tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-108109362024-03-07T10:07:05.134-08:00Chai paniMostly Indian.
Always Vegetarian.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-75852629593228533782017-04-26T01:52:00.001-07:002017-04-26T03:05:43.096-07:00Anbudan Gomathy Maami <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSGR1LCKY0FPgEzJFC6Au6e1xALg-3eT4_Z59bWWjFVD6PRDDlKuhUFprvUS458f_W1xsNEglrv1DuiLwlIOUCv-6bx1uwqIxpewB_hr30kgvR_X_r-47Yw9vyOfe_UqCNhAr/s1600/PC100116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSGR1LCKY0FPgEzJFC6Au6e1xALg-3eT4_Z59bWWjFVD6PRDDlKuhUFprvUS458f_W1xsNEglrv1DuiLwlIOUCv-6bx1uwqIxpewB_hr30kgvR_X_r-47Yw9vyOfe_UqCNhAr/s1600/PC100116.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gomathy maami<br />
with the maaladoos she<br />
made for me</td></tr>
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Gomathy maami or Komadhy maami as she was known in the neighbourhood is no more. They must have forgotten to mention her passing away to me and so, I was fully expecting to see her when she dropped by to call on us like she usually does when she found out that I was visiting.<br />
<br />
One time when she heard that I was in town, she had come by with a dabbaful of maaladoos, knowing well that that I would kill for one. I was so touched that she would take all the trouble and chatted with her at length and took down the recipe for it which then became a blog post which I have reposted below.<br />
<br />
Gomathy maami's husband Vishwanathan mama was a cook who'd cater for weddings and other functions and it was tough making ends meet. Maami started making bakshanam to supplement their family income and word of her talent spread and soon she was getting plenty of orders for murukkus and laddus. Maami and her three children, Viji, Meena and Balaji were a regular presence in my younger life and among my many abiding memories of her is the time when maami made Maggi for us for the very first time. You can read about my experience <a href="http://chaipani.blogspot.de/2007/07/memories-of-food.html?q=maggi" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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And once, when I was thirteen and got into a kerfuffle with my brother which ended with me getting a deep cut on my right eyebrow, it was Gomathy maami who took me to Royapettah Hospital to get it sewn up. I don't think that was part of her job description but she took on the role of an emergency carer with natural ease and willingness.<br />
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On my last visit, Gomathy maami came by our house and regaled me about her visit to Dubai where her son now lives. She talked about going to the top of Burj Khalifa and said <i>"ulagam paathachu Abhi, inime paakaradhukku onnume ille"</i>. I was amused that she thought that Dubai was the world and that there was little else left to see, but now I realise what she must have meant. Going to the top of one of the tallest buildings in the world and seeing as far as the eye can see, is a bird's eye view of the world and if she felt she'd seen the world, who can dispute that?<br />
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It was maami's daughter Viji who I was fairly close to when I was growing up, who broke the news to me. It seems she'd suffered a massive heart attack and had passed away within minutes. She had not lain sick for a single day and had worked till her end. She was only accepting small jobs as she no longer needed the money as her children were supporting her and she was very proud of what they had become.<br />
<br />
Years ago when a friend of ours was employing a cook for the family, she sat her down and had a heart-to-heart with her. She told the cook of the importance of her job, emphasising how she was more than just cooking for the family, that she was now feeding them, nourishing them. That it was important for her to include good thoughts while cooking and not just do it as a chore. That being a cook meant being a veritable Annapoorani for the family.<br />
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In many respects, Gomathy maami knew this instinctively and her heart was in the right place. Because when she cooked, maami served more than just food on the plate. She also served kindness and generosity of spirit. Gomathy maami will be deeply missed and not just for the delicious food she used to make.<br />
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Here is my post from December 2005<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Gomathy maami has beeen known to our family for decades. And no celebration in the family is complete without maami and her merry band of maamis pitching in.</span><br />
