Author: anuchenji

  

A vague sense of dread is threatening to overcome another, equally vague sense of excitement and anticipation. Having a baby? Naaah… that was all anticipation and excitement! New job? Noooo… ! Exams? Too mundane!

End of the summer holidays approaching and the days of freedom are over – no matter how exciting new books and uniforms and shoes are, the shopping for all of them is tinged with a frisson of “oh dear” feelings…

….coming from a home where both parents worked, the freedom with which we ran amok during the summers is something I look back on with wonder – did we really have those long, lazy days of reading without a break till the parents were due to come home and then suddenly waking up to the fact that we hadn’t eaten lunch yet – at five in the evening, scrambling to eat? The late lunch did nothing to put us off our our dinner, as I remember and just a couple of hours later, we’d be happily polishing off our cook Panda’s unmatched omelettes, parathas, sambar, rice and curry, topped off with curd rice! Some part of the summer would be spent at the homes of various uncles and aunts – particularly my aunt in Madras. The more regulated lifestyles there, with proper mealtimes and all, were more than offset by the joys of having a whole bunch of cousins to play with!

Madras also came with its attendant problem of the summer heat (oh yes, Hyderabad was hot but the Madras humidity was something quite out of the ordinary) – one never knew during a bath whether the stuff running down your body was the bathwater or yucky sweat! We kids from Hyderabad, born in and used to a completely dry climate, had basically not developed sweat pores – and Madras was agony! I remember one particularly hot holiday in the city, when on coming back to Hyderabad, I swore to my mother that I would never, never ever go back there again – famous last words – I’ve ended up spending thirty years in the city, ranting and raving against every one of those summers!

Back to the end of summer holidays – the dread was occasioned in part by the fact that back to school meant there couldn’t be too many experiments in the kitchen any more! Unsupervised by parents, my brothers and I would have made hay (sometimes literally) –  with our enthusiasm to make something, anything – matched only by our lack of expertise and knowledge of basic cooking processes! More often than not, it was the dictionary which came to our rescue when we needed to know what frying was as against deep frying. Boiling was, of course, easy peasy! Roasting we could sort of hazard a guess at but even the dictionary could not help with figuring out what broiling was!  For a long time I thought a broiler chicken was one that had already had unspeakable things done to it!

Speaking of dictionaries, we had many of those ranging from Collins’ to the Readers’ Digest Encyclopaedic Dictionary, of which I was in awe – I still can’t think of it except in capitals! – but only one cookbook, a Konkani one, for some strange reason! We would browse through its dog-eared, yellowing pages, pockmarked with some of our efforts and pick out something to make – usually an ambitious project doomed to failure! But, and this is a big but, we never threw anything away, no matter how bad it was – we had made it and so we ate it!

Learning how to cook was a stop and start affair, going full steam ahead in the summer and the mills grinding exceedingly slow during the school year… now of course, its through the year… suits me fine and suits my family even better!

Like today’s dish… the Maharashtrian…

KOTHIMBIR VADI

• Besan/gram flour – 1 cup
• Rice flour – 2 tbsp
• Fresh coriander/kothimir – 1 cup,  chopped finely
• Roasted peanuts – crushed – 1/2 cup
• Roasted sesame seeds – 1 tbsp  for batter+ 1 tbsp to temper
• Turmeric – 1/8 tsp
• Asafoetida – 1 pinch
• Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp
• Coriander/dhania powder – 3/4 tsp
• Cumin/jeera powder – 3/4 tsp
• Ginger – minced – 1/2 “
• Green chilies – 2 – minced
• Curry leaves – 2 sprigs – minced (I usually pulse the ginger, green chilies and curry leaves together in the mixer to mince)
• Juice of 1.5 limes
• Salt
• Capsicum – chopped – 1/2 cup – optional
• Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp – to temper
• Oil – 1 tbsp for batter + 1 tbsp to temper

Mix all the ingredients except  the tempering ingredients – 1 tbsp sesame, mustard seeds and 1 tbsp oil with enough water to make a stiff-ish dough.

Grease a platter – a steel thaali with sides is best or a flat bottomed vessel with walls.

