Lest we forget

ANZAC Biscuits

The full implication of our adventure hit us at the airport in Hong Kong, when we first exchanged our money for the colourful currency notes of our destination country, Australia.  Yes, never before had we seen such “frivolous and fanciful” yellow, green, blue, red and purple plastic notes like the Australian currency, except in Monopoly.

Apprehensive and exhausted from the day’s tour of Hong Kong, my husband and I looked at each other seeking reassurance. A month-long holiday in India, honeymooning with family and friends had planted the seeds of doubt. Were we embarking on a quixotic escapade, flying off halfway across the world, to a country we had never been to, with two young girls in tow…

A battery of questions assailed us-

Are we doing the right thing?

Did we have to do this?

Are we chasing a mirage?

Is this self-banishment? Self-exile?

Couldn’t we have eked out a living in the land of our forefathers?

Our grandparents had been freedom fighters, and we…!

It didn’t help that on the day we first landed in Melbourne, it rained like it did on the night they killed Duncan. I was so inadequately dressed – in sandals and a cotton jumper- try as I might, I couldn’t find off-season woolens in the desert land that had been our home for more than a decade. Well, I did attempt to keep warm with a pair of socks inside the sandals – after all  according to the girls, we were fresh off the boat!

We made our way to the shops during a lull in the rain, to buy groceries and essentials, mindful for the first time in years of a budget, still trying to get our heads around converting dollars to Omani rials!

We had no jobs, no credit cards, no mobile phones and no car.

Could we be more lost?

Shopping to stock our temporary pantry all over was like starting a home from the scratch –we bought salt, oil, mustard seeds and were surprised to find rice, red lentils and masalas and “poppadums” on the aisles.

Already, I had begun to feel better.

When we emerged from the store, it had already turned dark with the torrential rain and sleet. We had to literally plead a ride from a surprised (and scared) fellow shopper. The two of us stuffed our grocery bags in our unenthusiastic benefactor’s car- sullen and vulnerable - conscious that after so many years of climbing ladders we had slid down the snake, back to square one.

Back in the apartment, the cold and the wet chilling us to the bone, we were drawn to the fireplace like moths. Only when our brains had thawed a little, we warmed to the fact that this was the first time we were enjoying the much- romanticised sitting by the fire.

What really warmed us was the sweet surprise from inside the complimentary biscuit packs from the hotel that we had opened so unsuspectingly to have with a cup of hot tea. 

The ANZAC biscuits – as we learnt they were called- had a lovely familiar flavour of coconut, brown sugar that tasted like jaggery and butter that reminded us of the roasted aroma of homemade ghee!

We would find out that ANZAC biscuits are tough, hardy and nutritious biscuits that the wives and mothers of soldiers in the ANZAC corps baked to send to their sons and husbands. These biscuits had a long shelf life and gave the much-required sustenance to troops in the tough Turkish battlefront. The biscuits also fed the brave men serving their nations in an inclement land with sweet memories of home and hearth.

“These biscuits taste like your “policha laadu” Mum,” said the girls, as we opened pack after two-biscuit handy pack and discarded the buttery choc chip ones for this delightfully brittle bikkie.

“Yes, the “policha laadu” that Aaji used to make for my tiffin dabba!”, said I,  remembering the delicious, nutritious and convenient sweet laddus made with fresh or stale chapatis, home made ghee, gur, poppy seeds, cardamom and coconut.

Brave soldier-settlers on their first day in this new world, we clutched to this relic of the past we had left behind, and instantly felt at home.    

I made these biscuits to commemorate ANZAC Day this year- in memory of all those who laid their lives for the country and continue to do so.

And to relive and remember all the battles we fought and lost and won in making a place for ourselves in this country- our home.

The recipe is classic ANZAC, except for the almond meal, cardamom, nutmeg and poppy seeds!

ANZAC Biscuits

Ingredients

2 cups plain flour

2 cups rolled oats

1½ cups brown sugar

½ cup caster sugar

½ cup desiccated coconut (or more)

½ cup almond meal

1 tbsp white poppy seeds

1 tsp crushed cardamom

½ tsp powdered nutmeg

1 tsp salt

250 gms unsalted butter

4 tbsp golden syrup

4 tbsp boiling water

1 ½ tsp and a pinch baking soda

Method

Sift flour into a bowl and stir in oats, coconut and sugar. Melt butter and golden syrup in a deep saucepan. Mix the boiling water and baking soda in a cup and add  to the melted butter and golden syrup mixture while it is still hot. The minute you add this, the butter mixture will froth up. Mix through the froth gently with a spoon. Pour this wet mixture into the flour mixture and when slightly cool, mix it with hand.

Place rounded teaspoons of the mixture 5cm apart on greased baking trays lined with baking sheets. Alternately, roll a ball of the crumbly dough between two baking sheets till you get a sheet 1 cm thick.  Cut out heart shaped or star shaped cookies and place them on the paper-lined tray.  

