I was officially diagnosed with PCOS sometime in 2005, though I had been exhibiting tendencies normally associated with this disorder since 1998, mainly irregular menstrual cycle, acne, and weight gain (rather a difficulty in losing weight). For those who don’t know what PCOS is, let me explain, it is the acronym for a disorder called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, also sometimes called PCOD - Polycystic Ovarian Disease. It is an endocrine disorder that affects women in their reproductive age. No one knows why it happens, but it causes our hormones to go haywire, and most of the times gets diagnosed when a woman decides to have a baby.  Having babies for those dealing with PCOD is often a daunting task, it involves frequent trips to a gynaecologist, understanding your cycles, and realizing that while all other women release healthy eggs that are potential babies, you need help as you have anovulatory cycles, meaning you do not ovulate during some cycles. There is also the presence of cysts in your ovaries, though this is not necessarily indicative of PCOD or vice versa. PCOD causes irregular menstrual cycle, crazy mood swings, inability to control one’s weight, adult acne… living with it is like being a teenager all your life. So not a good idea! If you want to read up about PCOD, just google it, there are thousands of websites and forums talking about a disorder that is increasingly becoming common in the recent years.

So in 2005 I was diagnosed with PCOD as we wanted to have a baby. I was immediately put on Glucophage/Metformin. This is a diabetic drug which is now being used to treat PCOD. Metformin affects the way insulin is controlled in our blood sugar. If taken over a period of time, Metformin also helps in ovulation. I also did two cycles of Clomid. Clomid, or Clomiphene Citrate, is a medication that blocks the receptor for the female hormone estrogen. This causes the pituitary gland to secrete more follicle stimulating hormone (FSH), which in turn stimulates the ovary to make an egg. So helps women who do not ovulate regularly to produce an egg every month. Round 2 of Clomid I conceived my daughter.

It has been six years since I was first diagnosed, yet not much has changed in my life. I still deal with irregular periods, we haven’t yet been able to conceive a sibling for my daughter, I deal with terrible mood swings and bouts of depression, I get acne, my weight has ballooned and I have systemically gained over 40 kilos since 1998 when I first started showing signs of PCOD. And each time I go to the doctor to get my cycle on track, I get a stash of Glucophage most of which I never end up taking.

So what’s the good part? The good part really is that PCOD can be managed and to a great extent you can reverse it by not letting your hormones get the better of you, by changing your lifestyle, and by following a specialised diet. I would say a good place to start would be,

1. Accepting your body along with its vagaries. Checked.
2. Learning more on your condition. Checked.
3. Believing that you can change your life. Checked.
4. Asking for help. Checked.

Earlier this month I found a new gynaecologist, in a clinic close to where I live. As usual I had problems with my cycle, after the usual talks and check up, she stared hard at me, or right through me I should say, and told me categorically, “I don’t know how you do it, but when you meet me in three months, you should have lost considerable amount of weight.” She then thrust a leaflet on low GI diet into my hands.

I am not a nutritionist, but I spent several days reading up about the Glycemic Index (GI) and trying to understand what this is all about, and more importantly how it works. But for dummies like me a video like the one below helps!!!

In the coming days I am going to post about how I am changing my diet so that the pre-historic in me stays right under the rocks.

STEP 1: WHERE YOU MAKE THE PAKODI

1 cup chickpea flour/besan
1/2 tsp carom seeds/ajwain
1 tsp paprika
pinch soda bi-carb
a little water
salt to taste
oil for deep frying

Heat oil in a deep wok/kadai. Mix chickpea flour/besan with carom seeds, paprika, soda bi-carb, and a little water to make a thick cake like batter. Drop small spoonfuls of the batter into the hot oil. Deep fry the pakodi until golden brown, and drain onto a kitchen paper. Soak the fried pakodi in tepid water for one second, squeeze, and set aside.

STEP 2: WHERE YOU WHISK THE YOGHURT

1/2 cup chickpea flour/besan
2 cups light yoghurt (can use up leftover, sour yoghurt)
3 cups water
salt to taste

Whisk together besan, yoghurt, little salt, and water, until there are no lumps. You can use a manual whisk, or one thats fed with electricity.

STEP 3: WHERE IT ALL COMES TOGETHER

1 tablespoon ghee (you may as well, ghee lends flavour to kadhi)
1/2 teaspoon mustard
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon fenugreek
1/2 teaspoon asafoetida
1 teaspoon turmeric
3,4 sundried chillies
some salt, just in case

Heat ghee in a wok, and season it with sundried chillies, mustard, cumin, fenugreek, asafoetida, turmeric. Turn the heat to minimum. Pour the whisked besan-yoghurt mixture into the seasoning, stir. Bring the mixture to a boil on medium to low heat, stirring every now and then. The stew will start to thicken. At this point add the fried and soaked dumplings. Mix, cover and let simmer on low heat for 3, 4 minutes. Turn off heat.

STEP 4: EPIPHANY

1/2 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon asafoetida
1/2 tablespoon ghee
finely chopped fresh coriander

In a small seasoning wok heat the ghee and saute cumin, paprika, and asafoetida. Pour over the stew for a final seasoning, garnish with fresh coriander, and serve with steaming hot rice.

