Anu Chenji

“Melted strawberry ice-cream with biryani? Are you sure?” was the politely phrased question from a neighbour who actually must have wanted to tell me I was outta my mind! The family, of course, had no such compunctions – “pink slush – GROSS!!” was their reaction. I, the only one who knew the truth about the pink slush, smirked like the camel, the only one who knows the hundredth name of Allah!

 

Having unexpected guests and being caught out with an empty fridge has happened to all of us, I guess. This time, I really was in trouble as all I had was frozen peas and a couple of beetroots along with staples like onions The peas and onions I could easily convert into a simple biryani or pulao but the beetroots? And what do I serve with the peas pulao? More peas? Not likely! Also, I was unlikely to have guests like my daughter whose standard order in any restaurant till she was about six was “Peppi and Peas pulao” (Pepsi and Peas pulao), which she proceeded to demolish without any need of accompaniments!

 

So there we  are – one large bowl of yogurt and 2 rather shriveled beetroots staring me in the face… inspiration strikes! Beetroot raita is born!

 

 

Beetroots – boiled – 2 (they don’t have to be shriveled)! Grate finely.

Yogurt – 2 cups

Green chili – 1 – chop very, very fine or pound to a paste – mind you wear glasses if you’re pounding – i’ve had them fly into my eye and make a 10-minute dish into a hopping half hour of agony!

Salt – 1/2 tsp

Mustard oil – 1 tbsp

Chopped mint or coriander or what the heck, let’s go to town – use both – to garnish!

 

Whip yogurt and mix in everything else – chill and serve – either as a side with a rice dish or as a dip for chips. C’est tout! Watch the wary looks change to pleasure at the mustard-y, silky dip with the bite of the chili!

 

 

 

Our ancestors, with the family name of ‘Nemali’, hailed from Madanapalle in Andhra. Recently 3 of us siblings went to Madanapalle, chasing some ghosts as we are in the process of writing a biography of our grandfather, Nemali Pattabhi Rama Rao, erstwhile Dewan of Cochin.

 

That’s when it suddenly dawned on me that the spicy groundnuts that our relatives used to bring for us in big oil or biscuit ‘dabbas’ (nothing was in small quantities, those days, mind you), whenever they visited Madras, were named by us as ‘Madanapalle peanuts’ and all of us fought tooth and nail for our share, though the lion’s share was kept hidden for the elders in the family to enjoy with their evening beverage of beer or whisky.

 

Now, here we were, on that very same holy ground after 3 decades! We asked our young relatives about them and where could we buy them, but they were very matter-of-fact and did not seem to know what we were talking about, or where and whether they were available these days.

 

Sorely disappointed, we were returning to Bangalore when a small inquiry proved lucky in a small village near Chintamani and we were able to buy a half Kg for Rs.50. In Bangalore, we do find these from a shop called ‘Hurigallu’ which sells all roasted pulses as snacks, which are nutritious and oil free. Women are purposely fed these during pregnancy and lactation to step up protein intake.

 

If Hurigallu is not on your commute from Fremont to San Jose, you could always get down to making them yourself – please switch off the smoke detector – both in your ceiling and on your tongue!

 

I had a neighbour in Madras, M.C.Reddy (Madanapalle C. Reddy), and Ms Reddy kindly taught me how to make this divine preparation as I was waxing eloquent in my nostalgia, raising the humble groundnut to the skies! The method looks quite easy, you just have to try it on your own, though!

 

 

Raw, shelled peanuts, ½ kg should be roasted in a kadai or banali or wok – take your pick! If you are lazy like me, you can buy ½ kg of roasted peanuts. Make a paste of 2 tsp. turmeric powder (level, tsps.) 2 tsp salt, chilly powder could be 1 tsp or more, as to your taste. Apply this paste to the roasted groundnuts, as evenly as possible, you have to use your fingers as spoons don’t do a good job. Get a feel of it!

 

Then dry these peanuts till their face mask dries up. You can air dry under the sun, or under a fan.  Roast once again. Now this is the happy, hot, spicy moment.  I always wore a mask for my eyes and nose. The whole house can get hot and spicy. Woe unto the American POIs who try this. The fire brigade will be at your door.

