Years of seeing turmeric
being used in Indian food, in poojas, to colour hands and bodies, to decorate thresholds
and door jambs, rangolis or alpanas, even dye the auspicious wedding saree in Marathi
and Tamil tradition had coloured my impression that turmeric was used only as a
colouring agent. Its antiseptic properties were introduced to us when our cuts
and bruises were summarily dismissed with a dab of turmeric. Its religious and
cultural significance was automatically gleaned from the ubiquitous haldi
kumkum in the ornate silver filigree work, mango shaped container called
‘koyari’. This koyari was the pride of all brides who brought it as a wedding
gift from their parental home, and had its proud perch in the little altar in
the house. It was religiously offered to God and all married women who came
visiting (no parallels intended! )
Like most personal
discoveries in those pre-internet days, I made this one experientially when I
accidentally stumbled on it. Biting hungrily into a very delicious looking samosa
with a perfectly crisp pastry shell with great anticipation I almost gagged on
it! Such a vile taste had rarely accosted my tastebuds, and I am not referring to
the most annoying whole coriander seeds that ambush your tongue and taste while
unsuspectingly biting into a samosa. This is the only thing about samosas that
I don’t like. I almost burnt my taste buds on the filling and a sudden numbness
descended on the poor tongue. A momentous realisation this- the culprit was
turmeric!
Oh! How I wanted to disperse
the pearls of this new found wisdom that had dawned on me! But this was not the time,
place or forum to say anything about food ingredients, least of all something as
mundane and domesticated as turmeric. Yes! I was with a group of fellow 18 year
old coeds (I was with coeds for the fist time in my life!) lounging around a
tree trunk (not THE TREE but one that we had defiantly marked as our territory)
on the grounds of the most happening college in Hyderabad .
No! This was not the time or
place to talk about my serendipitous discovery of turmeric taste! The samosas
were not from the college canteen, but from a famous eatery – so it wasn’t
‘hep’ (for some reason it was not hip- but ‘hep’) to ‘bag’ them.
After college I rushed home,
eager to share my news with my mother. “Aai, guess what! Turmeric has taste not
just colour! Too much of it can … “
“Of course, didn’t you know
that? Strange!” she said as she went about her chores…. A few minutes later she
added.” Didn’t you wonder anytime why I make a white cabbage poriyal? – it
tastes best without turmeric.”
Till date, I haven’t made
cabbage poriyal with turmeric.
Cabbage Poriyal (Braised
Cabbage with Coconut -seriously without turmeric)
4 cups finely shredded cabbage
2 tbsp Oil
1 tsp mustard seeds
1 tsp split skinned urad dal
A pinch of hing
XXX NO TURMERIC XXX
1-2 green chillies, deseeded (use more if you wish)
8 to 10 curry leaves
½ cup finely grated fresh or frozen coconut
Salt
to taste
1 tbsp chopped
coriander for garnish
Heat the oil, add the mustard seeds and urad dal and let the mustard
splutter and the urad dal turn golden. Add the green chilli, curry leaves and hing
and stir for a few seconds. Add the cabbage, salt, a few tablespoons of water, ONLY
if the cabbage does not let out any juices. This is necessary to cook without
burning the cabbage. Cook till the cabbage turns slightly transparent but is
still crunchy. Switch off the heat and keep the pan in a cooler place to stop
any further cooking. Add the grated
coconut, mix well and garnish with coriander. Serve hot with chapati, pooris,
phulkas or with sambar and rice or dal and rice.
I love to eat it just by itself! Without turmeric, of course…
Hi Shruti,
ReplyDeleteHmmm, this looks delicious and it is already lunch time. I wish I had this in front of me so that I could have gobbled it down. :D
Thanks for sharing this recipe :) :)
Regards
Jay
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