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The above photo was taken a few years ago when Gomathy maami & co. came around to make batchanams for my sister's wedding. It was at the height of Chennai summer and these women were working in front of smoking hot oil. I barely heard a grumble.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSGR1LCKY0FPgEzJFC6Au6e1xALg-3eT4_Z59bWWjFVD6PRDDlKuhUFprvUS458f_W1xsNEglrv1DuiLwlIOUCv-6bx1uwqIxpewB_hr30kgvR_X_r-47Yw9vyOfe_UqCNhAr/s1600/PC100116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>If you are in Chennai and looking for someone to make batchanam, I'd happily recommend Mrs. G. Do <a href="mailto:ammania@gmail.com" style="color: #009eb8; display: inline; outline: none; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.3s;">write to me </a>and I'll pass on her contact details.</div>
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This time when she learnt that I was in town, she came around with maaladoos to die for. This is her recipe.</div>
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<strong>Gomathy Maami's recipe for Maaladoo</strong><br />
<br />
You'll need<br />
<br />
Pottu kadalai* - 1 cup<br />
Sugar - 1.5 cups<br />
Cashews - 50 gms, roughly broken<br />
Ghee - 1/4 kilos<br />
Cardamom pods - 6, seeds removed and powdered<br />
<br />
Here's how to<br />
<br />
1. Grind pottu kadalai to a fine powder<br />
2. Grind sugar to a powder (it's important that you do steps 1 and 2 separately)<br />
3. Heat 1 tbsp of ghee in a small pan and fry cashews till golden brown<br />
4. Mix the powders together, throw in the cardamom and cashews and mix thoroughly. Now add the rest of ghee gradually until it reaches a consistency where you can comfortably roll them into lime-sized balls<br />
5. Store in an air-tight container and it'll keep for up to 10 days<br />
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*what is pottu kadalai in English?</div>
</div>
ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-71269290623046192082017-04-25T09:01:00.000-07:002017-04-26T00:58:18.428-07:00What We Ate 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Year ago, I was travelling back from a friend's wedding in Kumbakonam when I stopped by Vennathankarai where my husband's aunt and his family lived. And there, under a flickering tube light, I was served the most delicious <a href="http://www.padhuskitchen.com/2013/11/poosanikkai-mor-kootu-recipe-ash-gourd.html" target="_blank">poosanikkai moarkootu</a>. It had eschewed the richness of yogurt for an unassuming gentleness of buttermilk which provided a fluid bed for the pumpkin cubes to float in. Ever since, any mention of that Periamma always brings her poosanikkai moarkootu to mind.<br />
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On my last trip to India I had several memorable meals and each one has a little story behind it that I thought I'd jot them down while the taste is still fresh in my mind. One of the earliest meals on this trip was dined under the stars. I hosted a dinner for my friends from school at my in-laws' house and at their suggestion, we moved to the breezy terrace for food. And it turned out to be a great idea. All the food was laid out in the middle and we sat around it on mats and served ourselves under bright moonlight (granted, the streetlights took away some of the shine). There was plenty of laughter and stories that were exchanged, as you would expect when a group of childhood friends get together. There was much cheer for one of us who has just got her doctorate degree and was planning an official trip abroad. Others battling teenagers and looming school final exams got a chance to share their concerns.<br />
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It was also decided that we go beyond just meeting and eating (though that is important too) but instead focus on some projects that needed help - both monetary and otherwise. Questions were raised and ideas discussed while Appam and kurma was being consumed and a plan of action was formulated over thayir saadam. </div>
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These were friends with whom I have had nearly every school day lunch. We were girls who opened our lunch dabbas in unison and examined its contents and expressed combined exasperation (what?? thayir saadam again!!) for several years. Sharing a meal is nothing new to us. The food might be new but the friendship goes a long way back. </div>
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Here's what we ate:</div>
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Homemade gulab jamun and <a href="http://mamikadai.com/MANOGARAM" target="_blank">manogaram</a></div>
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Kichdi with chutney and sambar</div>
