#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipe India has a variety of flatbreads in its culinary repertoire. Popular as meals-on-the-go as well as paired with main courses, flatbreads made of fenugreek leaves and flour are utterly delicious and a wonder tablet for health! My mother always felt I have half a Punjabi inside me. Why? Although born and brought up in an Odia family, where rice, vegetables and fish dominate meals, my eyes always lit up at the mention of the quintessential Punjabi style parathas or rajma-chawal (rice with kidney beans gravy). Sometimes, I feel that it was destiny that I landed up as a tenant at a Punjabi lady's house, Auntie A. If you have known me here, you know how I often mention her in my posts, elaborating the nitty gritty of cooking that I learned from her. Needless to say, my first paratha making lessons were from her and my parathas naturally have a Punjabi influence. There's something extremely satisfying about parathas, even when they have nothing but salt and carom seeds in the dough. And, when something so delightful as fenugreek leaves are added, an extra layer of flakiness is created. Food author and historian, K.T Achaya in his book, 'A Historical Dictionary of Indian Food' has described paratha as "Wheat dough rolled out, with frequent folding over while smearing with fat, to a square or triangular shape, and pan fried using a little fat to a layered structure. Cauliflowers, potatoes, spinach and fenugreek or methi leaves can be mixed into dough before frying." In its simplest form, a paratha is what Achaya says. If I were to explain it to someone who has never known it, I'd say paratha is an unleavened flatbread that's slightly roasted on a hot griddle with some fat unlike the chapati or roti, another Indian flatbread which does not necessarily require fat to roast it. Many people love to add ghee onto a roti once its taken off the griddle though. The earliest references to parathas have been found in Nijjar's book, Punjab under the Sultans, 1000-1526 A.D. where he writes that parathas were common with the nobility and aristocracy of Punjab.Although parathas are typically associated with the northern states of India, chiefly Punjab, they are an integral part of many regional cuisines. In fact, the Chalukya king Somesvara III is known to have written a book, Manasollasa, meaning that which delights the mind, where a section is devoted to the culinary arts. He mentions purana, a flatbread made wof wheat flour and stuffed with jaggery and gram flour paste, a precursor to the modern day obbattu or holige of Karnataka and puran poli of Maharashtra. Both are parathas in their own right. When people, especially from outside India, think of paratha, they imagine it as a stuffed flatbread. But, parathas are not always stuffed with fillings. Methi Paratha is not a stuffed paratha... The dough for the paratha can be simple, consisting of only flour kneaded with salt and water or stuffed with vegetables, dals, meat or cheese. While making the dough, you can also add green leafy vegetables like chopped spinach, fenugreek leaves or pureed vegetables like beets, peas or greens along with some spices. In this process, the vegetables are a part of the dough. If you have leftover dal, you can also add that into the flour while kneading the dough. For vegetables like cauliflower, radish or carrots, it's more common to grate them while for vegetables like potatoes are boiled and mashed, and then mixed with spices. Dals can also be boiled and smeared with spices. While rolling the dough, the grated or boiled vegetables, or boiled dal and even meat or cheese are added on the rolled dough, the dough is closed again and rolled out once more. This results in a layer of stuffing between two layers of the dough. Methi parathas made with fenugreek or methi leaves incorporate the first method where you clean and wash the leaves, chop them and add them to the flour while kneading to create the dough. Gujarati methi thepla The Gujaratis (people who are from the state of Gujarat) in India are renowned for theplas, thin flatbreads. These are thinner than a standard paratha and much softer owing to the addition of yogurt or oil and sometimes gram flour in the dough. With a good kneading with oil, theplas store very well and are preferred for travel food, tiffin. With the addition of fenugreek leaves, theplas attain a beautiful aroma. The bitterness of fenugreek compliments the spices like chili and turmeric. Accompanied with some freshly made chai, these are perfect for breakfast and snacks! Although I like them in any meal! How do you decide: Not-stuffed or stuffed? Here are some tips to help you decide: If you want a lighter paratha and prefer to pair it with a chutney or a hot cuppa or a simple stir fry or dal, a plain paratha can be your choice! It's simple and easy to make! If you want a single paratha meal and don't want to bother about sides, a stuffed paratha solves your problems. It's more filling but takes a bit of more effort. If you want vegetables like cauliflowers, radish, potatoes, carrots or beets or any kind of meat or cheese, it'll be hard to knead them with the flour. Vegetables loose a lot of water on their own and will make the dough sticky and difficult to handle. Additionally, it will be much harder to roll this dough! Green leafy vegetables like spinach and fenugreek leaves can be chopped fine and directly kneaded with the dough. You can also make puree of spinach leaves or boiled peas and knead that with the flour. The leaves become assimilated in the dough which is easy to roll and handle. When is it best to eat these parathas? Fenugreek is one of the oldest known medicinal plants to humankind and extremely beneficial for health. They're high in fiber and usually considered to provide warmth to the body (as per Ayurveda it stokes the fire element), and so best to consume during colder months: autumn to spring. If you live in a place where summers are cool, you can still enjoy methi parathas in moderation during the season. My memories... I grew up in an Odia family who relocated every two years through eastern and central India, and thanks to mother's adaptive cooking, my taste buds enjoyed the enhanced flavors from all over India, and not native Odisha alone. Nevertheless, parathas were never a staple in our family, though I always had a soft corner for that plain salted paratha mother served with siwayan kheer, ghanto tarkari (Odiya mix vegetable curry with sprouts) or aloo bhaja! So, when Auntie A became my cooking guru, I grabbed the opportunity to season my skills in making all kinds of parathas, stuffed and plain alike! The smell of freshly made parathas in the morning, roasting slowly over a hot griddle can light up my day any time of the year. Though these are best in the winter. The process... Making methi parathas entails the following steps: Cleaning: First, separate fenugreek leaves from the stems. Keep a tiny portion of the stem intact and break the leaves off from the main stem. This is the most time consuming part in the process. I prefer to play some music, choose a wide working table and sip some chai while I sort the leaves. Involve family members or friends! Next, wash and drain the leaves and keep aside, and later chop fine. Note: You can choose to store a portion of the leaves before washing and use them later to make methi aloo or methi chicken! Mixing: You begin with adding the flours, salt and spices in a mixing bowl and use clean hands to loosely combine everything. Next, add the clean drain leaves and mix again. Most of the flour will stick to the flour. Use your fingers to combine all ingredients well. The aim is to form a pulpy ball of flour and leaves and clean the bowl of any remaining flour. Kneading and resting: At this stage, add small amounts of fat (oil/yogurt) and some water to knead the dough. Now gently pat the dough and apply mild pressure on the dough with the heal of your hand (the portion where your palm ends and wrist begins), stretch it and fold it back. Continue this process until the dough is a smooth and soft ball. You may sprinkle some plain flour if you find the dough too sticky. Once the dough is ready, cover and let it rest. Rolling the dough: After about 20 minutes, make small balls out of the dough and keep aside. On a rolling board, dust some flour and then place the ball on it. Using a rolling pin, slightly press it to make it flat and roll on all sides to form a circular disc. You will need to sprinkle more flour as needed to enable the movement of the disc under the rolling pin. Cooking: A paratha cooks best on medium to high heat. Begin by heating the griddle or tawa on medium heat for 5-7 minutes. Once hot, place the rolled paratha disc on the griddle and let the side underneath get roasted. You will notice the colour of the disc changing on the top surface and air pockets beginning to form. That's the time you flip the paratha using a spatula or tongs. Now smear oil on the surface facing up and let the other side get roasted. Flip again and smear oil on the other roasted side now. Gently press the sides, toss or flip once more before removing off the heat. Pro Tip To make methi parathas, ensure that you don't make the dough too tight. Add sufficient oil (I use olive oil) to knead the dough. I sometimes add yogurt, if I don't intend to store them for long. For a vegan substitute, use almond or oat milk. Even if you don't use yogurt or milk, your theplas/parathas will turn really good if you use the right amount of oil. I use whole wheat flour along with chickpea flour, pearl millet and sorghum flour for this recipe, but you can use only wheat as well. Addition of chickpea or gram flour makes the dough softer and provides a slightly nutty flavour as well as adds the protein quotient. With fenugreek leaves added, micro nutrients are dealt with and the paratha becomes wholesome! To make it gluten free, you may opt out wheat flour. It will need some care to handle the dough. Do not skip the spices for the methi thepla or paratha dough! The spices provide the much needed flavour and balance the bitterness of fenugreek leaves. Recipe Did you check the pro tip? Ingredients 1 cup of fenugreek leaves 1 cup whole wheat flour, 1/4 cup chickpea flour or gram flour (besan), 1/4 cup pearl millet or bajra flour, 1/4 cup sorghum or jowar flour or 1 and 1/4 cup whole wheat flour plus 1/4 cup besan 1 clove of garlic, crushed (optional) 1 tsp sesame seeds (optional) 1 and 1/4 tsp turmeric 1 and 1/2 tsp red chili powder 1/2 tsp coriander powder 1 and 1/2 tsp salt 4-5 tbsp yogurt or plant based milk (or more if required) for kneading or 1/3 cup of water or less (or more if required) 2-3 tbsp oil (I use extra virgin olive oil) + extra to cook Note: This will make 10-11 parathas/theplas. Adjust the quantities for lesser numbers or make the dough and store in fridge to make the parathas as needed. The dough will last fresh 2 days in the fridge. Method: See the process if you're new to paratha making Thoroughly rinse the fenugreek/methi leaves, drain and chop roughly. In a large mixing bowl, first add all the flours. Then add the leaves, all the spices and salt with the flours. Use clean hands to mix well. Add oil and bring everything together. Start adding yogurt/milk to knead the dough. Use only a tbsp at a time. If using only water, use very little water to knead. Fenugreek leaves release water. So be judicious in how much water you add. Knead well to form a smooth dough. Cover and let it rest for 15-20 minutes. Make lemon sized balls from the dough. On a rolling board/surface, place a dough ball, sprinkle some flour and using a rolling pin, start rolling it gently to form round discs of 5-6 inches diameter. Dust more flour as needed while rolling. You can roll all the parathas at once and cook them one by one or roll and cook and again roll and cook the remaining dough balls. Note: If you wish to roll and cook side by side, ensure you start heating the griddle or tawa when you're rolling the parathas. To cook the paratha, place the rolled disc on a hot griddle. Once it's partially cooked - indicated by rising air pockets and change in color of the paratha, flip it using a spatula. Spread oil on this side and let it cook. Once cooked, flip it again and spread oil on this side. Press the paratha gently with the spatula and once you see golden brownish spots, flip it again. Press again, flip once more if needed and remove from the griddle. Store in a covered place or serve warm! Repeat steps 8 and 9 to cook the rest of the parathas/theplas.

