Packed to the rafters

Bharli Vaangi (Stuffed Brinjals)

Packed to the rafters !

That’s what Mother says every time we talk of getting new pots and pans on visits to India. Why buy new ones when we have so many! 

I am showing her my latest shopping – an anodised tava and langadi and a non-stick handi I bought to bring back to Australia. 

But mum, look at these new ones – they are better designed, ergonomically shaped and one needs minimal oil to cook in them. They look better and are easier to clean and maintain. I go on and on extolling the virtues of the new pots without actively denouncing the old brass and copper plated utensils sitting forlorn and forgotten in their wraps in the lofts in Mother’s home. 

Let’s sell them as scrap, you get a good rate for brass. No, Mother says. No utensil from my house will be sold, she declares firmly. 

Old fashioned, I think, but respect her sentiment. Perhaps I would have done the same.

She wants to give them to “Apala Ghar”, a home for children orphaned in the Latur earthquake of 1993, run by Panna Lal Surana Ji, an  old colleague of my freedom fighter grandfather. That’s an excellent idea, I say, but start worrying about the logistics of sending them over –Who will deliver them? How? I really don’t have time in this short visit…

Why don’t you take some with you, mother asks. 

To Australia! No way! I interject, almost unthinkingly- except in that split second I am thinking - Who will scrub clean the vessels with tamarind and ash to shine them? Where can I get a kalhaiwala to periodically coat their insides with tin to prevent food poisoning? And how will I ship these behemoths without booking container space!

The easiest thing to do is to cast the idea and the pots aside for the time being. 

At least let them see the light of the day – er, clean them once, mother urges.

So down come all the lofty gang- the kadhai (wok), patella (sauce pan), gundi (round bottomed casserole) parat (shallow mixing bowl), langdi (wide, shallow flat-bottomed pan), rowli (colander), mother’s first cooker – a tall stock pot with a domed tight fitting lid in which rice and dal could be cooked in separate containers at the same time) phirki cha tambya (portable water container with a screw top with a handle) kadicha daba (billy can)…

Mother and I are lost in the world we have brought upon ourselves. Each vessel has their antecedents engraved on them, who gifted it to who, whose proud possession it was (funny how many of those pots had the names of the male heads of family!) in which city it had been bought, whose trousseau it was a part of, who it was inherited from…

Each pot and pan has a memory of the dishes that were made in them. Each dent evokes irritation for the silly maids or butterfingered daughters or in-laws who had brought on the disfigurement. Some painful grouses of irreplaceable sets separated by stealing wenches are aired. 

OMG! I think – we are talking about these vessels as if they were people! 

But I end up realising these brass behemoths as I called them, are actually our family elders who had proffered us condolence and succor in mourning, fed our festivities and joy and nourished us at normal times. 

More than just vessels, these repositories of our culture and traditions watch us even now, as silent sentinels from their lofty perch - leaving us packed to the rafters with rich legacy.

I did bring the anodised langadi and tava with me – and someday would like these inanimate objects to bring history alive to my progeny and theirs. 

The dish I made in the langadi had to be bharli vaangi, for obvious reasons. And also because I am sending it to my blogger friend Preeti's  Ruchira Giveaway Event !

Bharali Vaangi

Ingredients  

12-14 small brinjals 

For the masala 

1 cup finely minced onion 
½ cup roasted and coarsely powdered peanuts 
¼ cup toasted and coarsely ground sesame seeds
¼ cup grated coconut (fresh or desiccated) lightly toasted
1 tsp poppy seeds, toasted and crushed  
3-4 tbsp finely chopped coriander leaves 
2 tsp red chili powder, or more
1 tbsp Maharastrian goda masala or Badshah undiyu masala or garam masala
2 tbsp grated jaggery 
1 tbsp amchur powder or a little tamarind concentrate
1 tbsp coriander powder
1 tsp cumin powder
¼ tsp hing
½  tsp turmeric
1 tbsp oil 
Salt to taste

For the tadka 

1 tsp mustard seeds 
A pinch of turmeric
A pinch of hing
3-4 tbsp oil

Method

Heat the oil in a small pan and add mustard seeds to splutter then add the turmeric and hing. Keep this aside.