Been really not in the mood for writing, or even cooking. So my posts have been few and far between, there are days now when I feel like giving up on blogging… but I stop by and then write something, anything, because opening my dashboard and putting down an old thought with a new recipe is therapeutic for me. Perhaps for no reason other than acknowledging a certain meal that’s worth making a memory of.

Not going to ramble, these apple squares recently entered my life, and came from the desire to create something sweet, and cinnamony for my daughter. There are hundreds of apple square recipes on the internet, I just went and personalized mine with brown sugar, and vanilla, gives a nice mysterious depth to the whole thing… and makes you want to go…. mmmmmm…..

Ingredients for Apple & Walnut Squares

dry stuff:

2 cups AP flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon powder

wet stuff:

1 3/4 cup packed dark brown sugar (its sweet)
3 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup cooking oil

the real deal:

2 cups apples, peeled and chopped
1 cup walnuts, chopped

Method

1. Preaheat oven to 180 decgree C and grease & line a square baking dish.
2. Sieve all the dry ingredients and set aside (flour+salt+baking powder+cinnamon).
3. Mix all the wet ingredients in a large bowl, until the sugar is well dissolved (sugar+eggs+oil+vanilla).
4. Add the dry ingredients to the wet mixture and mix.
5. Next, drop in the chopped apples, and walnuts, and mix again.
6. Pour into a tray (its a thick mixture) and bake for upto 54 minutes or until a wooden skewer inserted into the cake comes out clean.

Cut into squares, and enjoy, but let me warn you its on the sweeter side, probably that and the eggs gives it a nice crispy outside, kids will love it, but you can reduce the sugar to your taste.

Sometimes things sound so much more exotic in English – I would pour over food blogs and recipe books wistfully – how nice cilantro, dill and buckwheat sound. And why don’t we get them here? Then I started googling – the bubble burst when I discovered they were just vilayat kothamalli, sabsige and kuttu!!! Not daydreaming of them now am I?

And it’s the same reaction I got from my family when I made the salad I’m posting today.

They called me ‘what did you have for lunch?’ – whaaaat? chole and avarakkai salad? you didn’t even cook the avarakkai? what, Nina?

No Appa, it’s a beautiful chickpea salad with cherry… tomatoes, lightly pickled onions and tender snow peas.

Oh WOW! Why didn’t you say so in the first place?

I did Dad…only avarakkai and chole sound like a dastardly combination!

The days are getting hotter and though I send a packed lunch for my family, I find I’m unable to deal with hot cooked food, especially in the afternoons. So I normally end up cutting up cucumbers and tomatoes in a bowlful of curd, topping it with a sprinkle of bhujia or crisps and voila! my meal is ready.

The other day however, i didn’t have my lunch time staples in the refrigerator. Sometimes my refrigerator is full to the brim but with nary a ready-to-eat morsel in it. This is what I found inside my fridge:
some cooked chickpeas
some cherry tomatoes – which I halved
some snow peas – that I snapped in half
some fresh paneer that I cubed
about a handful of pomegranate
half an onion, sliced and left in lemon juice [from the previous night's dinner] they were now pink

I threw them all into a bowl. I actually didn’t add any salt or pepper. Just let it all marinate in the onion lime juices.

It was yum! I wouldn’t have thought that all this would have worked together – but it did. Light, crisp, a little lemony and packed with protein.

At my place stuffed capsicum mean peppers filled with a spicy mash of potatoes, served with garlic infused dhal that has been generously sprinkled with coriander, and hot, fluffy chappatis. The capsicums are usually pan fried in oil, posing two serious problems, one, hot oil burns hands, and second, hot oil makes for a messy stove. So that is how a winters treat, remains a winter’s treat in my home, inspite of capsicum being available the year round these days!

This recipe has non of that mess, I wanted to do a non traditional variation of my stuffed peppers, and so baked the peppers along with some feta and served with skillet cooked pita bread. That grilled feta is something else!! Baking was a really good idea and I recommend this version to be tried by anyone who likes stuffing their bellpeppers!

first things first

Boil 4 medium sized potatoes, peel and mash, set aside
Find 4 good capsicums, remove top, hollow out the innards and set aside

remaining ingredients

1 medium sized onion, finely chopped
1 green chilly, finely chopped
1 tsp mustard seeds
1 tablespoon grated ginger
1 teaspoon grated garlic
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon garam masala
1 teaspoon coriander powder
1 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon chilly powder (optional)
salt to taste
oil for basting

optional ingredients for garnish

four thick square slices of feta cheese
1 tomato, quartered
1 onion, quartered
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 teaspoon vinegar
sprinkle of salt and sugar

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 200 degree C.
2. Heat a teaspoon of oil in a frying pan and pop the mustard seeds, follow this by sauteing the ginger, garlic, green chilly, and onions, until the onions are translucent. Add salt, followed by the spices – turmeric, coriander, cumin, chilly, and garam masala – stir and give it a minute on low flame.
3. Next, add the mashed potatoes to the spicy mixture and give the whole thing a good mix. Set aside to cool.
4. When cool enough to handle, stuff the hollowed out capsicum with the potato mixture, top with a slice of feta and place in a roasting pan.
5. Mix the onions and tomatoes with the olive oil, salt, sugar, and vinegar, and spread all around the base of the roasting pan.
6. Pour a bit of olive oil right over the top of the stuffed capsicum and use your hands or a brush to coat the capsicum with oil.
7. Place in the oven, and bake for upto 45 to 50 minutes, until the capsicum looks cooked, and brown over the edges.
8. Serve with warm Pita bread.