#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipes Traditional Odia Style | My Twist to the Traditional Style There's something utterly satisfying about yogurt based gravies. The silky texture, the hint of mild tartness in the mouth and the satiation it generates make anything delicious on the go. Whether topped on vegetables or meat, I find such gravies very tempting albeit rich. But, fish tossed in such a delicate delicious sauce has to be my soft spot! My journey with non-vegetarian food has been a roller coaster. In my childhood, fish was dominant in our diet as expected in any Odia (people who are from the state of Odisha in India) family. Eating red meat was limited to mutton, a Sunday extravaganza. As to poultry, eggs (yes, eggs are considered non-vegetarian in the Indian diet) were regular, and chicken was rare — rather absent in my mom's cooking until I was about twelve or thirteen years old— and showed up in place of mutton on some Sundays as the chicken jhol. I was eighteen when I moved to Mumbai and started living away from home. And, my cooking journey burgeoned in a vegetarian Punjabi family. I believe what you cook is heavily influenced by the nuances of your lifestyle as much as your taste buds. So, amidst the settings of my Mumbai home, I predominantly cooked vegetarian food, indulging in non-vegetarian only outside. Years later I moved to Bangalore and ventured into living on my own and my cooking got a new dimension. I was now free to cook non-vegetarian food at home. Over the years, I have cooked chicken, mutton, fish and eggs, experimenting with a variety of cuisines. I have finally realized that I'm somewhere on the verge of being a pescatarian. My husband is a vegetarian (eats eggs though) but thank goodness that he can tolerate me cooking/eating fish! Fish, macha in Odia, is auspicious in the Odia and Bengali cultures — so much that it's an important element in Odia and Bengali weddings. Fish forms an integral part of Odia cuisine, considered staple in the coastal diet, and prepared in many different ways. From thin gravies known as jhols which use an onion-ginger-garlic paste and topped with tomatoes to somewhat richer gravies that incorporate mustard seed paste and ambula (dried mango kernels) for sourness or the silkiness of yogurt and fish fries which range plain to spicy, wrapped in leaves and steamed or roasted, Odia cuisine abounds in fish preparations. Odisha (previously known as Orissa) is the modern name of the ancient territory called, Kalinga. Invaded by the Mauryan emperor, Ashoka in 261 BC, this coastal state of India has a long rich history in food. With chefs who cooked in temples to cooks who made food at homes and later migrated West Bengal and northern states of India, Odia cuisine is abundant in stories of cultural exchanges and temple style of cooking. Spices like mustard, cumin, dry red chilies, fenugreek, fennel, poppy and nigella seeds, cardamom, and asafoetida are used in different blends and as wholes, using minimum oil and maximum flair. While I was in India, river water fish such as rohu, catla (Indian carp), ilish (hilsa), pabda were preeminent in my fish diet, a consequence of what I grew up eating. Sea fish such as rawas, surmai, bangda, Bombay duck are common on the west coast of India and I was not introduced to them until I landed in Mumbai. After moving to Canada, cooking fish is a newfangled skill because I'm forever trying to cook atypical fishes in typical Indian style of gravies! Dahi Macha, my way Dahi and macha — yogurt and fish — make a delicious combination. This fish gravy is a perfect blend of Odia besara and Bengali shorse gravies. Besara (read as bae-saraw) and shorse (read as shore-shay) are Odia and Bengali names respectively for a spice paste (sauce) made of mustard seeds. Traditionally, I would have loved to make it with rohu fish, but I haven't yet found it in Canada (not here in Whitehorse at least). Trout is the closest fresh water fish that feels close to that childhood nostalgia of freshwater fish and is great for all kinds of Odia and Bengali fish gravies. Off late, I have made it with halibut, tilapia and salmon as well, and it tastes great. Cooking with mustard paste Cooking with mustard paste is an art and requires some level of skill and practice before one can master it. Once you learn how to make and cook a good mustard paste, your tongue will discover a whole new world of taste, an explosion of flavours your palate had probably been missing all these years! What are besara and shorshe? As I mentioned above, besara (pronounced as bae-saw-raw) and shorshe (pronounced as shore-shay) are respective names in the Odia and Bengali language to a spice paste (sauce) made with mustard seeds. You would have guessed by now that mustard seeds are used abundantly in Odia and Bengali cuisines. The mustard paste uses the black mustard seeds (and yellow at times) ground with garlic and green or dried red chilies. In Bengali cuisine, it's usually ground with green chilies and sometimes coconut. What are some key points to remember while cooking with mustard paste? If you are a beginner in cooking with using mustard paste, the rule of thumb is 'less is more'. As you experiment and evolve and begin to appreciate and understand how mustard works in the food, you will master the art of picking the right quantity. If you're skeptical about the quantity mentioned in a recipe that involves mustard paste, my advice is to lessen it by at least a quarter. Mustard paste when sautéed too much can turn bitter. Once you add it to the rest of the ingredients in a dish, 30 seconds to a 1 minute should be the maximum time you sauté. If you are using onions and tomatoes in a recipe that has mustard paste, always add the paste once your onions and tomatoes are fully sautéed and almost cooked. Two ways to make this gravy Traditional way: To make a traditional dahi macha with a good hint of mustard and the perfect sourness and richness from curd/yogurt, I follow the same recipe as my mom's. The typical dahi macha in Odisha does not use onions or tomatoes but in my family we add it sometimes for some variation and added texture. With a twist: To make a less pungent mustardy version, I use yellow mustard powder instead of the yellow or black mustard seeds. Further I pound and add garlic in the gravy than grinding it with mustard. This tends to make the dish a bit simpler than the traditional one. Recipes Traditional Dahi Macha Ingredients 4-5 pieces of fresh water fish like rochu, catla or trout. You can also use salmon or halibut. For marination of fish: 1/2 tsp each of salt and turmeric 1 tbsp mustard oil or any other oil for frying the fish For mustard paste: 2 tbsp black mustard seeds, 5-6 cloves of garlic, 3-4 dried red chillies soaked in water for an hour 3-4 tbsp unflavoured yogurt For tempering: 1-2 tsp mustard oil or any other oil, 1/2 tsp cumin seeds, 1/2 tsp black mustard seeds, 10-12 curry leaves, 4-5 green chilies slit 1 small onion sliced 1 small tomato sliced 1 tsp salt or to taste Method Marinate the fish with salt and turmeric and keep aside. Drain the soaked mustard, chili and garlic and grind into a smooth paste by adding some water. Add salt and 1/2 cup water to the yogurt and whisk this paste into the yogurt breaking any lumps and keep aside. In a pan, heat oil and then shallow fry the fish, turning them after 3-4 minutes. Once done, take out the fish and keep aside. Switch off the heat. Add the shallow fried pieces of fish into the whisked yogurt mustard paste, coating the fish pieces well. Let it rest for 5 minutes. Switch on the heat again and to the same pan in which you fried the fish, add the coated fish back. Keep the heat low. Slowly add the remaining whisked yogurt into the pan. Let the gravy simmer on very low heat. Add sliced onions and tomatoes and keep everything simmering on low heat. After 5-7 minutes, heat oil in a small fry pan. Once the oil is hot, add mustard and cumin seeds and curry leaves (take care as these will splutter). Swirl the pan and gradually add the slit chilies and then pour this tempering over the simmering fish gravy. Switch off the heat and cover the fish gravy and let the flavours assimilate. Let the gravy settle for sometime before serving. Dahi Macha with a twist Ingredients 4-5 pieces of fresh water fish like rochu, catla or trout. You can also use salmon or halibut. For marination: 1/2 tsp each of salt and turmeric For mustard yogurt sauce paste: 2 tbsps yellow mustard powder, 2 green chilies, 2 drops neutral or mustard oil, 3 tbsps unflavoured yogurt, a pinch each of coriander, turmeric and red chili powder. Note: If you don't have mustard oil, use any other oil. Mustard oil gives it a nice sharp taste. If you have never eaten a mustard based gravy or do not like it pungent, reduce the mustard powder to 1 and 1/2 or 1 tbsp. For the gravy: 1 and 1/2 tbsps mustard or neutral oil, 1 tsp nigella seeds, 1 dried whole red chili, two big pods of crushed garlic, salt to taste, pinch of sugar, freshly chopped coriander leaves. Method Add salt and turmeric to the fish and keep aside for 15-20 minutes. In a bowl, add mustard powder, slit green chilies, two drops of mustard oil and a little water to make a paste. Give it a mix and keep aside. In another bowl, add yogurt, turmeric, coriander powder, red chilli powder and beat the mixture. Pour the mustard paste into the curd mix and beat again. Set it aside. Put a pan/woke/kadhai, on medium heat and add. Shallow fry the fish. Remove and keep aside. 2-3 minutes frying each side of the fish is enough. Do NOT deep fry the fish. In the same pan, add nigella seeds. Let them crackle, then add the whole dried red chilli. Next, add garlic. Sauté and then add the bloomed mustard-yogurt paste. Lower the flame and stir continuously for 30 seconds. Add the fish and coat them well with the sizzling paste, and then add some water. Add salt to taste and adjust the seasoning with a pinch of sugar. Note: The amount of water depends on the thickness of the gravy you want. I don't like too thick gravies, so I add slightly more water and then let it evaporate a bit on medium heat. Let it simmer until you are satisfied with the consistency of the gravy. Garnish with roughly chopped coriander leaves. You can see how simple this gravy is, and if you make it, you will realize how bountiful it is in flavours. Yogurt balances the pungency of mustard, and garlic provides that rustic note to this gravy. Keep some hot steaming rice ready to go with it! Enjoy!

#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipes Old Delhi Style Chole without onion-garlic | Home Style Onion-Tomato Chole If I look back to the time fourteen years from now and Auntie A's (my then land lady) kitchen I had access to then, I remember chickpeas (garbanzo beans) or chole as they're called in Punjabi was the first thing I cooked or rather what Auntie taught me to cook. You perhaps know this dish as chana masala in many Indian restaurants. Chickpeas, world's oldest and second most widely cultivated legume after soybean, have been growing in India and Pakistan from time immemorial. The local variety popular in these countries is the kala chana or desi chana, which is smaller in size with a darker skin than the variety known as garbanzo beans. The bigger lighter coloured garbanzo beans are called kabuli chana in India, the name implicitly pointing that the variety came from Kabul, Afghanistan. It's this kabuli chana that's celebrated as chole in Punjab and Delhi or as chana masala. Chole from west Punjab or the present-day Pakistan, which found its home in Delhi after India's partition in 1947, makes a hearty meal for anyone who loves Delhi's street food or has ties to that undivided Punjab that fostered this version of chickpeas preparation. Ask my husband, S, who grew up in Nainital and Delhi, and will give anything to have a plate of hot steaming chole any day in the week. Usually served with rice or flat breads like roti, naan or kulcha (stuffed flatbread made in a tandoor), chole is undoubtedly one of the most popular dishes in Punjabi and Delhi cuisine. But why? The Silk Road connection The answer lies somewhere deep in the past on the Silk Road, a network of trade routes connecting China and the Far East with the Middle East and Europe. Although silk was the road's primary mover — and later pearls, gems, spices, carpets, glass, medicines, pottery and weapons — it was food that kept the road sentient and preserved its history in culinary bonds across towns, cities and countries. Chickpeas are one such souvenir of the Silk Road. Originating in present-day south-eastern Turkey and adjoining Syria (think ancient Mesopotamia), chickpeas travelled to Europe and eastward to Persia, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India, on and off the Silk Road. When merchants, wayfarers, philosophers and warriors, carried their culinary habits, food ingredients and cooking methods along the road, everything was undoubtedly susceptible to change and influenced by cultural exchanges. But who influenced whom? Where is the origin of one dish and who modified it where? And, does it matter so much as food itself that was redefined and reshaped, shared and loved? The latter matters more to me, which brings me to the Silk Road influence on the Punjabi and Delhi style preparation of chickpeas that typically uses pomegranate seeds. Both chickpeas and pomegranates are featured throughout Middle Eastern cooking, and travelling from Afghanistan along the Silk Road, the two ingredients found a new culinary dimension in the North West Frontier (NWF) province of undivided India (Khyber Pakhtunkhwa as its known today), Rawalpindi in present-day Pakistan and Amritsar in present-day India. The many versions of Chole The versions from NWF and Rawalpindi (the Rawalpindi version often referred as Pindi Chole) tend to be drier and bereft of any onion-tomato gravy or chilies. The spices were minimal but heady with coriander, cumin, asafoetida (which came from Afghanistan) and dried fenugreek leaves being prominent and a good dose of powdered pomegranate seeds for the much needed sourness to balance the spices. New ingredients like black and green cardamoms, peppercorns, nutmeg and cloves were added as the Pindi Chole travelled to eastern Punjab. These spices are used fairly in the Punjabi garam masala (there are different versions of garam masalas in India!) and their