Wash and dry the brinjals. Trim the stalk and calyx (trimming calyx is optional) and cut each brinjal from the base, stopping just short of the end so you’re cutting it into half without severing it. Then from the calyx end, give a similar cut, but at 90° or perpendicular to the first cut, going all the way just short of the end. This way the brinjal is cut into quarters, but doesn’t open up completely and therefore retains the stuffing even during the cooking. This trick is a valuable heirloom trick passed down by my grandmother. Cut all the brinjals in this fashion and keep aside.

Mix all the ingredients of masala and pack the brinjals with it from both the ends, so you’ll be able to pack in more masala, spreading its goodness right into each brinjal – and keeping it there!

Keep aside any remaining masala. You can add a few tablespoons of water to make a light watery mixture and use it to braise the brinjals. 

Arrange the brinjals like in the picture in a wide, shallow and flat-bottomed non-stick pan, like my anodised langadi or a Teflon coated paella pan. Pour the tadka on the top. You can be more generous with the oil if you wish. 

Start the heat, first high and then on medium so the bottom of the brinjals get lightly browned. Flip each brinjal carefully with a spoon without letting it break. Then pour the watery gravy mixture carefully all over the brinjals and lower the heat. 

Cover the pan with a tight lid. I used a water bath – a shallow steel plate with some water in it.

Cook for about 8-10 minutes on very low heat. When the water in the water bath starts to steam lightly, remove the cover carefully, making sure you don’t spill any water into the brinjals.

Check each one for doneness. Flip them around if required, this time with more caution as cooked brinjals fall apart very quickly. 

Switch off the heat when done and let it rest covered for 15-20 minutes at least before serving with chapati, bhakri or rice and dal.

These vaangis (brinjals) actually taste much better the following day! 

In celebration of life and blog

This is my 100th post on Shruti's Blog! Thank you, all my readers for loving the blog and encouraging me to cook, write and post! I am happy posting these guilt-free Dahi Wadas or Baked Lentil Dumplings in a Spicy Yoghurt Sauce, in celebration of life and blog! 

 

After nearly eight years of being taken for granted and working unconditionally to keep us warm in winter and cool in summer, the central air conditioning in our home has had a (nervous) breakdown in this latest spate of horrendously hot weather in Melbourne. Two sides of the apartment are sheer glass, a style feature we so enjoy, but in the present circumstance they turn our home into a veritable furnace. We have never thought so unkindly of our home, but then, we haven’t hardly thought twice of our amenities either, switching on the air-conditioning, cranking the thermostat up or down, with nary a care.

Why haven’t we called the AC repair guys, you will ask. We did! Called up every one of them that service the CBD area from the yellow pages, but the earliest we could get one to come out is next week. Such is the irony of living in a so-called developed economy. Electricity, water and water supply will almost never be interrupted, but you may have to wait for days or weeks before you can get tradespeople to come out to repair stuff.

Too hot to cook, too hot to write, too hot to think!

Everyone is whingeing and snapping at each other. We spent one night at my brother’s. Borrowed their good old evaporative air cooler.  The cat has gone limp and lying directly in the path of the cool air. 

And I remember lines from an essay I taught Year 10 students for many years, enjoying the teaching and learning from it, discovering new meaning with each successive batch I taught year after year.

The essay by Dr. Christian Bernard, the surgeon who performed the world’s first successful heart transplant, was titled “In celebration of being alive”.  Bitter about the suffering of little children that he sees around him, and harried by his own family’s travails following an accident, the heart surgeon reflects on his father’s wise belief that suffering ennobles. He sees nothing ennobling in the suffering of little children, but has an epiphany in his children’s ward when he sees the spirited, gleeful romping of a blind child his mate with only one arm. Undeterred by their disabilities and unfettered by sorrow, the kids are having so much fun the sensitive doctor realises a home truth that, "We cannot appreciate light unless we have seen darkness nor can we appreciate warmth unless we have experienced cold!"