I’ll do the skillet cooked pita recipe in another post.

Oh my god , she said, I look just like my mom...but I like it.

13th of Feb – just yesterday…on my morning walk, I felt confused, bewildered…trees were in bloom, the light was fantastic – yet my heart didn’t lift at the sight – how could the world be so beautiful when my friend, Raji was no longer in it?

Raji had an illness, the same one that her mother died when she was 5. A condition called  “mega duodenum” – the story of her battle can be read here. It was something I always knew about but never took seriously because if you knew Raji, you couldn’t believe that she would ever succumb to a mere illness.

I mean, I’m organised and she made me feel totally inefficient…writer, food blogger, financial analyst, mom, wife, friend, dance student, general organiser of everyone’s lives – what a dynamo…she rarely spoke about her illness except for a few passing references. She was on top of it.

Then early last year, she fell ill again… to be truthful I can’t say I was stunned – I mean, it was Raji, right? Brave, strong, indefatigable, happy happy happy Raji. She sounded strong, positive – we spoke about thrice a week, bitched about movie stars, discussed some recipes, laughed over news anchors frothing at the mouth and smsed each other every night after during Masterchef Australia. When Season 1 ended, I remember feeling wistful, I asked her “will you still be my 9-10 pm girlfriend or will you break up with me now?” She laughed! How she laughed, the biggest smile, the brightest eyes…

Through last year I kept wanting to visit her – I had last seen her in 2010. Then work took me to Delhi this January and ofcourse she was on the phone with me ‘what do you want to eat?” I made a list of stuff, her miso soup, her khao suey… She made all that and more – a Pav Bhaji “just like the one in Sagar! I figured it out! “

 Raji hadn’t eaten properly for a few months, maybe a few table spoons a day…so my requests may seem insensitive to those who don’t know her – she was like that, constantly feeding people, entertaining. She was pickling the vegetables, and then a lime pickle…bottles all neatly arranged and sitting in the sun. The evening before I left Delhi, she was making a trifle pudding…arranging layers of carrot-halwa, vanilla pudding, caramelised almonds in shot glasses…there was dinner the next evening that she was hosting for her colleagues from the UK.

She was never in denial – she knew she would leave soon – when we spoke briefly about the future – she said she had made her peace with life and death. I had to leave at 4 am to make my flight and I didn’t say good bye… and I never will.

To Raji, layering a trifle, while attached to your tubes, reminding me to pack the puff pastry and feta you had bought for me, admonishing me to write; ‘you’re useless, Nina!’

Today I know why the trees still bloom, why the sun shines so gently and why the world is still so beautiful…my world will always be beautiful because you are still in it.

I love you.

I was craving for something sweet and sour and remembered Gojju Avalakki my friend’s mum used to make. Gojju Avalakki is a savoury (sweet, sour and spicy) mixture made of poha (beaten rice flakes). Making this involves a bare minimum amount of cooking, just boiling a spice water that would be poured over crushed poha. I have done the same using couscous, and was very happy with the result.

So for those looking for barely moving your muscles and yet producing a breakfast/snack that looks like a lot of work has gone into it – give it a shot, besides it has the added glitz of being Indian inspired ‘fusion’ dish

Ingredients for Coucous

1/2 cup couscous
3/4 cup water
1 tsp salt
1 tsp rasam powder
1 tsp tamarind paste
1 tsp jaggery shavings
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1/2 tsp channa dhal (split chickpea with the skin off)
1/2 tsp urad dhal
1 tbsp raw peanuts
1 spring curry leaves
1 tbsp chopped onions
1 tsp chopped green chilli
2 tsp sesame oil

Method

1. Place the couscous in a large bowl.
2. Mix the salt, rasam powder, jaggery, tamarind paste with the water and bring it to a boil.
3. Pour the hot mixture, over the couscous, cover, and let stand for 5 minutes. The couscous would have absorbed all that spicy, sweet n sour water, fluff it up with a fork, and set a saucepan on the gas on medium flame.
4. Heat oil, and add mustard, urad dhal, channa dhal, and peanuts and stir around until you hear the mustard pop.
5. Now add the green chilli, curry leaves and onions and saute until onions turn pink. Take off the gas and mix this into the couscous, giving it a good stir.
6. Garnish with fresh coriander or any greens of your choice – I used baby mustard
Tip it into your plate and devour!!

Here Comes the Gingerbread Man. from hungry media on Vimeo.