addition to the chole spice mix makes much sense. With new world vegetables like potatoes, tomatoes and chilies coming to India with the Europeans, these readily found a place in different renditions of chole across Punjab and later Delhi. Old Delhi and its love for chole Chole-bhature (chickpeas served with leavened fried bread) has a special spot in Delhi's street food, especially Old Delhi. With its sprawling gardens, havelis and fountains gone after emperor Shah Jahan's reign, what kept Old Delhi alive was its food that has survived amidst the remnants of old historical buildings and forgotten courtyards turned into stores, warehouses and shops. With its parathewalahs, chaiwalahs, chaatwalahs and many other 'walahs' — makers, vendors and menders — almost every nook in Old Delhi prepares, cooks, sells and relishes food in some form. More often than not, the food vendors in Old Delhi are migrants adept in feeding the hungry, needy and homesick crowds as well as those who come for a flavour of that Delhi that exists in recollections or tourists looking for an experience. The chole you'll find here has much in common with the version that travelled from Pakistan after India's partition in 1947— dark, almost black in colour owing to the spice blend rich in dark toned spices like black cardamom, cloves and peppercorns, prolonged cooking in iron kadhais (woks) which enhances the dark colour and boiling chickpeas with dried amla Indian gooseberries. A common trick that was adopted later to replicate this blackish colour was boiling chickpeas with tea leaves. Anardana (dried pomegranate seeds) and/or tamarind are the preferred souring agents in this style of chole which is mostly bereft of tomatoes and even onions or garlic. You may find slices of onions or julienned ginger garnished on top, but an onion-tomato based gravy is rare. Chickpeas—or Kabuli Chana—are not indigenous to India (believed to have originated in Turkey and came to India through Kabul), yet Indians not only adopted this legume enthusiastically but owned it with pride. It's one of the most loved protein in the Indian vegetarian diet. Its mushy texture after being boiled yields it a perfect mate to many leafy and vegetable curries as well. There are many versions of making this legume, the quintessential is perhaps the way Punjabis make it as chickpeas are a staple in the Punjabi diet. Pro tips tp make good Punjabi chole This is my version of how I grew up eating and watching Punjabi chole being made at home. It has a coarse homelike texture to its gravy, and does not involve a lot of oil and ghee. Every family has its own tradition of cooking, and I particularly tried to trace the many facets of chole in the Punjabi families that I have known or the north Indian restaurants I reckon for their authentic taste. Here is what I have learned about the authentic way of cooking Punjabi chole: Do not use a lot of salt when boiling the chole as it hinders the process of boiling. Boil the chole very well. They should be soft such that they break when pressed with fingertips. Always flavour the water in which you boil the chole, and never throw the water after draining the chole out of the boiled water. Use this water in the gravy later - it will take the taste a notch higher! For the dark color of the chole, use dried amla (Indian gooseberries) and/or tea leaves/bags in the water when boiling. If available, use an iron wok for sautéing that turns the chole darker. Never take out the chole from the boiled water and lay them dry. Let them stay in the water until you add them to the gravy. If you're using onions and tomatoes in your chole, learn the technique of making a perfect onion-tomatoes masala (spice paste) which is the base of most Punjabi dishes. Always use a good souring agent in the gravy, like anardana (dried pomegranate seeds) or amchur (dry mango powder) and/or tamarind water. This imparts tanginess to the gravy and balances the spiciness. Since the spice blend for chole has a lot of hot spices, a good amount of sourness is necessary to cut across the heat and balance the flavours After adding the chole to the onion-tomatoes gravy, mash some of the chole to thicken the consistency of the gravy. Recipes Did you check the pro tip? Old Delhi Style Chole without onion-garlic Ingredients 1 cup of overnight (6-8 hours) soaked chickpeas or chole For the chole masala Whole spices: 3-4 black cardamoms 8-10 black peppercorns 2-3 green cardamoms 2-4 cloves 1-2 strands of mace 1/2 nutmeg 1/2-inch cinnamon stick 2-3 bay leaves 1/2 tbsp kasoori methi or dried fenugreek leaves 1/4 tsp fenugreek seeds Powdered spices: 1 tbsp coriander powder 1 tsp cumin powder 1/2 tsp red chili powder a pinch of hing or asafoetida 1/8 tsp black salt (optional) 1 tsp anardana (dried pomegranate seeds powder) or amchur For boiling chole 1-2 dry whole red chilies (Kashmiri will be great), 1 bay leaves, 1 big or 2 small sticks of cinnamon, 1 black cardamom, 3-4 dried amla (Indian Gooseberry) or 1/2 to 1 tsp black tea leaves or 1 teabag (one teabag for every cup of soaked chole) For tempering chole 2 tbsp neutral oil + 1 tsp of trans-fat free ghee or clarified butter Chole masala 2-3 tbsp tamarind water (tamarind soaked in water and then the pulp retained) For garnishing: julienne cut ginger, sliced onions, slit green chilies (optional) and lots of chopped coriander leaves. Method Boil the chole: In a muslin cloth or a tiny drawstring muslin bag, add the dry whole spices and amla and tea leaves/tea bags (if using) and make a small bundle of the cloth. In a pressure cooker or instant pot, place the cloth of spices, and then add the soaked chole to it. Add ¼ teaspoon of salt and let the chole boil for about half an hour. Open the pressure cooker/instant pot and take out the cloth bag of spices. Drain the chole and keep the water for use later in cooking. Prepare the chole masala: (You can also make this ahead of time) In a pan, dry roast the whole spices until aromatic. Add the powdered spices and dry roast for a few seconds. Let the spices cool and then blend to fine powder. Keep aside. Temper the chole: In a wok or pan, add oil + ghee. Once hot, add boiled chole, the prepared chole masala along with tamarind water and give a good mix. Add about 1/2 cup of the preserved chole water and adjust consistency. Add more water if needed. Let the mixture simmer for 15-20 minutes on low heat. Switch off heat when done and garnish before serving. Although this version is more popular with bhatura, we eat with rice as well along with some salad. The leftovers make a great chaat with fried potatoes and green chutney and yogurt. Home Style Chole with onion-tomatoes Ingredients 1 cup of overnight (6-8 hours) soaked chickpeas or chole Dry whole spices for the water to boil chole: 1-2 dry whole red chilies (Kashmiri will be great), 1 bay leaves, 1 big or 2 small sticks of cinnamon, 1 black cardamom, 3-4 dried amla (Indian Gooseberry) or 1/2 to 1 tsp black tea leaves or 1 teabag (one teabag for every cup of soaked chole) For the gravy: 2 tbsp neutral oil + 1 tsp of trans-fat free ghee or clarified butter 1-2 bay leaves 1 tsp cumin seeds 1-inch ginger + 4-5 cloves of garlic minced 2 medium sized onions finely chopped a generous pinch of asafoetida 1/4 tsp turmeric 1 teaspoon coriander powder 1 teaspoon red chili powder 1/2 teaspoon carom seeds powder (take the carom seeds and mash in a mortar with a pestle) 2 medium tomatoes finely chopped 1 tsp garam masala 1 tsp pomegranate seeds or amchur (dried mango powder). For garnishing: julienne cut ginger, slit green chilies (optional) and lots of chopped coriander leaves Notes: I make my own garam masala at home, but you can use the store-bought garam masala too. My homemade garam masala: dry roast 1/2 tsp caraway seeds (optional), 1 tsp cumin seeds, 2 tbsp coriander seeds, 2 black and 3-4 green cardamoms, 1-2 bay leaves, 3-4 cloves, 5-6 peppercorns, 1 cinnamon stick, a tinge of nutmeg or a few strands of mace, and crush in a mortar with a pestle or a spice mixer. Method Boil the chole: In a muslin cloth or a tiny drawstring muslin bag, add the dry whole spices and the tea leaves and make a small bundle of the cloth. In a pressure cooker or instant pot, place the cloth of spices, and then add the soaked chole to it. Add ¼ teaspoon of salt and let the chole boil for about half an hour. Make the gravy: Place a wok or pot on medium heat, and add oil and ghee. Let the oil smoke up a bit, and then add the bay leaf. When the spices impart aroma, add the cumin seeds and let them splutter. Add the minced ginger and garlic and sauté for about 1 minute till they turn golden. Add the chopped onions and sauté for the next 5 to 6 minutes. Add the asafoetida and continue frying the onions. Add turmeric, red chili powder and carom seeds powder, and sauté for about 15 minutes or until they turn brownish. Keep adding splashes of water if the masala sticks to the bottom of the wok. Add the tomatoes and mix for about 2-3 minutes. Add the garam masala, salt to taste and mix again for about 1 minute. Cover the wok/pot and let the tomatoes cook. You can open in between and check the doneness. Mix boiled chole with the gravy: Open the pressure cooker/instant pot and take out the cloth bag of spices. Let the chole remain in the water. Open the wok/pot. Check the mushiness of the tomatoes and give it a mash if needed. Drain the chole from the water and add to the wok, sauté for 2-3 minutes, and then add the boiled flavoured water. Add extra water if needed (depending on the consistency you like) and mash some of the chole. Mix everything and then let everything simmer for 10 to 12 minutes. Turn off the heat, garnish and let it cool off a bit before serving! Chole-chawal (chickpeas with rice) is more of a Sunday thing in my home, and we enjoy this version with some hot steamed rice and the leftovers with hot rotis. A dollop of green chutney on the side adds so much oomph!

#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipe I wanted to steer clear from the word, "condiment" in the title but please bear with me! The world of chutneys, pickles and raitas in Indian cuisine is mind-boggling not just for outsiders but also for people from the subcontinent itself. In my previous post of cilantro-mint chutney , I briefly touched upon this, and gave you a basic idea to make a green chutney. Today, I'm writing about another chutney which may get classified as a bharta (mashes) in some regional cuisines in India, like the Maharashrian bhareet, or a chokha (mashes) in parts of Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Jharkhand or a pora/poda (charred mashes) in Bengal and Odisha respectively or lie somewhere between a thokku (sour fruits or veggies cooked until moisture is gone) and thuvaiyal (lighty cooked and ground) in the south . In the western cuisine parlance, it'd easily fit as some version of a Mexican salsa verde. In most parts of India, we love vegetables or meat roasted on open fire. Actually, the little of the world that I've seen, I can safely claim it's true in many other places too. It's also the easiest and fastest, also most delicious (I feel!), way of cooking that brings out flavours of an ingredient in its most unaltered and un-influenced form. Once the slow roasting is over, what remains is simply boosting the flavours by tempering or what we call tadka in Indian cooking. But, sometimes you wouldn't need to temper at all, like this slowly roasted mash of tart tomatillos, cloves of garlic and some fiery chilies. Some salt and some herb of your choice to complete it. So, what's the formula? Choose a vegetable with a thin skin that will peel off when charred or one whose charred peel you wouldn't mind eating. My favourites are eggplants, tomatillos, tomatoes, ridge gourds, chayote, zucchini or bell peppers. Once I roast them, I mildly peel off the skin but don't bother about the little bits that refuse to come off. If I pan roast them, such as a tomatillo, then these only get blotched on some sides. And, that means no peeling at all! For a hot quotient, choose your favourite chilli peppers. I love any kind of Indian chilies or Serrano peppers or jalapeños or anything else that's available. There's no restriction here. This ingredient is not to be skipped! Go for a mild pepper if you can't tolerate extra heat. Garlic, and lots of it of course! Sometimes onions or spring onions also go very well with it. I don't char the onions rather chop them and add them raw. Char/roast the chosen veggie along with chilies and garlic on open fire or grill pan or a simple cast iron pan. You can slightly coat the ingredients with oil before roasting. Cool the ingredients until you can handle them. At this stage, there are two options: Mash them nice using your hands or use a pestle and mortar to pound them coarse. There's a third option too. Blend them. Add coarse salt and a herb of your choice to add freshness. Cilantro usually works with everything. But you can definitely experiment with sage, parsley or mint. If your veggie is not tart by default, you may add a few drops of lime juice or tamarind extract. What do you serve it with? I love it with sattu parathas! Flatbreads which are stuffed with roasted and powdered Bengal gram and spices. It add tons of flavour to the good old dal-chawal. Serve your fritters or patties with it. Spread it on your sandwiches or wraps. Top it on your crackers! These are just few ideas. You can do a lot more. Whatever you do, this chutney-mash will enhance flavours and add texture to any palate of food. Recipe This recipe uses tomatillos. Check out my formula to create charred mashes and variate this recipe. Ingredients 4-6 tomatillos if in season or green tomatoes 3-4 hot peppers like Serrano 10-12 cloves of garlic a handful of cilantro 1/2 a lime (optional) Coarse salt like rock salt to taste Method Mildly smear the tomatillos, chillies and garlic with some oil. On open fire or a grill pan or a cast iron pan, char the ingredients until black blotches appear on the surfaces and the tomatillos are tender and change colour. Let the charred ingredients cool for a bit. In a bowl, add all the charred ingredients along with salt and chopped cilantro and mash them with your hands to a desired consistency or pound them in a pestle and mortar. Optionally, grind them in a blender. If the final dish is not tart enough, add a few squeezes of lime and mix. Serve fresh and store leftovers in the fridge.

