Anu Chenji

“Kobbari thokku” (coconut chutney)

“Inkoka rakam kobbari thokku” (another variety of coconut chutney)

“Marinkoka rakam kobbari thokku” (Yet another variety of coconut chutney!

“Maree inkorakam… “ you should have got it by now. As also added two words to your Telugu vocabulary!

This is an extract from the diary that my grandmother wrote for me a couple of decades ago when she spent a few days with me and at my request, jotted down a load of hardcore Andhra recipes in her spidery crawl. Even now I only have to look at the diary to bring memories of a sweet, soft as butter outside, tough as torsteel inside lady – smelling of Chandrika soap and “punugu” (musk) of which she always had a tiny bit stashed away in a little silver thumb-box in her steel trunk.

That steel trunk was a source of all sweet things in my childhood – lovely smells, soft saris and always a small surprise hidden away for grandchildren, of which she had many. Ammamma taught us many lessons about generosity and sharing through her stories and her deeds.

Inspired by her, I went on to experiment with many unusual ingredients for chutneys until now. My family has learnt to dread the question: “Guess what thokku (hey, you learnt the word in the first paragraph, remember?) this is?” The answers vary from vodka to old shoe leather but that’s only to shut me up – I promise they’re not a reflection on the thokkus!

Here goes a new one which goes with dosas and idlis and even as a sandwich spread!

Grated carrot – 1 large

Grated raw mango – 1 cup

Green chilis – 2

Red chili powder – 1/2 tsp

Jaggery – 1 tsp (more or less depending on how sour the mango is)

Salt – 1/2 tsp

Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp

Urad dal – 1 tbsp

Asafoetida – 1 pinch

Chopped fresh coriander – 2 tbsp

Sesame oil – 1 tbsp

Heat oil and drop in mustard seeds. Let splutter. Add the urad dal and the asafoetida and the dal brown. Add the green chilis and fry for a few seconds. Add the mango and carrot mixture and stir for a couple of minutes. Switch off, add the coriander, salt and jaggery. Let cool. Grind to a not-too-smooth paste with a little water.

Ready to make up “inkoka rakam” carrot-mango thokku on your own?

Yes, of course, sweetie, here you go. And I lifted the two-year old with whom I am having this conversation on to the kitchen counter to have a look.

The gourmet brat looks at the pasta from all angles, examining it as critically as any prof would a new theory and then takes her thumb out of her mouth to pronounce judgment : “I don’t like things with things in them!”

Well, you try battling over food with a two-year old! I spent the next ten minutes picking “things out of things” before she consented to put a forkful in her mouth!

This was the exchange between the two-year old daughter of some visitors and me! The parents in question must have had quite a time feeding the little tyrant every day. How many Indian dishes can rightly be described as things without things in them and could be considered an almost full meal?!

Being the nutrition freak that i am, thanks to my mother and my nutritionist aunt, it is almost impossible for me to envisage making things without things in them!!!

Well, here’s the closest i can come to making things with very few things in them – spaghetti with meatless meatballs!

Spaghetti 1 packet. Boil as per instructions and rise on cold water

Onions – 3 medium – sliced

Garlic – 5-6 flakes

Tomatoes – 4 large – chopped

1 green chili – chopped

Tomato puree – 1/2 cup

Sugar – 1/2 tsp

Salt

Nutmeg – grated – 1/4 tsp

Herbes de Provence – 1/2 tsp (or mixed herbs)

Coriander – chopped – 2 tbsp

Hot milk – 1 cup

Oil – 2 tbsp

Heat oil in a large saucepan and add the sugar. Caramelise. Add onions and stir for a minute. Add garlic and keep stirring till onions are golden brown. Add tomatoes and cook till soft. Blitz with a bar blender for a minute in the same pan till you get  a knobbly puree. Add the tomato puree, salt, nutmeg and herbs and boil. Reserve hot milk and add just before serving.

Potato flakes – 1/2 cup or boiled and grated potato – 1.2 cup.

Gulab jamun mix powder – 1/2 cup

Grated cheddar (or paneer) – 1/2 cup to mix + 2 tbsp to serve

1 green chili – chopped

Chopped coriander – 1 tbsp

Marjoram – 1/2 tsp.