I love the company of dogs… and cats… and plants. When I first left home I not only left behind my human family but also my family menagerie of three dogs, three cats, two rabbits and close to a hundred potted plants. Home to me is a large garden, and a houseful of pets licking, biting, and falling all over me and each other. My love for plants comes from my mother who’s got the greenest thumb I know of, plants thrive by her one touch. Even though every three years my army household moved cantonment to cantonment through the length and breadth 0f India, my mum’s pots and containers moved with us and the sundry animals. They would travel in a giant lorry giving company to our crockery, furniture, bedding, and other miscellaneous household things. Even though the long journey would hardly suit them, and since they were already green they couldn’t go any greener, they would arrive like drama queens at various stages of dying. And my mum would moan and run her fingers across them, and coax them a drink of water and rebuke my dad’s insensitivity a couple of times… and our plants would perk up, happy to be home at last! The most important find at any new station would be the Maali (gardener), and my mum was very particular when it came to hiring for this portfolio, a good maali was always a prized possession in the cantonment. Once the maali was decided upon, my mum and the maali, would work out a seasonal plan, based on which the front yard would be where the flowers went and the backyard would house the kitchen garden. The maali would be usually a beedi smoking, whimsical, philosopher in aged khakhi. I don’t know how gardening and philosophy go hand in hand, but maybe nurturing a seed and watching it take root and literally playing god in a couple of square feet of land must make things appear a little differently.

This year my balcony garden is a sprout jungle! After 6 years of living in Dubai and not succeeding to have a decent container garden that survives the summer here, I have decided to change my approach. No more fancy ornamentals which die on me the minute the sun turns harsh, or have separation anxiety the minute my back’s turned. I have tried very unsuccessfully to grow some herbs in the past, but this time round I sense something new, and optimistic in the air. Last year I was already in awe of Lin – who was growing tomatoes and peppers in her garden – and this year I met Shumaila who’s supremely passionate about growing one’s own food, and so what if all you’ve got is a balcony in a hi-rise. So that is how my little balcony came to house sprouts of a few different kinds. Apparently I am a little late at planting. The frenzy I began to feel in December I should have felt in September, that’s when most of the planting starts, if you want to harvest veggies starting December. But right now I don’t really care and I think if you feel like planting something now go ahead and do it, we still have some great weather all the way up to mid April. Plenty of time.

Just today I harvested a huge bundle of spring onion greens, in just a little over two weeks of work. A quarter of this is what you get for a couple of dirhams at the supermarket, looking limp and insipid. I didn’t start from seed, instead I planted about 6 bulbs that had already sprouted, and they’re doing quite well! I will be planting some more so that I can eat fresh greens throughout this season, sprinkled over salads, into eggs, soups or pasta. I have also planted some red spinach (from roots I saved off some red spinach from the supermarket), mustard (seeds from the kitchen) – I love mustard greens, methi/fenugreek (again from the kitchen), and from store bought seed packets there’s brussel sprouts (germinated), bellpepper (these haven’t germinated at all – its been 3 weeks!), spinach beet (germinated), and carrots (not yet germinated). I got some tomato seeds from Shumaila – will be planting those as well.

Diwali is the Indian festival of lights, and is symbolic for the victory of good over evil. Having grown up in northern India I have experienced Diwali in all its pomp, not so common in my native land Kerala where Diwali celebrations are rather low key. Diwali for me means hot oil baths, smell of deep fried goodies, and great times with friends and neighbours. My mum has a couple of diwali staples, one was nei appam – deep fried dumplings made of a batter of rice flour, mashed bananas, and jaggery, delicately spiced with cardamom, and slivers of coconut hidden between bites. She liked to make these because I think she secretly considered nei appams on a culinary scale higher than the milk based, sugary, fudge like sweets of the North. My brother and I on the other hand waited for Diwali and such for mouthwatering trade offs. Our nei appams for a dabba full of assorted sweet, fudgey barfees. Those days heaven was in a box full of sweets wrapped in yellow cellophane.

The other family tradition was making Kalkal during Diwali. Kalkal is a festive tradition in the Army mess. Its usually made during Christmas – is perhaps a Portuguese legacy, considering Goans make them as well – and is served alongside fat slices of plum cake, ginger wine, or rum punch. But my mum used to make these for Diwali as well, maybe because we loved Kalkals, they really are great fun to make and eat. Following my mother’s culinary legacy I make Kalkals for Diwali and Christmas. Most often these are made with the addition of castor sugar in the flour, but my mum’s way has plain Kalkals rolled in syrup. I think she might have come up with this version because my father’s diabetic, so she could keep some sugar free ones aside for him and roll the rest in cardamom infused syrup. So addictive! And my daughter rolled most of these… so happy making memories.

Ingredients for Kalkal

4 cups AP Flour
1/4 cup semolina
1 tsp salt
1/4 cup oil
1 cup water
Oil for frying

For the syrup:

2 cups sugar
1 cup water
1 tsp cardamom powder

Method

1. Add the salt, and semolina into the AP flour and mix well. Add the oil and mix until you get a bread crumb like texture. Then adding a little water at a time knead into a tight dough. Continue kneading till the dough is smooth. Cover and let the dough rest for 20 minutes.
2. Grease a baking sheet, or a couple of plates.
3. Pinch little bits off the dough and roll into tiny marble sized balls. Place the rolled ball onto the reverse side of a fork and roll, so you get a nice patterned cocoon. Place on your greased tray.

