger!

“Well, i packed enough for you to share around, didn’t I?”

“But then, I’d have gone hungry!” she protests..

“Well, if you were still hungry, you could have asked her to share some of her lunch with you” – i proffer.

“”But, but….”, she says, spluttering with indignation at a mother who doesn’t GET it, – “she brought thayir saadam”!!! (Thayir saadam being curd rice – something which at age ten, they thought very infra dig!) And in comparison with a burger, well, it didn’t begin to figure! Only a mother could have thought it was a fair exchange – said her expression!

Some of the best burgers I’ve eaten were at a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop off Abid Road in Hyderabad when I was at college. There was a Punjabi guy with a blackboard sign outside his shop which said “Vijay Vargal” along with the menu. Thinking he’d named the shop after himself, I addressed him as VIjay-ji (he was well over fifty by the looks of him) and he looked quite blank. I pointed to the sign and asked him “Isn’t that your name?” “Duh… Why would i name myself after a dish?” he responds. My turn to look blank… then i got it… Vijay Vargal was the Indianised Vegetable Burger!!

Ah well, I can’t hope to compete with a Vijay Vargal but here’s the second best veggie burger!

VEGGIE BURGER

  • Burger buns – 1 for a normal person. 4 big + 4 small for hungry, growing ten-year olds!

For the patty:

  • Boiled mixed vegetables – potatoes/carrots/peas/one piece beetroot if you want red patties/tender beans – 3 cups
  • Minced green chilies – 2 – 3
  • Chopped mint leaves – 2 tbsp
  • Chopped coriander or parsley – 1 tbsp
  • Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp
  • Chat masala – 1/2 tsp
  • Lemon juice – 1 tsp
  • Cornflour – 1 tbsp
  • Salt
  • Oil to shallow fry
  • Breadcrumbs to coat ( I usually freeze the end slices of bread and blitz them in the mixer with a few basil leaves – you get an interesting basil-flavoured crumb)
  • Mash all the vegetables except the peas. Gently mix in the peas and everything else. Work the cornflour in gently. Shape into large patties. Roll in the crumb. Fry on a shallow tava with a few drops of oil. Set aside. You should have about 4 large patties (1/2 ” thick)

For slaw:

  • Mayonnaise – 1 cup
  • Fresh ground mustard – 1.5 tsp (this is not difficult at all – grind the mustard in a stone mortar with a few drops of water – you’ll never use store-bought mustard again!
  • Shredded cabbage/lettuce/carrot/onion/apple mixture – 2 cups
  • Minced chili – 1
  • Chopped mint or coriander or basil – 1 tbsp

Mix together. Set the slaw aside.

Ketchup and lettuce leaves – 1 or 8 🙂

Sliced tomato / cucumber -1 large each

Cheese slice – if you want it

 To assemble:

Tawa fry the burger buns after slicing in half horizontally, with a little butter. On the bottom half, smear ketchup. Place a lettuce leaf and pile on the slaw. Place the patty on top. Add sliced cucumbers/cheese slice/tomatoes. Cover with the top half of the bun. Pack them in a ten-year old’s lunch box!!

( pic courtesy internet)

 

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Of Sunday ke Sunday and railway aamleets!

Meri jaan, meri jaan, murgi ke anday!
Omlet khilaoon, fried khilaoon, boiled khilaoon!
Khilaoon murgi ke, murgi ke, ande hi ande! 
Sunday ho ya Monday, roj khaayein ande

Has anyone growing up in the India of the 60s, 70s and 80s not heard this song?? Well, for the longest time I had no clue that this – an ad  from the National Egg co-ordination Committee (hmm!!) was a take off on a Hindi film song from a 1947 movie called Shehnai! I thought the jingle was an original! 

aana meri jaan meri jaan sunday ke sunday
aana meri jaan meri jaan sunday ke sunday
meri jaan meri jaan sunday ke sunday
aana meri jaan meri jaan sunday ke sunday
I love you
bhaag yahaan se tu
oo yaya I love you
bhaag yahaan se tu
tujhe Paris dikhaaun
tujhe London ghumaaun
tujhe brandy pilaaun whisky pilaaun
aur khilaaun khilaaun
murgi ke murgi ke
ande ande
aana meri jaan meri jaan sunday ke sunday

 
Well, if you’re feeling I’ve got too many eggs on my mind in the last couple of weeks – with TWO egg recipes AND an eggplant recipe, too bad – you’re in for more….!
Growing up in a vegetarian household where my doctor mom decided that eggs were “GUDDU” (good pronounced the Telugu way also means egg in Telugu – sorry couldn’t resist that one!!) for growing children, we fell completely in love with everyday ke ande! My brother has already raved about our master chef Panda’s omelettes in an earlier post – check it out at http://anuchenji.com/blog/ode-best-omeletter-world but other than a leathery “guddattu” ( egg dosa in Telugu) which i was once served at a friend’s house and nearly gagged on – it was full of turmeric and green chilies and curry leaves and cooked to within an inch of it’s life – I will eat pretty much any omelette . Even the ubiquitous “Railway aaamlet” which you find on every tiny platform in India makes me drool with anticipation. Once, when my aunt and I were traveling together, we lost our dinner bag – with roti, currry  and dessert! The disappointment was made up for – hugely – by the bread-aamlet we had on the Nellore platform – loaded with onions and green chilies and bread slathered with butter!
 
