Anu Chenji

Just returned from a long two day drive to Reno and Lake Tahoe and exploits on the road have been much on my mind…

Sssqueeeeaal… go the brakes as my uncle’s car comes to a screeching halt on the dusty village road. A couple of fading squawks and then silence… for just a few minutes – when is there ever really silence on Indian roads??!

A crowd gathers, chattering excitedly. The hen, which had run into the path of the car, is examined and pronounced definitely destined for the pot that night… the excited chatter turns threatening, the owner of the hen praises the hen (scrawny and stringy by the way!) as being the best of the lot, even tempered, destined to fetch many, many (manys are added as he speculatively eyes my uncle, sizing up his possible net worth and how much can be safely scammed off for the very dead hen!) rupees on the market, all the eggs it would ever have laid if allowed to live, its bad karma (my uncle curses his bad karma under his breath), how much they would have fetched on the market if they had been sold but the family is very attached to said hen, you see, it is invaluable, you see! That is the crucial point in the discussion at which the bargaining begins!

Half an hour later and poorer by many rupees and richer by many points rise in his blood pressure, my uncle finally manages to get going again. The whole incident has been punctuated by an elderly aunt (an animal lover of the highest order) who has been yelling at him for being a murderer and so on – the crowd loves her obviously and makes encouraging noises!

They drive on, tempers slowly cooling down. Until… no way… yes! There is another squeal and and yet another set of quacks, this time as he runs over a duck!

The uncle has learnt his lesson and instead of stopping to inquire what’s happened, he speeds up and drives off as the villagers (thankfully another village!) begin to gather – shaking their fists at him! The aunt almost has an apoplexy and the crescendo of her quacks of protest rival the duck’s!

The  uncle’s hair is standing on end by this time – after all, poor man, vegetarian that he is, must have been pondering the implications of his being the cause of two slayings in one day! The aunt doesn’t cease her berating either.  It is altogether too much – the man is losing his concentration as he drives and tries to make explanatory noises to the aunt, who will not be placated! He yells, she screams…. and the inevitable happens. We are still on Indian village roads and livestock is aplenty! This time the squeal of his braking tires is accompanied by much agonised, almost-human squealing. Pale with wondering if he’s run over a sleeping human this time, my uncle stops the car and gets down – to face a very indignant pig!

Luckily it is not dead but with the quite speechless (speechless but not soundless – she is squeaking with frustration!) aunt behind him and the gathering clouds of villagers, I am sure he is wishing himself safe in Yama’s shelter! The wearying process of negotiation over, he pacifies the aunt (though she never quite forgives him!) and gets back in the car, arriving at his destination, cursing the Government, the  roads, villagers, their animals, intransigent aunts and everything else. His wife is a very wise woman – she takes one look at the suffering soul and makes his favourite food for him – vadas! All the irritants fade away… aunts are consigned to  Moradabad (where they came from), villagers cursed into early graves and so on!

Yes, this is actually what happened to an uncle a few decades ago – the story has passed into the family’s chronicles…

Here’s an unusual vada…

MOONG SPROUTS VADA WITH MINT

• Green gram (whole moong) sprouts – 2 cups (to sprout at home, soak whole green gram in water for 4-6 hours. Drain and tie in a loose cloth, placed in a colander over a basin. Keep in a warm place, sprinkling the cloth every 2-3 hours, for about 24 hours. Open, rinse and use)
• Chopped onion – 1
• Ginger – grated – 1/2 tsp
• Green chilis – 2
• Saunf (fennel seeds) – 1/4 tsp
• Curry leaves – 2 sprigs
• Asafoetida – 1 pinch
• Salt
• Garlic (optional) – 2 flakes
• Mint leaves – 3/4 cup – washed and drained
• Oil to deep fry
• Rice flour – 1 tbsp – set aside

Grind everything except the onions, rice flour and oil together into a very rough batter, without adding any water.

Add the rice flour and onions and mix well.