4. Once all the dough is used up, heat oil in a wok and deep fry these goodies. Set aside.
5. Make a syrup by boiling sugar, water, and cardamom, till the sugar is completely dissolved and the sugar reaches a thick syrupy stage.

6. Drop in the fried kalkal in batches coat in the sugar mixture and set aside. Enjoy a delicious and sweet filled Diwali!!

The people at Down to Earth Organic – a new brand of organic products in the UAE – are kindly sponsoring a Diwali giveaway for my Dubai readers. Down to Earth has just opened its first organic store in Jumeirah and the company also provides delivery within Dubai. For more information you can click here. Down to Earth Diwali hamper is a great way to check out what the product is all about.

The Diwali hamper contains:
Organic Wheat Flour
Organic Basmati Super Fine Rice
Organic Fenugreek
Organic Cowpea whole
Organic Black mustard
Organic Salted Cumin cookies
Organic sweet semolina cookies
Organic Chilli powder regular
Organic Cumin Whole
Organic Channa Whole in brine

This Diwali gift is open only to my Dubai readers. All you have to do is leave a comment, tweet about it (and let me know), and/or ‘like’ me on Facebook. This giveaway will close on 26th October 2011 (Diwali day). Happy Diwali all

I am little worried about translating Pradhaman to mean something in English, this has two reasons, firstly ofcourse the obvious, there are no desserts in the West that compares to the Pradhaman, even the rice pudding that the West enjoys gets a little fluidity and a different set of flavours when made in the sub-continent. Secondly, Pradhaman is eaten without the pinky up and preferably without a spoon, five fingers diving in straight into a brown puddle right at the centre of a bright green banana leaf, grabbing whatever it can and transporting to the mouth which then sucks, slurps, and licks, and that is the only way to enjoy this classic dessert. Now that must sound appetizing. Anyway back to what I was saying, the closest Pradhaman comes to a western dish in terms of consistency is porridge, except that pradhaman is eaten at the end of a meal, as a dessert. Here I must add that the Pradhaman is similar to payasam or kheer in its consistency and status in the Indian meal, but the similarity ends there.

Pradhaman is 100% vegan. It is always made with jaggery and coconut milk. And this attribute itself makes Pradhaman a little elite in the company of the common milk based Indian desserts. Pradhaman is not a pan Indian dessert, but is indigenous to Kerala where a place of pride is reserved for this delicious dessert. In Malayalam Pradhaman means “the first one” – and is always the first dessert served at a feast. Just saying “there’s Pradhaman” puts you in a special category of hosts who take pride in serving only the best at a gathering, and set the bar high for the rest.

There are several kinds of Pradhaman, depending on what is the chief flavour ingredient, but the popular ones are Chakka Pradhaman (made with Jackfruit preserve), Ada Pradhaman (made with a rice pasta, rice paste steamed in strips of banana leaves), and Parippu Pradhaman (made with roasted mung dhal). In Parippu Pradhaman, the roasted mung dhal gives the very nutty and wholesome flavour that is so unique to this dessert. While making Pradhaman is generally a long drawn process, there are simple ways to achieve a similar success thanks to modern intervention. Here’s one:

Ingredients for the Mung Dhal Porridge/Parippu Pradhaman

1 cup yellow mung dhal, washed, and dried
1 tin coconut milk/cream
Upto 1 cup jaggery, shavings
1/2 teaspoon cardamom powder
Fresh coconut slivers chopped into tiny bits (optional)
2 tablespoons coconut oil/or ghee if you’re not vegan

Method

1. Roast the dhal on a skillet until golden brown, Pressure cook the dhal with 2 cups of water. (3 whistles on high flame, or reduce flame to low and cook for 6 to 8 minutes, after the first whistle on your cooker.)
2. Make jaggery syrup by boiling jaggery shavings with 3/4th cup of water, strain to remove any impurities.
3. Transfer the cooked dhal to a heavy bottomed saucepan over medium flame, add the jaggery syrup to taste, stir, and let it come to a boil. Reduce flame.
4. Pour in the coconut cream/milk, and stir. Let the Pradhaman heat gently, add the cardamom powder and mix.
5. In another saucepan, heat the ghee and fry the coconut bits till uniformly fried, this should look dark brown. Pour this into the Pradhaman.
6. Take off the Pradhaman off the flame and let it sit for a bit before your serve.

I think the world is divided into two broad categories of people – the lauki lovers and the lauki haters. This poor gourd (bottle gourd or calabash) is much maligned for its insipid watery-ness, and uninspired beauty (or lack of it). In my family, when it comes to this green vegetable, the lines are drawn between my husband and me. Needless to say, I am a lauki lover <3.