My kids have inherited my love for eggs and should I, by any chance, order less than a dozen or two eggs from my grocer’s every third day, he very kindly inquires after our health – in case we are sickening for something! 
 
I thought I’d eaten almost every kind of egg dish there was in the South of India till I came across the deep South “kothu paratha” on a road trip – a totally out of this world egg and paratha scramble. Here’s one of our favourite breakfast dishes today.
 
KOTHU PARATHA
  • 3-4 left over parathas – preferably laccha, or layer ones. The Tamil barotta is brilliant in this. If you’re calorie-conscious, we’ll make do with phulkas – torn into little pieces.
  • Onions – chopped – 3
  • Tomatoes – chopped – 2
  • Green chilies – chopped – 3
  • Curry leaves – 2 sprigs – chopped
  • Capsicum – chopped – 1 (optional)
  • Garlic pods – minced – 2 (optional)
  • Ginger – minced   1/2 tsp
  • Eggs – well beaten with salt and a tbsp of milk – 4-5
  • Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp
  • Chopped coriander /mint – to dress
  • Oil – 2 tbsp

Heat the oil in a large saucepan. Add the onion, curry leaves and green chilies and fry for 3 minutes. Add the minced garlic, ginger, tomatoes, red chili and capsicum and fry for another 3-4 minutes. Add the eggs and keep stirring. When the eggs are beginning to set, drop in the pieces of paratha and mix very well – beating the mixture with TWO ladles to the tune of ” “Meri jaan, meri jaan”!! When the eggs and paranthas are well incorporated, sprinkle the herbs on top and serve immediately. 

 
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OF skinned knees and cycling lessons!

“Remember, just keep going straight. There’s only one large rock – and you’re NOT in line with it. That’s all you’ve got to avoid. C’mon, you’ve got your balance, just keep the handlebars straight and you CAN’T go wrong” – encouraging words from my friend Neeroo – trying to teach me to cycle. 

“Yes, I can do it. I can do it… i can do it… ” deep breathing… count to three… push off… and head straight for the ONE large rock on a 40-feet wide road with NO ONE else on it! BANG! CRASH! THUD! OUCH! Owowoowowow – that hurts! Skinned my knee (still bear the scars!); My unsympathetic friend nearly falls over, laughing… makes me get up and go at it again again and again until that magic moment when you’re FLYING on wheels! Thanks, Neeroo, for teaching me to fly!

I came to cycling rather late in life for someone my generation – didn’t get on to it till i was almost eighteen. My brothers Anand and Arvind had got their cycles when they were still quite small but for whatever reason (most likely their budget ran out!) my parents did not get me a cycle too. Also possibly because my school was within walking distance of home whereas the boys’ school was some miles away. I finally got on to a cycle only because i wanted a bike – a scooter. 

With the clear gender-differentiated roles of those days, it was the “boys’ job” to got to the mandi – the wholesale vegetable market every Sunday morning armed with the princely sum of TEN rupees and come back with their saddlebags – ooops, cycle bags – loaded with veggies. For this sum, we got a whole week’s supply of vegetables for a family with a large appetite – the list went something like this:

  • 10 kg potatoes
  • 7 kg onions
  • 5 kg tomatoes
  • 1-2 kg each of beans, carrots, bhindi (okra), eggplant, drumsticks, gourds of many kinds
  • Several bunches spinach,  coriander, curry leaves, ginger, green chilies etc.

TEN bucks!! I’m going to now be that boring older generation person who grumbles about the 20 bucks i have to pay for ONE measly bunch of coriander!

Potatoes in any form were and are a favourite for all of us – including the plain boiled variety with salt and pepper. Come to think, have you ever met anyone at all who doesn’t like spuds?

One of my weekly staples at home is new potatoes – in many forms – as a roasted South Indian curry with curry powder (koora podi – but that will be another post), as a salad with mayonnaise, just tossed with Mediterranean herbs or what we have today for lunch – a simple roast baby potato curry.

ROAST POTATO CURRY

  • Baby potatoes (somehow the word baby here makes feel like a cannibal!) – 1 kg – scrubbed well and halved.
  • Turmeric – 1/4 tsp
  • Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp
  • Onion – 1 – chopped
  • Tomato – 2 chopped
  • Cracked pepper – 1 tsp
  • Minced green chil1es – 2
  • Asafoetida – 1 large pinch
  • Oil (or if you are feeling sinfully indulgent) – butter – 2 tbsp
  • Salt

Pressure cook the potatoes with the turmeric for one whistle. Switch off while they are still firm. Let cool and then leave them in the frig overnight without covering or in the freezer for 1/2 an hour – This dries them out a bit so they don’t fall apart.

Heat the oil or butter in a LARGE flat saucepan. Add the mustard seeds. When they pop, add the asafoetida, green chiles and onions and fry for a minute. Add the tomatoes and fry for a couple of minutes more. Add the potatoes and the salt and roast slowly without a lid for about 20-30 minutes till crisp. Add the cracked pepper and mix well. You don’t really need a mealtime to eat this – snack on it, eat it as a “sidish 😉 ” with rice or generally because you’ve lost weight and need to put on “personality” as they say in our beautiful country!! “Manchi (meaning good in Telugu) personality, boss” usually refers to a fat sod!!