Ginger Blues

Ale Pak Pohe – “Beaten rice salad with an overdose of ginger”!

I think almost every major city in the world has a restaurant called Blue Ginger. As it does a Red Lobster.

I always wondered why red lobster – and since I have never cooked lobster, I had to wait for Google to appear on the scene before I could see how poor crustacean was ‘red’.

That was one mystery solved.

In the same way, I wonder about blue ginger. Have you ever seen this variety?

The only time I have seen something blue related to ginger is when ginger or garlic or ginger and garlic pastes -that I so self-righteously make- turn blue-green and then I am under great pressure to finish them up.

So, is the ginger blue only for the snob value?

Is that why ginger costs an eye-popping $30 a kilo in Australian supermarkets?

It’s ironic that this rudimentary rhizome has such elitist appeal.

It’s hilarious to note fancy shmancy dishes sporting a suffix ‘with a tinge/hint/touch/splash of ginger’ – as pretentious as a hyphenated name…

Ginger is meant to be zinger, like the julienned ginger on dal makhni, or the subtle undernote in Aai’s amla chutney or the not so subtle ginger bits in her green chilli and lemon pickle. 

And what good is the ‘alepak pohe’ and sugar cane juice you get in Belgaum without ginger!

Working from home has many benefits – such as fixing the husband and myself a plateful of cool alepak pohe on a warm day.

I must mention that this is my take on the ale pak pohe – combining the elements of my mother-in-law’s famous ‘lavlele pohe’ and the gingery spice balls that come with the original alepak pohe.

And of course, the overdose bit is not a joke. I actually saw this phrase being used to describe a dish, of which, ginger was but an ingredient!

Ale Pak Pohe

Ingredients 

2 cups thin poha (sifted and cleaned)

1 large firm tomato, diced (perhaps not traditional!)

1 Lebanese cucumber, sliced (you can add more raw vegetables like cauliflower, cabbage, alfa alfa sprouts)

2 tbsp roasted chana dal

¼ tsp cumin seeds

2 tbsp ginger chopped (more, if you can take it – without ODing on it)
2-3 tbsp chopped coriander

3 tbsp grated fresh coconut
1-2 green chillies
1 tbsp lemon juice

A pinch of sugar (optional)

Salt and sugar to taste
1 tbsp oil

½ tsp mustard sees

A few curry leaves
A handful of peanuts

A pinch of hing

Method

In a large bowl, mix the pohe, tomatoes, cucumbers, coconut, chopped coriander, salt, sugar and lemon juice. Keep aside covered for a few minutes.

Pulse the roasted chana dal, ginger, chillies and cumin seeds in a spice grinder and sprinkle on top of the pohe.

Heat oil in a small tadka pan and add the mustard seeds and peanuts. Lookout for the peanuts – don’t let them burn. Generally, the time it takes for the seeds to splutter will coincide with the time it takes to fry the peanuts – but that can change rapidly and give you a horrible heart-burning mess!

Anyway, assuming your tadka has been uneventful, proceed with adding the curry leaves and hing.

Take off the heat and pour it on the pohe. Toss the pohe to make sure all the ingredients are mixed well.

Serve immediately.

Cucumbers for Connoisseurs

Sabudana Khichadi with Cucumbers

Sixty-two years ago, when she first discovered the chemistry of cucumber in khichadi, she was a 16-year-old girl with dreams beyond her years and times.

Her parents had given her the wings, but didn’t dare let her fly - tangled in a twister of their own progressive beliefs, awareness of her creative compulsion and peer pressure and material concerns of providing for their brood.

“Get the girls ‘married off’ as soon as possible – you’ve got five to dispose of!” – was a warning arising out of love and pragmatism to be heeded.

Sitting in the mail bogie of the narrow gauge Barshi Light Railway with a family elder assigned to take her to the big city to have her “shown” or “seen”, she looked around her, animatedly taking in all sights, sounds and smells. 

She had passed the matric examination and had submitted specimens of her work to the J.J. School of Art for admission into a fine arts course, sang on the radio, danced on stage – the impressed uncle gathered this bit by bit, between interesting interruptions as the train stopped dutifully at each station.

A hunch on the part of the uncle to first check out the prospective groom proved right. 

As he returned to their host’s home where they were staying for the night, he was greeted by the sight of her heartily tucking into a sabudana khichadi with cucumbers, instead of the customary potatoes. 

It was the host who asked the uncle about the outcome of the visit. 

Looking at the beautiful child-woman relishing the succulent sago pearls flavoured innocently yet exotically with the dewy green cucumbers, the uncle couldn’t bring himself elaborate much.

“Oh, we won’t be seeing that boy – he looks like a monkey”, was all he thought was enough by way of an explanation. 

The proposal fizzled out with the laughter.

Ever since, sabudanyachi khichadi has been made in the family with cucumbers for the connoisseurs, while others get the pedestrian potato.

