Italian Jugaad!

Baked Arancini with Napoli sauce and salad

Jugaad, our trusted and foolproof Indian practice for managing a raft of sticky situations ranging from everyday problems to entrepreneurial practice, is fast capturing the imagination of a recession stricken western world as a growth formula.

Another ‘juggernaut’ sweeping the world?!

India should patent the concept before we have to defend it like we did turmeric! After all, the word owes its origin to the Sanskrit word ‘yukti’, meaning trick, and the practice has become second nature to Indians!

Now, I am sure it will meet all three legal criteria for patenting - of “Novelty, Non-Obviousness, and Utility”! For although the concept of jugaad is not new, every act  can be very novel! And the best cases of jugaad are non-obvious if you don’t tell, and every jugaad is just so useful.

Just like the jugaad I put into play, coming up with arancini balls with some leftover risotto.

You could actually cook some arborio rice with any stock and seasoning, and add some vegetables of your choice and some grated mozzarella cheese, or just used any cooked rice with seasoning!

For the arancini balls

2 cups leftover risotto (mine had some pumpkin, broccoli and mushrooms – and some white wine)

2 tbsp grated mozzarella cheese (or any other cheese- remember jugaad)

1 tbsp parmesan

Panko bread crumbs

Oil spray

Homemade panko crumbs

3 slices bread (I used multigrain bread) – use four if you have a small loaf

½ tsp garlic powder

½ tsp dried sage

½ tsp dried oregano

¼ tsp black pepper

½ tsp crushed red chillies

2 tsp grated Parmesan

Method

Place all the ingredients for the panko crumbs in a mixer and zap them roughly.

Remove onto a work surface.

Mix the risotto with the two cheeses. Make four equal portions and roll them with into a ball and then in the crumbs. Then shape them with both hands, adding crumbs to the hand and pressing them into the balls tightly. As you shape and press simultaneously, tilt one of your palms to give it a pear shape.

You can make small round balls to go as starters, too!

When the ball stops taking any more crumbs, place it on a tray lined with baking paper. Spray with an olive oil spray and bake in a pre-heated oven at 180 C till golden crisp – about 25 minutes.

Serve hot with a salad and some Napoli sauce.

Shredded lettuce, finely sliced red onion, sliced pink lady apple, rocket leaves, walnuts and low salt creamy fetta cheese with a balsamic dressing made a great salad.

Napoli was a can of chopped Roma tomatoes cooked in olive oil with onions, garlic, fresh oregano and crushed chilli.

Now that’s a sustainable (no waste) and healthy (not fried) jugaad!

Prominent and popular blogger  Suranga Date writes interesting, funny, sweet, thought provoking and rich poems inspired by varied things that capture her imagination in her blog Strewn Ashes. I have the privilege of her friendship and of the fact that often one of my dishes or posts inspire her to write a poem or two! In English and Marathi!

Quipped Suranga on the risotto- 

जागतिक भात संमेलनाला
जमलेले अथिरथी महारथी,
शेठ बिर्याणी , पुलावराव , 
सर बिसिबेलेभात
सौ चित्रान्न , मसियर रिसोटो ,
श्रीमती खिचडी आणि चि .दहीभात,
मधल्या सुट्टीत फुशारक्या मारत बसले होते .....

एकीकडे जुना रीस्सोटो, साध्या भाताला म्हणाला ,
:"तुझा फोडणीचा भात तर फारच यमी असतो,
ह्या बड्या लोकांमध्ये माझा कसा निभाव लागणार ?"

"त्यात काय आहे ? मी सांगतो तसा कर" असे म्हणत
भाताने मागे लाग्लेया मिरचीकढी पत्ता मंडळींना पिटाळून लावले,
.चीज ला हाताशी घेतले ,
आणि रीस्सोटो मधल्या भाज्यांना समज दिली .
सर्वांना व्यवस्थीत एकत्र केलं ,
आणि
छोटे छोटे गोळे करून, 
चविष्ठ ब्रेड्क्रंब मध्ये घोळून,
जरा ओव्हन मध्ये ठेवलं ....

