Black & White Wednesday - Week 34 - The Round-Up

Here's this week's collection of pictures sent for Black & White Wednesday, Susan's creation. I hosted it this week. Thanks for participating! Next week, Week 35, is being hosted by Sihi of A Wandering Ladle.

Here's Kanchan of Kitchen Gossip, kicking off a Happy Mango Season!

 Cinzia of Cindy Star Blog

Little Doves Cookies 

 

Festive Table  

Happy Toasting Bubbles

Simona of Briciole

Red Russian Kale After A Spring Shower

Fragoliva of Fragoliva

Feeding Butterflies With Fruit

Lata Raja of Flavours and Tastes

Serving You Chaat

David Pimborough 

Place Setting

Cafe

Lynne of Cafe Lynnylu

Eggs - Study in Black & White

La Belle Aurore of La Belle Aurore

Lunch Time on a Field Trip to Nagai Botanical Garden, Osaka 

Srimathi of Few Minute Wonders

Paneer Soda

Hema of Adugemane

Corn

Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook

                                                                             Plantains

Blueberry Blossoms

Dried Morels

 Rosa of Yummy Yums

Vineyard

Quick Butterhorns

Bong Mom of Bong Mom's Cookbook

Waiting By The Sea for Clam Chowder

Lubna Karim of  A Click A Day

Coffee or Tea?

Brii of Briggishome

Reserved Table

Shri of Tiffin Carrier Antiques

Birthday Cake

Nandita of Paaka Shaale

Garlic 

Aparna of My Diverse Kitchen

Saying it With Some Signs

And mine 

Mangoes All The Way

Black & White Wednesday Event

Mangoes All The Way

Every summer, on a trip home and back, we are confronted with this sight - mangoes being sold in the mango belt on the route. At times, we also come across palm fruit and toddy - these establishments are smaller. In fact, there is no establishment, just a bunch of fruit and maybe a pot and a few mugs of toddy.

Behind these mango stalls are the orchards and if you look closely, you can see the mangoes on the trees. These are on a portion of NH5 and are a popular stop for travellers. Various varieties are sold here. I don't know if all of them are grown in the region, though.

Now here's some colour.

And some more

Here's a post on mangoes and summer in India, something that I wrote five years ago!

This post goes off to Black & White Wednesday, created by Susan. I am hosting it this week.

Black & White Wednesday Event

Black & White Wednesday - Hosted Here This Week

The Well-Seasoned Cook's popular event, Black & White Wednesday, Week 34, is hosted here this week.

 As I've posted this announcement rather late, I'll accept entries up to Wednesday 6 a.m. New York time. Picture dimensions need to be 500 x 700 pixels.

 You must link your post to Susan's post, which contains the guidelines and host line-up, and this one.

 Please send your entries to srablogATgmailDOTcom.

Details I need: Your name, blog name, the link to the post, the photos. Please say BWW 34 in the e-mail subject line. If you're not a blogger but participating, please let me know that.

  Black & White Wednesday Event

Exotic Indian Recipe With Indigenous Vegetable

Red hot and sticky - this was how it was where I was last week.

A week ago, I was sitting at the exit of a sprawling resort in Goa, waiting for a bus to take me (and several others) back to my own hotel. By my own hotel, I mean the hotel I was staying in, about 20 minutes away, not that I own a hotel in Goa. My modest, homely, compact hotel, as opposed to the venue of the conference, where all the proceedings were held in tents, and only one of them was air-conditioned.

I trudged and trudged between tent and tent, carrying my computer, my bags and myself, cursing myself for being inhibited and formal. For all around me were delegates young, old, thin, fat, obese, interns and CEOs alike, wearing beach shirts and shorts and mini dresses, strapless or with spaghetti straps, looking cool as cucumbers in the heat. I was the only one, perhaps, in a salwar-kameez. Why oh why hadn’t I been more relaxed and taken my limp Fabindia cotton trousers? They would have afforded me better ventilation and I would still have managed to remain  formal (and inhibited).

Our bus trundled in at midnight but it only carried us as far as an isolated spot five minutes away. Ringed by coconut trees, it contained many other, bigger buses, and after scrambling down one and up into another carrying computer, bags and myself, we got to our own hotels. Once in, a shower and the air-conditioner revived me, but not quite – the memories of the heat of the last two days had seared themselves into my consciousness – and I had the same temperatures and far-away-from-each-other tents to face the next day.