Almost twenty years later, these words ring true in my years.

We were so quick to adapt to the air-conditioning after spending our childhood with ceiling and table fans, then again, these had been introduced into the family only when we were seven or eight years old. Not that we lived in antediluvian times, but the world in those days wasn’t as hot, arid and leafless! 

Like bad habits, dependence on these luxuries was very quick to be acquired and stick, and we didn’t realise when our wants became our needs. But we weren’t quick enough to adapt to the reverse situation during this great heat siege.

Four or five days without air-conditioning have once again made us alive to the gifts of life, the lovely breeze blowing in from the balcony in the evenings, the joys of spontaneously packing an overnight bag and going for a sleepover with extended family, camping as a family on futons and sleeping bags in the living room to share the solitary air-cooler, preparing umpteen jugs of lemonade, making hassle-free and guilt-free cooling dahi wadas to beat the heat, buying icy poles, doing a movie marathon, chatting away into the wee hours of the morning…

We have learnt to truly appreciate our ambience and amenities, and I don’t just mean the central air-conditioning… 

Baked Dahi Wada

these last few days, the thought of entering the hell’s kitchen has been so unbearable. But the family has to be fed. Yoghurt did a marvelous job of standing in on all meals and deserved to be a little spiced up. Dahi wada seemed to a good solution, and a baked dahi wada was perfect, as I didn’t have to stand in the kitchen frying! Plus the added bonus was it was guilt free, with only about 3 ml oil per wada!

Ingredients

For the wadas

1 cup skinned black lentils (dhuli urad dal)

A pinch of baking soda

1 tsp chopped ginger

A few curry leaves

½ tsp cumin seeds

½ tsp pepper corns

1 green chilli, chopped (or more)

A pinch of hing

5-6 tbsp oil

Salt to taste

For the yoghurt sauce

3 cups yoghurt (not very sour)

½ tsp ginger paste

A pinch of hing

1 tsp of sugar

½ tsp roasted cumin seeds powder

½ tsp jal jira or chat masala

Red chilli powder to taste

Salt to taste
A cup of water or more

Garnish

Chopped green coriander

Sweet date and tamarind chutney

Method

Soak the dal in plenty of cold water and add a pinch of baking soda to it. I usually don’t add soda, but since I was baking the wadas, I thought this might assist.

After about 2 hours, grind the dal with all the ingredients for the wada, except the oil. Grind into a thick paste and adjust the tastes. Add the oil and beat it with a whisk until the batter is light and fluffy, say about 8-10 minutes.

Bake the wadas in a pre-heated oven in muffin or doughnut trays at 220C for about 20 minutes or until done.

While the wadas are baking, mix all the ingredients for the yoghurt sauce and beat till smooth. Adjust the tastes and keep a little sauce aside. In the remaining sauce add a little water. It’s better to keep the sauce a little runny, as it gets better absorbed into the wadas.

When the wadas are done, allow them to cool slightly and then dunk them into the sauce. Chill the wadas in the yoghurt sauce for at least an hour or so and check if they have got soaked well. Pour the thick sauce you have kept aside on the top and garnish with coriander and sweet date and tamarind chutney.

The family has now declared that they will not see me ever slogging over the stove, frying wadas, for it’s always going to be baked wadas at home.

The best part about baking is these wadas had about 3 ml oil each! And you don’t have to be too worried about adding as little water as possible while grinding the dal – for shaping is not a problem at all – not with a doughnut tray!

Red Rosebuns

Steamed Flower Rolls or Huajuan

My most favourite colour is pink followed by red.

I like happy endings in movies – hate it when people wander away into the horizon, all alone.

I used to read Mills and Boon romances between the ages 13 and 16. And yes, not to forget Barbara Cartland and Georgette Heyer.

My girls tease me when I have a silly smile on my face watching a really mushy scene on TV.

So maybe that qualifies me to be a romantic.