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Appam with kurma and thengai paal</div>
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Bonda</div>
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Thayir saadam with mambazham and moar milagai</div>
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Assortment of chips, sweets and savouries</div>
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ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-88391822021438046532017-04-06T09:00:00.001-07:002017-04-06T10:24:02.516-07:00Memories Of Food 5<p dir="ltr">As I learn German I am reminded increasingly of its similarity to Tamizh. Neither language has a large vocabulary and instead relies on ingeniously combining words that describe the noun in question. Take for example 'Handschuh' which breaks down as 'hand shoe', in other words 'glove'. There are countless such examples.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Tamizh often creates nouns out of verbs that describe the noun in action. Tamizh grammar calls them 'kaaranappeyar' or 'names with a reason behind them'. Such as 'valayal' which means 'the one that is curved' ie 'bangle'. Or 'vaththal' which stands for 'the parch dried one' ie a kind of sun dried condiment which is fried crisp before being served. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And it was while thinking about such karanappeyars that I suddenly remembered 'kazhu neer' which means 'washed water'. It was water that had been used to clean and wash rice and lentil. And in our house this water would be collected in an orange bucket which would be kept out of view, right at the back of the house. A handful of rock salt would be added to the fermenting liquid and given a stir every now and then. And on Fridays the bucket would be uncovered and its frothy contents offered to a lucky cow. </p>
<p dir="ltr">My rice these days is fairly clean and does not require much rinsing. And I had almost forgotten about <u>kazhuneer</u> but if there was a German word for it, it'd probably go 'Entwaschwasserung' or suchlike. Personally Kazhuneer conveys its pungency much better.</p>
ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-7392772924835277102017-03-30T02:31:00.001-07:002017-03-30T02:31:29.378-07:00Vegetarian Shepherd's Pie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZlRG_TyajCYJZOg7T5Qpz28YMiIA_FG5PcwukA3WdDF2dbnf0WMQ1okB6sOQk4PWWwYl2-15fD4ZrZQOijyysyeSybW409nHjWghMRFFi4BpT9AH3p8nONqJXs8NDoFzj439/s1600/20170329_165456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZlRG_TyajCYJZOg7T5Qpz28YMiIA_FG5PcwukA3WdDF2dbnf0WMQ1okB6sOQk4PWWwYl2-15fD4ZrZQOijyysyeSybW409nHjWghMRFFi4BpT9AH3p8nONqJXs8NDoFzj439/s400/20170329_165456.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please note the very casually placed, Bavaria-inspired, lederhosen & dirndl wearing man and woman oven gloves</td></tr>
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The recipe is inspired by Heidi's Swanson's <a href="http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/make-ahead-vegan-samosa-shepherds-pie-recipe.html" target="_blank">Vegan Samosa Shepherd's Pie</a>. I have customised to suit what I had lying around in my kitchen cupboard.<br />
<br />
I had some whole paasi paruppu which I'd soaked the morning and was planning to make dal out of. So I used that instead of the green split peas (are they the same?). Didn't have any coconut milk so didn't bother with it. Added sambar powder to the mash and didn't bother peeling the potatoes. I like the bite of pine nuts in an otherwise soft dal, so I tossed a few in. Other than it was much the same as the one mentioned on <a href="http://www.101cookbooks.com/" target="_blank">101cookbooks</a>.<br />
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<u>Ingredients</u><br />
<br />
Oil - 1 tbsp<br />
Cumin seeds - 1 tsp<br />
Whole Moong dal - a cup (soaked)<br />
Onion - 1, chopped<br />
Garlic - 1 clove, minced<br />
Green chillies - 1, finely chopped<br />
Garam masala - 2 tsp<br />
Tomatoes - 2, chopped<br />
Potatoes - 4-5 medium sized, cubed<br />
Turmeric powder - 2 tsp<br />
Sambar powder - 1/2 tbsp<br />
Pine nuts - 2 tsp<br />
Butter - 2 tsp<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>Recipe</u><br />
<br />
1. Bring a pot of water to boil, add a tsp of turmeric powder to it and drop cubed potatoes into it. Cook until potatoes are done. Drain and mash (no need to peel) with a sprinkling of salt and half-a-tablespoon of sambar powder.<br />