What would I have given for a glass of light, chilled buttermilk (actually, we did order one on the first day, it was pretty nice) to be brought around at regular intervals during the conference? I don’t know, but today I tried making some of my own, going by a rough recipe a nutritionist told me about a few months ago.

And at this point, let me tell you that the red pepper/capsicum above is a red herring – it has not much to do with this post. My photos are going from bad to worse and rather that to draw in the eyeballs than the one I’m going to present below. It has to do with this, but as I had to leave for the airport early, I gave it away to my help S and told her to chutney-fy it. (I hope she didn’t dump it once my back was turned.) I made the linked recipe with green capsicum/peppers earlier and it turned out great – though the colour wasn’t anything to write home about.

What I do have to present today is this:

Exotic Indian drink with herbs (and spices, you read automatically – but barring salt, there are none) and indigenous vegetable. Now that sounds a bit over the top, doesn't it, exotic Indian drink with herbs and indigenous vegetable?

I took it to work and tried it on my colleagues, the first of whom looked a little alarmed at the trickle of green near the mouth of the bottle it was in, but she said it was fantastic. She couldn’t identify it, though. Another one did. Then I tried it on others, all of them loved it.

Then they asked me how I made it. So I had to tell them that I had turned some uneaten cucumber raita (cucumber being the indigenous vegetable) into this, by adding coriander and curry leaves.

It’s one of my as-you-like-it recipes, a couple of tablespoons of curds/yoghurt thinned with lots of water, some cucumber pieces, maybe a handful, and a fistful of well-washed coriander and curry leaves, all blitzed together in the mixer, and salted. Feel free to add a bit of ginger, asafoetida, cumin powder and pepper. 


Have it strained, or have it unstrained. Have it unrestrained. Then, maybe, you can dump the salwar-kameez, slip on a short, short dress, and feel as cool as a cucumber.

Goa Cucumber Humour SummerCurds/Yoghurt Vegetarian Herbs

Of Dubai, Barberries and Vegetarian Food Without Vegetaybles

In January this year, I flew to Dubai en route to Ireland. I had half-a-day there before I caught the flight to Dublin. After a late lunch, I hired a taxi and set about exploring the place. The photo above is the Burj al Arab hotel photographed from the beach.

I loved the beach. There were hardly any people there even though it was a Sunday. It was almost deserted, except for a family, a couple and a solitary man who kept making sand tunnels and playing with them.

This is the Dubai skyline as seen from my taxi en route to the spice souk.

This was a friendly guy at the first shop I saw in the spice souk. Notice the little sheikh in the picture, behind the preserved limes?

Inside a store at the spice souk. I could identify most of the spices.

Another store at the souk.

Baby corn chips, that's what they're called.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

And a thousand more.

This was where I met the old man mentioned in the previous post. He kept extending his arms and contracting them with a smile. I couldn't understand what he was saying. And then he got off his seat and came up to me and started pointing at me and the shelf and back and forth, keeping up the chatter and the arm movement. By this time, something about his widening smile and the brightening glint in his eye had started to bother me. He must have seen several of them but he wasn't about to dismiss me as an involved tourist photographing all the strange and amusing things that caught her eye. Oh no, he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity of a sale. He thought I had potential as his customer. He was mistaken. I left.

A variety of dates, stuffed and processed in various ways.

Barberries/Zereshk (soaked, above, and below), from Iran, which I bought in the spice souk. I also bought some asafoetida and saffron, those too were claimed to be from Iran.

Dal/Lentil and barberry stew - vegetarian food without vegetaybles (vegetables, of course - just spelling it the way it's pronounced in certain parts of the country, it rhymes with vegetarian, you see).

How to make it:

In a spoon of oil,

fry two cloves and a piece of cinnamon.

Then, add a handful of onions.

Add 1 green chilli, slit

and 1 tsp of ginger-garlic paste.

Add 3/4 cup of boiled but not mushy chana dal/gram dal to the  pan

with 1/2 cup of water.

Simmer. Add some salt.