चीजच मन पाघळल,
बाहेरील आवरणाने आपले मन घट्ट केले ,
आणि थोड्याच वेळात हि मंडळी सभेत आली.

हिरवे सलाड , लाल टोमाटो सॉस ,
सगळे गडबडीने हा चमत्कार बघायला धावले ,
आणि
आपला फोडणीचा भात धन्य झाला !

सर्व अथिरथी महारथी थक्क होउन विचारू लागले,
"ह्याला काय म्हणायच ? हे क्कुठ्ले क्विझीन ?"
आणि
फोडणीच्या भाताने रीस्सोतो च्या हातावर टाळी दिली 
काधीपत्त्याला डोळा मारला,
आणि गात गात उत्तर दिले ,
"ये चीज बडी ही मस्त मस्त, ये चीज बडी ही मस्त !"

. 

Oh! Dis comfort food!!

Baked Spicy Colocasia/Arbi Wedges

So much is made of comfort foods! We need no second bidding to indulge in them at the first hint of stress, the first sign of tiredness or the first indication that we are going to be too busy to cook anything elaborate. I am yet to have a favourite comfort food that is not simple, but why do we need an excuse to make a simple meal (made just that much sinful by that dollop of ghee or butter)? Is it that our comfort foods of today are often nostalgic memories from our childhood? How much of a role do associations, memories, shared beliefs, fashions and food trends play in categorising dishes like metkoot toop bhat, smabar rice, rasam rice,  khichdi and kadhi, rajma chawal, kadhi chawal, varan bhat toop, mashed potato, hot chips with mustard/mayo and creamy- buttery –salty- pasta as comfort foods? Or is it the properties and bio-chemical composition of these foods that render them comforting?

And what about dishes made of vegetables like prickly colocasia leaves and roots, itchy and slightly bitter gawar, itchy suran(Indian Yam),  the bitter karela (Bitter Gourd/Melon) and the not so bitter kartola (spiny bitter melon), bitter methi (fenugreek) pungent and smelly mooli (white radish)? Not to forget the exotic and often ‘snob’ value attached to vegetables like asparagus, artichokes, kohl rabi, celeriac, rutabaga, watercress, parsnip, et al, which tread that thin and dangerous line between tasty and nasty! Why do we eat them if they have the potential to cause such discomfort?

In the course of my quest for answers, I have placed one vegetable dish that is on my ‘must make’ list. The dish is the Bengali Shoukto- made with bitter gourd, radish, cluster beans, brinjal and pungent mustard. I want to make Shoukto to discover the redeeming feature of this dish that might sound - to some who cannot venture beyond bhindi and aloo-  just a tad less vile than the magic potion brewed by Macbeth’s three witches.

Years ago, in one past life full of music and rhythm, I remember discussing unusual and rare ragas – also known as anvat ragas with mother. The discussion actually was triggered by my genuinely puzzled query at why the spiny and bitter karotlas were the most expensive vegetable at the green grocers. Mother opined that vegetables of this ilk were anvat vegetables like anvat ragas like Shuddha Nat, Nat Kamod, Hansakinkini, Abheri… these vegetables are like acquired tastes and grow on you, not only because they are different from your run-of-the- mill cauliflower, cabbage, potato and what have you, but because they tickle and titivate sections of hitherto sleeping taste buds in our mouth! Just like anvat ragas that pluck those strings of our hearts that have remained dormant so far when we try to savour the notes, while trying to place them in relation to other widely known ragas. Not to forget the fact that we also revel in feather in our cap that we are able to identify a Raga Khokhar!

                                                                                     

So true!  These vegetables challenge us out of our comfort zone. Our reward then is the enjoyment and appreciation of those novel and unusual flavours, textures and tastes! There sure are some physiological or biochemical reasons why we like these veggies. Perhaps myriad reasons my foodie friends may put forth. But let’s just acknowledge one undeniable bonus- you might just get to hobnob with that rare breed of people called food connoisseurs and show off the rare and unusual vegetable dishes you have cooked!