Bake the biscuits at 150°C for about 20 minutes or until the biscuits feel almost firm. Remove from trays with spatula and leave to cool on wire racks.

Store in an airtight container.

ANZAC Kheer!

Barley Kheer

Photos by Amruta Nargundkar

26^th January 2013

Australia Day, Indian Republic Day

As I settle down to watch the morning news with a cup of tea, the hot topic for discussion on TV is the rising incidence of drinking and alcohol related violence on Australia Day in Australia.

If Australia Day is a celebration of our patriotism and national identity, the latest evidence suggests that we have a major problem on our hands. Research shows that more Australians get drunk and violent on Australia Day than on any other day of the year, says the panel.

Having a drink is often associated with being inherently Australian. You are un-Australian if you don’t drink. While most people celebrate in a safe and respectful way - many with a drink or two, it’s unfortunate that so many people think it is fashionable to binge drink on Australia Day.  Many get caught up in drunken aggressive behaviour and yet many get involved in accidents.

Others spend their Australia Day dealing with drunken idiots in hospitals or police lock-ups, or drunk drivers on our roads.

Is it just because the Australia Day weekend is the last long weekend before summer ends and people would like to let down their hair? And letting down one’s hair is always associated with drinking binges for many? Is the traditional barbecue inconceivable without the drinking? Is drinking an indispensable part of celebrations? Is it something that we can blame on the companies that manufacture alcohol and those that promote it so vigorously?
 

A public holiday on a festival or national day is meant to give you time to remember the reason for celebration, meet with like minded people and remember, redefine and relate the significance of these special occasions to our lives today…

Then we change channels and watch the Indian President address to the nation. Our rascally, irreverent hoots at his accented English gradually slowly dissipated, replaced by keen attention as the Rashtrapati candidly spoke about the recent tragedy in Delhi. His words made impact.

“It is time for the nation to reset its moral compass.”

 “The anxiety and restlessness of youth has to be channelized towards change with speed, dignity and order.”

And I remember Mother, who may well have spoken so.

When we were kids, Mother, a proud daughter of freedom fighter parents, always made something nice (and sweet) on national holidays.

“But this is not a festival like Diwali and Dasera”, we would say.  Mother would tell us these days were as significant, or perhaps more, as our traditional festivals, for they are more current and related to our immediate lives.

She would liken Dasera, celebrated to commemorate Ram’s victory over Ravan, the triumph of good over evil to the Indian Independence Day. Diwali marked the return of Ram and Sita to their kingdom, signifying the return of peace and sovereignty, quite like the Indian Republic Day.  In a few hundred years from now, Independence Day and Republic Day would also be observed like these two days. They will symbolise freedom from bondage of whatever is troubling the society at that time. They will entail a celebration of the establishment of the supreme law and governance of the land for the happiness and well being of the people of those times.

Some of this wisdom is recreated from memory and experience, for it must have been lost on us young kids.

Wow! We would think, as we fantasised how festivals would be celebrated in a futuristic society. Will they make sweets? Will they perform a puja? Will they buy new clothes and crackers?

As we settle down to watch the spectacular, larger than life celebrations at the Republic Day Parade on TV, the family asked “So what’s for lunch, Mum?”

I try to come up with a dish that would have elements of celebration and significance for both the countries so dear to us, one our 'janmabhoomi' and the other our 'karmabhoomi'. 

I think oats, coconut and brown sugar of the ANZAC biscuits that sustained diggers (troops) during the Great Wars. 

I remember the gavachi kheer, the wholesome sweet gruel made with wheat pearls and jaggery, a feast food in Marathwada.

I see oats or barley, coconut and jaggery. 

I say,  “ANZAC kheer!”

Barley Kheer

1 cup pearl barley

1 cup dates, chopped

½ cup chopped almonds

¾ cup fresh grated coconut (desiccated will do)

½ cup jaggery, grated (or sweetener)

1 tbsp poppy seeds, dry roasted

½ ts fennel seeds

½ tsp powdered cardamom

¼ tsp powdered nutmeg

Handful of chopped almonds to garnish

Handful of chopped dates to garnish

1 tbsp ghee

1 tbsp whole-wheat flour (atta)

2 cups full cream milk

Ghee to serve (optional)

Grind the coconut, roasted poppy seeds and fennel seeds together. Keep aside.

Wash and cook the pearl barley really soft with plenty of water. I pressure cooked it.

In a suitable heavy bottomed pan, melt the ghee and add the wheat flour and roast it well.  Remove into a small dish. Then to the same pot, add the cooked barley and some water to adjust the consistency. Add the coconut and poppy and fennel seeds ground together, the chopped dates, chopped almonds and some jaggery or sweetener to adjust the sweetness. When it comes to a boil, slowly mix in the roux or roasted atta. Add the milk and bring it back to a simmer. Adjust the consistency. Add the cardamom and nutmeg. Keep on adjusting the consistency till you get a thick creamy gruel.