Shape into small patties and deep fry in hot oil on medium heat till golden brown on both sides.

Serve with ketchup as you calculate the odds against one man driving over three animals in one day with a PETA loving aunt in the backseat!

Was just reading a post someone posted on sixteen reasons why they are proud to be a Hyderabadi. Saw the heading and obviously couldn’t resist following the link – hum Hyderabadiyan aiseech hain – no praise of our native city is too ott (over the top) for us – it is THE very best! In fact, I’m not sure that all the Rajnikant claims doing the rounds (originally Chuck Norris jokes, you say? Hah!) were originally about the city of my birth. Wanna dispute that? How about these then?

God created heaven and earth in six days. Then he rested and created Hyderabad – the next week – he learnt from his mistakes and that’s why it’s so perfect!

Why do the Himalayas rise every year? Because Hyderabad is in the South and levers it up!

Why do tornadoes never hit India? Because Hyderabad stands in the way!

Once a Hyderabadi became the coach of the Indian cricket team and that year India won the FIFA cup!

Munni badnaam hui… Hyderabad ke liye…

Beginning to get it? We Hyderabadis are also very patient with slow learners (it resonates with us!) so it’s okay even if you begin to get it only in the middle of the night!

So… back to this article – the title is tempting but the content was less so – basically a list of the tourist attractions in Hyderabad – any tour operator will give you a more comprehensive list 🙁

But as I scrolled down to the comments, things begin to get really interesting and all the things I identify with my beloved home town surface… plus some of my own…

…like how good-humored we are as a race (in general!)

…like our proclivity to put off till “tarson” (the day after the day after tomorrow), what needed to be done three days ago! We have raised the art of procrastination to a high level of sophistication…

…like our ability to laugh at ourselves… I miss this sorely in Madras! (As a  Madrasi, sitting beside me and reading it over my shoulder as I write, my daughter raises an objection here – I tell her she has my Hyderabadi genes!)

…like how we have biryani corpuscles floating around in our bloodstream while the rest of the world… well, you know… shrug, shrug…

…about how the art of pehle aap (you first – the highly cultivated courtliness of a true Hyderabadi), means that you may never end up doing business with a potential partner there but you will make a friend for life instead – you takes your pick! Being a businessman or woman is too mainstream, being a friend is just that bit hatke (left of centre!) to be the “right” thing to be!

….how we need sweet tea five minutes after dessert!

…the Hyderabadis advice to Alexander’s world-conquering ambition would have been, light le le miyaan (take it easy, bud!)

…how you can compete with both a traffic cop and a signal and stop traffic by holding up a hand! Traffic signals are guidelines only rather than actual rules – woh kya hote hain baap? (What on earth are those – genuine puzzlement!)

Altogether the most charming of cities… and finally about how baingan (eggplant) is a curse word in a city which loves the vegetable to pieces! Used like this: baingan ke bataan (meaning useless stuff)!

Here’s a non-Hyderabadi baingan ki recipe (we are also very eclectic and borrow the good stuff from every culture – it’s a different matter that we don’t always give credit to that culture for what we borrow!)

Presenting the simply delicious Bengali…

BAINGAN KA BHAJA OR BEGUN KA BHAJA

• Large eggplant – these should feel heavy for their size. Light ones indicate overripeness and are likely to have a lot of seeds – 1
• Besan/chickpea flour – 1/2 cup (or quarter cup each of chickpea and rice flours)
• Chili powder – 1 tsp
• Turmeric – 1 pinch
• Asafoetida – 1 pinch
• Jeera powder – 1/2 tsp
• Amchoor (raw mango powder) – 1/2 tsp – optional
• Salt
• Oil to shallow fry

Slice the eggplants into thin 3 mm thick slices and soak in water.

Mix together all the other ingredients except the oil. Remove the eggplant pieces from the water and pat dry. Aplly the masala powder on top.

Heat a flat pan and sprinkle a few drops of oil on top. Place three or four baingan pieces on the pan, NOT overlapping.