#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipe So, chutney! If you're from India, then I'll assume you know what's a chutney. Although, it varies in texture, consistency and ingredients across regions in India, you'll most likely know what's a chutney. But if you're new to this term or you identify chutney with bottled condiments or sauces in a grocery store, then I highly recommend The Great Chutney Mystery on Deepa's blog, Paticheri. It's worth it! Chutney, what is it like? Raw or cooked? The word chutney comes from the Hindi word, चटनी, which is derived from चाटना chāṭnā, meaning 'to lick.' But, chāṭnā isn't related to only licking, though literally it is. It can also mean to eat with appetite, meaning 'to relish.' These words give a sense that a chutney has the consistency of a somewhat flowing sauce or a dip in the western food parlance. This consistency is achieved by grinding raw and fresh or cooked or slightly-cooked ingredients, such as a green herbs chutney (think pesto minus the oil), or cooking ingredients to a texture that resembles a chutney, like a Odia/Bengali tomato-dates chutney. A chutney made by grinding raw ingredients is sometimes seasoned/tempered with spices bloomed in oil like coconut chutneys in south India. Typically eaten alongside main courses, they may fit the term condiment. Depending on the type of chutney, they can be sufficient as sides for breakfasts and snacks or eaten with rice like dal. Although, they're not of dal's consistency or texture. Chutneys are also indispensable in Indian street foods like, chaat. Pay attention to the terms, chaat and chutney, the latter being derived from चाटना chāṭnā, meaning 'to lick.' In a chaat, chutneys provide a much-needed flavour boost to the main ingredients with their sweet, sour, tangy and spicy nature. Fresh or pickled? Chutneys are typically made fresh. But in the modern world, we do store freshly-made chutneys in the refrigerator to last for a week or two. Preservation through pickling in India produces something known as achar in Hindi, which sometimes people confuse as chutneys. Achars or Indian pickles have longer shelf life than chutneys and don't necessarily need to be stored in the refrigerator. Dry or wet? Since chutneys have a connection with 'licking', they're typically thought as wet sauces or dips. But remember, in India, we often eat with our fingers, and traditionally only with fingers. So, licking isn't always literally using the tongue to swipe the plate clean! It also means we use our fingers to take a portion of something from the plate and use our tongue to lick it off our fingers. Now, many will think it grouse. I can't help them! No one can! So, a chutney can be wet or dry, and still be licked. Dry chutneys are more common in south India, like chammanthi from Kerala. You will also find people referring podi or spice-mixes from south India as chutneys. The dry or wet nature of the chutney also depends on how much moisture is left in the final product. It can be completely wet, like this cilantro-mint chutney, saucy like gojjus from Karnataka or thokkus which are usually made of sour ingredients and cooked completely to remove moisture or somewhat wet and lightly cooked like thuvaiyals. You will find more varied and distinct terms for these in south India than the rest of the country. What goes into a chutney? Anything can go into a chutney! Vegetables, fruits, nuts, seeds, spices, herbs but typically not meat. Meat can be preserved into pickles/achar. It's the combination and variation of fresh or cooked vegetables, herbs or fruits with spices, nuts and/or seeds that generates a plethora of chutneys in the Indian food repertoire. My green chutney formula When we refer hari (green) chutney in India, one tends to think of the most common form of green chutney, coriander and mint chutney. This version is typically used in most chaats in north India as well as common in north Indian households. However, you needn't limit yourself to coriander and mint to make a green chutney. I must say it's my favourite green chutney but I use any available or sometimes frail greens to make a chutney and save them. Here's a simple formula that I follow: Greens - Typically a mix of herbs like coriander, mint, dill, rucola (rocket leaves), basil, parsley or any others which may strike as chutney-able! Green chilies - For the spice and extra kick, I always add some form of green chilli peppers. Indian chillies may not always be available depending on where you live. You can use Serrano peppers or jalapeños or Thai peppers like Bird eye chilies. Be mindful of how hot the chilies are, and decide accordingly. Ginger - I never skip it if I'm using coriander, mint or rocket leaves in my green chutney. Garlic - I feel it works best when using dill, basil or parsley. Cumin seeds- It's the perfect spice for a bit of earthy flavour in your green chutney. I never skip it when making cilantro and mint based chutneys. Combined with ginger/garlic or both, it adds a lovely spice dimension to the chutney. Limes - For the much needed sourness, limes are best. Lemons can be a bit sweeter but work as well. Sometimes, tamarind works but then tamarind will also change the green colour of the chutney. So, lime/lemons are best. Jaggery - I add a tad bit of jaggery or sugar for that hint of sweetness and to bring the flavours together along with salt.Cumin - If using ginger, cumin and ginger make a good combination for the spice factor. At times, I use all three, ginger, garlic and cumin. Cashews, hemp seeds or oil (optional) - Green chutneys tend to be thinner and a bit runny in texture. Some people prefer the chutneys to be thicker and not have the water separate from the chutney. For this, cashews, hemp seeds or some oil can act as a good binding agent. For cilantro and mint based green chutneys, I usually don't add any except hemp sometimes for its added health benefits. For basil, dill or parsley, I use these to ensure a creamier texture. Ice cubes or cold water - Unless you live in a big family, it's unlikely to finish a big batch of chutney in a single meal. When stored in the refrigerator, these chutneys tend to loose their colour. Sometimes, the herbs also loose their shine just after being ground. Ice cubes or cold water ensures that the colour isn't lost. However, you needn't add any water if using nuts or oil. How do you use a green chutney? It works with anything and I'm not exaggerating! Here are some ideas to serve green chutneys: As a condiment along with meals Spread it on breads when making sandwiches. Try cheese and chutney sandwiches — yum! Spread it on rotis or tortillas and fill up with roasted veggies or meat and make wraps. Serve with eggs, pakodas (fritters), tikkis (patties), samosas, or any other fried snack. Top it up on roasted meat or veggies or on leftover chickpeas with some yogurt, sev and spicy potatoes or taro roots and make a finger licking quick chaat. Coat boiled and chopped potatoes with green chutney and take your potato salad a notch up! You can never go wrong with a chutney! Recipe This recipe is for a typical North-Indian dhaniya-pudina (cilantro mint) chutney. Check out my formula for any green chutney to variate this recipe. Ingredients Cilantro/coriander leaves and mint leaves in 1:2 ratio. I keep bits of stem intact in the cilantro. Stems have a lot of flavour and add to the bulk of the chutney. For 1 cup cilantro and 1/2 cup mint leaves, I add the following ingredients in the following quantities: 1-inch ginger, washed and peeled 1-3 green chilies (The amount of chilies varies depending on how hot the chillies are) 1 tsp cumin seeds 2 tbsp lime juice 1/2 tsp jaggery or sugar (optional) 1/2 tsp salt, or to taste 5 tbsp water or 1-2 ice cubes Method Add all ingredients in a blender jar and grind into a smooth paste. Taste and check salt and sugar, and adjust flavours accordingly.

#rozkakhana series Jump to recipe What's the biggest joy of cooking for you? For me, it's about feeding people. The moment when I serve the food I prepared and someone takes a bite and smiles, is what matters the most to me. Don't get me wrong. I love eating my food too, and yes it matters a lot to me! But feeding someone else definitely wins over. As Guy Fieri aptly says, "Cooking is all about people. Food is maybe the only universal thing that really has the power to bring everyone together. No matter what culture, everywhere around the world, people eat together." Although there continues to be enough politics around food and stigma and disagreement around people of different classes and castes eating together, one place you will find this utterly true is a langar, free community kitchen, a hallmark of the Sikh community all over the world. Sitting in pangats (lines), everyone eats together in a langar, a system of community meals where food is about sharing joys and sorrows and healing in turbulent times, irrespective of people's backgrounds, histories and classes. Gurcharan Singh Chani, a culture expert, says in this article on The Hindu, he has seen the tradition of a langar being put to great use during Partition (of India) when refugee camps would organize them to feed the displaced masses. Thousands of people who were suffering the loss of their homes and loved ones, survived on these langars initially; later, many of them opened cheap dhabas as cooking and feeding was a proven way to sustain. Amidst everything delicious that's served in a langar, the mah-chole dal, a luscious dal made of urad and chana dal, and kadha prasad (aate ka halwa - wheat flour halwa) have remained my favourites. By now, you'd know half of my epicurean self is Punjabi. So this half-Punjabi has always adored black dals in all forms, especially the ones prepared in a langar. There's something about kaali dals (black dals) and Punjabis, skin-on urad being at the helm of Punjab's dal repertoire. Thick in consistency, creamy in texture and packed with a whole lot of flavour, urad is made into many types of dals. The popularity of such thicker dals makes perfect sense in the Punjabi cuisine because thicker dal preparations go well with rotis, flatbreads staple in the Punjabi diet. Scooping spoonfuls of a dal with cones made of bits of roti is an experience in itself. A side of plain raw veggie salad is enough with this combination to leave you satisfied in the heart and full in the belly! To understand the other reason for dals like urad being popular in the Punjabi cuisine, we must look at the history of tandoors, clay ovens used in India and Pakistan, which were communal stoves in olden times. People would gather around the common tandoor of the neighbourhood, make their stack of rotis and share a laughter or tear in between. Once done, the remnant fire of the tandoor was used to cook dals like urad which take a long time to cook. Slowly cooking on the tandoor, sometimes overnight, the dal would only turn tastier. Growing up, thicker dals were limited on my plate. People from the eastern states of Odisha West Bengal and the north-east like Assam are rice eaters, and rice is usually served with thinner dals and many sides of veggies and meat. Of course there was rajma-chawal, a diversion from the usual combination of thinner dals and rice, but other thicker dal preparations were rare for us. Everything good comes with time, at least it has for me! I grew up and met Auntie A, a name you most likely have heard many times on this blog, and she taught me to cook many-many Punjabi dishes the way they're made in a Punjabi household. Recipes for all thick black dals made the Punjabi way are my legacy from her. Some of the recipes that I learned from her and have jotted down so far, including this Mah-Chole Dal: Saag Chole (Chickpeas cooked with greens) Punjabi Chole (Chickpeas cooked in Punjabi style) Vegetable Masala Khichdi (Rice and Moong Dal cooked with vegetables and seasoned with spices) Punjabi Bharwa Karele (Stuffed bitter gourds in a Punjabi style) Punjabi Style Karele ki Sabzi (Stir-fried bitter gourds in a Punjabi style) Sardiyon Wali Gajar Matar (Winter peas and carrots) Sookhi Arbi (Taro root stir fry) Rajma Chawal (Red Kidney Beans with rice) Methi Paratha (Fengreek leaves flatbreads) Bugha Chawal (Sindhi Style Rice with caramelized onions and whole spices) During one of my learning sessions in the kitchen, I asked Auntie how one could replicate the flavours of a langar wali dal (dal cooked in a langar) at home. She told me one could only emulate it with love, and a whole lot of love. Because there are no recipes to follow in a langar kitchen. A broad guideline is followed around different dishes and everyone pours their warmth and affection into the food that's cooked. In earlier times, people used to bring in the tenth portion (daswandh guru da meaning the tenth portion is of the guru) of their homegrown produce and donate at gurudwaras to be cooked in the community kitchens. With all that came in, a meal was prepared for everyone, and everyone ate it together. Best enjoyed with hot rotis and some simple veggie sides or just pickled onions and cucumbers or even steamed rice! It's a great dal for cooler months when the warming properties of whole dals like urad have a calming effect on our appetites. Pro Tip So, this recipe is a rough guideline on how a mah-chole dal is made in a langar and it's also how Auntie A made it at home. No fine chopping of onions or pureeing of tomatoes. Absolutely rough pounding of ginger, garlic and green chilies. A good dose of coriander powder, some turmeric and red chili powders, and that's all that goes into it. You must trust your instincts and pour all your love while making it. That's the secret of this dal. I really mean it! Recipe Ingredients For boiling the lentils: 3/4 cup whole black Urad dal, 1/4 cup Chana dal (Bengal Gram), 3 cups of water, 1/4 tsp turmeric, 1/4 tsp red chilli powder, 1/4 tsp ginger and garlic pounded, 1 bay leaf (optional), 1/2 tsp salt 1 tbsp oil + 1 tsp ghee ( or 2 tbsp oil) 1 tsp cumin seeds 1 medium onion, roughly chopped 1 medium tomato, roughly chopped 1/2 inch ginger 3-4 cloves of garlic 1 green chili 1/4 tsp turmeric 1/2 tsp red chili powder 1 tsp heaped coriander powder 1 tsp salt, or to taste 1 to 2 tbsp cilantro chopped Method In a pressure cooker, add the ingredients mentioned under "for boiling the lentils" and cook on high heat for 1 whistle and on medium to low flame for 4-5 whistles. Every pressure cooker is different - so your whistles maybe different than mine. The rough idea is to cook it for about 20 to 25 minutes. Take the pressure cooker off of heat and keep aside. Note: You can also boil the lentils in a heavy bottom vessel like a Dutch oven. It will take about 45-50 minutes to let the lentils cook completely on medium-low heat. In a pestle mortar, add the ginger, garlic and green chilli and pound to make a coarse paste. Place a large pan or wok on the heat, and add oil (and ghee if using). Once hot, add cumin seeds and let them crackle. To this, add the pounded paste and sauté until mildly fragrant, taking care not to burn them. Add onions and mix to combine. Once the onions turn pink, add turmeric, red chilli and coriander and stir well. Let the spices cook and onions start getting brown. It should take about 15-20 minutes. Add splashes of water if anything sticks to the pan or wok. Add tomatoes and stir to combine. Sauté, cover and cook until you see the mixture to be well assembled and the oil oozing from the sides. It should take about 8-10 minutes. Open the pressure cooker, and slightly mash some of the lentils with the back of the ladle. This helps in giving a thicker consistency to the dal. Stir and add the lentils in the pan or wok and let it simmer for 7-10 minutes. Add some chopped cilantro while it's simmering. Note: If there's extra water, you can let the dal simmer a bit longer. If there's less water, add desired amount of warm water and let the dal simmer. Mix well, adjust salt if needed and then turn off heat once you're happy with the consistency. Add the remaining chopped cilantro on top before serving. If you make it, tag me on Instagram and share your pictures! I'd love to hear from you!