We surely had romanced, and so very well, before we had even heard about Valentine’s Day. We didn’t spend anything at all on log-stemmed roses; they weren’t even available so easily in those days. Chocolates were to be bought in small bars, not boxes. Dining out with boyfriends was done surreptitiously, not over candlelight.

So yes, is this day of lovers a hype?  The whole world seems to be polarised into those who love Valentine’s Day and those who don’t.

Here in Australia, as all over in the world over, it’s a Hallmark Holiday, an opportunity for the hospitality and retail industries to get back into action.  After a lull over January, with pockets spent after the biggest spending spree the consumer has had at the year-end, Australians will be spending $936 Million!

The detractors say why celebrate only one day? Why pay outrageous prices for gifts and meals?

My take? Why stop people from loving one another - we see so much hatred and bigotry around! And this day is not just for boyfriend/girlfriend – this day has evolved to become of significance to anyone who loves another. 

So happy Valentine’s Day to all my friends and readers!

I was researching baozi buns on the Internet when I chanced upon these spectacular roses on an excellent blog titled Corner Café by an ace blogger Seadragon. (http://cornercafe.wordpress.com/2013/01/25/steamed-flower-rolls-rosebud-version/)

I just had to make these flower rolls or huajuan, which are plain steamed buns made into flower shapes made widely in China.

Here’s SeaDragon’s recipe.

Ingredients

400g plain flour

1/8 teaspoon salt

20g caster sugar

6g instant dry yeast

210ml lukewarm water, adjust as necessary

1/4 teaspoon strawberry paste, or a few drops red food colouring, adjust as necessary for desired hue. 

I chose to make it almost red!

Baking paper, or patty-tin paper cases

Preparation

1. If you are using the baking paper as bases for the steamed buns, cut the paper into rounds about 8cm in diameter. Set aside.

2. Sift flour, salt and caster sugar onto the working surface. Add instant dry yeast and stir into the flour mixture; mixing well. Form the flour mixture into a well. Add colouring. Gradually add just enough lukewarm water to form into a slightly sticky, soft dough. Knead for 10 minutes, adjust with more flour or water if the dough feels too wet or too dry.

3. Form the dough into a round ball and let it rise until double in size in a large greased bowl, cover with cling film (should take about 1 hour in warm weather, longer in winter months).

4. Punch down, knead briefly and divide into 6 equal portions of about 110g each. Form each portion into a log and divide again equally into 5 portions of about 22g each. You should end up with 30 small portions. Form each piece into a ball and let rest for about 10 minutes (depending on how fast you work, by the time you finish rounding the last portion, the first portion would have rested enough time and should be ready to be shaped), covered loosely with cling film.

5. Roll out each ball with a small rolling pin into a thin round sheet about 8cm in diameter, with the centre slightly thicker than the edges if possible. Working with 5 sheets at a time, place the first sheet nearest to you on the working surface, place the next sheet on top of the first sheet but slightly further away from you so that it covers about half of the first sheet. Repeat lining up the next three sheets in the same way until you have a row of 5 sheets. Press the sheets together lightly so they stick together.

6. Starting from the top sheet, furthest away from you, roll the row of 5 sheets towards you like a Swiss roll. Using a chopstick or a dough scraper, cut the roll in the centre into 2 equal half pieces, using a to-and-fro sawing action. Turn the pieces upright so they resemble rosebuds.

7. Place each rosebud on a piece of the prepared baking paper round, or patty-tin paper case. Cover loosely with cling film, and let rise for about 10 to 20 minutes, or until they feel just puffy. Try not to rest too long for this final rise, or the rosebud shapes might be distorted if they rise too much. In the meantime, start boiling water in a steamer.

8. Steam the rosebud buns for about 15 minutes over moderate heat. When done, turn off the heat but do not remove the lid of the steamer, and let the buns sit inside for a further 3 minutes (this is to prevent the buns from shrinking). Then remove and serve hot.

I had no clue what to serve them with, so served them warm with honey and a dollop of cream.