Pour a few drops of oil around each piece. Cook till golden brown and turn over. Cook again till golden brown on the other side. Remove and plate. Repeat till pieces are done.

Ever done that thing where a recipe you make becomes a big hit and you are asked to bring it to every party/pot luck/dinner to which you go? Till you are sick of it??!

It happened to me early in my marriage – with baghara baingan. It’s a rich dish, right, needing loads of oil? And the number of times you can eat it does not exceed a couple of times a month – but I remember a time when I made it six times in one month- on request, not choice – I had baingan oozing out of my ears! And so, in a fit of revulsion, I did not make it for a whole year – till nature in the form of insistent genes which need an occasional infusion of baghara baingan (as also many other Hyderabadi dishes, not to mention aavakai and mango pappu) to stay oiled and in tune, intervened and I started roasting the peanuts and sesame and copra again!

Right now, with the determined holidaying we are on, my genes are crying out for some serious R & R and saying “don’t walk, don’t catch a train, don’t look at a schedule, don’t even think of getting up before ten and so on….”! Also, said genes are not used to the kind of rival-Arnold-Schwarznegger calf muscles I built up with all the walking in New York and Washington (enough to circumnavigate the globe!) and so with all that whining (from the genes, I swear!), I gave in and relapsed into a more comfortable state of somnolence at Bernadette and Vasi’s lovely, welcoming home! Three days of R & R and the calves are back to their “comfortably fatty” state and the genes have gone back to sleep!

Moral of the story is to always listen to the genes – they know better than your mind!

I think there is truly something about genetic makeup which is also tied up with the city you are born and bred in. Cities have character and you cannot outrun the character of the city you were born in! Madras, for instance, is a busy, bustling place where everyone gets up before the crack of dawn – what is that, you ask? You Hyderabadi? You know, that thing that happens, like someone’s switched on the outdoor lights – just a few – as your party ends – that’s dawn! NO, no that is NOT god switching on your nightlight! (though I can quite understand your confusion!)

I met a friend, a co-Hyderabadi, who had just joined a new company a few months earlier. Couldn’t handle it and had just quit the new job. I asked him what had happened and he said it much more beautifully than I could have ever thought it! “This kind of company, Anu, is not for free-spirited Hyderabadis like us”!!

Clink – went the penny in my mind! But, of course! That explained so many things-  about how un-rule bound we are,  how difficult it is to fill up forms that start with the words “Appication in triplicate… zzzz”,  how we are so eager to make the other person happy that we will say yes to everything under the sun and so on – including if asked if you know the way to Asifnagar, naale ke andar, nal ke paas, the red house! When you haven’t the faintest inkling whether it is north, south or west!

In other words, don’t give us precision jobs 🙂

Rather give us jobs that exercise our creativity and ingenuity –  we will find a way, even if we have to chew gum and stick the broken fuel line in the car with it – we will make it run!

Cooking is much like that – at least as far as I’m concerned. Learn how the spices behave and then let them choreograph their own number in the pan!

Like these little numbers that I had a dream about!

CARAMELISED APPLE AND CHEDDAR PUFFS

FOR THE PUFF

• Whole wheat flour or a combo of white and whole wheat – 2.5 cups
• Yeast – 1 sachet
• 1 tbsp brown sugar
• Salt – 1 tsp
• 2 tbsp butter + 1 tbsp oil
• Egg wash – optional – with one egg

Knead the dough well till elastic adding warn water as needed to make a smooth dough. Cover and set aside to prove

FOR FILLING

• Apples – 2 large – slightly tart ones are better – peel, core and chop
• Sugar or honey – 1 tbsp
• 1/4 tsp cinnamon
• Salted table butter – 1 tbsp
• Cheddar cheese – grated – 1 cup

As the dough is proving, make this filling.

Heat the butter in a pan. Add the apples and sugar. Cook till caramelised – about 5-6 minutes. Add the cinnamon and mix. Cool. Reserve a little of the filling for the sauce.