Pepper – 1/4 tsp

Mix all of these together lightly – do not over-knead – shape carefully into small lemon sized balls and let them rest for 5 minutes. Heat a frying pan or a tawa and shallow fry these, turning over till golden brown. I occasionally bake mine – about 12 minutes. (makes about 16 balls)

To assemble, mix a little olive oil in the spaghetti. Serve one helping. Mix the hot milk into the sauce and spoon over. Add a little grated cheddar on top and place 4-5 “meatballs” on each plate. Sprinkle coriander leaves and serve.

Voila – things with as few things in them as my conscience will allow!

My mother-in-law was a formidable lady with her penchant for crisp Bengal cotton saris in pastel hues and perfection in all things. Her elegant and neat appearance (a string of pearls or corals at her throat when she had to step out) reflected in her gleaming kitchen – no messes on the counter, no piled-up dirty dishes in the sink, methodical and meticulous in all that she did.

No room for slatterns and shirkers! Her repertoire of recipes was limited but eclectic, having lived in many parts of India with her railway man husband. Her cooking did not entertain deviations, shortcuts or substitutions. When she made tea, it was an elaborate and unhurried process, much like the Japanese tea ceremony, enough to set the modern day – languishing in the living room- guest’s teeth on edge!

Up early, there was no sitting down or resting till lunch was eaten and cleared. No morning coffee, no lounging on the couch, no breakfast till the tulsi plant was watered and no snacking between breakfast and lunch. Afternoon time was relaxing in the easy chair, with her feet up on the ancient swing occupying pride of place in the centre of the hallway and the day’s newspaper on her lap.

What I took away from her and reconstruct every time, as close to the original as possible, is her Gongura Pulusu. A quintessential Andhra dish liberally sprinkled with garlic pods (a normally unlikely condiment in a Brahmin kitchen), it is an interesting twist to the regular greens and dhal, the sourness of the gongura and the sweetness of the jaggery giving it a piquant taste.

This dish was originally adapted from the famed Gongura Mamsam  to suit vegetarian palates. Alum pachadi (long-lasting ginger chutney) which my mother-in-law made in huge quantities and distributed generously to family and friends was a great favourite and a perfect accompaniment to a myriad things, be it rice, chappathis, idlis, dosas, sandwiches and even as a topping for chats. My sister-in-law is the holder of this recipe and I will get it from her the next time round.

Gongura (Roselle) leaves : 1 medium bunch

Bengal Gram (Channa) Dhal : 1 cup cooked, with the dhal appearing separate.

Red Gram (Toovar) Dhal : ½ cup cooked and mashed

Garlic  – 8 pods

Green chillies – 3

Turmeric – ½ tps

Jaggery : according to taste

Salt : according to taste

Gingelly oil : 3 tsps

Mustard : 1 tsp

Fenugreek  : 1 tsp

Asafoetida : a pinch or more

Red Chillies : 4

Heat oil in pan and add the seasoning and sauté. Add chopped gongura leaves and sauté lightly. Add green chillies, garlic, turmeric and salt and cook till the leaves are soft. Mash lightly and add the cooked dhals. Add jaggery and if required chilli powder, adjusting according to the sourness of the leaf. The consistency should be of that of a thick dhal. Best eaten with rice.

“Beerakai? You mean there a vegetable which gives out beer? Hahaha! ” Which Telugu hasn’t heard this hoary old one when a non-Telugu hears the word “beerakai” for the first time? But just last week there was an article in the Hindu with liquor consumption statistics across India and among the bigger states, AP (the undivided one) tops the list by far with 34.5 litres per head per year, far outstripping Kerala which was undisputed liquor king for years!!

At a population of 50 million, that works out to 1.75 billion litres a year which is many times the amount of milk consumed by all of India in a year! (I tried doing the maths – so many metric tonnes of milk to litres of beer but somewhere along the way, the numbers – and the milk – got curdled!) Hmmm…wondering whether there is something to the beer and beerakai naming after all???

Wow, we Telugus take our beer and our beerakais seriously!

This staple – cheap and best- vegetable – is what has helped millions of homemakers tide over the end-of-the-month-pocket-is-empty-what-to-put-on-the-table blues for generations.

