Memories of Food 4

Idli


This morning I was wondering what it is about the idli that I dislike it so much. Is it the endless rounds of preparation? Soaking, grinding, fermenting and THEN cooking? Or is it the idli's inherent frailty as a dish to stand on its own? Its constant dependency on something more pungent to support it? Or is it the idli's inoffensive, non-threatening, bland nature that it's suitable only for those under 2 or anyone recovering from a particularly unpleasant illness? I don't know. All I know is that I have never taken a liking to the steamed rice cake - the English description doesn't quite fit, does it? A bit like Pattu mami in pant-shirt, not right at all!

And there's more. Idlis are fussy old things. No ordinary pans would do. It'd have to be a special perforated idli plate. And it has to be cooked only for so long. Any more or any less and it's a toss up between rock and raw batter for breakfast. Idlis remind me of that ugly cousin who insisted that the girl he marry meet a 101 conditions. You just want to ask him to shove it and get on with it!

And it doesn't stop there. There's this whole side-business of chutnies and sambar to accompany the idli. After all, you can't serve the idli on its own!

Yet, there I was on the first morning of a bank holiday weekend, soaking three portions of idli rice to one of whole ulutham paruppu. Adding a teaspoon of vendayam. Returning in the evening to grind them to a smooth, lump-free batter. Seasoning with salt and tucking the half-full pot into a corner in the boiler room. Waking up in the middle of the night to see if there was enough room in the pot for the batter when it doubles in volume. And wondering, not for the first time, why I even got started.

I'll spare you the rest of the agonising steps in this recipe. The end result was less than fluffy and would rate about 6 on a Saravana Bhavan idli scale. Still, when we stuffed our faces with idlis and molagapodi and washed it down with a glass of buttermilk, I sensed smug satisfaction spread all over my being. For a brief while, I felt like an ideal wife. One who feeds her family idli for breakfast, not dried cereal or worse, bread! I felt one with all my sisters back in India and elsewhere who follow the idli ritual every week. It was an inexplicably deep connection. I even resolved to ask my idli-making friends for tips on how to better the batter.

I would be lying if I said that I dislike the idli less now. My distaste for it remains just as strong. But an idli every six months or so shouldn't hurt. Unless I dropped it accidentally on my foot and broke it - the foot, not the idli.

Memories of food

Maggi

We had Maggi for dinner last night. I bet every Indian of a certain generation (ahem!) has a Maggi story to tell. It could be about a cousin who loved to eat raw Maggi or that cute child next door who resembled the Maggi girl from that 2-minute noodles advert. I remember when it was first launched in India. We were all given free samples at school and I brought mine home (my brother had eaten his share raw during lunch break). My mother demanded if it was vegetarian. If I was sure, absolutely, 100% certain and only after I had sworn on my sister’s life (better hers than mine!) she let it inside the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, the pack was opened, examined, its contents sniffed, inspected, held up against the sunlight and even passed through the x-ray machine. Finally, when it had cleared all of Pattu maami's stringent and demanding tests satisfactorily, the green signal was given. There was a tremendous sense of occasion as we watched Gomathy mami heat up a vaanali, pour a generous ladle of oil and throw in some mustard seeds, ulutham paruppu and kariveppilai. A minute later, finely chopped onions were added and sautéed. She poured some water, covered the pot and let it come to a boil. She paused for a moment debating whether or not to touch the offending noodles with her bare hands. She closed her eyes and sought pardon from the gods for what she was about to do. Then slid her hands inside the pack, brought out the brittle noodles and dropped them gingerly into the pot. You’d have thought we were at a Michael Jackson concert the way we jostled for a vantage point from which to view the noodles being cooked. They squiggled and wriggled and swam in the sauce. I was no longer sure that it wasn’t meat and looked at my sister on whose life I had sworn that it was vegetarian. She was alive and that could only mean I was right. I was relieved and returned my attention to where the action was.

Gomathy mami had turned off the hob and had spooned out the noodles into our quiveringly held plates. I scooped a spoonful and stuck a slippery eel of a noodle cluster into my mouth. The strings of noodles dangling outside my mouth were expertly sucked in. And this soon caught on as we each picked up a noodle strand and vacuumed them in. Gomathy mami and the rest of the household watched on with horrified fascination. How does it taste? Is it soft to the bite? What does it feel like as it worms its way down your throat? they demanded to know. But our vocabulary was not yet fully developed to descibe the wonders of instant noodles. So we nodded our heads and said that it was delicious.

Soon thereafter Maggi became a regular in the household and a few years later, I started cooking it myself. Often making inspired variations. Like adding a spoonful of sambar or eating it with mango pickle. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it flopped miserably. But for the first time, I found confidence in my cooking and realised that I wasn’t fussy when it came to food and was willing to try different combinations.

Last night’s dinner was delicious. Perhaps it was the addition of tender vegetables to the usual. Perhaps it was the Maggi stories we were sharing across the table. I cannot tell.

Pattu Mami makes Pachchai Morkuzhambu

A new series. Recipes by Pattu Mami.

Restaurants Against Hunger

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Veg Biriyani

This is my absolute favourite biriyani recipe. I came across this decadent rice dish in The Observer's Sunday magazine last year. It is labourious and the ingredient list is long but the results are well worth the trouble.