Just like I want to show off- ok, maybe only show will do- my baked spicy arbi wedges. Arbi or colocasia, is one such vegetable, which for some or all of the reasons above, I keep turning to. Despite some horrible childhood memories of severe itching in the throat after I unsuspectingly dug into some of these yummy guilt-free chips!

Baked Spicy Arbi (Colocasia/ Taro) Wedges

Ingredients

10 Arbi (colocasia/taro) corms, boiled, peeled and cut into long thin wedges
2-3 tbsp coarse chickpea flour (ladu besan) (fine besan will also do- just add some semolina or bread curmbs)
½ tsp garam masala (or more)
½ tsp amchur (dry mango) powder (it helps mitigate the itching caused by calcium oxalate in the colocasia
Ajwain powder or dried oregano leaves to taste
Chilli powder to taste
A pinch of turmeric
Salt to taste
Oil spray or 1 tbsp oil

Method

In a bowl, mix the flours, spices and condiments and adjust the salt as per taste. Roll the wedges in this dry flour mix and make sure they are coated on all sides. Place on a baking sheet on a tray. Spray a few bursts of oil onto the wedges. If you are using a tbsp of oil, pour it onto the wedges in the tray and make sure that all the wedges get a coat of oil. Bake in a medium hot oven for about 15 minutes, or until the wedges become golden brown and crisp. You may need to turn the wedges in the tray once or twice to ensure even baking.

Serve as starters with a dip. These wedges will taste great even with sambar and rice! This is a very healthy  and low fat alternative to fried wedges...

Miniature magic!

Brussels Sprout Hemispheres

The first time I saw Brussels sprouts in a German cookbook at the Max Mueller Bhavan library in the late ‘70s, I thought they were baby cabbages. Years later I got to eat them and realised they were similar to cabbage, but not the same, and not necessarily better tasting! Yet they continue to fascinate me! I like the idea of cooking with Brussels sprouts only because they look so cute! There is something very appealing in the Lilliputian appearance of these sprouts that defies the distaste of the strong smell it emits when overcooked even ever so slightly!

I must confess I have a fascination for miniature models, people figures and toys. As a child I remember being totally besotted with the little old man who would come out of his hut in the clock and strike a gong at Salarjung Museum in Hyderabad. Every hour, the gnome like timekeeper emerged from the upper deck of the clock to strike a gong as many times as it is the hours of the day. As a precocious kid who could skillfully negotiate the fare with rickshaw pullers and auto rickshaw drivers and haggle with the bangle sellers of Laad Bazaar in the Old City, I got to accompany practically all house guests holidaying with us or visiting the city.  The first stop invariably used to be the museum, as yours truly would decide the guest’s itinerary. I used to make it a point to be there in time for the clock to strike twelve at noon, so that we could see the musical clock in action the longest! The museum also had other miniatures like dolls from many countries dressed in their national costumes, dolls houses, tiny kitchen sets, tea sets and miniature replicas of weapons, tools and implements and dioramas.

Talking of the miniature weapons, I remember how we used to make a fort out of mud, cardboard and upturned clay pots during Diwali. This was a tradition form Maharasthra to signify the victory of the great Chatrapati Shivaji over the Mughal and other dynasties on the occasion of Diwali. This was called a ‘Diwali Quilla’ and was as much a part of the preparation for Diwali as the sunning of the fire crackers, making of the paper lanterns, buying of new clothes and hogging of all the homemade sweets! The fort would be built over many levels, with toy soldiers posted strategically. The lawns of the fortress would be simulated with paddy husks died with green food colouring. In an innovative touch, a small hand mirror that Dad used while shaving would be embedded face up in the paddy to simulate a pond! A little string of miniature ducklings was the detail I proudly showed off one Diwali to visitors!  All other miniature toys from our collection had also vied for space in the display. Here one would find GI Joes rubbing shoulders with the Air India maharaja, clay dolls of a Marwari seth and his sethani and the South Indian dancing doll who moved her head. Plastic animals of various proportions, Kinder Surprise toys like little trucks and sand buggies that came in the imported chocolate eggs and Meccano robots stood incongruously next to Magic Sando men in their sleeveless vests and speedos!