In a cooker or a large pan, bring 3 cups water to a boil.

Place the thaali in the steamer and cover.

Steam for 15-20 muinutes till a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool and  cut into diamonds or any shape you want.

Heat a tava add 1 tbsp oil and temper with mustard and sesame seeds. Lower the heat and place the pieces all over. Roast till golden brown on each side, turning over once.

Eat! Superb for an afternoon snack or as a side with curd rice… what else!

You can serve with any chutney or pickle.

Even the Madras summer might begin to seem bearable – though that’s a rather tall order!

Just been doing some serious re-visiting of childhood anecdotes with my aunt and uncle. This uncle (my dad’s brother), by the way, had come to Hyderabad for an interview when I was due to be born. He waited and waited and waited and then finally had to go back to his native Bangalore a week after I was due to make an appearance. Apparently he had no sooner left than I decided to make a prima donna appearance – seven days late!

“Just like a girl,” was his comment. I disagree – “just like a Hyderabadi” would be more appropriate, methinks! We Hyderabadis take pride in our tardiness – and that is why no one has yet succeeded in driving the Nawabi-pan out of us yet! Madras did succeed – at least while I am there. When I am in Hyderabad, well, obviously I choose to do what my fellow-citizens do!

The tardiness in making an appearance seems to run in the family, btw… both my daughters were nine days late!

My aunt was a serious fan of Rajesh Khanna’s when she was a young girl, going so far as to travel to Bombay (this was in the ’70s when the great man was at the height of his popularity as a superstar), in the hopes of getting to see him! I do not remember whether she actually did but what I do know is that she passed on her admiration for the dimpled poster boy of Indian cinema to one of her children at least!

Her younger son, my cousin Jayant, was about two years old and hearing that he had a fever, I went to see him. Our little man is all wrapped up in blankets, sitting on his high chair, watching a Rajesh Khanna movie on TV. So engrossed he doesn’t see me. I do – see him and hear him mutter to himself, “(I am Rajesh Khanna. This is my Dimple and this is my Kapadia”, poking each of his dimples in turn!). For the non-cognoscenti, Dimple Kapadia was the hero’s wife back then!

When I started learning how to knit, I looked around for the smallest person I knew that I could knit a pullover for… and lighted on this same Rajesh-Dimple fan! With some (well, actually, much!) help from my grandmom, I made him a little sweater and called him over to try it on. It was a perfect fit and Jayant, thrilled with his new acquisition, scuttles off quickly, in case this big cousin should decide that it needs to be re-done and starts unraveling the wool!

Now, for a fan of Rajesh Khanna’s I obviously have to make something from his native Punjab… like this hoary old favourite…

ALOO GOBHI/Potato Cauliflower Curry

• Cauliflower – 1 medium sized. Cut into florets and soak in warm, salted water for ten minutes to remove both worms and chemicals.
• Potatoes – cut into fingers – 2 large.
• Onion – 1 – sliced – optional
• Ginger – 1 ” – julienned
• Turmeric – 1/8 tsp
• Coriander/dhania powder – 1 tsp
• Cumin/jeera powder – 1 tsp
• Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp
• Amchoor/dried mango powder – 1/2 tsp OR 1 chopped tomato
• Green chili – minced – 1
• Cloves – 2-3
• Cinnamon – 1″ stick
• Cardamom – 1 – just break it open by hitting it with a stone or a rolling pin.
• Peppercorns – broken – 5-6
• Asafoetida – 1 pinch
• Kasooti methi – 1 tsp
• Salt
• Oil – 1 tsp
• Ghee – 1 tsp

Heat the oil and ghee together. Add asafoetida and whole spices and saute for a few seconds.

Add onions, if using and fry till golden.

Add ginger and saute for a few seconds till crisp.

Add the spice powders, tomatoes (if using) and potatoes. Sprinkle a little water, cover and cook for 3-4 minutes.

Drain rinse and add cauliflower. Saute for 3-4 minutes without covering to let it crisp a bit.

Add salt and cover and cook for about 6-7 minutes on a low flame till tender. Open, add kasooti methi and continue to cook till quite dry.

Serve with hot rotis.

Watch the dimples flash!