#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipe There's something about a hot bowl of dal — something that instantly calms every nerve in me and brings joy that's hard to express in words. It has an inherent nature to instill a feeling of comfort like the caress of a loved one on my skin. Today, I've one of my favourites and an extremely simple recipe of a common Indian dal, chana dal. This dal is the split without-skin version of the smaller dark skinned Indian chickpea, which is also called Bengal gram or kala chana. With its skin removed, it has a slightly sweet taste, and imparts a thick texture upon cooking. In its uncooked form, it's also used as a nutty agent while tempering/seasoning dishes like upma. During one of the To Desi From Desh sessions run by Ragini Kashyap, a guest asked what would we describe as a quintessential Indian dish. Quite a tough question! Considering India's geography and cultural diversity and the way cuisines change almost every 100 kms, picking one dish that could represent India's food scene is next to impossible. One dish could perhaps do some justice in this context, dal. No matter which part of India you go to, you will find some form of dal in your meals. In some places, like the much colder and much northern parts of the country, dals actually rule the roost where vegetables can be hard to grow or find in the winter. When I say dal, I mean different varieties of lentils grown and cooked in different parts of the country in different ways. I mention the word 'different' thrice in a single sentence. But, that's what Indian cuisine encompasses. From thick to thin in consistency, seasoned with varied spices, alliums and herbs depending on the region, dals are staple in the Indian diet. Whether on their own or complimented with vegetables or meat, dals can change the face of a dish in a significant way, bringing a whole new level of texture, flavour and health benefits. Bonus, they're a cheaper source of proteins. Lentils are one variety of pulses, which are dried seeds of legume plants. In Indian cuisine, when we say dal, we usually mean lentils. However, dals in India can be thought as the whole family of dried beans, pulses, legumes and split peas. Dals in India include many versions of the same legume or pulses. For example, whole with skin, whole without skin, split with skin and split without skin. While these dals make thick or thin soupy dishes, they're also used to make savoury cakes, pancakes, pastas, snacks, starters, dry chutneys and sweet desserts. My version of chana dal! No one taught me to make this dal! This is not a family recipe or handed-down by anyone I know or one that's filled with sweet nostalgia! I don't have any stories to share about how and why I came to make this chana dal, this way. But some recipes have to be like that, no? Created in the most obscure moments we don't remember. To think of, it most likely has to be one of those mundane days when a best-loved combination emerged from the many variations I try in my tadkas, and sticked. Many-many years later while researching about what is it about tadka/tempering in Indian cooking, I learned from Ragini's nani-ma (grandmother) that she too adds fennel seeds in her chana dal tadka! For me that moment is special, that moment of realization that your mundane is someone else's mundane too. A kinship in its own accord built unknowingly across many kitchens beyond borders. Since chana dal is a bit sweet in taste, seasoning it with spicy things imparts a good balance. Honestly, the seasoning is what renders the flavour to this dal. I like to season it at two stages— first while boiling it (with ginger, turmeric and salt) which helps the dal absorb and mingle with flavours and second is the final top-note with spices and garlic bloomed in fat along with browned onions and mushy tomatoes that carries the flavour to your olfactory senses. This second seasoning is known as tadka/vaghaar/chaunk in Indian cooking, a method which is known as tempering in English. See my Tur Dal recipe for more context on tempering/tadka. Like I said before, a dal's heart lies in its tadka, and this chana dal tadka is something I learnt on my own. The combination of fennel seeds with mustard and cumin coupled with garlic and chilies bloomed in hot ghee is what gives this dal its character. You can serve this with rotis or rice. I'm a rice lover, so you'll find me titling towards it more. But it really goes well with rotis and a side of some slightly dry vegetable preparation like okra, cauliflower, bitter gourds, eggplants a green leafy stir fry or a simple cucumber onion salad. I smile as I write the recipe on the blog hoping that my kith and kin and possibly my children will make it someday (just as my husband makes it from my blog) and remember me while relishing it. And, they would say Lopa makes this amazing dal! I make an Andhra version of this dal too with curry leaves and coconut, but that's for another day. Pro Tip The magic of this chana dal recipe is completely in the tadka! There are many variations that you can make to these ingredients: Cumin seeds Mustard seeds Fennel seeds Onion, Ginger, Garlic Tomatoes Asafoetida Red chilli powder Dry red chilies Green chilies I particularly love the flavour of fennel seeds tempered in ghee with this dal, and I normally don't skip it. The rest are all up for permutations and combinations! For tempering, always heat the oil/ghee first, followed by seeds like mustard, cumin, fennel, etc., then add dry red chilies for smokiness followed by asafoetida, and then add more prone-to-burn ingredients like ginger, garlic and green chilies and dry spices like red chilli powder. You can also add tomatoes to the dal while boiling it instead of the tadka/tempering. Tomatoes can sometimes make the dal a bit sweet, and chana dal itself is on the sweeter side. So, I squeeze lime once the dal is ready and serve it with extra lime wedges for added sourness if desired. Recipe Did you check the pro-tip? Ingredients For boiling the dal: 1/2 cup chana dal or Bengal gram, 1.5 cups water, 1/2 tsp turmeric, few slices of ginger, 1/2 tsp salt For the tadka: 2 tbsp ghee (or oil), 1 tsp cumin seeds, 1/2 tsp mustard seeds, 1/4 tsp fennel seeds, 1 small onion sliced, 1 small tomato chopped fine, 2 whole dried red chilies, a pinch of asafoetida (optional), 3-4 cloves of garlic, 1/2 tsp red chilli powder Note: Onions are optional. If not using onions, reduce ghee/oil to 1/2 tbsp More salt to adjust taste 3-4 tbsp cilantro, chopped 1 lime cut into wedges Method Wash and soak chana dal for 1-2 hours or at least 20 minutes. Note: If you don't soak the dal, you will need to cook it longer. So, soaking is good but not that you can't cook without it. Also, remember soaking lentils removes anti-nutrients like lectins and phytates. In a pressure cooker, add everything mentioned for boiling the dal, and cook on medium to high heat for 1 whistle and on medium to low heat for 3-4 whistles. Once done, remove pressure cooker pot from heat and keep aside to let the steam release naturally. Or Cook in a pot for 30-40 minutes or until the dal is tender and cooked but holds shape. In a kadhai or pan, heat ghee or oil. Once hot, add cumin seeds, fennel seeds, dry red chilies and asafoetida. Let everything crackle and then add garlic. Sauté for a few seconds without burning the garlic, and then add the onions. Stir and let the onions turn golden brown. Add the tomatoes, mix and let them turn mushy. Meanwhile, open the pressure cooker/pot and check the dal. If you feel it's too thick, add hot water accordingly. Stir and add salt to adjust taste. Pour the dal over the hot sizzling tadka or vice versa. Squeeze half a lime, and give a good stir and let the dal simmer for 3-4 minutes to adjust consistency. Add chopped cilantro on top and serve with extra lime wedges for desired tanginess.

​Jump to Recipe It's that time of the year again, when leaves turn golden, amber and brown. A nip in the air reminds us that the season will turn soon and the year seems to rush towards an end — a perfect time to pause and reflect. I wrap myself in layers with a warm cup of tea in my hands, thinking of the time that's long gone — one when I was a little girl and autumn wasn't synonymous with colourful leaves. I wish had childhood memories of welcoming fall with plum puddings and cakes, the kind I read in Anne of Green Gables and the way Digory describes in The Chronicles of Narnia. I remember watching the early morning mist from the window in my room and smells wafting from mother's kitchen — fragrances of many things delicious but not plums macerated in spices and sugar. These fruits weren't exactly common or easily available on the eastern coasts of India where I grew up. Globalization hadn't touched the markets then. Unless, we were holidaying somewhere in the northern hills, where a variety of plum — aloo bukhara — are grown, we never got to enjoy plums. It's strange how you can long for something so much having never had it for real or that often. But that's until you come across this beautiful word in the Portuguese language, saudade. Plums were my saudade, an untranslatable Portuguese word for yearning, often for something that might never have happened. My mother baked many bundt cakes and nankhatais, and I'm sure she would have made me a plum cake too if she had access to fresh plums where we lived. So, a store-bought plum cake during Christmas was undoubtedly my favourite, which had dried plums or prunes. Although, at that time, I didn't know that the cake was made of dried fruits like raisins, apricots, dates, prunes, currants, figs, glazed cherries, unsweetened cranberries that 'plumped' up (swelling by soaking in liquor or non-alcoholic juice over a period), and hence the name 'plum cake.' (This seems like a ramification of the colonial influence in Indian food, but I haven't ventured into its history at length.) My ignorance was dismissed as I grew up, and my saudade grew. As an adult in Bombay and Bangalore, I got to enjoy some imported and expensive plums and plum-related products readily available in superstores. But then, it wasn't the same, was it? The heart wants what it wants! Over thirty years of my life passed and I landed in Canada, never knowing that I'd get to eat some of the best varieties of stone fruits here, including my dear plums! Every year when the season of plums and other stone fruits arrives, I make the most of it. Other than stuffing my face with them, I use them in cobblers or crisps a lot. If you know me, you know I'm not a baker. So, cobblers and crisps are things that come naturally to me. To store, I make a lot of chutneys, pickles, preserves, and sometimes jams. The remains of the bulk purchases go into coffee cakes! Again, easy and less time consuming. With summer closing into fall this year, I made a good batch of nectarine preserves, some peach crumble, a spicy plum chutney, and finally this wonder of a plum almond cake! Perfect with a good cuppa and a book, it brings me joy every time I bake it. Our first day of fall in Whitehorse was a disappointment this year — wet, chilly and even snowy for a bit! But when you've some warm cake just out of the oven, a gloomy day can become bright, even if it's temporary! I have been making this cake for 3 years with different fruit variations, but the best one was this time. No frosting, not heavily sweet, and perfectly moist and spongy! Make it and treat yourself this season. Best thing — it works with any kind of stone fruit or even berries. If you don't have plums, get creative and see what you've to substitute. I often hear from people that my food writing brings forward childhood nostalgia. But let me tell you, many of the foods I like and enjoy now, aren't from my childhood at all. Like a pasta rolled in fresh pesto, a bowl of warm ratatouille, a grilled melon salad with hints of goat cheese, a platter of hummus with toasted veggies or pastel de nata from my favorite bakery, or this plum almond cake smelling of autumn. Memories are incessant, although we usually associate them with the past. After never having a fall memory of plum cakes, I have created those memories now. These times will become memories for my future self, one that will look back and smile, remembering the fragrances emanating from the oven while the trees let go their leaves one more time. Recipe Ingredients 6-7 medium sized roughly chopped plums, preferably the sweeter variety like the red ones Don't chop the plums too fine. Zest of 1 lemon and juice of 1/2 of the same lemon that's zested (use orange if lemon is not available) 1 tsp sugar 1 cup all purpose flour 1/4 cup almonds roughly crushed 1/4tsp cinnamon or star anise powder or both (optional) 1 tsp baking powder 2/3 to 3/4 cup powdered sugar (This depends on how sweet you want the cake. Since I use sweet plums, I go less on the sugar.) I also keep a small portion aside for dusting the cake later 1 tbsp Greek yogurt (thick yogurt) or sour cream 2 eggs at room temperature 1/2 cup olive oil (or any other oil like sunflower oil) 1/2 tsp vanilla Some flaked almonds to decorate Method Grease a cake pan and line with parchment paper, and pre-heat your oven to 350 F. In a big bowl, mix almond powder, spices (if using), baking powder and flour and slightly whisk using a hand whisk to combine. Keep aside. In another bowl, add the chopped plums and sprinkle 1 tsp sugar along with zest and juice of lemon. Mix to coat plums with the sugar and lemon, and keep aside. Make sure you keep a few plums to top the cake. So keep a few pieces aside. In a third bowl, add powdered sugar, yogurt/sour cream, eggs, oil and vanilla and beat to incorporate everything together. You can use an electric whisk to mix too. Use it at a moderate speed for about 3-4 minutes or till you see a light fluffy mix with tiny bubbles. Add the sugar and lemon coated plums to the dry flour mix and combine gently. Pour the wet mix into the flour and plum mix, folding the plums into the wet mix slowly and gradually. Now, pour it into the prepared cake pan. Top it with the remaining plums and some flaked almonds, and bake it for 50 to 55 minutes or until a tooth pick inserted comes out clean. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes and then let it cool on a wired rack for another 10 minutes. Dust some powdered sugar on top for beauty! Note: To make this cake eggless, you can use up to 1/4 cup thick yogurt or sour cream and 1/2 tsp baking soda along with the baking powder. Although texture doesn't turn out exactly the same, the taste nonetheless is great.