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2. Heat a table spoon of cooking oil (your choice, I use olive oil) in a pan and when hot, toss in the cumin seeds and a minute later, slide in the onions, garlic and green chillies. Cook until the onions are soft and now add the tomatoes and the (soaked and drained) moong dal to the mix. Add a tsp of turmeric, give it a stir, add about half-a-cup of water, cover and let cook until the moong dal is cooked (about 15 minutes).<br />
<br />
Add some more water if it's too dry. It should be somewhat of a gloopy, dal-like consistency and not too dry and sundal-like. Toss the pine nuts, sprinkle garam masala, season with salt, give it a stir and turn off the heat.<br />
<br />
3. Ease the dal mixture into a pie dish and spread evenly. Top it with the mashed potatoes and gently ease to cover over the dal, run lines with a fork, plop a dollop of butter here and there and cook in an over for about 25 minutes until the top is browned. </div>
ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-71923934611539854562007-08-27T05:44:00.000-07:002007-08-27T11:00:33.367-07:00Memories of Food 4<strong>Idli</strong><br /><br /><br />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!<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-5655545271446423422007-07-10T01:30:00.000-07:002017-04-06T10:26:46.424-07:00Memories of food 3<strong>Maggi </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-60673779207663991572007-04-27T02:13:00.000-07:002007-04-27T02:14:37.281-07:00Pattu Mami makes Pachchai MorkuzhambuA new series. Recipes by Pattu Mami.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TYUXDVKL070" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1173173291383747452007-03-06T01:24:00.000-08:002007-03-06T01:30:14.483-08:00Restaurants Against Hunger<p align="center"><a href="http://www.restaurantsagainsthunger.org/"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3249/488/320/963971/rah_logo.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br />A fabulous initiative. Why not join in?ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1169290236329637212007-01-20T02:24:00.000-08:002007-01-20T02:50:36.336-08:00Veg Biriyani<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3249/488/320/167/P1010126.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3249/488/160/403376/P1010126.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - a long time<br />Serves - 4<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Green cardamoms - 12<br />Cinnamon stick - 1<br />Cloves - 6<br />Nutmeg shavings - a tsp<br />Fennel seeds - 1 tsp<br />Bay leaves - 3<br />Milk - 4 tbsp<br />Saffron - a large pinch<br />Rosewater - 4 tbsp (optional)<br />Ghee - 3 tbsp<br />Onions (medium-sized) - 3, sliced<br />Ginger-garlic paste - 1 tbsp<br />Tomato puree - 3 tbsp<br />Turmeric powder - 1 tsp<br />Garam masala - 1 tsp<br />Aubergines - 500 gms (cut into fat chunks)<br />Mushrooms - 400 gms (cut into fat chunks as well)<br />Basmati rice - 300 gms<br />Mint and coriander leaves - a large handful each<br />Flaked almonds - 3 tbsp<br />Paneer - 50 gms, cubed (optional)<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 220C/gas mark 7.<br />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.<br />3. Crush remaining cardamoms in a mortar and mix with milk, saffron and rose water (if using). This is the sweet liquid.<br />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.<br />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.<br />6. Slide in aubergine and mushroom chunks and let cook until they are soft (but not mushy). About 5 minutes or so.<br />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.<br />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.<br />9. Seal the dish with tin foil and cook biriyani for 40 minutes reducing heat to 190C/gas mark 5 after 20 minutes.<br />10. Serve hot with a sprinkling of fried paneer (if using). <a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a> ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1167491865086828652006-12-30T07:16:00.000-08:002006-12-30T07:17:45.103-08:00Pattu Mami makes Poli<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TEn0DrCCq_Q"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TEn0DrCCq_Q" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />Happy new year, everyone!ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1162034232126115862006-10-28T03:54:00.000-07:002006-10-28T04:30:11.410-07:00Quiche<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P1010096.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P1010096.