TO ASSEMBLE

Knock back the dough and divide into lime sized balls. Flatten out into thick rotis or roll each out into a rectangle about 3-4 mm thick. Sprinkle a little cheddar one on half of the rectangle and place 1.5 tsp of the apple filling. Fold over the other half of the rectangle without the filling on top, covering the filling completely. Pinch edges together to seal well.

Rest the packets for about 5 minutes and then spoon gently into a  deep pan of boiling water – 4 or 5 at a time. Cook for about half a minute and remove.

Place on a greased tray and brush with egg wash if using. Bake at 200 C for 15-20 minutes till golden.

Remove and serve with a dip of hung curd,  cream and the reserved filling and a pinch of salt and red chili (yes!) – sweet, sour , salt, hot and utterly delicious!

I swear you will make it till your genes are fed up!

“Sarojabai, your daughter is ageing. You’d better get her “married off” before she becomes so old that no man will look at her!” comes the unsolicited advice from the ladies of the locality. The locality is Ulsoor, one of the suburbs of Bangalore and the year is 1942. The girl in question (all of fourteen years old, by the way!) is my oldest aunt – Bajja to the family and Sundara to the rest of the world.

My grandmother turns a stern eye towards the women. No way the daughter is going to be “married off” while the dad is still away at war and also while she is still so young (in the mother’s opinion). So she refuses all offers that come her way and with the daughter being reckoned something of a beauty, there are plenty of offers!

The person telling me this story is the same aunt – Bajjamma – some sixty years later! She is a great story teller and has us all in splits with tales of their growing up years and the offers that she, or rather the mother, received on her behalf.

One morning, a neighbour drops in. He is a man in his thirties, has recently lost his wife in childbirth and is looking for a “replacement”! Offers to “take” the eldest daughter (said Bajja) off the mother’s hands and even pay for the wedding expenses himself! (most unusual in those misogynistic days, i assure you!). The mom does not want an old man for her lovely daughter and refuses. He gets importunate. “But you don’t even have to give her any jewellery or anything. My late wife had plenty of that and it will all come to your daughter! And she even had a vaddiyaanam (a gold waistbelt!)” He is convinced that the waistbelt, his trump card, will definitely clinch the deal!

The mother refuses – a little more rudely this time – no way her daughter is going to be married off to an old man! The neighbours are aghast! “A gold waistbelt he offers you and you refuse? You must have got a touch of the sun or something,” they shake their heads in collective amazement and trail back to their homes!

The story ends on a happier note – the dad comes back from the wars three years later and the daughter is married – at the reasonable age of eighteen to a man much closer to her in age and much more eligible.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much of an idea of cooking (despite the mother being a noted cook) and churns out some pretty horrendous stuff (as she tells us later!) – boiling okra in a sambar without frying it and serving up a sticky brown lump of something which resembles gum more than anything!

The husband, otherwise a reasonable man, but bred in the traditions of his times, takes one bite and chucks the whole bowl away!

For any of you out there harking back to “the good old days”, those good old days were not always so good – as she reminded us during that story telling session…

Bajjaama became a rather accomplished cook later on and her home in Bangalore was refuge to a number of nephews and nieces (including yours truly) living in hostels and craving for home food!

Here’s an okra recipe that might have got her off the hook!

OKRA WITH CHICKPEAS

• Tender okra – 1/2 kg – sliced into 1 cm chunks or whole. Cut off the heads though
• Cooked chickpeas (kabuli chana) – 1.5 cups
• Onion – chopped – 1 cup
• Garlic – 3 flakes
• Ginger – 2 tsp – grated
• Green chilies – 2 -minced
• Tomatoes – 2 large – chopped
• Cumin powder – 1 tsp
• Coriander powder – 1.5 tsp
• Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp
• Tumeric – 1/4 tsp
• Pepper – 1/2 tsp
• Salt
• Sugar – 1/2 tsp
• Oil – 2 tbsp

Spread out and dry the cut okra pieces in an open, microwaveable tray in the frig or on the counter for a couple of hours. I find this removes a lot of stickiness from the okra and it absorbs less oil.