To this day, I like to buy toys and miniatures from different cities, whether on family holidays or on business trips. I can recount, amid much eye rolling, how I tried to operate the trick miniature toys I had bought on the pavements of the Shanghai Bund, only to realise I had been tricked! It is a well known fact that  the first thing I unpacked on returning from my first business trip to South Korea to show eager family members, was not the amethyst sets I had got for the girls or luxury items from the duty free shopping, but the miniature dolls from Insadong, the traditional street market in Seoul. My doll collection requires a lot more space, so it will have to await its just tribute a little longer!

Don’t know why, but people like miniatures figurines or models and replicas of normal sized objects. Just Google this and see how people gush about anything miniature, from poodles and lap dogs, coca cola bottles, Bibles to little Baskin Robbins spoons!

How one thought sprouts so many memories and a bit of research! And talking about sprouts, I must tell you about the idea I had to cook the Brussels sprouts in the fridge that potentially had no takers.

                                                                                 

Knowing my family’s weakness for cabbage coated with chick pea flour or besan, so I deviously made this dish to lure them into eating it! Here goes…

Brussels Sprout Hemispheres

As many Brussles sprouts as there are takers- I took 12

½ cup coarse chick pea flour (I found this flour called ladu flour at the desi stores)

1 tbsp bread crumbs or semolina, if you can’t get hold of granulated besan flour

1 tsp coriander powder

½ tsp cumin powder

1 tsp chili powder (or as much as you want!)

A pinch of oregano or ajwain powder

A pinch of hing (asafetida)

A pinch of turmeric

1 tbsp oil

½ tsp mustard seeds

Salt to taste

Wash the Brussels sprouts and trim the ends and outer leaves. Cut the sprouts along the length in halves. Blanch them in boiling water just for half a minute and cool and drain thoroughly. I nuked them covered in the microwave for 30 seconds and cooled them. Anymore and you will stink up the kitchen and the entire house!

In a bowl mix the besan flour (semolina or bread crumbs, if using) and the seasoning. Check the taste. You can make any suitable additions – you will need to jazz up the sprouts a bit!

Heat oil in a shallow frying pan and add the mustard seeds to splutter. Dip the flat ends of the Brussles sprout halves into the flour and spice mixture and press firmly. Shake off excess flour mixture and place the hemispheres face down on the pan into the oil. Shallow fry the halves on low flame, turning them around occasionally and flipping them on to the rounded side just once.  

Arrange in a serving bowl. These Brussels hemispheres can be served as starters with any suitable dip or as sides with a main meal.

A slice of spice

Eggplant Slice - Vangyaachey Kaap!

It’s bitter cold and raining in Melbourne but we have been warmed by a meal of our favourite ‘vaangyachey kaap’. I sit down to write the recipe. This is a dish from Maharashtra. Vangi means eggplant and kaap is slice.  What do I call it in English? Egg plant chops? No, sounds too porky.  Eggplant chips? No, these aren’t deep fried. Eggplant fritters? No, they aren’t really battered like fritters.

Eggplant slice? Yes!!

‘Slice’ is such a mouth watering word. Perhaps not when it is a mundane slice of bread one handles in the morning rush. But it certainly is mouth watering when you remember slicing a loaf of the still warm, moist and slightly sour, soft bread from John’s bakery and generously spreading it with Amul butter or white butter. Dunking this slice into a glass of thick hot sweet boiled chai gives you a brekkie fit for a king.  (Aside- have you ever wondered why tea tastes different when sipped out of a glass, a stainless steel tumbler, a porcelain mug, a bone china cup or a kullad?). This brings to mind another childhood memory. In one of his books, James Herriot the famous vet/writer has recounted his hard struggle one bitter cold night to help a birthing cow. The grumpy farmer is of no help, but afterwards the farmer’s wife makes up for all the trouble by plying Herriot with thick slices of homemade bread slathered in home churned butter and topped with golden home harvested honey. I remember reading the book, as was my wont, into the wee hours of the morning when hunger pangs struck and I had no better choice than to vicariously share Herriot’s gut warming pleasure.