I think basically lauki/bottle gourd/calabash is a clever vegetable, and can be snuck into all sorts of dishes in an expected sort of anonymity. Grate lauki into vegetable raita, grate it into chappati dough, grate it into cakes and muffins, and no one will know. Yet there are a few dishes where lauki shines like a beacon of hope for downtrodden vegetables. Lauki dhal is one such example, on the surface nothing more than a mixture of channa dhal and boiled lauki, but tangy tomatoes, cinnamon, and cumin transforms it into a devilish dish. Another is lauki kofta – my brother introduced this to me – he picked it up along with his studies in medicine. Its the home cook’s answer to fancy restaurant-style kofta with gravy, easy to make, and equally light on the stomach with minimal mess to clean up. This version is one step further into reducing the stage where one fries the kofta balls, instead if you have a steamer you’ve been meaning to use, this is it!

(serves 4)
Ingredients for the kofta

1 medium sized bottle gourd, peeled and grated
1 teaspoon ginger garlic paste
1 chopped green chilly
1/2 bunch fresh coriander, use leaves and stems, I usually save stems and use that here
1/2 cup besan/chickpea flour (Indian)
1/2 teaspoon bishop’s weed/ajwain (optional)
salt to taste

Ingredients for the gravy

1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 large tomatoes, finely chopped
2 teaspoons finely chopped ginger
couple of garlic cloves finely chopped
1 teasoon cumin
1 teaspoon kashmiri chilly powder/ or paprika to taste
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon coriander powder
1 teaspoon garam masala
1 teaspoon sugar
salt to taste
fresh coriander to garnish

Method

1. Put the grated bottle gourd/lauki into a cheecloth and extract (into a bowl) as much liquid as possible. You will be left with very mashed up and dry clump of grated gourd. The gourd juice will be used up later in the gravy.
2. Tip cheesecloth into a sufficiently roomy bowl, add the ginger garlic paste, chopped green chilly, chopped coriander, salt, besan, ajwain, and knead into a soft dough. If its not tight enough add some more besan/chickpea flour and adjust the salt accordingly.
3. Line your steamer with aluminium foil or banana leaf, place it over the gas – over a saucepan with a cupful of water.
4. Break of lemon sized balls of dough and roll into thick cigar shape and place in the steamer, if cigar shape is not your thing, just roll dough into balls – thats fine too. Cover the steamer, and from when the steam appears let cook for 10 minutes.
5. Remove the steamer from gas, open lid, and let the koftas cool, meanwhile fill the saucepan to compensate the evaporated water, when the koftas are cool (they’ll become a little hard) and you can easily pull them off and set aside.
6. Repeat till you use up all the dough.
7. When really cool, chop the cigars into bite sized bits.

Method for the gravy

1. Heat about 3 tablespoons of oil in a pan, crackle a teaspoon of cumin, saute onions, ginger and garlic. Add tomatoes, and cook until soft.
2. Add the masalas – 1 teaspoon kashmiri chilly powder, turmeric, garam masala, coriander powder, teaspoon sugar, and salt to taste, mix well and let cook on medium heat for about a minute.
3. Add the reserved gourd juice, and mix, add about half cup of water for the gravy, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and add the steamed koftas. Cover and cook for 5 to 6 minutes.
4. Remove, pour into a serving dish and garnish with coriander leaves. Goes well with chappatis, or rice.

Note:

These steamed kofta balls can be frozen for upto 3 weeks, so if you’ve made more than you can handle – freeze them. You can make an emergency kofta curry with this, or add them to a vegetarian biryani for a bit of texture.

Running a little busy with some writing assignments, and when you have to work you just can’t, I was supposed to announce the winner in a post yesterday but just didn’t get around to, I did put the name up on my FB status, so incase you didn’t notice the lucky winner for the Braun Multiquick Cordless is Abigail Caidoy from Dubai (I believe she has already received the package! that’s super quick!). These days we are on a salads only dinner diet. Basically trying to get in as much food in the raw as possible. I am also trying out going lactose free, I have kept the milk out of my daily chai, tried soy milk last week, this week having chai with rice milk. Ate no chocolates (only 1 on the first day) and biscuits (though I usually munch on Glucose biscuits with evening chai), but I can’t do without yoghurt. I did last week, but yesterday just had to have some. So its okay I guess, not having milk isn’t that difficult. I guess I might not go completely lactose free, but will aim to be 80% free of it.

Here’s one of my favourite ways to eat a green Papaya. Called Som Tam, its a Thai salad. My two most favourite Thai dishes happen to be pad thai and this som tam. I am kind of okay with the green curry and red curry, not that hot. Also always worried if there’s going to be fish or oyster sauce in the food. Many moons ago I had ventured to have soup at the Thai place in Ibn Batuta food court, that was the only vegetarian thing they had on the menu. I almost gagged because the soup tasted like rotten fish excavated from an underground sewage. So here’s Som Tam version completely suitable for vegetarians. Sorry if I have offended anyone with this description, flesh in any of its forms, for me, is cringe inducing.

Ingredients for Som Tam

1 small green papaya, peeled and shredded
1 large tomato, deseeded, cut into stripes
fistful of mung sprouts, for extra crunch
couple of spring onions, chopped
chopped green chillies (optional)
1 large handful of roasted, shelled peanuts
for the dressing:
juice of one lemon
2,3 garlic, pressed
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon honey, just to round off the sweetness
1 tablespoon soy sauce
salt to taste

Method

1. Assemble all the salad ingredients in a large bowl.
2. Add all the ingredients for the dressing over the salad, toss. Check for taste, it should have the right balance of spice, salt, sweet and sour.
3. Pile into bowls, garnish with more peanuts if you like.