Jump to Recipe | Watch highlights on Instagram Rajma-Chawal, red kidney beans cooked the Indian way and served with steaming hot rice. Too cliché to add on a food blog in this age? If you google rajma chawal, you'll find at least a dozen odd recipes for this quintessential North Indian favourite food, and about ten of those will give you an idea of how to make it. There will be finer differentiating nuances for sure, but the ingredients and the process will largely remain the same. Why am I writing about it then? This is for S, my husband who will eat a bowl of rajma chawal any day of the year. This is for the memories of Auntie A and her kitchen in Bombay where she taught me to make rajma chawal in a very Punjabi way. This is for that girl I was, growing up on the hot humid coasts of India, where rajma is not sought after like in the north, and beaming with delight every time mother made it, which was rare. This is to document my homestyle method of making rajma chawal. This is for my fellow nomenclature-nerd and rasam guru, Deepa of Paticheri fame who asked me for a good rajma recipe a while ago. And, this is for the food stories I tell. A minimal ingredient dish but time consuming nevertheless... Like many recipes that rely on pantry staples, rajma masala also follows suit. But, it isn't a dish that gets done in a jiffy. Contemporary instant pots and whatnots will tell you otherwise, but unless you pre-soak and boil the beans first, make an onion tomato base that's slow cooked and done to perfection and let the beans simmer in this base at length, your rajma will not taste great. It's "high-maintenance" that way, although it's extremely forgiving when it comes to spices. You can surely make a delicious rajma without garam masala or whole spices of any kind. The usual suspects coriander, cumin, chilies, ginger, garlic and turmeric will do. But they all have to be cooked slowly, and prolonged, with the onions and tomatoes. You will be rewarded at the end of all the grind with the creaminess of the beans balanced with all the spices and the acid of the tomatoes! Your patience will pay off, I assure! Rajma Chawal: A warm blanket on a cold day Living in Canada and watching the Indian diaspora on social media, I have come to realize that often, if not always, cooking rajma chawal seems momentous. Back in India, where the dish originates, although thoroughly loved, cooking rajma at home is roz ka khana, everyday food that's popular in the kitchens of North Indian homes, especially in Delhi and further north including Punjab, Himachal Pradesh, Jammu and Kashmir and the lower hilly areas of Kumaon and Garhwal in Uttarakhand, from where S belongs. It's logical that the bean dish is popular in cooler climates as one burns more calories in cold temperatures and the creamy bean dish suffices. Unsurprisingly, it was never a staple at my place in Odisha (east coast of India) or on the western coast and the south (where I lived and worked for many years) where the climate is hotter and wetter. A few morsels of history... Although rajma masala is celebrated as a desi, Indian cuisine, dish, the bean itself originated in Mexico and Peru, and arrived first on the coasts of India (where the bean is not so popular) with the many European merchants and travellers in the 15th and 16th centuries. This put me on a trail to understand how rajma ended up in the hills of North India. Ancient Indian texts don't mention the bean at all because it wasn't available in India until the Columbian exchange of the 15th and 16th centuries. Many ingredients that are run-of-the-mill in Indian food today, like potatoes, tomatoes, chilies and more, came with the Portuguese who brought these from the the New World and brought them into vogue in the sub-continent where they colonized ports like Goa and Mangalore. The kidney bean is also believed to have followed this route. But Aditi Natasha Kini's recent article on Eater helped me gain a new perspective. She mentions: It is possible that the bean made it up through the cattle caravan routes to the Mughal Empire in the north — but the recipe for rajma masala doesn’t really crop up until as recently as around 130 years ago, says culinary archaeologist Kurush Dalal. Dalal thinks it’s unlikely the kidney bean was traded by the Portuguese, even if they ate it themselves, because it is not mentioned in medieval Indian texts. “There is evidence that the French brought the rajma bean from Mexico to Pondicherry,” he tells me, calling the French the “best conduit.” Rajma Masala: A fruit of age-old globalization Many will argue that rajma masala is India's own take on the foreign kidney bean. I don't fully agree with this. At its heart, the Indian style rajma isn't a far cry from the Mexican bean chilli except the spices, if I look at the overall method and broad taste spectrum. Food never travels in isolation, and I find it hard to believe that the kidney bean would have travelled alone with the French and Portuguese to India without a backstory of the bean chilli. Upon its arrival in India, the kidney bean preparation brought the Indian spices and the Asian-originated onion into its fold while keeping its native American chilies and tomatoes intact. What we love as desi rajma chawal today has roots in far-off central and south America. No wonder a lot of Mexican food feels close to home and generates that feeling of comfort for many Indians living abroad. Globalization isn't a new phenomenon. It has been around for centuries, shaping our food, culture and lifestyles, bringing us closer in ways our ancestors would possibly have never imagined. We have more similarities between people and their practices from other cultures than we may think and acknowledge. Some memories sway along... Growing up, rajma was not common at my place as I mentioned earlier. On nights when I saw mother soak up rajma in a bowl, I knew the next day would be a happy one. I could anticipate the smells that would waft from the pressure cooker, and I knew I would be impatient to eat it, just how my friend Sanskriti describes in her rajma chawal story. I love rajma chawal as much as I love my fish-and-rice. Many will find this comparison bizarre. But it's true! My mom would often say while serving me extra ladles of rajma masala over my plate of rice, "There's a secret Punjabi inside you. Some day you will find that match I feel." She wasn't too far from her prediction. As an adult, I landed up living with a Punjabi lady, Auntie A, my then land lady whose rajma chawal was impeccable. While mother made the entire recipe in the pressure cooker, just the way she made mutton curry, Auntie taught me the classic Punjabi style two-step process: boil the rajma in a pressure cooker and simmer it in masalas in a kadai or wok. The many forms of rajma masala... There are different ways of making rajma masala. For example, the Kashmiris will use yogurt instead of tomatoes, the Himachalis will often make it into a madra (a yogurt based dish made usually with legumes), the Punjabis will make it with onions and tomatoes almost always and add coriander and red chilli powders generously, the Kumaonis and Garhwalis will use Himalayan wild mountain spices instead of the garam masala and use less spices than the Punjabis. What I describe here is a Punjabi recipe for rajma masala, which often gets marketed as North Indian rajma across India as well as outside. On the plate... To serve, you can dress up any basic salad, and have some pickle on the side optionally. I particularly enjoy it with sliced red onions or radish pickled with beet root. Hot steamed rice is a must although many people enjoy it with rotis too. I usually like to have it with roti the next day when the gravy thickens even more. Pro Tip There is one, and only one thing, (wait two actually!) to ensure a tasty rajma masala — 1. caramelize and brown the onions very well along with the spices, 2. boil the rajma well such that the bean smudges when pressed between fingers yet holds its shape. Onions must have a golden brown colour before you add the tomatoes! The oil must float on the sides of the masala getting done in the wok. There's no short cut to this process, and if you really want your gravy to amalgamate with the beans, you must be patient and cook your base gravy well! Chop the onions very fine, as fine as you can! Or even better, grate them! Or have half of your onions grated and half chopped fine. You may grind the onions in a blender although I wouldn't recommend it. This takes away from the texture of the final dish. You may used pureed tomatoes though. Otherwise chop/grate them. Canned beans won't taste the same as soaked and boiled ones. Get good quality rajma, soak them overnight, drain the water and boil them. The pahadi rajma varieties cook faster than the others, and need a shorter soaking time too. A pressure cooker or instant pot will fasten the boiling process. Don't throw off the water in which the rajma is boiled!! Use it later to add water to the gravy. It has all the deliciousness of the bean. Note The garam masala used in this recipe is the North-Indian kind. It has coriander (2 tbsp), cumin (1 tbsp), black cardamom (1), green cardamom (2-3), cinnamon (1-inch), bay leaves (1-2), cloves (4-5) and peppercorns (5-6), mace (2 strands) and sometimes for extra spiciness (2-3) dry red chilies, dry roasted and then ground to a powder with a pinch of salt. Recipe Did you check the pro tip? Ingredients 1 cup (about 200 gm) rajma or red kidney bean To boil rajma: 2.5 to 3 cups, (optional:julienne ginger and tiny pinch of cumin powder. If you do this, you may want to reduce the ginger in the ginger garlic paste) For the masala: 1 tbsp ghee + 2 tbsp oil or 3 tbsp oil 1 tsp cumin seeds 1 tbsp ginger-garlic paste (1-inch ginger and 5-6 cloves pounded or grated) *If your red chilli powder isn't spicy, chop a green chilli and pound with ginger garlic 1 large or 2 medium sized red onions, chopped fine/grated 1 tsp turmeric powder 1 tsp red chilli powder 1 tsp coriander powder 1 large or 2 medium tomatoes, chopped fine/grated/pureed 1/2 tsp Punjabi (or any other North Indian style) garam masala 2 tsp salt or to taste Coriander leaves and stems freshly chopped Method Soak rajma in water overnight or for at least 4-6 hours. Then wash the rajma and drain the water. Boil the rajma in a pressure cooker with a pinch of salt for 20 minutes. This will be about 4-5 whistles depending on your pressure cooker. After the first whistle on a medium high flame, turn the heat to low-medium and cook the rajma for 20 minutes. If using an instant pot, cook on high pressure for 30 minutes. When the rajma is done, you can literally smell it from the cooker/pot. That's when you know it's ready. Take the pressure cooker off heat but don't open it yet. Let the steam escape on its own. Same applies to instant pot. While the rajma is getting boiled, start making the gravy. Heat oil/ghee in a wok or large pan which is deep enough, and then add cumin seeds. Once the seeds sizzle, add the ginger garlic paste and sauté for 10 seconds. Then add the onions and continue sautéing for the next 12-15 minutes on medium heat. The onions will start turning golden brown now with some oil oozing on the side. Add the turmeric, red chilli powder, coriander powder and some salt in that order, and mix everything. Keep sautéing in between patiently for the next 10-12 minutes. To ensure no burning, keep splashing water if needed and de-glaze the wok/pan and scrape any spices sticking to the bottom. Add the tomatoes now and stir to combine. Now let the tomatoes cook on medium heat. As soon as you add tomatoes, the wok will automatically get de-glazed. Once the tomatoes start wilting, add garam masala, mix and then cover and cook on low to medium heat to ensure that tomatoes are fully done. Open and check the doneness of the masala. Oil should be releasing on the sides and you should have a thick consistency of the gravy. Open the pressure cooker/instant pot. Now add the boiled rajma along with the water to the gravy in the wok. Stir and taste the salt. Adjust salt if required. Bring everything to a boil and then leave it to simmer on low heat for 7-10 minutes. Using the back of a ladle, crush some of the rajma (only some) to give a homelike thick consistency to the gravy. Turn off heat, add the chopped coriander leaves with stems and let the rajma sit in the pot/pan covered for at least 10 minutes before serving. Don't forget to get the rice ready on the side. Serve hot and enjoy!