Okay, to put the rest of you out of your misery, beerakai is the Telugu name for what is called a ribbed or ridged gourd – one of those you have to bribe your kids to eat. See photo above by scrolling.

Like the coconut in Kerala, there is no part of this super-‘umble veggie that is not used. You make a tonic to darken your hair – did you know that???! Bet you’re regretting saying ‘yuck’ to beerakai pappu for the nth time when you were a kid, right? The fibrous part that is peeled away is used to make loofahs to scrub yourself free of all the ‘yucks’! The thrifty Telugu housewife uses even the peel of this vegetable to make the most delicious “thokku” or chutney.

Wash and peel two large beerakais. Reserve the beerakais for use later. Just now, we’ll make only the chutney with the peel.

Chana dal – (Bengal gram dal) – 2 tbsp

Urad dal – 1 tbsp

Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp

Asafoetida- 1 small pinkie-nail sized lump

Red chilies – 5

Green chilies – 3

Tamarind – small marble -sized ball

Jaggery – 1.5 tbsp

Coconut – 1/2 cup

Sesame oil – 2tbsp

Salt – about 3/4 tsp

Heat the oil in a pan. Add mustard seeds and wait till they crackle. Add chana dal and roast till golden brown. Add urad dal and chilies and stir for a couple of minutes more. Add the peel and stir for 3-4 minutes till they shrink slightly. Add the coconut and stir again for a couple of minutes. Add the tamarind, jaggery and salt and switch off. Let cool and grind to a rough chutney adding a little water.

This chutney goes with most everything – rice, rotis, idlis, dosas, plain!

“Why can’t we have hole vadas at home? Why does someone have to die before we eat them??” It seemed very unfair – there was some weird superstition when were kids about round things with holes not being made except at death ceremonies and so we grew up essentially vada-deprived – after all, even kids can’t hope that people will keep popping off just to oblige our gastronomic dreams! Come to think of it, maybe it was the other way around – nobody must have liked  death ceremonies so there had to be some inducement for people to attend… ergo, vada?

 

Now of course, all those superstitions have been given the go-by and vadas are had at every possible occasion when dietary consciences don’t bite! We, in fact, have a vaadyar (a family priest) whose nickname is “vada vaadyar” in honour of his capacity to put away these little savoury doughnuts of deliciousness! The “maami” who comes to cook for religious functions at home always asks ahead if the vada vaadyar is going to be there so that she’s not caught unprepared!

 

A few years ago, a cousin from the US – an avid reader and commentator on this blog – had come home with his family for breakfast. Hadn’t seen them in some years, so I really went to town on an elaborate breakfast of vada, sambar, idli, pongal and various chutneys! Almost everything got demolished excet for the idlis. Said cousin turns around and says, “what’s the point in calling any Nemali home for breakfast and giving us an option of idlis and vadas? We’ll always go for the vadas, of course!

 

Here it is – the vada or to give it it’s Tamil name – “medu wadai” with the “dai” rhyming with “die” – there’s another clue to the superstition! Vada –  the dearly beloved, almost always rationed commodity – the original food to which the song “no one can eat just one” was intended but P…i stole it along the way!

 

 

Urad dal – 1 cup – washed and soaked for at least 4 hours

Salt

Green chili- 1

Ginger – 1/2 inch piece

Onion – chopped – 1 (optional)

Pepper corns – 1 tsp

Coconut pieces –  1tbsp (optional )

Curry leaves – 1 sprig – chopped

Coriander leaves – 1 tbsp – chopped

Oil to deep fry

 

Grind the urad dal along with the green chili and the ginger with very little water – 2-3 tbsp is ample. The consistency of the ground batter is very important because if it’s too watery, the vadas absorb too much oil when frying. Drop a few drops of batter into a bowl of water. The batter should stay intact and not blend into the water. If the batter is too thin, add a couple of tbsp of semolina. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well. 

 

Heat the oil to below smoking point. Wet you hand, take a large tbsp of batter , make a hole in the centre (you’re not superstitious, are you??!) and slide it into the oil. Repeat with the rest of the batter in batches, turning over the vadas with a skewer till they are golden brown. Remove and serve hot with sambar and chutney.

 

Oh, and do you read the obit columns?