Sixty-two years later, her dreams– some achieved and some conceded - translucent with age but fresh in her mind, she suddenly recalls and recounts this story amidst peals of laughter as she and her daughter tuck into some cucumber khichadi at brunch on a lazy long weekend. 

Sabudanyachi khichadi with kakadi

Ingredients

2 cups sabudana, picked clean

3-4 small cucumbers, diced (I used Lebanese cucumbers, but continental cucumbers or gherkins – kheeras will also do)

3-4 green chillies (or more)

1 teaspoon cumin seeds 

2 tablespoons olive oil 

¾ cup roasted and coarsely ground peanuts 

½ cup grated coconut

1 teaspoon sugar/sweetener

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon lemon juice (or more)

2 tablespoons chopped coriander

Method

Pick and wash the sabudana with plenty of water and drain completely. Keep covered for at least 3-4 hours. Overnight is the best. The sabudana absorbs the moisture and swells. Test a pearl by rolling it between your thumb and index finger. It should be soft, non-sticky and pliable. If it isn’t, sprinkle some more water and keep covered for some more time. I usually rehydrate the drained sabudana at least twice by sprinkling water and raking the caked moist sabudana with a fork. 

When you are satisfied that the pearls are separate, soft and pliable, add the ground peanuts, salt, sugar and salt and mix well.

In a heavy bottomed pan, heat the oil and add the cumin seeds to splutter. Add the chopped green chillies and the diced cucumber and sauté lightly. 

Add the prepared sabudana mixture and mix thoroughly. Cook covered for a few minutes. Mix again and add the lemon juice, grated coconut.  Add more salt if required. The sabudana will turn translucent when cooked and let out white steam. Stir gently to avoid lumping.

Serve garnished with the coriander.  

Seeds of labour

Vegan Tandoori Aloo

I ventured out on this recent holiday to Europe and the US with apprehension about the food scene.

During my previous trips to the US, both the times accompanied by young kids and an elderly parent, it hadn’t been easy to find vegetarian food. Certainly not the kind of one would indulgently eat while on a holiday.

My daughters’ holiday in NYC two years ago had been a pizza pilgrimage and they had come up with their definitive list of the best vegetarian pizza and pie places around the Hudson.

Then they both embraced veganism.

Hence my fears, that this time as well we could be glancing at menu cards full of meat and more meat, finally settling for an unfinishable cups of lukewarm coffee or undrinkable tea to wash down cloyingly sweet Krispy Kreme doughnuts or greasy croissants.

Or we could be helplessly stuck with soulless stuff like tofu and tempeh and dry kale or rancid coconut chips.

What we actually saw was a groundswell of healthy and tasty eating, wholesome and organic food that was mostly accessible, fairly affordable and imminently edible.

Even the gram flour coated, baked kale chips we tasted at a vegan meet-up were actually nice.

Mainstream stores like Pret A Manger and Whole Foods stocked freshly cooked salads and convenient hot meals, with plenty of vegan and vegetarian options.

Vegan and vegetarian “options” – did I just hear chalkboard scraping?

I have plans of writing more about these experiences, but for now will quietly marvel about this revolution.

A population battling obesity and related diseases in overburdened state healthcare systems, a generation of people with an all time high awareness of the environment around them, a growing sensitivity to the cruel excesses of the meat and dairy industry, celebrity endorsement by the likes Jamie Oliver, Stella McCartney….

Surely, the seeds of labour are bound to sprout.

This was my mantra while growing the notoriously difficult to grow coriander for the first time. I waited, watched, pretended not to watch and watered the patch patiently, until one day the brown soil was dotted in green.

Here’s a dish I made while the coriander was in full bloom and seeding in April this year.

Vegan Tandoori Aloo

Ingredients

4-5 large potatoes or 10-12 chat potatoes, boiled

8-10 cashews, soaked for 30 minutes

1 tsp garam masala powder

1 tsp chat / pani poori masala

½ tbsp garlic ginger paste

½ tsp red chili powder, or more

Pinch of haldi

Pinch of ajwain

1 tsp coriander powder

1 tsp kasuri methi leaves

1 tsp amchoor powder

Salt to taste

Pinch of sugar

3 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp any other cooking oil

For garnishing

Finely sliced Spanish onion

Coriander leaves, preferably seeding coriander

Method

Peel the boiled potatoes.  Cut into large cubes. If you are using small potatoes, there’s no need to cut them.

Do not discard the peels.

In a mixer, put together the peels and all the other ingredients except the oil, and blend till you get a smooth paste. Adjust all flavours and salt to your taste.

Heat a piece of charcoal/ briquette on the stove till it burns evenly.

In a pan heat the olive oil and add the peeled potatoes and sauté for a minute or so. Pour the paste over the potatoes. Stir-fry on high heat for a few minutes more until the rawness disappears.