“Do you want to come for a movie?” was probably our favourite sentence and we waited to be asked by random kind uncles and aunts visiting from random small towns all over the country! We needed no second invitation and never thought to ask which movie – never mind if we had already seen it half a dozen times before – the lure of the big screen was just too strong! Also the possibility that the kindness of these aunts, uncles would stretch as far as buying us popcorn. Pre-packaged and smelling strongly of kerosene-y plastic as it did, it was still one of the highlights of our lives if we got an entire small packet of it to ourselves!

“Naaki, naake icchesthaava?” used to ask my little cousin from Bangalore, whose Telugu was strongly tinged with Kannada and provided us with endless amusement! He was referring to my mom’s habit of never slicing a fruit if she could help it and rather doling them out individually – with the result that you got the luxury of a whole mango to yourself at every meal during the summer! You could then spend an hour after lunch gently nibbling away at the skin till you got to the fleshy desirable part and bite off chunks as the juice ran down your chin and you tried to see if you catch it at the bottom of your chin with your tongue! Mostly you couldn’t. And all our clothes were stained an interesting yellow throughout the summer! We were not an elegant bunch!

My cousin’s question was to make sure, “Is that whole mango really for me?!!” but the vagaries of Indian languages meant that what he actually asked was whether we’d lick the mango and give it to him! Obviously we would!

And so, where movie-going was concerned, all that was needed was for someone to offer to take us. Even if we had seen the movie earlier – anything which was on a screen, which moved, which came with a bag of popcorn – was grist to the mill of our delectation and thus I ended up seeing a Telugu potboiler called Dasara bullodu (not kidding!) some nine times, accompanying various cousins, uncles and aunts!

Obviously the words “critical appreciation” meant nothing – otherwise this scene from a Kannada movie starring one of Karnataka’s iconic stars – let’s call him Mr R (I may have not have had any sense of critical appreciation but I have a healthy respect for my own skin!) should have eclipsed his career completely. Instead, everywhere you go in K, he is spoken of in hushed tones!

This story was related to me by a friend, the creator of this blog format – so if anyone wants to bash anyone, you know where to go!

So, our hero, Mr R, is supposed to jump off a running horse during an action shoot. Being somewhat stricken in years (when did that ever stop anyone from being an on-screen hero??!), our man obviously couldn’t do it. The director applies his mind to the problem and eureka – has a solution! Mr R stands on a wall, the horse gallops past (well, actually ambles past but with many fast-forwards, we can make it look like a gallop!) and our hero creakily gets on (fast forward will take care of that too!). When this entire sequence is played in reverse, it will seem as though the hero is jumping off a galloping horse – Indian jugaad at its best, right?

….except for one minor detail… when our hero gets on to the horse, the animal lets go… of a load that till now needed a laxative! When the scene is played in reverse, guess what’s flying up and not hitting the fan?? Rather, making its undignified way back inside the horse’s nether end?

The film is released and is a resounding success at the box office. Critical appreciation – what’s that?

Thankfully, when it comes to food, we Indians have some of the best developed critical instincts in the world… making our multiple cuisines quite unmatched… and what better showcases Indian culinary prowess than our pickles… like this lesser-known cousin of the Andhra aavakai, also Andhra…

MAAGAAYA

I have often made fun of my mom’s culinary, ahem… prowess… but in this instance, I will say proudly that no one is a better pickle-r than her! This is her recipe and the pics are of her Maagaaya…

•  Raw mangoes (preferably Rumani variety) – 6 medium sized ones – about 2 kgs. They should be hard when you press them but with a yellowish streak
• Asafoetida – 1 large piece – about the size of a forefinger nail (gorantha – in Telugu!)
• Methi seeds/fenugreek – 1 tbsp
• Table salt – 1/2 kg
• Mirchi/red chili powder – 1/2 kg
• Turmeric powder – 1 tbsp
• Red chilies – 10
• Mustard seeds – 2 tbsp
• Sesame oil/gingelly oil – 1 kg

Wash and dry mangoes with a cloth. Peel and cut into thin slivers – about a finger’s thickness and 1″ to 1.5 ” in length, right down to the kernel.