The house stands on the downward slope of a hillock, only partially visible from a distance, its red tiles forming asymmetrical patterns in a kaleidoscope of green stretching across the horizon. Each summer, right before monsoons ravage the baked countryside, we loyally return to our family home in this hilly hamlet called Thiruvilwamala.

In order to reach the house, which will be our home for the next two months, we’d trek across the terrain, a cracking landscape of red clay bristling with dried clumps of paddy waiting in suspended animation, we’d walk over bunds criss-crossing the fields, and side-stepping any supine snakes crossing our paths. Paddy workers carry our suitcases, and hold-alls on their heads, nimbly running back and forth across the bunds,  their mood celebratory due to our arrival from the far off northern plains. A pastoral life briefly interrupted by our entry. For my brother and me, the next two months will be spent in much indulgence, and incredible gluttony.

The house is large, dark and cool, with many little rooms, some private, some shared, and some hidden. I loved to spend time at the top floor of the house, in an open annex next to my parents room. A hard wood staircase, made of flat beams took one right up into this large and roomy annex. There was a rickety Singer sowing machine right at the center of this room facing a window overlooking the fields. And in a far corner sat two weathered boxes, one made of tin and the other of leather. Each contained yellowed out pages from my father’s growing up years, teenage angst and desires etched into caricatures, half formed emotions, scrawled on the margins of moth eaten Tagore or Shakespeare, like red ants that swarm without warning and sting with an aggression that baffles you momentarily. Once done with my father’s books, I would take to looking outside the window, fingers curling around the grill, the breeze from the coconut palms and paddy, softly caressing my face. Looking out across the bunds, from between the gaps of the green kaleidoscope I loved to see passersby.

Apparently the voyeuristic thrill of seeing without being seen came early to me. Some of these people would be heading our direction, the wind would carry their voices first, some words, some lofty claims, then another voice in agreement, and reassurance. Dark bodied farm workers would approach our house, but I knew before anyone did that the gate would creak open and footsteps will be heard climbing up the black stone stairs.

On some mornings my grandmother would make kanji - porridge made out of broken bits of red rice. We’d know its kanji for breakfast when we see our aunt, plucking large, ripe leaves off the jackfruit tree. These leaves were fashioned into a spoon – and that’s the only way we had kanji. We grew our own rice, we drank fresh milk that had been taken from cows that had names, and had calves that had names as well. My paternal grandmother a feisty lady with lustrous knee length hair, and a tongue as sharp as the Urumi, would churn butter from the curds, soon the smooth, and mellifluous fragrance of ghee would permeate through every pore of the house. Dollops of ghee, forming golden pools in bowls of pink porridge (kanji), scooped up in a leaf spoon, accompanied by licks of chammanthi - a thick paste of roasted chilly, coconut, tamarind, and curry leaves,  is the tastiest, and the most lucid of my taste memories.

In the afternoons, some workers would gather at the backyard for lunch, some lunched at their own homes located in the neighborhood. My grandmother would have boiled large batches of red rice, and buttermilk (which we never ran out of) would be seasoned with turmeric, coconut and cumin paste, a simple mor-kootan (buttermilk curry) comprising of all the yellowey goodness so redolent of summer –  mangoes, yellow cucumber, drumsticks, pumpkin – and then more buttermilk, infused with crushed lemon leaves, this time to cool down the body. After lunch, hot bodies, scatter languorously on cold black-oxide floors waiting for the palm trees to sway just a little.

I used to love such hot afternoons when the grown ups will be too numb to move, explorations into the secret chambers of the house awaited my brother and me on such days. We’d climb up a rickety bamboo ladder, into the attic which housed many large and small earthern pots, some used to store pickles, or grains, some had moldy secret letters stuck deep inside them, or a saucy magazine someone had hidden and forgotten about, the attic was also home to our family cats, generations of house cats have lived and copulated here in the attic. My brother and I loved to play with the kittens, sometimes we would bring them down with us, only to be shouted at by someone or the other.  One of the most shocking discoveries was a hidden room behind what I thought was a wooden wall. I knew we stored rice in the house, there were tell tale signs everywhere, the hay mounds in every free square inch space in the yard, the sounds of threshing, always chancing upon my aunt in the corridor, carrying a large moram (winnow) filled with rice, and when I asked her about where the rice was kept she would cackle away, her mouth glistening with paan, revealing stained teeth, never answering, like a mad, yet silent character from an Adoor film. Then on that eventful day when my silent aunt was silently removing the rice from the granary, I silently descended from my haven upstairs, and saw a gap in the wall in the corridor. I yelled for my brother, and together we approached this new place in the house. The gap in the wall was a dark room, and inside it standing between mountains of rice was my aunt holding her winnow, her mouth agape at seeing us, but the cackle had been crushed.