Add a fistful of soaked barberries and continue simmering for a couple more minutes - don't let the barberries turn brown though.

Remove from fire.

I found out about this stew when looking for barberry recipes on the Internet. The search threw up zereshk polow from a lot of Persian cooking blogs. The stew seemed to be the next most popular recipe, usually one with meat, lots of slivered nuts, lentils and the barberries.

The barberries are a delight - whenever I discover something new, I tend to use a lot of that in the recipe. But I am glad I didn't this time. The sour berries are quite unobtrusive once they are inside your mouth - they are small and you can't feel them unless you try hard - so when you bite into them, it's a tiny and refreshing spurt of sourness.

Notice the picture of the barberries in the sieve above - that's a tip that I picked up from the Persian cooking blogs which was really useful: The berries are very dusty, with mud and stems and such stuff. So put them in a sieve and immerse that in another vessel full of water. Pour some water into the sieve to soak the barberries. (I soaked them for an hour.) This ensures that the dirt sinks into the vessel below the sieve. It yields quite a bit of dirt, believe me. Wash the barberries a few times and use them.

Barberries/zereshk Dal/Lentils Dubai spice souk Travel Humour

Currying Flavour, A Month Later

I've always wondered how it would be to begin a post by saying 'I'm back'. This blog has been around for five years so I may well have done it, but I don't think so. Not in such precise terms. I mean, what if I made this announcement, and you (and millions of my other readers) said to yourselves 'But when did you ever go away?' or worse, 'So what?' or worst of all 'Okay, now who are you?'

Consequently, I won't tell you why I've been posting just once a month for the last few months, barring one early reason: Internet problems. And after that, I guess I have to say I was the problem. Let's leave it at that.

I had visualised another post about my travels to strange and foreign lands, one of which made for last month's post. I thought I would write a rib-tickling piece about how a seemingly benign but rather dirty old man tried selling me his non-spice wares in Dubai's spice souk. I visualised bringing to you a barberry-flecked pilaf (zereshk polow) at the end of a photo feature on the spice souk. I imagined you rolling on the floor laughing your butts off (ROFL LMAO) over The Adventures of Sra and The Dirty Old Shopkeeper. I imagined posting stunning pictures of the pilaf, one of them black and white with just the barberries in vibrant ruby red, thanks to the Colour Accent feature on my camera. But alas, it was not to be!

Here's one picture, for now. The barberries are the maroon ones in the front row, between the green slivers of pista and the black raisins.

This time, I'm bringing to you a rather quotidian curry that I made on Monday. Actually it isn't quotidian for me, but it's not as exotic as pilaf. It did meet one condition: It had to have some gravy, and the gravy had to be achieved without grinding. Remember Grindless Gravies?

The not-so-quotidian-for-me curry was hastened by the discovery of some nice mushrooms found on Sunday evening at the store. Evening find spells bad mushrooms, but these were good. I also bought some green and red capsicum (peppers) to add crunch and vibrance. A generous hand led to much oil splashing into the pan. It was good. Is good. I still have some left over, though I may go off it by the time I finish with this post.

Here's how you make it:

Capsicum/peppers, chopped: 4-5 cups
Mushrooms, chopped: 2 cups
Onions, chopped: 1.5 cups
Oil: Ahem! (I must have used at least 6 tsp)
Ginger-garlic paste: 1 tsp
Green chillies, halved: 3
Salt, to taste
Garam masala: 1 tsp
Cumin seed: 1 tsp
Water: A few splashes

Heat the oil in a pan, pop the cumin.

Fry the onion till pink, then add the ginger-garlic paste. Fry well for 3-4 minutes, as mushy as you can let it get. If you need to add some water to prevent burning, add a splash or two now.

Now add the capsicum, saute on medium heat but make sure they don't lose their succulence.

Add the mushrooms, mix well and saute. There will be much water as the mushrooms cook - keep an eye on that.

When you've had enough of the watching-over-the-curry experience, and too much water still, turn up the heat and let it evaporate till the gravy reaches the consistency you desire. Stirring it vigorously will speed things up a bit.

When it's looking nice and unctuous, add the salt and stir.

Now add the garam masala stir it once more. Turn off the fire.

Mushrooms Capsicum/peppers Vegetarian Humour