Microwave them on high for about 4-5 minutes, stirring once. Set aside to cool.

In a large saucepan, heat the oil and add the onions. Fry till pink. Add the garlic and ginger and the powders and continue to fry. add the okra and saute for 4-5 minutes.

Cover and cook for a few minutes more.

Add the tomatoes, chickpeas, salt and sugar and cook till the tomatoes turn mushy.

Serve with hot rice or rotis and a raitha or a tzatziki on the side.

And if anybody throws anything at you, first dodge and then chuck it right back at them! And if it is a gold vaddiyaanam, keep it!

She’s been staring at the clock for a while now, willing it to go faster. Finally the hour arrives. The magical hour – when the parents have said she can do what she wants to do. She’s a well-behaved kid generally so she has waited patiently…

She gets up. All four feet and seven years of earnestness!

“Appa, you said they would go at 3 o’clock and I could read again. It’s three now and they haven’t gone.  So please can I go back to reading my book?” Phew!

Ever since learning to read – when she was about four – my older daughter Arch has had her nose buried in a book! I empathise completely, having been exactly the same myself but this statement annihilates us with embarrassment! The  “they” who haven’t gone yet happen to be my husband’s uncle and his family whom we’ve invited for lunch. Arch has been asked, politely, to please be sociable and not stick her nose in a book till they have left.

“When will that be?” is the only question she asks us – after all, lunches and other other such social occasions are only interruptions to the serious business of life – which is reading, of course!

“About three 0’clock,” answers the dad.

“So can I read after that?”

“Yes, but not a moment before!”

She’s kept her part of the bargain and sees no reason why the adults should not keep theirs!

Thankfully, the uncle and his family, while not readers themselves, are good sports and much laughter ensues… before the uncle insists she must go off to read! Obviously, he jumps to the top of the popularity charts in the eyes of the seven-year old!

Even today, if she doesn’t get her “time off” to read, Arch becomes what she used to call “thanthy” (cranky)!

Top of the pops of our America tour has been this absolutely divine white gazpacho that Bernadette served us at lunch in their beautiful home in Columbus – thank you Bernadette and Vashi!

Here it is:

WHITE GAZPACHO WITH GRAPES AND TOASTED ALMONDS

• 1/4 cup + 4 tsp slivered almonds
• 2 large or 3 regular cucumbers – peeled, seeded and chunked
• 3 slices white bread – crusts removed
• 1/2 cup water
• 3 clove garlic – peeled
• 6 spring onions / scallions (only the whites) – sliced
• 1/4 cup white wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
• 1 tsp fresh lemon juice – taste and add more if you like it tarter
• 1/2 tsp salt – again adjust to taste
• 3 tbsp olive oil
• 1/2 cup green grapes – cut in half
• 1/4 of one green chili (optional if you want a bit of heat)

Toast the almonds for 3-5 minutes till fragrant. Set aside.

Set aside 1 cup of the chopped cucumber for garnish.

Soak the bread in the water till soft – just a couple of minutes.

In a mixer, whizz together the bread, the rest of the cucumber, the garlic, half the spring onions, vinegar, lemon juice, the quarter cup of almonds, salt and oil till the cucumbers are completely blended.

To serve, ladle 1 cup of the soup into each bowl. Mound 1/4 cup of the reserved, chopped cucumber, 1 tbsp of the spring onions, 2 tbsp of grapes and 1 tsp of the almonds in the centre of each bowl on top of the soup and serve.

Makes four servings.

The slivered almonds take this soup to an altogether elevated plane of cuisine – and you’ll need it if you have a kid who’s liable to ask, as she watches the guest’s chair, “You said she could talk the hind legs off a chair. I’ve been watching and all the legs are still there!”