In a large bowl, mix together the pieces, the kernels, turmeric and salt. Lay the trays out in the sun for the whole day. In the evening, bring them inside and separate the pieces from the juices which have run.

Cover both the juice bowl and the bowl with pieces with a muslin cloth.

The next morning, mix both and again dry in the sun the whole day.

This pickle will require two-three days of sun-drying till it forms a solid mass when you mix them up in the evening.

Add chili powder and oil, reserving 2 3 tbsp of oil.

Fry the asafoetida, fenugreek seeds in a little oil. Powder when cool and add to the mango pieces.

Heat the rest of the oil, add mustard seeds and when they splutter, pour over the pickle.

Mix everything really well and bottle. The bottles should have been washed and sun dried and should be really squeaky clean (unlike the editing of R’s film shot!).

This pickle lasts for up to two years without refrigeration. Eat with anything you like – rice, rotis, dosas, on crostinis, as a raita base…

The most critical of audiences will swoon over it before they give it an Oscar!

Back in Hyderabad for a few days and I already feel calmer and more ‘settled’! What is it about one’s hometown that always does this – to everyone I know? Even a native New Yorker or Mumbai-ite (Mumbaiya?), among the most frenetic places on earth (I actually find myself breathing faster in either of these places!), removed from his native turf (yes, there are patches of turf in these – think Central Park and umm… in Mumbai, think… well, let me think harder and I’ll tell you by and by!) feels calmer when he comes back, even if he/she has been to the remotest, most-uninhabited place on earth!

Something about the native land that re-introduces you to the younger, calmer you after a corporate life is truly rejuvenating, not to mention soporific!

Some years ago, I was sitting on the verandah of our home in Hyderabad staring out at nothing in particular. K, my younger one, about four years old at the time, comes out and sits next to me. Having always seen me rush around in a frenzy as I try to do a million things at the same time (shudder, shudder!), she is puzzled to see her amma so quiet and asks “What you doin’, amma?”

Too lazy to answer, I tell her, “I’m watching the mango on that tree grow.”

“Oh,” she says, as this information is digested and sits quietly by my side…

…five minutes later, a small voice pipes up… “I am also watching. But it’s not growing! Shall I call more people to watch and make it grow??!”

Madrasi hurry? Need to make it happen? Naah, i don’t think so… well, at least not completely because I’ve met people who actually feel the same way about Madras being calm and unhurried! But still, I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s no place like the land of my Nizami ancestors to make time stand still and to find the leisure to watch a mango grow on a tree! After all, why sweat about something that needs to be done today?! Kal, parson, tarson bhi chalega, miyaan! (Tomorrow, the day after, the day after the day after tomorrow will do just as well… !)

And that is how we cook too… slow cooked food, made with love and patience and altogether conspiring to create some truly unmatched cuisine…

I had asked my cousin Devika, if she had the recipe for one of the “lost” treasures of our childhood – her mother’s (Ameenakkayya, the lady with her tastebuds at the tips of her fingers – probably the best chef I’ve ever met in my life!) very, very special…

BAJJILA KOORA/PAKODA KORMA

The first ingredient you need is time – budget two hours!

The second is patience – this requires plenty of patience – particularly if you want to hold back on the fat content!

Reproducing Devi’s recipe below:

FOR PAKODAS

• Besan 2 cups
• Onions – 3 medium
• Salt, chili powder to taste
• Ajwain/carom seeds – 1/2 tsp – optional
• Asafoetida – a pinch
• Garlic – 1 flake – grated – optional
• Green chili – 1 minced

Mix all of these together with enough water to make a thick batter. Drop spoonfuls (chinna muddalu!) into hot oil and fry till golden brown. Remove and drain on paper. Set pakodas aside.

FOR GRAVY

• Desiccated coconut/copra – grated  – 1 cup
• Coriander/dhania powder – 1 tsp
• Cumin/jeera powder – 1/2 tsp
• Ginger – 1/2 inch
• Garlic – 4 – 6 pods
• Turmeric – 1/4 tsp
• Red chili/mirchi powder – 1 tsp
• Almonds – 2 tbsp
• Poppy seeds/Khus khus – 1 tbsp – optional

Roast all these in a bit of oil and grind  to a smooth paste. Set aside – masala paste.

