Anu Chenji

“Arch, can you run up to the terrace and get me a couple of sprigs of curry leaves from the plant?”

“Arch… AAARCH… ” I finally manage to get her attention away from her book – what competition can curry leaves to help with some boring dish offer against a Harry Potter?

Having GOT her attention, it’s not difficult to get a biddable child to help, though! 

She goes up, sneakily carrying the book with her and comes down half an hour later carrying some leaves with her. “Here, amma, here’s the karepak (curry leaves) and hands over the sprigs to me – except that they are sprigs of neem leaves – bitter as they come! 

Lessons in practical botany followed-  to identify the most basic of leaves!

Notorious for her bookworm habits, she was given strict instructions one day to not read till the guests we were expecting for lunch had left.

“What time will they leave?” she asks.

“About 3.00 p.m” is her dad’s response.

And so, she waits politely till 3 p.m. and then gets up “Appa, it’s 3 pm and they haven’t left yet. Can I go back to reading now???!!” – right in front of the guests!

Many lessons in why we can’t say or do certain things follow – lessons particularly difficult for a bookworm!  Some leavening with herbs is definitely needed!

Indian cooking uses far more spices than herbs and the herbs used are just a handful – curry leaves and coriander being predominant. Learning to cook with herbs, in fact even hearing about herbs like marjoram and rosemary was a “grownup” experience!

Here’s a herby recipe which we love for breakfast or lunch or dinner or a general snack thingummy…

HERB-Y ROASTED BABY JACKET POTATOES

• Baby potatoes – 1 kg – well scrubbed
• Olive oil – 1 tbsp
• Rosemary – 1 tsp
• Salt
• Pepper – 1 tsp

Cook the potaotes in boiling salted water for about 6 – 8 minutes. Drain water and toss the potatoes with all the other ingredients. Line a baking tray with foil and spread the potaotes out in a layer. Cover with another layer of foil and seal the edges. Bake at 240C for about 15 minutes in a pre-heated oven. Remove the top layer of foil and bake again for 7-8 minutes till tender.

 

“Amma, what do you call ‘ancestors’ in Hindi?” asks my twelve-year old daughter, coming home from a Hindi exam. Now, as everyone knows, there is no exam that quite fazes a Chennai-based kid as the dreaded totally ‘firang’ language as the Hindi one!

Nothing seems to make any sense in that textbook, why does everything have to have a gender and for heaven’s sake, what does Chandragupta Maurya have to do with my life??? rises the cry… Chandragupta Maurya, an emperor of the Maurya dynasty who lived and died over a thousand years ago, still inspires much passion – of the wrong sort – a sort of passionate despair would be more like it! – amongst kids of twelve and thirteen who have to learn about his interminable exploits and spill them out on paper during the exams! 

So back to our ancestors – i think for a minute before tentatively venturing a “buzurgon?” (the Urdu word for ‘elderly people’). Think some more and then correct myself – “It’s ‘pracheeniyon”.

“Oh”, comes the response.

“Why, Kanch, was it there in the exam today and what did you write?”

“Well, i thought and thought and thought (ok, i get it – she thought HARD!) and answered, ‘Mare hue oopar wale parivaar'”!!

“WHAAAA… ???? WOOOHOOO, WHAT WAS THAT AGAIN??” I ask – not quite crediting my ears! The literal meaning of what she had written was – the dead family above!! Phew – wonder what the Hindi teacher made of it!

The next day, a Hindi speaking friend comes home and we (obviously – how could it be resisted???!) related this tale without telling him what the original question was. Gave him Kanchana’s translation and asked him to guess what it could actually mean. He scratches his head for a while before offering up a truly priceless “ The dead family on the first floor?”!!!

Tales of Hindi horrors emanate from every household in Chennai which has a kid trying – with precious little success – to learn an alien tongue! Am sure the same is true for kids across the world…

What is learnt much easier, of course, is the cuisine of the Hindi-speaking states of the North of India. Food, after all, has only the language of deliciousness – or otherwise!

One of my favourite North Indian dishes that I learnt – of all places – from a very South Indian cook in a guesthouse in the deep South (he’d worked for a couple of years in the North) – is a very simple, everyday bhindi subzi (okra/bendakai/vendaikai curry)

EVERYDAY BHINDI SUBZI – NORTHERN STYLE

• Bhindi – 1/2 kg – cut into 1/2 cm pieces. It helps to spread it out on a newspaper after cutting for about haf an hour – to remove some of the stickiness.
• Onion – chopped very fine – 2
• Green chilies – minced – 2
• Ginger – 1/2″ piece – grated
• Jeera (cumin) powder – 1/2 tsp
• Saunf (fennel seeds) – 3/4 tsp (roughly pounded)
• Turmeric – 1/4 tsp
• Salt 
• Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp
• Oil – 2 -3 tbsp

Heat the oil in a large, flat saucepan. (Deeper pans tend make it clumpy). 