In June, rain clouds gate-crash the summer binge, the swollen atmosphere bursts and douses the earth with the first spray. The fields of malabar soak in the downpour till they can no longer hold it in. The fields overrun with red water, and from the upstairs window of the house the fields or the bunds that separate them, are no longer visible, only a giant muddy stream swirling its way towards an agitated river. Not much can be done at this time, and local farmhands take to fishing in the paddy which are swarming with fresh water fish and water snakes. The house is cool now, and at night the rain clatters on the red tiled roof, a sound strangely comforting to me, as I cuddle deeply into my black, military style, wool blanket.

It has been over a decade since I have stayed in this beautiful house that was. Uninhabited since years, its inmates having migrated to their eternal homes, or to greener pastures elsewhere, the house lies blistered, and bruised. This week my father took the difficult decision to break down this house of his childhood, that holds so many secrets of my own childhood within its bosom. As I write this post, the house has been brought down, what remains are just washed out photographs bearing mute testimony to a time that was, termite ridden pieces of furniture once regal and conspicuous by their presence, some ancient urns still unbroken, containing some grains of rice, untouched and untarnished with the passage of time.

Recently I was invited by Braun to try out one of their new products, called the Braun Multiquick Cordless. Here’s a quick review:
1. Its pretty light weight, and ya very suitable to handheld ergonomics.
2. I hate plugging things in, and while I have to use a blender for grinding it is one of the most hated activities for me, Braun’s multiquick is cordless and I found that it needs very little charging time and its readily available for the two most common kitchen chores – chopping finely and pureeing.
3. I have been using this everyday, as it definitely chops onions way more finely than I can ever hope to! and less messy. I have ground nuts, pureed tomato, chopped vegetables, like carrots and beans, and herbs, for dishes that require a fine chop – it really works. Plus the mess is greatly reduced and the stuff gets done in minutes.
4. I also really like the buzzer and lock attachment, so you can pulse only when the lock is pressed, it has really sharp blades so this is a good feature.

This product is available in Carrefour, in UAE, and is priced at 650 AED, would you like to own one? well… now you can WIN it!

The rules: You don’t have to be a blogger to enter this giveaway, anyone who is a reader can enter this giveaway. All you need to do is leave a comment with your e-mail address, and location. That’s 1 point for you. Leaving a comment is mandatory to enter this giveaway.

Extra points: If you like EatWriteThink on Facebook (click on my FB page which should appear on the right side of the page), I will count this as an extra point for you, + 1. If you promote this giveaway on your blog, or Tweet about it, you get + 2. But don’t forget to let me know that you did, just add the details/link in the comment you leave behind.

The fine print: This giveaway is open to anyone living in one of the GCC Countries (United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Oman, Qatar and Kuwait), and in Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, or if you have an address in one of these countries.

Final word: when you leave a comment for the giveaway, you must include your full name, e-mail address, and location. Only these will be considered as entries to win the Braun Multiquick Cordless.

Giveaway ends on Thursday, 14 April 2011, 23:59:00 GST. I will select a winner through random selection, and announce on Monday, 18 April 2011.

Recipe for Pear & Almond Cake

This makes a delicious, soft cake, using an adapted and modified recipe from Women’s Weekly book on Cakes. I have used Coscia pears for this recipe. Coscia is a tiny pear from Italy, lovely green, full of flavour and crisp. And these had such a perfect shape that I wanted to bake the cake with these in it.

Ingredients

5 Coscia pears/or any crisp, blushing variety, small to medium size
2 1/2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon lemon rind
1 3/4 cup caster sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup oil
2 eggs
1/2 cup yoghurt (I used homemade yoghurt, which is active and lightly sour)
1/2 cup milk
2 cups AP flour/maida
4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
10 Hershey’s kisses chopped, or any eating chocolate chopped coarsely
1 cup ground almond (I store almonds in the freezer, so its easy to grind to a powder)

Method

1. Peel the pears, leave the stems on.
2. Using a saucepan big enough to fit all the pears in, combine the water, rind and 1 cup of sugar. Stir over heat, without boiling, until all the sugar dissolves. Add the vanilla extract, and the pears. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat, simmer covered, until the pears are just tender, about 20 to 25 minutes. Transfer the pears to another bowl, bring the syrup to a boil, uncovered, until syrup reduces by half, leave to cool completely.
3. Preheat oven to 170 degree C, and grease the cake tin.
4. Sift the flour with the salt and baking powder.
6. Beat oil, and remaining sugar, until sugar is dissolved, beat in the eggs one at a time. Beat in the yoghurt, and half the milk. Stir in 2 tablespoons of the cooled syrup.
7. Add in the sifted flour, powdered almond, and the chocolate, and mix until combined. If the batter is too thick add the rest of the milk and mix again.
8. Spread mixture into greased tin, place the pears, upright, around the edges, gently pushing to the bottom.
9. Bake cake for about 50 minutes, to 1 hour until a skewer inserted comes out clean.
10. Let the cake stand in pan for 10 minutes, remove from tin. Generously brush the syrup all over the cake. Serve warm, brushed with more syrup if you like.

THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED. THE RESULTS WILL BE UP ON THE 18TH OF APRIL.