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Preparation time: 10 mins (with ready made dough)/30 mins (home-made)<br />Cooking time: 50 minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />For the base<br /><br />Shortcrust pastry - 1 pack<br />or<br />Plain wholemeal flour - 1.5 cups<br />Butter - 6 tbsp<br />Salt a pinch<br /><br />For the filling<br /><br />Olive oil - 1 tbsp<br />Onion - 1, finely chopped<br />Diced vegetables (courgette, carrot, beans, peas, corn) - 2 cups<br />Egg - 1<br />Milk - 150 ml (2/3 cup)<br />Cheddar cheese, grated - 100 gms<br />Dried mixed herbs - 1 tbsp<br />Coriander - 1 tbsp, finely chopped<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />4. Meanwhile, in a bowl beat the egg and milk together. Add the cheese and finely chopped coriander to it.<br />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.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1151754707048369462006-07-01T04:35:00.000-07:002006-07-01T04:55:23.650-07:00Carrot Courgette Spinach Fritters<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6250052.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="133" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P6250052.jpg" width="170" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 7 to 8 minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Carrot - 1, medium-sized<br />Courgette - 1, medium-sized<br />Potato - 1, medium-sized<br />Spinach - 1 big handful<br />Lemon juice - a tsp<br />Cheddar cheese* - 2 tbsp, grated<br />Salt and pepper to season<br />Oil to shallow fry<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Grate carrot, courgette and potato in a bowl. Sprinkle lemon juice to keep them from turning colour. Add grated cheese.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><br />*You can crumble some feta cheese instead of cheddar <a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"></a>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1151593927262218432006-06-29T08:10:00.000-07:002006-06-29T14:07:32.543-07:00No fuss Asparagus<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6240047.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P6240047.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 3-4 minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />A bunch of tender asparagus spears, trimmed<br />Extra virgin olive oil - a table spoon<br />Salt and pepper to taste<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />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. <a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"></a>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1150905156626073192006-06-21T08:47:00.000-07:002006-06-21T09:14:37.596-07:00Happiness is...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6070022.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P6070022.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">...a slice of juicy red watermelon with the pips spat out </span><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"></a>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1150904931520247212006-06-21T08:44:00.000-07:002006-06-21T12:04:53.066-07:00Happiness is...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6180029.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 159px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 139px" height="217" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P6180029.jpg" width="236" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">...a panful of sizzling golden masal vadai </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><em>Let us hear about your ideas of happiness. Take it forward!</em>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1150477517135643862006-06-16T09:51:00.000-07:002006-06-17T08:57:37.846-07:00What I miss most about my mother's cooking<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6070017.jpg"></a><p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6070017.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 189px" height="306" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P6070017.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>Thanks, <a href="http://srefoodblog.blogspot.com">Shyam</a> for the meme. I have to list 10 things I miss most about my mother's coooking. And I could not get beyond one. You see, we always had a <em>maami</em> at home and as with most large families, my mother was left to handle other matters concerning the household. So much so, I don't ever remember her cooking when I was growing up. I know that she disliked cooking heartily and never made a secret of it. Having lost her mother when she was just 4 years old, my mother and her sister entered the kitchen when they were really young.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>(image: please note that this is not my mother) </em></span><br /><br /><div align="left">So when she got married, she was quite happy to have this chore taken off her hands. She did make the occasional sambar or kuzhambu. Most of it improvised. She'd just toss in anything any old thing she could lay her hands on and usually, it turned out tasting great. Of course, there were times when we'd have a disaster for dinner. The trouble with her kind of cooking is that it can never be duplicated. Ask her to make the rasam she made the other day and she wouldn't be able to.