 

Did you notice that I said,”I always WORE”?  Yes, I don’t do it any more as my husband and sons gobbled up the peanuts in a jiffy and asked for more. No sirree, I buy them now and I can serve as much as required, only the gas levels at home lift us to higher atmospheres!

 

One option is to mix them with rice flakes or puffed rice with chopped onion, tomato, green coriander and green chilly for more “dhum” and chat over this chat-like preparation! Happy chatting!

 

“Eeeeeeee!!!” A little girl runs for her life. Not to be outdone and determined that her friend should not be done out of her share of the “goodies”, her littler but bidding-fair-to-become-an-athlete friend chases her all over the school playground. Being faster, she catches up with her and forces a “treat” through her friend’s clenched teeth – to have it promptly spat back at her! 

 

“But, why, Amma? Sprouts are soooo… yummy. Why doesn’t Tara like them?” And that was Kanchana’s first introduction to one man’s meat etc… the disappointment at not being able to share her pleasure over her favourite food took a little longer to get over though as she kept trying over the weeks to convince Tara that sprouts are “soooo yummy”. That not everyone would pinch handfuls of the goodies from the sprouting tray for a “treat” was quite inconceivable!

 

Sprouts of many kinds were always growing in a corner of my kitchen – chana, rajma, black chana, broad beans, methi seeds – anything that grew from the soil would grow in a tray! Green gram was a perennial favourite though and went into chats, curries, ‘pesarattu’ – or just generally as a snack!

 

Here’s two recipes:

 

 

Green gram sprouts – two cups – steamed for 3 minutes

Chopped onion – 1/4 cup

Boiled, chopped potato – 1

Chopped  green chili – 1

Chopped coriander – 1 tbsp

Chopped mint – 1 tbsp

Sev – a handful

Date chutney – 1 tbsp

Jeera (cumin) powder – 1/2 tsp

Dhania (corainder) pwd – 1/4 tsp

Chili pwd – 1/4 tsp

Chat masala or Himalayan pink salt – 1 large pinch

Lemon juice – 1tbsp

Pomegranate seeds – 1 tbsp (optional)

Salt

 

Mix together the sprouts, potato, chili, onion, lemon juice and all the powders. Plate up, sprinkle the sev (or any other crunchy – even kurkure or crushed potato chips) on top. Sprinkle the herbs on top. Drizzle the sweet chutney and serve immediately.

 

 

Sprouts – 2 cups

Green chili – 1

Fresh coconut – grated – 2 -3 tbsp

Coriander leaves – 1 tbsp chopped

Asafoetida – 1 pinch

Salt

Oil – 1/2 tsp

Curry leaves – 1 sprig

 

Heat oil in a saucepan. Add curry leaves and asafoetida. Immediately add the sprouts and a tsp of water. Cover and cook for just 3-4 minutes. Switch off. Pulse the coconut, salt and green chili in the mixer for a couple of seconds and sprinkle over the sprouts. Let rest for 5 minutes before serving as a side with sambar or rasam.

 

Nothing brings Madras and Marina beach to mind as this cry! I once heard an Anerican who was asked about what his experience of India was like and his response was that no matter where one went, even if it was on the most deserted stretch of road and you went behind a tree to do your business (this was in the days before the mushrooming of toll plazas and loos!), you could be sure of an urchin or two popping up with a grin as you finished – unnerving!!

Sitting on the beach in Madras is rather like that – you could be a courting couple, a suicidal soul, an elderly thaatha-paati or even a stray dog – all of you are fair game for the serenade of the “Sundal” seller! With an old aluminium tin can (remember those cans in which oil used to be sold at the corner ‘kirana’ store?), much-patched shorts and a shirt hanging out at the tails, the ‘sundal’ guy is recognisable everywhere and welcomed sometimes – obviously not by the courting couple!

Also, it’s Navaratri time – can sundal be far behind? “Bommala koluvus”, the excitement of setting up the shelves and dusting the toys, the creation of a beach or a village or a temple scene with paper and toys and sand and blue washing powder for the sea ringed with white rangoli powder for the waves – and the overarching joy of ten whole days of holidays!! The pleasure of going from household to household, being asked to sing a song (being completely tuneless, I escaped this ordeal most of the time, except when an unwary new family moved into the colony!!), passing judgment on the quality of sundal in each household – most were good, the odd one was dissed but in general, we were an accepting lot.