#rozkakhana series Jump to recipe This clear soup made with white winter radish is quite an unheard story in the culinary scene of Odisha unlike the other more famous ones like dalma. Made with a bare minimum ingredients, this radish soup called as moola chaaru in Odia is a common preparation in the home kitchens of southern Odisha, particularly in the Ganjam district. Moola means radish and chaaru means the soupy water, the part chaaru being borrowed from the neighbouring state of Andhra Pradesh which most likely inspired the preparation of chaaru pani (soupy spicy water) in Odisha. Chaaru in Telugu, saaru in Kannada, rasam in Tamil are the various names of clear soups made in the different southern states of India including Andhra Pradesh, Telangana, Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala. Whether paired with rice or sipped as a soup, chaaru is a bowl of comfort for me and an instant relief for my clogged sinuses when temperatures plummet. Although a rasam or chaaru is perhaps best described as a soup, I tend to think they're more than just boiling broths spiced and soured for adding taste. I say this because someone who has never made or tasted a rasam or chaaru will perhaps interpret it as such, and my aim is to not let that happen! To understand what this soup is, it's important to get a grip of it's layers as my mother emphasized when I had first asked her the recipe for chaaru. Anatomy of a rasam or charu... Although rasams, chaarus and saarus are usually clubbed under the umbrella term rasam, all these soups somewhat have an individuality of their own which may not always be pinpoint. Having said that, I also understand while each is a league of its own, the fundamental behind the three is common. Or perhaps that is how I have understood it over the years. Using this theory, I'll try to lay a simplified process here describing how the different layers of flavour and texture are built in these clear soups of southern India. There's usually some seasonal vegetable, fruit or greens which is a central ingredient in the soup favoured for its medicinal or healing properties. For example, white radish in this recipe aids in digestion, fights cough and cold, boosts immunity owing to its richness in nutrients, especially vitamin C and falls in the winter root vegetables repertoire. The central ingredient is then cooked or mixed with souring agents and water but no overcooking is encouraged. Many rasam and chaaru recipes will call forth the water drained from boiling dals (split beans or legumes) or even use some amount of dal in them. The moola chaaru made in Odisha here does not use dal although I'd not mind divulging from the usual and boosting some nutrients by adding dal sometimes. Now, there are myriad of souring agents like tomatoes, tamarind, limes, yogurt, Indian gooseberry, pineapple and whatnot to prepare rasams! In this recipe, the white radish is boiled with tamarind, turmeric and salt, and the mildly sweet flavours of the radish mingle with the sourness of tamarind. Some rasams may not need a souring agent as the central fruit or vegetable is sour enough. No other broth is added to thicken the soup because rasams or charus are supposed to be light, watery and usually see-through soups. However, the ones made with dal will be slightly thicker in consistency than the clear ones. Once the broth is simmering and the central ingredient, radish in this case, has turned tender, a seasoning of spices is done as the top note. While this may seem like a step to enhance taste, it's purpose isn't only that. Tempering in Indian cooking closely follows the doctrines of Ayurveda that describe the anti-inflammatory nature of spices and how spice flavours dissolve in fats. So, adding a spicy seasoning in the soup ensures a flavour packed medicinal layer. Adhering to this, many recipes also include specific rasam or saaru podis, spice blends that are premade. The Odia chaaru pani... The word pani (water) in the Odia version of the Andhra chaaru intrigued me early on, and on asking mother why the additional word, she explained that chaarus in Odisha tend to be rather watery and clear, and thus dals are generally not favoured in the recipes. A similar example in the Andhra cuisine is perhaps Mamidikaya Majjiga Pulusu, a summer soup made with mangoes in a broth of yogurt. The Andhra pulusu which bears a resemblance with Tamil kuzhambu is similar to the Odia kanji, especially the ones made with yogurt called dahi kanji. Crossing many parallel lines and influenced from the bordered cuisines, we can safely say that Odia food in its south-eastern realm adopted the tanginess and soupiness of the Andhra chaaru along with its name but chose to give it a new identity with its own seasoning. Unlike the southern states where distinct podis are often used for rasams, chaarus and saarus —I know cooks who have precise directions to use podis and will not do otherwise— in Odisha, there aren't native spice blends to flavour the chaaru pani. The famed paanch-phoron, a combination of mustard, cumin, fennel, fenugreek and nigella seeds, along with whole dried red chilies rule the norm. Garlic and curry leaves are often added into this seasoning while the souring agents range from tamarind, mango kernels, tomatoes, yogurt to many more. Since Odia cuisine tends to have a no-onion-garlic version for almost every dish, the garlic is replaced with asafoetida in the chaaru pani seasoning by those who want it garlic free. On mother's specific instructions... Mother is quite flexible with trying new things in the kitchen but surprisingly she will not budge on certain spices and techniques. For example, when I moved to Canada, I found red radish to be common in the markets as opposed to white radish. When I consulted her how red radish would taste instead of white in the moola chaaru, she was quick to retort, "It's peppery and sharp in taste opposed to the white radish. I'd rather add it alongside other vegetables and add some jaggery with tamarind to balance the flavours. Just the way a phala kanji is made." I'm after all her daughter — I had to do things my way, so I tried it with the red radish and understood her stance! When I found rather giant radishes here at the start of winter this year, I knew a fact-finding was on its way. Indian radish is much smaller and narrower in structure. The ones we find here are Daikon, a Japanese radish which is grown in many Asian countries. Mother was familiar with this variety, and advised that rather than slicing them round, I cut them up into thin triangles. Not too thin that they loose their shape while being boiled and not too thick how we add them in dals or gravies. The sequence of the spices in the seasoning is crucial. Although mustard oil is beloved in Odia cooking, mother suggests not letting its pungency affect the tone of the chaaru. Use any oil that's neutral in fragrance. First to be added in the hot oil are chilies and we let them swell and infuse their flavour in the fat. Next to go in is the paanch-phoron, and as soon as the seeds change colour and crackle, the curry leaves are added. The last is garlic which is pounded or asafoetida, and before things burn the spiced oil is dunked in the chaaru. Pro Tip To get the best out of this chaaru, slice the radishes nice and thin and let them boil and be cooked through before you do the tempering. Follow the sequence as I've mentioned above. It's a very simple recipe and I know some who often don't understand what's the fuss about this chaaru. It's just spiced tamarind water with radish floating in it after all. Although I'd say the simplest of things are the most joyous, and also the most underrated! Recipe Did you check the pro tip? Ingredients For the chaaru 1 and 1/2 cup thinly sliced white radish (roughly 2 medium sized radishes or a quarter of a large Daikon) 4 cups of water a lime sized ball of tamarind, soaked in water and juice extracted 1/2 tsp turmeric Salt to taste For the seasoning: 1 tbsp neutral oil 2-3 dried red whole chilies 1 tsp paanch-phoron (mustard+cumin+fennel+fenugreek+nigella seeds) 3-4 cloves of garlic pounded 4-5 curry leaves Method In a pot, boil the radish slices along with water, salt, turmeric and tamarind water. Bring it to a boil and continue boiling for 20 to 30 minutes or until the radish is tender. Once the radish is soft and cooked, switch off the heat. In a tadka pan, heat oil and then add the dried red chilies. Let the chilies smoke and puff up and then add the panch-phoron, crushed garlic and curry leaves. Let everything sizzle and then pour this tempering on the soup that has simmered in the pot. Cover immediately and boil for 4-5 minutes again for the flavours to combine. Switch off the heat, stir and serve hot! Drink it or serve it as the first course in a meal of dal, rice and side greens or stir fries. Enjoy!

#rozkakhana series Jump to Recipe I'm the kind of people who usually eat fruit as it is. The surplus, if any, makes its way to preserves or desserts, and something like a pulissery or fajeto at times. This summer, it was rasbhari, cape gooseberry, and for the first time I made a rasam out of it. I wanted something beyond my usual chutney, pie and salad. You will find them here and the recipe of the chutney here. For the rasam, I'd like to give you a bit of backstory first. My memories of cape gooseberries are minimal but conspicuous, and my fascination for them, ever perpetual. Adorned with their natural delicate wings, these gooseberries are native to Peru, and I talk more about their origins in the chutney post. This post is centered around their taste, the juice or the essence they hold, their rasa, the extract and flavour as the Rig Veda describes rasa. I mentioned I rarely make a rasam, a tangy sour toned soup or broth, from fruits. It's because when a fruit is that delicious such as a cape gooseberry (and so easy to pop into the mouth), then why change anything about it? But, with a surplus at hand, it struck me. It was in the name: Ras-bhari Ras-am. I had to delve into the rasa between the two. A few days back, Deepa, my rasam guru and inspiration to go beyond the face value of rasam, who also pens her many sorceries at Paticheri, shared her thoughts about the correlation of Natya Shastra's rasa theory to culinary offerings through the medium of rasa vadai. This drew me closer to the 'experience' that rasa is deemed to be. While the Rig Veda relates rasa to seasoning or flavour, relating it to soma or life juice, cow's milk or water, the Atharva Veda expanded its meaning to include taste. The Upanishads further added the symbolic perspective of essence to the concrete meanings of rasa. Natya Shastra, elevates the concept of rasa to a whole new level, weaving bhava (an emotional state or mood) and rasa (the sentiment that the demonstrator of bhava manifests) to create the rasa theory which is so central to Indian aesthetics including all forms of art. According to Bharata, the actor-dancer should be able to elicit the rasa experience in the audience through the stahyi bhava or permanent emotion, which is supported by the determinants (vibhava) and stimulants (anubhava). These are further elaborated upon through different transitory states of mind. Considering everything is in sync and the act is rendered alright, the spectator receives these emotions which awake specific sentiments in the spectator's mind. However, what's worth noting is that everyone may not be able to experience this. To be able to recognize or receive the rasa, meaning experience the aesthetic rendering, or the essence, the spectator should be a rasika, someone who is sensitive to artistic experiences. In terms of food, think about the taster. Not everyone tastes the same food in the same ways. What's salty for me could be perfect for someone else. The rasa theory underlines the significance or success of the experience on the spectator as much as the demonstrator or creator. How much of it can we equalize when we think about the food we cook and serve to others or vice versa? But before that, let's look at how the rasa theory describes the final outcome of an aesthetic or artistic experience. The rasanubhuti or experiencing the essence, is further expounded as a total transformation of the small and individual into the vast and divine. Tapasvi Nandi rounds this up in his research paper, Rasa-Theory: A Catholic Application, "In short, this theory of art sets itself to explain an experience, involving total personality of the enjoyer including the intellectual, it is a take off from the earth and landing into the Divine; it is a flight from the region of 'the earth earthy' to the region of 'the air airy'; it is a growing of the corporeal 'I' into the cosmic consciousness 'I'." Moving into the aspect of rasa and its connection to a state which is unworldly, I find Richard Shusterman's insights on rasa and the delight of aesthetic experience in The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, very interesting. Rasa, the essence or the experience from an artistic offering, which can also include food although cooking need not necessarily be thought as an art form, is often described as 'alaukika', extraordinary, away from our familiar world. Shusterman points out that the ultimate rasa though described as non-ordinary is an intensification, refinement and reshaping of our everyday feelings from our ordinary life. His pragmatic approach to art celebrates the values of experience, affect, and pleasure while insisting that aesthetic pleasures can also be earthy and sensual, closely relating our worldly existence and exigencies. This Rasbhari Rasam draws closely on pragmatism, or what Shusterman refers as pragmatic aesthetics, where rasa is not transcendental but related to our worldly needs — managing surplus cape gooseberries in my case—and appetites. When applied to our everyday culinary practices, this seems logical. No? Now going back to the question about the significance of the taster or the person who eats the food, pragmatism answers much of it. We're not always seeking unusually enhanced flavours or praises from people who eat our food, although these are all complimentary outcomes. More often than not, we're also seeking ways to utilize ingredients and appease our needs in the kitchen or just our frame of mind on the day, a sense of fulfillment which I feel is a rasa in its own regard. As far as this rasam, it was delicious, flavourful-much! Made in a similar way as the thakkali (tomato) rasams bereft of podis, tempered with the usual mustard seeds, curry leaves, dry red chilies, it had a sweet-tart profile and left me with a feeling of wanting more—that I wasn't expecting—while satiating those taste buds and olfactory senses. That last bit is what truly makes it a rasam as the #rasamseries has taught me and also ties it to rasa theory's 'alaukika' perhaps. So, it's not just in the name after all. Ras-bhari Ras-am goes deeper into the realms of extracting the juice from our usual summer gooseberries, finding ways to apply same old techniques to new ingredients and discovering flavour contours in our mundane foods. Yes, rasam is run-of-the-mill like the humdrums of #rozkakhana which subtly aligns with the theory of rasa and evokes that indescribable feeling at the end of a meal. Recipe Ingredients For the herb and spice blend: ⅓ cup coriander with both stems and leaves 7 to 8 garlic cloves 1-inch ginger 2 tsp cumin seeds ¼ tsp black peppercorns For cape gooseberry puree: 1 and 1/2 cup - 2 cups of cape gooseberries, wings removed and washed For the rasam: 1 tbsp oil (untoasted sesame seed oil or peanut oil or sunflower oil) ½ tsp black mustard seeds ½ tsp husked, split or whole urad dal 1 - 2 dry red chillies 1 generous pinch of asafoetida (heeng) 1 sprig of curry leaves ¼ tsp turmeric powder 1 and 1/2 tsp salt or as needed 1-2 cups water or add as required 2 tbsp chopped coriander leaves Method Take all ingredients mentioned under the herb and spice mix in a blender and make a paste. Keep aside. Crush the washed cape gooseberries in a bowl using clean hands making a coarse paste or make a paste in the blender. I like the texture of hand-crushed tomatoes and berries in rasam but you may use the blender if you prefer that. Heat oil in a pot and add the mustard seeds. Let them crackle and then add urad dal. Keep stirring until the dal changes colour taking care to not burn them. Now add the dry red chilies and asafoetida. Stir and let the chilies change colour and then add the herb and spice paste along with curry leaves. Note: Maintain low to medium heat. If you feel things are burning, switch off the heat for a while! Sauté until you can smell the fragrance! Add turmeric and stir to combine. Now add the cape gooseberry paste and sauté for about a minute. Add water and then add salt. You may add more water, but too much water may dilute the flavours. So judge accordingly! Mix and wait until the rasam comes to a boil on a medium-low heat. Let it simmer for about 10 minutes. Switch off the heat and taste. Add more salt if needed and stir again. Sprinkle chopped coriander leaves and serve hot with rice or drink as is!