<br /><br />Anyway, in the spirit of the tag, here are some things I wish I could eat more often.<br /><br />1. Kozhukattai - can never have enough<br />2. Sambar sadam<br />3. Milagu kuzhambu in an uruli (like pattu maami does)<br />4. Maracheeni appalam with no traces of sand<br />5. Aanjaneyar kovil puliyansaadam<br />6. Milaga bajji<br />7. Onion pakoda crumbs<br />8. Suda suda masal vadai<br />9. Adai-aviyal combination<br />10. Suda suda pongal-gothsu<br /><br />I also miss the payatham-paruppu kanji which my grand-aunt used to make on ekadasi. She would fast during the day and would drink a glass of this kanji after sunset. She would always set aside a glass for me. Also, whenever she made triangle chapathi (with oil, like paratha), she would tear it into small pieces and let them soak in sweetened milk for me to have when I got back from school.<br /><br />Oh well, I guess I could make most of the things on the list whenever I wanted. But it's nicer missing them.<br /><br />The meme's up for anyone to grab. </div>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1148898274188493902006-05-29T03:10:00.000-07:002006-05-29T03:24:34.196-07:00Breaded Aubergine with Hot Vinaigrette Chutney<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P5290207.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P5290207.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 15 minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Aubergine - 1 large, ends removed and cut into 1 cm thick slices<br />Plain flour - 50 gms/half-a-cup<br />Bread crumbs - 2 cups<br />Rice flour - 100 gms<br />Salt and freshly ground black pepper<br />Sunflower oil for deep frying<br /><br />For the chutney<br /><br />Olive oil - 2 tbsp<br />Onion - 1 large, ground to paste<br />Vinegar (red or white wine) - 1 tbsp<br />Chilli flakes - 1 tsp<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Spread plain flour on a plate and season generously with salt and pepper<br />2. Mix the rice flour with water to make a smooth paste. Set aside<br />3. Spread out the bread crumbs onto another plate<br />4. Dip the aubergine slices in the flour, then rice paste and finally in bread crumbs patting them on top to make a smooth coating<br />5. Heat a pan with oil and when hot, fry aubergine slices for 3-4 minutes turning once until both sides are golden brown. Drain on kitchen paper<br />6. Heat olive oil in a separate pan, add onion paste when hot, stir for a couple of minutes, pour in vinegar and sprinkle chilli flakes. Keep stirring on high for another minutes. Check for seasoning 7. Serve the aubergine slices hot along with the chutney as dipping sauce <a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a> ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1148893857163688932006-05-29T02:09:00.000-07:002006-05-29T02:12:46.866-07:00Memories of Food 2<strong>Egg</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/uvak.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 60px" height="106" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/uvak.jpg" width="182" border="0" /></a> On my last visit to India, a well-meaning stranger remarked how thin my son was and suggested that I include egg in his diet. The remark reminded me of my earliest encounter with muttai. Unlike my son who's healthy (quick, grab a tree!) but built slim, I was, as a child puny and often sick. So the kind doctor ( who was clearly not familiar with English proverbs) recommended that I have an egg a day to keep him away. Now, I come from a vegetarian, brahmin family which would not touch an egg with a barge pole attached to a tree trunk tied to a very long piece of rope. So, my ever-resourceful mother came up with an ingenious idea. She would get my Christian kindergarten teacher to feed me the egg.<br /><br />I remember Miss Bertha Paul as this plump woman with short curly hair holding aloft an egg and singing baa baa black sheep (why that nursery rhyme, I don't know). Every afternoon, after school, this enormous woman would go beyond her call of duty and would hold my struggling body down, pinch my nose close, pry open my mouth and pour a raw egg into it. I don't remember keeping any of it down as I spluttered and spewed most of it out. The aftertaste lingers still. I can't stand egg in any form. I try to avoid it and if I can't, then I try not to think about it. As for Miss Bertha Paul, she is believed to have moved to Switzerland. I hope she served Swiss children well. <a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"></a>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1148744453505727012006-05-27T08:37:00.000-07:002006-05-29T00:06:34.873-07:00Memories of Food<em>Taking a break from recipes. Here's a new series. Thanks. </em><br /><em>-a</em><br /><em></em><br /><strong><a href="http://www.eurasie.net/webzine/IMG/jpg/paneer.