This being one of my favourite festivals, i was determined that my children should enjoy it too and had a koluvu for many years. Kanch, my younger daughter and her friend Tara were always excited about this and Kanch used to insist on placing her pet gorilla toy in the middle of the Bay of Bengal – which is where she thought he came from! The two of them also firmly believed that they were part of the exhibit and as soon as guests had seated themselves, used to get up and twirl their paavadais round and round till they got giddy and sat down and the paavadai went “busssss…”! Talk about song-and-dance sequences!

Soaked and boiled chana – 2 cups

Fresh coconut – grated – 2 tbsp

Raw mango – 2 tbsp – chopped

Green chili – 1

Red chili – 1

Curry leaves -2 sprigs

Oil – 1 tsp

Mustard seeds – 1/4 tsp

Urad dal – 1/2 tsp

Asafoetida – 1 pinch

Salt

Heat oil in a pan. Add the mustard seeds and let them crackle. Add urad dal and asafoetida. Add the curry leaves. Add chana.

Pulse together in the mixer the coconut, mango and the chilies. Add this to the pan along with the salt and mix together for a minute.Switch off.

You are now qualified to sell sundal on Marina beach. Practise your sales pitch: “Thengaaa… maaangaaa… pataaanee… sundaaal”

Wedding in the family home signifies great excitement. All the little girls in the neighbourhood are invited and everyone turns up in “Paavada-chokka” (the long skirt and blouse combo – one of the prettiest things ever), flowers in their hair and for those who are blessed with mothers with deft fingers and time on their hands, “poola jadalu” (flowers woven into long plaits). My mom used to try valiantly to do this for me but invariably the whole assembly would be top-heavy and fall off before i reached the end of the road! Not to mention leaving me with a splitting headache!

Back to our wedding. Said little girls turn up with little gifts – flowers from their gardens mostly, also pretty shells or rocks or coloured paper streamers left over from birthday parties or whatever else could be used to decorate a “mandapam”. “Invitations” to the ‘bommala pelli’ were scribbled on pieces of paper and passed around to all the little people – strictly NO boys!

The venue was a tiny dressing room in our old fashioned home and the mandapam was below the dressing table! Much excitement over the wedding of two of our dolls – both female but one necessarily had to become a groom – am sure child psychologists and feminists today would go ballistic over gender confusion, gender identity, gender stereotyping blah, blah stuff! We, luckily, were blissfully unaware of the word ‘psychology’ and feminism ran in the blood anyway!!

Mantras were chanted and the dolls were duly wed and then came the serious business of eating the wedding “meal”! My mother, ever a generous soul, would provide us liberally with cashewnuts and badam (almonds) and kishmish (raisins) which were distributed out with complete fairness so everyone got their quota of 2 cashewnuts and 4 raisins or whatever it was – no army quartermaster could be fairer than a 7-year old!

Formal goodbyes were said before everyone trooped off to play something more invigorating after the wedding. Come to think of it, that’s why those wedding feasts never made us fat – now we just sit around and nap after wedding lunches and look where we’ve gotten to!

Cashews and almonds and raisins remain favourite snacks to date and are rarely cooked – mostly just popped into the mouth. But when i do cook ’em, more often than not, it’s to make badam kheer – cold and delicious.

Almonds – 3/4 cup – soak for an hour and peel.

Cashewnuts (optional) – 2 tbsp

Chironji (charupappu, charoli) nuts (optional) – 1 tbsp

Milk – 500 ml

Water – 3 cups

Sugar – 10-12 tsp (sorry, but that’s how i measure sugar – not at all sure about cup measures!)

Saffron – 1 pinch

Pachakarpooram (edible camphor) – a very tiny pinch – be very judicious in using this – it’s heavenly but a very little goes a long way!

Grind the almonds and cashew nuts to a smooth paste using about 1/4 cup of water. Mix the paste with the rest of the water in a heavy bottomed pan. Cook, stirring nonstop – this takes about 7 minutes  – till the raw almond smell goes. Add hot milk slowly into the pan. Add sugar. Bring to the boil, stirring all the while. Switch off and add saffron and pachakarpooram. Stir for a few minutes more. If using chironji, roast in a few drops of ghee, cool and add to the kheer,

Serve chilled. If you’re feeling lazy, just eat the nuts!