Add the onions and green chilies and fry for 3-4 minutes on a low flame. Add the rest of the ingredients (except the bhindi and salt) and stir gently for 2-3 minutes. Add the bhindi and cover and cook on a low flame for 10-12 minutes till the bhindis are tender, stirring occasionally. The bhindi shrinks during cooking so add salt AFTER it has shrunk to get the right amount of salt in. Cook on an open flame, stirring occasionally till the stickiness has gone and the bhindi is tender. 

I usually microwave the bhindi on high for 4-5 minutes before dropping it in the pan – speedens up the cooking process!

Goes best with rotis.

And you DO NOT HAVE TO SERVE IT TO THE DEAD FAMILY ON THE FIRST FLOOR or even write a Hindi exam!

A very small, almost two-year old little boy comes out of his room in the morning, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Good morning, Shriram”, elicits a mumble “Gmum” out of him. 

His eyes fall on a large and luscious-looking watermelon on the table. All sleep disappears and the eyes shine with excitement as he looks around for an adult provider of food – and fall on his aunt – me.

“Anu atha, I bhaunt, I bhaunt, I BHAUNT BHAUTTERMELON” – the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Come brush your teeth, Shriram and drink your milk and then we’ll have watermelon.”

“Please, please, PLEEEZZE! Can I have BHAUTTERMELON?” 

I might have been able to resist the plea if it was for just a watermelon but a BHAUTTERMELON – no way! We arrive at a compromise – teeth first, the the watermelon, then milk.

 Slice after slice disappears as he holds his tummy to say he is too full for milk. Offered another slice of watermelon instead, he gauges me carefully to see if I might be pulling a fast one on him – “what if I say yes and then she says I have to drink milk instead?” Never underestimate the bargaining powers of a two-year old!

One of the greatest pleasures of an otherwise unbearable Indian summer (the first being mangoes of course!) are these delicious, sin-free (try putting on weight on a watermelon!!)  fruit and anything made out of them – juices and ice creams and sorbets and even gazpacho!

One summer, a couple of years ago, we had a ten hour drive and I made this juice which I froze overnight so we could drink it on the way as it melted. My dear friend Dipika (and her husband SN) with whom we were travelling, decided to subsist on just the juice and bypass all the eatables! Have also carried large jugs of it to innumerable sports meets for Kanch and her friends. Here it is.

BHAUTTERMELON JUICE

• Watermelon – deseeded and cut into chunks – any size. The easest way to deseed is to cut thin, large slices and shake the seeds out while pushing the harder ones out with the point of a knife. – 4 cups
• Juice of one lemon
• Mint leaves – 1 tbsp
• Sugar – 2 tsp (optional)
• Salt – 1/2 tsp
• Kaala namak (pink Himalayan salt) – 1 pinch
• Tabasco sauce – 1/4 tsp
• Pepper – 1/4 tsp

Put everything into the blender. Cover with a cloth – in case stuff whizzes out – and blend well till the juice is smooth. A few chunks are great though! Freeze overnight if you are travelling and you can keep sipping it as you drive – definitely makes the Indian summer more bearable and is a far better option to milk! Please brush your teeth first though!

“And now, guys, we’ll be passing a  wind farm – look out for it on the right” – announces husband as we drive down the eastern coastal road towards Kanyakumari from Tuticorin. Shocked silence from the backseat as my five-year old digests this information.

“Appa, they actually have farms that make WIND???! Won’t it stink??” finally squeaks Kanch, thinking this farmer who grows wind must be a guy worth meeting – after all, she’s been told umpteen times that it’s rude to even crack jokes about stuff like this and here’s an adult (presumably) who’s allowed to produce the stuff by… what? the sackful – for all she knows – WOW!!

The final sight of and explanations about windmills are a sad let-down for someone who’s been expecting something far more exotic!

Her remark passes into family lore as we nearly have an accident from the resulting laughter! 

This was a memorable trip in more ways than one. We finally reach Kanyakumari after much sightseeing along the way. I notice vaguely that Kanch seems a little more hyper than usual but put it down to enforced confinement in the car. As we walk towards the beach from our hotel, it is apparent that she is growing more and more nervous. When we finally reach the sea, she hangs back – quite unusually for a kid who has grown up in Madras and loving the sea. Refuses to put her toes in the water. 

“What’s wrong, Kanch?”

“Amma, we’ve reached the end of India, no? What if we fall off over the edge and drown?”

Phew!!!

More explanations follow – about the earth and it’s curvature and so on… but out of the mouths of babes…

We do very often fall off the India map in the kitchen, though! There’s only so many days that one can stomach any one kind of cuisine for our spoiled-for-choice urban palates! 