Cooking time - a long time
Serves - 4

You'll need

Green cardamoms - 12
Cinnamon stick - 1
Cloves - 6
Nutmeg shavings - a tsp
Fennel seeds - 1 tsp
Bay leaves - 3
Milk - 4 tbsp
Saffron - a large pinch
Rosewater - 4 tbsp (optional)
Ghee - 3 tbsp
Onions (medium-sized) - 3, sliced
Ginger-garlic paste - 1 tbsp
Tomato puree - 3 tbsp
Turmeric powder - 1 tsp
Garam masala - 1 tsp
Aubergines - 500 gms (cut into fat chunks)
Mushrooms - 400 gms (cut into fat chunks as well)
Basmati rice - 300 gms
Mint and coriander leaves - a large handful each
Flaked almonds - 3 tbsp
Paneer - 50 gms, cubed (optional)

Here's how to

1. Preheat oven to 220C/gas mark 7.
2. Put the first 6 ingredients - reserving half the cardamoms - into pan of 600 ml water. Bring to boil, turn of heat and allow to infuse. This is your savoury liquid.
3. Crush remaining cardamoms in a mortar and mix with milk, saffron and rose water (if using). This is the sweet liquid.
4. Heat a tbsp of ghee in a pan and fry onions till light brown. Set aside half of them and to the remaining half add ginger-garlic paste. Fry for a couple of minutes. Allow to cool and blend to a smooth paste.
5. Heat another tbsp of ghee, toss in the onion paste and fry on high heat for a minute or so before adding tomato puree, turmeric powder, garam masala and salt.
6. Slide in aubergine and mushroom chunks and let cook until they are soft (but not mushy). About 5 minutes or so.
7. In another pan, heat remaining ghee and fry the rice over a high heat. In a few minutes, when it's nice and shiny, strain half the savoury liquid into the pan. Bring to boil, reduce heat, cover and cook for about 6-7 minutes or until all the liquid has evaporated.
8. Now to assemble the dish. Put a layer of rice at the bottom of an ovenproof dish. Sprinkle some of savoury liquid and some of sweet liquid. Top with a layer of vegetable curry. Sprinkle some of fried onions, mint and coriander leaves. Repeat with another layer of rice. Dot with almonds. Keep repeating until everything is used up. Finish with a layer of curry.
9. Seal the dish with tin foil and cook biriyani for 40 minutes reducing heat to 190C/gas mark 5 after 20 minutes.
10. Serve hot with a sprinkling of fried paneer (if using). 

Pattu Mami makes Poli

Happy new year, everyone!

Quiche

Preparation time: 10 mins (with ready made dough)/30 mins (home-made)
Cooking time: 50 minutes

You'll need

For the base

Shortcrust pastry - 1 pack
or
Plain wholemeal flour - 1.5 cups
Butter - 6 tbsp
Salt a pinch

For the filling

Olive oil - 1 tbsp
Onion - 1, finely chopped
Diced vegetables (courgette, carrot, beans, peas, corn) - 2 cups
Egg - 1
Milk - 150 ml (2/3 cup)
Cheddar cheese, grated - 100 gms
Dried mixed herbs - 1 tbsp
Coriander - 1 tbsp, finely chopped
Salt to taste

Here's how to

1. To make the base, sift flour and salt in a bowl. Rub the cubes of butter in until the mixture looks like bread crumbs. Make sure there are no lumps. Add cold water gradually to form a soft dough. Knead lightly and chill for 30 minutes. This is your pastry base.
2. Heat oil in a pan and tip in onion. Saute for a couple of minutes until transparent. Add diced vegetables (carrot and beans first, saute for a couple of minutes and the rest later). Cook on low heat for about 10 minutes until vegetables are just tender (but not over-cooked). Toss in dried mixed herbs, season and stir well.
3. Preheat oven to 200C/Gas6. Roll out pastry and line a quiche tin or dish (8" diametre) or any round shallow oven-proof dish with it. Prick the pastry with a fork all over. Place a greaseproof paper on top (or simply use kitchen towel like I did) and weigh it down with baking beans (chana will do). Bake blind for 10 minutes.
4. Meanwhile, in a bowl beat the egg and milk together. Add the cheese and finely chopped coriander to it.
5. Remove partially baked pastry case from oven, get rid of the beans and spoon in the vegetables on top. Pour egg-milk mixture over it and bake for another 30 minutes at 180C/Gas4 or until the mixture is set. Slice and serve warm.

Carrot Courgette Spinach Fritters

Cooking time - 7 to 8 minutes

You'll need

Carrot - 1, medium-sized
Courgette - 1, medium-sized
Potato - 1, medium-sized
Spinach - 1 big handful
Lemon juice - a tsp
Cheddar cheese* - 2 tbsp, grated
Salt and pepper to season
Oil to shallow fry

Here's how to

1. Grate carrot, courgette and potato in a bowl. Sprinkle lemon juice to keep them from turning colour. Add grated cheese.
2. In a pan cook spinach leaves in a tsp of water. Cook covered for about 30 seconds until the leaves are wilted. Squeeze out and chop finely. Toss into vegetable bowl and mix well. But don't let them turn to mush. Season with salt and pepper.
3. Heat oil in a frying pan. Take a tablespoon of vegetable mixture, use another spoon to pack it in tight (or use your hands to pat into patties). Slide the little fritters into sizzling hot oil. Don't play with it as it tends to crumble easily. Cook for 3 minutes on one side before turning it over. Cook for another minute. Drain on paper towel. Serve hot.

*You can crumble some feta cheese instead of cheddar

No fuss Asparagus

Cooking time - 3-4 minutes

You'll need

A bunch of tender asparagus spears, trimmed
Extra virgin olive oil - a table spoon
Salt and pepper to taste

Here's how to

Drop the spears in lightly salted boiling water for about 3-4 minutes. Drain (but don't discard water as you can use it to cook dal), drizzle oil, season with salt and pepper. Enjoy.

Happiness is...

...a slice of juicy red watermelon with the pips spat out