Place a katori/bowl lined with aluminium foil on the potatoes and place the burning coal in it. Pour a tsp of oil on the potatoes and when it starts smoking, place a tight lid on the pan so the potatoes are smoked thoroughly. Remove the lid after a few minutes.

Serve hot with sliced Spanish onions and seeding coriander.

Pithla Company and Burping in Brooklyn

Pithla - and a big hello to all my readers in the USA! 

Thank you and love you! 

“Pithla Company” is a good-natured racial slur, almost like an in-joke we have to denote Marathi speaking people, including ourselves. It does seem like it, but it’s really not meant to be derogatory.  

How could it be offensive, for pithla with bhaat or bhakri is one of the most comforting and satisfying foods one can ever think of?  

It's a quick and easy dish that is made when one is in a hurry or needs a palate cleanser after a series of feasts. It's equally an apt "shramaparihar" after a tiring wedding function, as an offering by one's neighbours  in commiseration when there’s a death in the family.

My daughter and I have been travelling in Europe and the US, soaking in the culture of the cities and countries- it has been all about museums, monuments and mementos. Just as it has been about Shakespeare and Wordsworth, Victor Hugo and Walt Whitman. And it also has been about Pharaohs and mummies and the Gothic and the Baroque. 

But as true foodophiles, it has been significantly about local cuisines, what is grown, how it is cooked and presented, what people eat and why and finally, what we could eat as vegetarian and vegan “Pithla Company”.

We have made it a point to visit local grocers, wholefood stores, farmers’ markets and even local desi or Asian groceries like Shah & Cie where we met Mr. and Mrs. Shah who had moved from Madagascar to Paris 40 years ago. Then there was Le Marché Sacré Coeur up the street up the street from the hotel, which has large bowls full of brined olives and vegetables of all description, size and colour.

There have been the sporadic, short-lived dalliances with Indian restaurants. We have had some memorable meals such as last night’s masala dosa at Sarvanna Bhavan in Manhattan; the dal soup and veg biryani at Ravishankar Bhel Puri Centre near London’s Euston Station; the crispy bhindi at "Dhishoom, the Bombay style Irani café in Covent Garden in London and the Lebanese platter near the Louvre in Paris. 

But often we have paid more for the familiar comforting sights and aromas of Indian food, than for any real satisfaction of a great meal. 

All we crave now is a simple home cooked meal.

This morning we moved into a serviced studio apartment in Brooklyn that is going to be my daughter’s home for the next month when I head back home in a week.

Three important discoveries we made this morning:

•  there are many cute semi-feral (/sɛmaɪ/, please – we’re in the US) cats living 
   off the dumpster in the basement of the building 
•  there is a community-owned natural food store nearby 
•  and that there is a Laundromat four doors away.

More about the cats and conveniences later, but here is a list of things we bought among many others:

•  Basmati Rice
•  Garbanzo bean flour
•  Veggies, coriander and curry leaves
•  Sunflower oil
•  Spices – cumin, mustard et al
•  Some peanut butter that you can freshly crush in the coop stores
•  Some desiccated coconut

The menu is a no-brainer - at least for the "Pithla Company". 

Pithla – bhaat, cabbage chi koshimbir - made very authentic with the addition of the crunchy, freshly crushed peanut butter and Batatyachi D-chi bhaji (named so by a child in the family as the quartered slices look like the alphabet D).

The meal is ready in not time, despite our fastidious thorough cleaning of the kitchen and pots and pans – for we don’t know what previous guests have cooked in it, on it, with it…

Adequately pre-admonished by my daughter to keep the photo session short, we took some quick clicks for the blog and tuck into the best belch-inducing meal of the tour so far.

You can take  “Pithla Company” out of Maharashtra and/ or India, but you can’t take the pithla out of the “Pithla Company”.

The hearty “dhekar” or burp of satisfaction will vouch for that.

Pithla

2 tbsp oil

 ½ tsp mustard seeds

A pinch of haldi

½ tsp red chilli powder

1 onion, chopped

A few curry leaves

3 heaped tbsp gramflour or besan

About 2 cups of water (depends on how thick you want it)

Salt to taste

1 tbsp desiccated coconut

A large pinch of cumin powder

2 tbsp chopped coriander to garnish

Method

Heat the oil in a large pan and add mustard to splutter. Add the chopped onion and sauté for a while. Add the haldi and red chilli powder and sauté further. Then add water and bring it to a boil. Then gradually sprinkle the besan, a little at a time, and keep mixing continuously to avoid very large lumps from forming. Small lumps are ok, in fact the pithla tastes better with some small lumps.

Add salt to taste and the desiccated coconut and cumin powder and stir lightly. Cover and cook for a short while until you see white steam emanating from the sauce. Be mindful that if you make it too thick, the pithla will start to spit and scald you!

Garnish with chopped coriander leaves and serve hot with rice.

Don’t forget to burp afterwards – a good, loud, deep and long-drawn one.

It’s polite for “Pithla Company” to do so.