Another childhood memory clamouring for a slice this word space is that of waiting impatiently one summer for the two volumes of fairy tales Mother had ordered from Readers’ Digest and finally when they arrived in the mail, reading each one in one sitting ! Somewhere in there was this story of an ogre devouring slices of watermelon. “Slurp! Slurp”, they would go. This was my first realisation, years before commencing literary studies and learning about onomatopoeia, that the sound of some words echoed their sense!

As a young girl I went through the rites of passage reading Mills and Boon publications and Barbara Cartland’s novels. Tacky as they seem today, I firmly believe these books increased my vocabulary. ‘The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut into a slice’ or ‘He shook her by the shoulder and his harsh words sliced through the heady...something… something… ‘ . Embarrassing, but this was a real slice of my life!

The ‘manga cundy’, which is how a Belgaum ice cream parlour spelt ‘mango candy’ in Marathi on its menu card and A-board, was our favourite treat as a newly wedded couple with limited means. This was a great VFM - real home churned Alphonso mango ice cream served in triangular slices crusted with a biscuit wafer, all for just Rs. 2.50. To this day we associate this lovely slice served with bits of chopped mango with our first efforts as a couple to manage finances within our budget!

   

Somewhere down the track I learnt to add refreshing slices of lemon in the pitcher of cool water. The idea was so exotic and felt posh! And did I tell you I get teased for my antics, verbal and non-verbal, trying to explain to waiters in Indian restaurants even in Ho Chi Minh City, Hanoi, Seoul, Makati City or Tokyo, how I like the juicy and crunchy slices of onions.  I have to devise ways to explain that I would like ‘just a few thin slices of a small red onion (don’t waste a whole onion and don’t charge me for a whole salad) no chaat masala and no green chillies’. I may be the only patron in the annals of restaurant history to ask for a doggie bag of an almost plateful of perfectly fine onion slices- such a pity they would be trashed by the restaurant, but more insidiously, what if they aren’t !!

For years now, a breakfast of a slice of madeira or fruit cake with tea is my fond indulgence especially during Christmas holidays. However, not all slices meet the expectation I have of this word. Some slices are remembered only because of their imminent forgettableness. The vanilla slice in the old English style tea rooms, Miss Marple’s Tea Room or the Pig and the Whistle on Mount Dandy sounds and looks nicer than it tastes. I fell only the first time for the vegetable slice, drying and curling on the corners from hours of neglect in the hot bain marie and served with a flourish on knowing I am a vegetarian.

Back to ‘vangyaachey kaap’ – how shall I describe this dish? The word 'kaap' means cut (verb) as well as slice (noun) in Marathi. Therefore, I think a verbing noun like ‘slice’ is most apt. A unique slice of eggplant dredged in spice! So eggplant slice it shall be!

Eggplant Slice or Vaangyachey Kaap

Ingredients

1 large Italian eggplant cut into thin round slices

1 cup besan (gram flour) – ¾ cup

¼ cup rice flour

2 tablespoons bread crumbs (optional- you could also use semolina)

1 tsp red chilli powder (or more)

¼ tsp turmeric powder

1 tsp coriander powder

1 tsp cumin powder

1 tsp garam masala powder

A pinch of ajwain powder (or dried oregano)

A pinch of hing 

Salt to taste

Oil for shallow frying.

Method

Keep the slices of eggplant immersed in water. In a shallow bowl or a deep plate mix the flours, bread crumbs, spices and salt.

This mixture has to be kept dry. Drain the eggplant slices on kitchen paper and dredge each slice in the dry spiced flour mixture. Press the slice firmly into the mixture on each side to ensure the flour coats both the sides of the slice. Heat a pan and pour a little oil. Place a dredged slice on the pan.

Repeat this with each slice until the surface of the pan is filled. Shallow fry the slices on one side. You may want to press the slices with a flat spatula to let out the moisture so that the slices take up less oil to cook. Flip the slices over and pour a little more oil. Make sure each slice gets its fair share of oil to turn a uniform golden brown. Remove on kitchen paper and repeat with the remaining slices.

Serve hot as a side with a meal or as a snack with hot tea!