JUMP TO RECIPE PRINT THE RECIPE I think biryani needs no introduction. If you haven't heard of it before for any reason, I can fairly assume that you wouldn't know about the country named India! Biryani for India is synonymous to what pizza is for Italy or what sushi is for Japan. The archetypal Indian cuisine is incomplete without the mention of biryani, a concoction of rice, meat or vegetables and spices, artfully assembled and cooked in just right amount of fat. The fat—typically ghee (clarified butter) or a combination of ghee and oil—is what binds all the ingredients together. Too much fat, and the rice has a heavy coating of ghee or oil. Too less of the fat, and the rice grains would get sticky. Ironically, none of these—rice, meat, vegetables or oil—are the harbingers of biryani. The cardinal elements of a biryani are its spices—usually whole and sometimes ground—and floral waters. Bay leaf, clove, cardamom, cinnamon, peppercorns, nutmeg, mace, caraway seeds, saffron, rose or kewda water are used in varying proportions in different kinds of biryani in India, not to mention the variations in the kind of rice and meats as well as vegetables. This recipe is an aromatic blend of mushrooms (khumbi in Hindi) with long grained rice. More inclined towards a meat biryani, I started cooking vegetarian biryani roughly five to six years back. I thank my curiosity and love for food for exploring the history of biryani that helped me dismiss 'vegetable biryani' as an oxymoron. This was nifty when I introduced jackfruit, mushrooms, eggplants, fenugreek leaves, potatoes and even chickpeas and black lentils into my vegetarian husband's biryani experience, who had only eaten assorted vegetables and paneer biryani until we met. The Mughlai biryani is an age-old food preparation dating back to the reign of Mughals in India. Drawing from the Turkish pilafs and Persian traditions of beriyan (meaning frying) and later adopting the dumpukht style of cooking (slow fire cooking), the esteemed biryani as the world knows today was perhaps formalized in the Mughal bawarchi khanas (kitchens). Although the dumpukht style of making biryani is known to have started much later in Awadh, present day Lucknow. Several stories are fabled around how biryani was first introduced in the imperial kitchens, and most of them accredit Arjumand Bano Begum, more commonly known as Mumtaz Mahal—empress consort to Shah Jahan, the fifth Mughal emperor of India. There are other styles of biryani as well, like the Mappila biryani of Kerala which is believed to have evolved from a different school of culinary history, associated with Arab traders and the Malabar coast. Contrary to popular belief, no documentation mandates biryani to include only meat with rice meaning there's no doctrine that discourages using vegetarian ingredients with rice in a biryani. Nilanjan Hajra in Sahapedia eloquently explains the varieties of biryani mentioned in the 17th century Farsi manuscript, Nuskha-i-Shahjahani. The legendary book includes a biryani of paneer as well as fish in addition to biryani of meat, with no strict specification of any particular kind of meat. Considering the experiments done with our beloved biryani or zer beriyan in Farsi and no remarks on a final version, the evolution of biryani with its ingredients seems par for the course, thus justifying my eternal belief that a sabz biryani (vegetable biryani) or khumbi biryani (mushroom biryani) is as much real as a gosht biryani (meat biryani). The word biryani comes from the Persian word birinj which means rice and birian which means fried before cooking. I understand the Persian rice wasn't biryani, but we remained close to it in our nomenclature even after biryani was perfected in India. The soul of biryani is its rice, birian and its many layers. Layering is what sets a biryani distinctly apart from a pulao. It is the carrier of the flavours and the textures of the dish. It is indispensable in the creation of biryani. Beyond the rice, it's our creativity, our imagination, and our own understandings of biryani, and our relationship with food at large. Some will also argue that biryani cannot be vegetarian because it relies on elongated slow cooking, and meat fares best in this technique. Going by this argument, a chicken biryani is hoax! It cooks much (much) faster than mutton or beef. There are many vegetables which can be slowly cooked in dum like baby potatoes, small onions, jackfruit, small tender brinjals, carrots, cauliflowers and more. The cuts of the vegetables decide how long the vegetables will take to cook, and this is a universal truth. Remember why all vegetables are cut in similar sizes and shapes in a chorchori? Even when we don't add whole vegetables in a biryani, they can be partly cooked and added to the rice in a similar fashion as pre-cooked meat. And, don't we have both meat pulaos and biryanis? Then, why are we so hesitant to accept vegetarian biryani? Food is not a stagnant entity. It evolves and changes with time; it travels with people and gets re-created. If not, we wouldn't have different variations, not just in technique but also in taste, in biryanis across Lucknow, Hyderabad, Calcutta, Cuttack, Dindigul, communities like the Mappilas, to name a few. What should I know about this recipe before I proceed? From what I have learned over the years, there are two ways of cooking a biryani: kucchi biryani and pukki biryani. Kucchi biryani style of cooking entails adding layers of uncooked rice and marinated meat or vegetables in a thick bottom pan while pakki biryani requires partially cooking rice and meat or vegetables separately and then bringing them together in a heavy pot. Both methods have slow cooking as a common technique. This mushroom biryani uses the kucchi biryani style of cooking. Mushrooms inherently have a meat texture, although they do not taste like meat. Dodging between the plant and animal kingdom, mushrooms are consummate as a biryani ingredient, bringing the best of the vegetarian and meat worlds. I recommend using a variety of mushrooms opposed to a single kind when making a biryani as it helps to generate fuller and flavourful layers characteristic to a biryani. If not many, at least use two different varieties. Oyster, cremini, portobello, chantrelle and enoki mushrooms are great choices for a biryani. I suggest using enoki as one of the two varieties you opt in a biryani. Enoki when cooked becomes clumpy while still retaining its strands, giving the masala a dense and creamy texture. If you have never made biryani before or consider it a daunting task, here is a tip: always set aside your ingredients and keep everything in your hands' reach before you actually start cooking. I say from experience, it's the time to preset things that is longer in making biryani; the actual cooking involves a tightly covered pot slow cooking its contents! The magic of your biryani lies in your marination and layering. So, get organized and start off! Can I substitute meat or other vegetables in this recipe? You can certainly replace mushrooms with a meat or any other vegetable of your choice. Remember that mushrooms and vegetables cook faster than meat. So, you may need to work around the cooking time accordingly. Additionally, if you're using meat, use more raw onions and less caramelized onions in the marination. Since meat takes a longer time to cook, the onions will get roasted along with meat in due coarse of cooking time. Recipe Ingredients 2 cups of any rice that is not heavily fragrant of its own 3-4 medium sized onions sliced long (julienne cut): 3 and 1/2 onions for caramelization and 1/2 onion raw for marination of mushrooms 10-15 cashew nuts (optional) 1 cup coriander and mint leaves roughly chopped 2 tbsp oil 350-500 grams of mushrooms (A combination of oyster, cremini and enoki mushrooms is used in this recipe) To marinate mushrooms: 1 cup yogurt, 1 tsp each of turmeric, red chili powder, coriander, 1 inch ginger + 5 garlic pods+1 green chili pounded into a coarse paste, about 1/4 of the caramelized onions and the 1/2 raw sliced onions, salt to taste Few strands of saffron (1/4 tsp turmeric can be used as a substitute) Whole spices: 2 bay leaves, 8-10 cloves, 4 green cardamoms, 2 black cardamoms, 2-3 cinnamon sticks, 8-10 peppercorns, 2 star anise (optional), 1 tsp shahi jeera (cumin as substitute) Method Soak rice: Wash rice in several changes of water and soak it for at least 30 minutes. Caramelize onions and fry the nuts: In a cast iron dutch oven or a pot with heavy lid on medium heat, add oil, cashew nuts and onions. Sauté the onions until reddish brown. The nuts will turn golden. This should take about 10-15 minutes. Keep aside. Marinate the mushrooms: Wash the mushrooms and add yogurt, few caramelized onions, raw onions, turmeric, red chili powder, coriander, cumin, ginger-garlic and green chili paste, few coriander and mint leaves along with salt. Mix everything using your hands and keep aside for at least 30 minutes. Prepare the flavoured waters: Add the saffron to lukewarm water (you can also use milk) and keep aside. Add half of the whole spices to a sauce pan and then add water. The amount of water should be roughly a little more than double the amount of rice. For 1 cup of rice, take about 2 and 1/2 cups of water. Add a generous amount of salt and let it keep boiling while you cook the mushrooms. Make the biryani: In the same Dutch oven or pot that you used to memorialize the onions, add ghee and oil, remaining half of the whole spices and sauté till everything is fragrant. Add the marinated mushrooms and cook the mushrooms until half done. The mushrooms will ooze a lot of water. So, you'd need to cook until the gravy of the mushrooms appears thick and almost cooked. This should take about 10-12 minutes. Turn off heat, remove the mushrooms and keep aside. Switch off the boiling water. Layer the biryani: Drain the rice from the water. In the Dutch oven or pot, add a layer of rice in a circular motion through the vessel. This bottom layer will turn crisp and caramelize to give a good crunch to the biryani. Add a layer of mushrooms, again in a circular motion, covering the layer of rice. Add some caramelized onions, cashew nuts mint and coriander leaves. Repeat the layers of rice, mushrooms and onions so that the top layer is rice. Add some onions and cashew nuts on the top layer of rice. Add the saffron and spice flavoured waters. Cover and cook on low heat for 20 to 30 minutes or until the rice is soft and cooked completely. Turn off the heat, open and you will be transformed into a world of fragrances and a whole lot of love! The mushrooms would be tender and meaty, and the caramelized onions and nuts would lend that perfect sweet nuttiness! The saffron would have turned your biryani a hue of yellow and the whole spices would have done their magic by now. Serve with green chutney or a simple cucumber raita or just some salad. Enjoy! If you make this recipe, share your creation with me on Instagram! I'd love to know how you liked it. I like to heat the leftovers next day with splashes of water in a covered pan, and then place two boiled eggs on top! Try it if you like eggs. It's a combination that will win you over in a heartbeat.