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" height="163" alt="" src="http://www.eurasie.net/webzine/IMG/jpg/paneer.jpg" border="0" /></a></strong><strong>Paneer</strong><br /><br />I must've been 12 or 13 when I first tasted paneer. It was at a wedding reception at the Taj Connemara in Madras (as it was called then). We'd gone in as a family and were queuing dutifully in front of the buffet counter when a ladleful of paneer-something landed on my plate. I picked a cube up, gingerly with my spoon and was immediately suspicious of its unfamilar shape. Somehow, it seemed to've been chopped out of a large slab. Like a block of meat, I imagined. Yet, my curiousity wouldn't let it go uneaten. And I bit into it with growing revulsion. I was shocked by its rubbery texture. Visions of cows and lamb bleating helplessly at the butcher's table swam before my eyes. I was convinced that I had tasted meat and what was worse, I had done it willingly. That's it, I told myself, I would be born a lizard or a rat in my next birth.<br /><br />After several agonising minutes, I pointed out the half-bitten cube to my father and said, that tastes funny. He went over to our host - a kind Marwari - and enquired what the offending dish was. Paneer, came the reply. Panneer? enquired the father. As in panneer soda-wala panneer? (or words to that effect). No, no, said the Mr Mehta, it's made out of milk. Like butter. Pure vegetarian. Reassured, that I wasn't coming back a reptile, I queued for a second helping.<br /><br />(image courtesy <a href="www.food-nepal.com">food-nepal</a>)ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1146294709779652592006-04-29T00:02:00.000-07:002006-04-29T00:13:32.503-07:00Peerkangai Kootu<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P4230150.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P4230150.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 15 minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Peerkangai (Ridge gourd) - 2, peeled and diced. Set aside 2 tbsp of the peel<br />Coconut - 2 tbsp, shredded<br />Green chillies - 2, small<br />Oil - 1.5 tbsp<br />Cumin seeds - 1 tsp<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Heat half the oil in a pan. Add the ridge gourd peel and saute for 5 minutes or until it turns colour. Drain and set aside. Once cool enough to handle, grind to paste along with coconut and green chillies.<br />2. In the same pan, add the rest of the oil, drop cumin seeds and wait until they pop. Now tip in peerkangai cubes, sprinkle salt, cover and let cook for about 6-7 minutes or until it is cooked soft and pulpy. Stir in coconut paste, add a sprinkling of water if necessary and turn off heat. Best served hot.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1145723628466670032006-04-22T09:32:00.000-07:002006-04-23T05:40:46.230-07:00Olan<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P4190135.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 129px" height="115" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P4190135.jpg" width="152" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 16-17 minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Pumpkin - small, 250 gms peeled and diced<br />Courgette* - 100 gms, diced<br />Green chillies - 2-3, slit lengthwise<br />Coconut milk - thick, 1/4 cup and diluted, 3/4 cup<br />Curry leaves - 1 tbsp<br />Coconut oil - 1 tbsp<br />Salt<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Cook the pumpkin cubes in watered down coconut milk for about 6-7 minutes before adding courgette and green chillies. Cover and let simmer for another 4-5 minutes until vegetables are cooked tender. I like my courgettes with a bite so I add them late. You could cook them both together.<br />2. Add thick coconut milk and cook for another 1-2 minutes before turning off heat. Season with salt.<br />3. In a separate pan, heat coconut oil and throw in curry leaves. Toss about for 30 seconds, pour on top of pumpkin stew. Serve hot.<br /><br /><br />*Traditional recipes use soaked and cooked beans instead of courgetteammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1144760527898231462006-04-11T06:01:00.000-07:002006-04-22T10:09:22.066-07:00Kadai Paneer<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P4110113.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P4110113.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I don't remember how I made it. But it tasted very good.