OTHER

• Cardamom/elaichi – 2
• Cloves/lavang – 4-5
• Cinnamon/dalchini – 2 ” piece
• Onions – finely chopped – 1 cup
• Sour yogurt – 1 cup (if your yogurt is not sour, add 1/2 tsp tamarind paste and whisk together)
• Tomato puree – 1 cup
• Oil – 3-4 tsp

Fry elaichi, lavang, patta, then chopped onions in oil, add ground masala and fryyyy.

Add yogurt a little at a time, fry till oil separates, then add 1 cup tomato puree/sauce and fryyy. (I warned you this would take time!)

Add a bit of hot water if too thick.

Remove from flame and add bajjis.

Anu, my mom/amma believed in looong frying of the gravy. Totally sneered at the typical South Indian style of adding yogurt, stir and turn off method. Or barely fried onion for gravy :)))

There’s a  danger point. While I was diligently fryyying the gravy, hubbygee and our guy friends would polish off the bajjis. Haha, once Rima and I climbed a chair and stashed them on top of the fridge smugly, little realizing it was eye level for Madan. He generously doled them out while the gravy was happening

Recipe verbatim from when i wrote it 33 years ago!

“Please, Teacher, the HM (headmistress) would like to see you in the office. Could you come now?” asks the school attendant of our class teacher. We kids all stare – it is good to have a distraction, though we are still too small (five years old and in class 1!) to really make the most of a teacher’s occasional absence from the classroom.

The young and beautiful teacher, who’s won all our hearts with her kindness, looks around. It seems okay… the class is pretty quiet and manageable. She decides to trust us and leaves a monitor – me – in charge. Tells the class to be quiet and to continue to do their work without making a noise and disturbing any of the other classes nearby. Also gives me clear instructions. If I find anyone “talking too much”, I am to write their names down in a little book she gives me.

I am quite a conscientious little girl so I do my job, impartially writing down names of everyone who is “talking” – including a couple of my best friends!

Teacher comes back andasks for my notebook. I hand it over proudly – this is the first time in my life that I have handled such serious responsibility and I am quite proud of myself.

She looks at my list and quickly suppresses a grin.  Her “Very good, Anuradha,” makes me literally swell with pride!

Then she asks, “Is either of your parents a doctor?”

“Yes,” I answer, thinking this teacher is even more awesome (no, the word did not exist then, except maybe in reference to cathedrals or other grand things!) than I had first thought – how did she know?

Then gently and carefully, very mindful of my feelings, she explains to me that the name “Asma” is not to be confused with the word “asthma” which is an ailment! I knew my friend’s name – the one who had been talking and had to have her name written up in the list but the only version I was familiar with was the one I’d seen in the little prescription pads which medical reps handed out to all doctors!

No one ever warned you about the hazards of parental occupations! The perils of a monitor’s hazards pale in comparison 🙂

But all pale in front of this unusual…

RIPE MANGO DAL/Maamidipandla Pappu

FOR DAL

• Toor dal – 1 cup
• Ripe tomatoes – 2 – chopped
• Ginger – 1 cm piece
• Green chilies – 2
• Turmeric – 1 pinch

Pressure all these together with 2.5 cups water for three whistles. Whisk when cool.

OTHER

• Ripe mango – – not squishy-ripe but firm-ripe – 1 cup – chunked – Thothapuri or mookili variety is good for this
• Salt
• Red chili powder – 1/4 tsp
• Kasooti methi – 1 tsp
• Tamarind paste – 1/2 tsp

TEMPERING

• Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Jeera – 1/2 tsp
• Curry leaves – 2 sprigs
• Ghee – 1 tsp

Heat the ghee and add tempering ingredients. Add the ripe mango, red chili powder, kasooti methi and tamarind paste and 1 cup water. Cook, covered for 4-5 minutes.

Add the cooked dal and salt and cook for 3 minutes more.

Serve with rice and ghee – it is an unusually lovely combination of sweet and sour tastes.

Asma by any other name (even the monitor-inflicted asthma) was just as sweet!