Here’s yesterday’s dinner – adapted from a recipe from another food group…

PASTRY-LESS QUICHE (LOW FAT) (serves 5 or 6)

• Boiled, mashed potatoes – 6 (about 3/4 kg)
• Spring onions (shallots) – both onion and greens chopped – 1 cup
• Broccoli – thinly sliced – 1 cup
• Capsicum – sliced – 1 cup
• Green chili – minced – 1
• Paneer (cottage cheese) – cut into small 2 mm cubes – 200 gm
• Onions – sliced – 1 large
• Butter  – 1 tsp
• Olive oil – 1 tsp
• Milk – 2 1/2 cups
• Eggs – 3
• Grated cheddar – 1/2 cup
• Salt
• Pepper
• Nutmeg – 1/2 tsp
• Dill – 1 large pinch
• Italian herbs – 1/2 tsp

Mash the potatoes togther with the olive oil, 1/2 cup milk, salt, pepper and dill and spread at the base of a large flan dish or any baking tray – to a thickness of about 1/2 cm. Bake for 15 minutes on 220 C.

Saute the green chili, onions, spring onions, capsicums and broccoli in 1 tsp butter. Add the paneer pieces and salt. Spread this over the top of the potato layer.

Beat the eggs, milk, cheese, salt, nutmeg, pepper and herbs well. Pour over the vegetables. 

Return to oven and bake for a further 35-40 minutes at 220 C till set in the middle and golden on top.

It’s a surprisingly light but filling dish and you only have to fall off the culinary map of India!

Every time I watch Masterchef on TV with my family and there’s this event where you have to cook with just three or four or five ingredients, my Indian cooking brain goes into a tizzy – HOW on earth CAN one cook with just that few? Everyone racks their brain to come up with stuff – the problem (also the sheer brilliance!) with Indian cuisine is the average Susila maami’s ability to get up and half asleep, throw a minimum of ten ingredients into a pan to make a (get this!) very simple breakfast of – say – upma!

At the other end of the spectrum – take a bisibele bhaat, for instance – with only thirty ingredients or a biryani with ’bout the same – festive dishes all right but the average housewife – househusbands are a new and untested species – at least in numbers large enough to constitute a reasonable sample size so I’m going to stick to “housewife” despite my feminist leanings – can and does make these on her own – and is not counted a Masterchef for having done so!

Also the sheer variety – India’s goddess of cooking – Tarla Dalal – may her soul rest in peace for the number of lives she has saved! – has over FOUR THOUSAND  recipes using potatoes! On the other hand, what “Saveur” and “Bon appetit” and other West-based food magazines have lists of the most difficult recipes in the world and the most number of ingredients I’ve seen is twenty two – for a Devils’ Food Cake! Of course, the complexity with western cuisine lies in the processes – a classic cheese souffle may have fewer than ten ingredients but getting it right takes an accomplished cook! But remember, this whole narrative is about cooking with few, very few ingredients…

The one state in India which bucks this trend and makes delicious food with just a handful of ingredients is Kerala. As a child, on a school trip to Kerala – way back in the 70’s, we were served red rice at every restaurant we ate in and for palates unaccustomed to it – only extreme hunger pangs drove us to eat some! And so, for a long time, I never did care for Kerala food.

Till I grew up and married into a Palghat family. Even familiar dishes like the majjiga pulusu/moar kozhambu (or moar kootan in Malayalam) were made using far fewer ingredients and with just as good results! What also tickled me was that ingredients with a scant two or three ingredients had names with names with more syllables than ingredients! Take the “mezhukkuvaratti” for instance (six syllables). Complicated, you’d think? Nah! It is usually made with as few as three or four ingredients! (basically a stir fry with green plantains and/or yam/blackeyed beans, salt and oil). And tasty out of all proportion to its name or number of ingredients! 

BUT, to my mind the heights of Kerala cuisine is in the very humble, very everyday “olan” – a dish so simple even a seven-year old can make it and a dish so delicious that it lives in a class by itself! 

OLAN

• White pumpkin (ash gourd) – 2 cups
• Yellow pumpkin – 2 cups
• Blackeyed beans (karamani) – 1 tbsp – soak for a few hours and pressure cook with a little water.
• Green chilies – 2 – slit
• Coconut milk – 2 cups
• Salt
• Coconut oil – a few drops to garnish

Cut the pumpkin into thin pieces of 1″ square. In a large saucepan, place the white pumpkin pieces at the bottom. Pour a couple of tbsp of coconut milk over the top and cover and cook for just three minutes. Cover with the yellow pumpkin pieces. Add the green chilies and the rest of the coconut milk and cook till almost done. White pumpkin takes a few minutes longer than the yellow and if you cook them together, the yellow tends to get mashed up. Add the beans and salt and cook till tender but still spearate pieces. The garnishing for this is an exercise in simplicity – just drizzle a few drops of coconut oil over the top while it’s still hot! C’est tout! Or as they say in Palghat – “ambaradaan”!

And there’s my limited ingredient Masterchef dish!