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1144524673726918862006-04-08T12:13:00.000-07:002006-04-09T00:44:16.963-07:00Red Onion Pastry<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P4080101.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P4080101.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 45 mins<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Olive oil - 1.5 tbsp<br />Red onions - 450 gms, sliced<br />Dried thyme - 4 tsp<br />Balsamic vinegar - 1 tbsp<br />Puff pastry - 200 gms<br />Fromage frais (optional) - 100 gms<br />Egg - 1, beaten (optional)<br />Salt and freshly ground black pepper<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Heat oil in a large heavy-bottomed pan, add onions and fry over slow heat for 10 minutes until they are softened. Keep stirring regularly to prevent burning. Add thyme, seasoning and balsamic vinegar. Cover and cook for another 5 minutes. Remove from heat<br />2. Preheat oven to 220C/gas 7. Roll out pastry into rounds (of 15 cm diametre). Place rounds on a dampened baking sheet.<br />3. Divide onion among the rounds. Pile them in the centre, leaving 1/2 an inch gap from the edge . Crimp the edges and brush them with beaten egg (if using). Bake for 25-30 minutes until golden. Serve hot with a dollop of fromage frais<br /><br />Note - you can line the pastry with some pesto or <a href="http://chaipani.blogspot.com/2006/01/vengaya-thuvayal-onion-thuvayal.html">thuvayal</a> before piling on the onions.ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1144488484565813762006-04-08T02:16:00.000-07:002006-04-08T12:33:42.263-07:00Ratatouille<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P4040091.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P4040091.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />(pronounced rata-too-ee)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Preparation time - 30 mins<br />Cooking time - 22 mins<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Brinjals - 1 large, roughly chopped<br />Courgettes - 2, roughly chopped<br />Olive oil - 75 ml (yes, that much)<br />Onion - 1, sliced<br />Yellow and red peppers - 1 each, roughly chopped<br />Dried rosemary & thyme - a tsp each<br />Coriander seeds - 1/2 tsp, crushed<br />Tomatoes - 3, skinned and chopped<br />Basil leaves - a small handful, torn<br />Ground black pepper and salt to taste<br /><br />Here's how to<br /><br />1. Sprinkle the brinjals and courgettes with salt and put them in a colander. Cover and leave for 30 minutes. Rinse the bitter juices off them and pat dry with a clean dish towel<br />2. Heat olive oil in a pan. Fry onions until they soften (6-7 minutes). Toss in courgettes, brinjal and peppers. Increase heat and saute until peppers turn brown<br />3. Turn down hear, add herbs and coriander seeds, cover and cook for 10 minutes. Add tomatoes and season with salt. Cover and cook for another 5 minutes. Turn off heat<br />4. Sprinkle plenty of ground black pepper and serve garnished with basil leaves <a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"></a>ammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10810936.post-1144056847365053122006-04-03T02:14:00.000-07:002006-04-04T23:07:12.450-07:00Eri Seri<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/320/P4020084.jpg"><img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3249/488/160/P4020084.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cooking time - 25minutes<br /><br />You'll need<br /><br />Green plantain (vazhaikkai) - 1, peeled and diced<br />Senai kizhangu (in English?) or any root vegetable - 150 gms, peeled and diced<br />Dried red chillies - 2<br />Pepper corns - 2 tsp<br />Coconut - 1/4 cup, grated<br />Coconut - 1 tsp, cut into fine sliver<br />Turmeric powder - 1/4 tsp<br />Coconut oil - 1 tbsp<br />Mustard seeds - 1 tsp<br />Curry leaves - 1 tsp<br /><br /><br />Here's how to<br />1. Bring a pan of (about 1/2 litre) water to boil Add turmeric powder in it and throw in senai kizhangu cubes. Let cook for about 5 minutes before adding the plantain. Simmer until the vegetables are cooked soft<br />2. Heat 1/2 tsp of oil in a small pan and add red chillies and pepper to it. Saute for a couple of minutes, remove from heat and grind to a paste along with grated coconut. Stir in the spice mixture to the simmering pot of vegetables, season with salt and turn off heat<br />4. In a small pan, heat remaining oil and toss in slivers of coconut. Saute until browned. Drain with slotted spoon<br />5. In the same pan of oil, throw in mustard seeds and once they finish popping, add curry leaves. Pour on top of the vegetable stew. Serve hot sprinkled with deep fried slivers of coconutammanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09002764562048409240noreply@blogger.com8