Serve warm, garnished with some almonds and chopped dates and topped  with some melted ghee.

This kheer is like the gavhachi kheer made in Maharashtra and Karnataka. 

The chest of hope!

Anarsa

Diwali reminds me of anarsas. And anarsas remind me of my grandmother and her astounding ingenuity. I recall vividly how once she had made huge quarter-plate size anarsas, which made perfect seed centres of huge golden yellow crepe paper sunflowers!

These anarsa sunflowers were one of the many fantastic presentations featured in the rukhwat of one of my aunts.

Rukhwat is a sort of a trousseau or a hope chest of bridal goods that were meant to give the young couple a good start in their domestic life. It usually consisted of embroidered linen, tableware, pots and pans, some furniture, flatware and other bric a bracs lovingly prepared for her new marital home and hearth by the bride’s mother or the bride-to-be herself and her maidens.

But unlike a trousseau, a rukhwat features more than just manchester. Possibly deriving meaning from the word ‘ruksha’ or dry, rukhwat was meant provide supplies in the form of ready-to-eat, long-life goodies and condiments to last the bridal entourage on their long and arduous way home. So pots of preserves, packs of dry fruit, spices, little bags of other supplies were generously gifted.

The rukhwats I have seen have ranged from utterly useless and clichéd stuff to the really worthwhile stuff packed or presented creatively. 

Why on earth would people laboriously weave a mesh of almost microscopic beads all around a fresh whole coconut- the coconut will soon go bad, won’t it? And woe betide those that made tacky wall hangings featuring a woman holding her nose in both her palms as if she were about to sneeze ( she’s actually meant to say ‘Namaste’ or ‘ Welcome’). Also, tell me, who would dare to break pieces off little idols made of dried shirkhand?

The more interesting and useful stuff, especially for the little me, were the over sized laddus, large bricks of chikkis or peanut brittle, foolscap cones made of candied puffed rice, huge chaklis also abounded. Perhaps, in the days of yore when girls were married very young, it was possibly a way to keep them happy and engaged with the idea – as if they were going to a party! Ha!

My aunt’s rukhwat was the first one I had come across. I was about 10 years old and absolutely awed by the two great artists working in tandem – one a chip off the other. Grandmother and mother had taken up the task of making the most awesome rukhwat till date! What creativity, what resourcefulness! All from one small town with limited supplies of craft material and food decoration supplies.

The most notable things that have stuck in my memory nearly forty years later are the beautiful peacock patterned georgette saree painted by Salma Arastu, now a renowned painter and philosopher in the US, a basket of miniature fruit made with rava laddu material that looked so marvellously realistic made by mother and the glorious sunflower anarsas.

I wanted this rukhwat for myself.

13 years after I first saw this rukhwat, I had a brilliant one myself - lovingly prepared by my mother and aunts, admired by one and all and used up by me over a few years.

But the rukhwat I have cherished the most and nurtured till date AND plan to pass on to my girls - is the portly pots of patience and perseverance, the huge laddus of love for the family, friends and pets and animals, the oversize chaklis of understanding of complicated and tangled human relationships and the firm set burfis of determination. And many many more pragmatic, fantastic endowments …

And the anarsas, of course…

Ingredients

2 cups rice
1 cup grated jaggery

1/3 cup sugar or 2 tbsp sweetner
2-3 tbsp poppy seeds (Khuskhus)

1 tbsp ghee

1-2 tbsp mashed ripe banana

Milk as required

Making the dough

Wash and soak rice in plenty of cold water. Drain the rice and replace the water the following day. Repeat the process for two more days. On the fourth day, drain the rice  and air dry in shade it by spreading it on a clean tea-towel. 

When almost fully dry, grind the rice into as fine a powder as you can and sieve it. 

Mix in the jaggery and the sugar/sweetener and store it in cool and dry place in a box to mature for 3-4 days. After this time, you will need to store it in the fridge, where it will keep for a few months.

Method

Just before making the anarsas, add a tablespoon or two of ripe mashed banana and  knead the mixture into a pliable and smooth dough using ghee. Use milk only if the mixture is still very dry. Make small balls of the dough.

Sprinkle some poppy seeds on a little flat plastic or glass dish and press a ball of dough onto it. Now grease your fingertips and thumb and flatten the ball making a small disc like shape. You will need to use your thumb to move the edge of the circle and the fingertips to flatten it. Very soon you will have a uniformly thick disc the size of a small cookie.

Heat oil in a kadhai and lift the cookie gently or upturn the plate onto your fingertips and quickly place it the poppy seed side up in the oil. This is a bit tricky, but you will be able to manage it with practice, or else, flip it in slowly and then turn it asap. Fry on a low heat, till golden brown. Drain and keep aside. 

Repeat this with the remaining dough.

Cool the anarsas before serving and storing. These delectable morsels taste earthy yet intriguing due to the rice wine like flavour!

These anarsas will last for a few days without refrigeration.