The Things I Don't Really Crave/Eat But Relish Making

 

Mango relish/paagu manga

Sometimes, I don't quite know why I do the things I do.

Sometimes I buy maida to make cake to get rid of extra fruit, and then I am stuck with the maida so I make more cake after letting it sit in the pantry for months.

I made marmalade last year simply because my uncle and I had a conversation about thick-cut marmalade and it seemed very romantic to make marmalade. Of course, it wasn't.

I don't really crave these things, leave alone eat them. Today, I gave away the marmalade to a friend who invited me for lunch.

Then, overtaken by an overwhelming urge to have some Andhra-style bobbatlu (poli/holige) after Ugadi went by, I used the last of the maida from God knows when to make them. I don't think I've kneaded dough in the last 14 or 15 years, if I ever did. But I plunged into it, literally. At one point, I couldn't extricate my hand from the dough, I couldn't even find it, it got stuck in it. A frantic call to a friend then had me adding ghee to the dough and rescuing my hand. I managed to make the bobbatlu which turned out better than I expected for a first-time attempt and earned appreciation from The Spouse and The Refuge of Failed Experiments (aka The Office).

The next day I attempted another batch but of course by then I had tired of the whole thing so I kneaded the very last of the maida, a little more ghee and the filling together and made sweet rotis.

Convinced I could now make chapatis, also something I don't really crave or eat, I bought a packet of wheat flour which is now resting unopened in my pantry. I was reminded of it today when my friend, who had me over for lunch today, mentioned the cooking classes she had been attending and a keema khameeri paratha (there was a fourth word in the name, I've forgotten) and offered to give me the recipe. I didn't rise to the challenge as I did in the above instances. I declined. The wheat flour will probably be given away soon.

A few weeks ago, my colleague treated us to a lovely green mango jam-kind of affair. She called it 'paagu manga, Tamil for 'mango in syrup'. It was all gold and languid syrup, and the mango pieces had a great texture, having lost their crunch after boiling but having acquired toughness and shape after stewing in the syrup. This was her grandmother's recipe from long ago, she said, and they used the relish as an accompaniment to curd rice, dosas and chapatis.

Of course, I had to make it, though I draw the line at eating it with curd rice and dosas. Having seen people eating chapati and jam in the hostel, I am more open to the thought of eating it with chapatis. I'm not saying I will, just that I'm less resistant to that idea.

About two weeks ago, I went home to visit my folks and came back with four green mangoes. I used one for dal, one is still in the fridge and I used the other two for this.

There are many notes below the ingredients and the method as I messed up somewhere, and had to do a lot of repairing, but let's get the basic recipe out of the way.

The ingredients

1 cup mango - 3/4 cup of sugar (that's the proportion - I used two mangoes, peeled and cubed)

Some honey

Some powdered cardamom

A smidgen of salt (my touch - optional)

Method

Boil the peeled and cubed mangoes in water just enough to cover them. For just three minutes and drain them immediately. Dry them on a cloth for a few hours.

Then make a one-string sugar syrup and I did, with help from the Internet.

Put the mango pieces into the sugar syrup and let them soak for a few hours.

In the evening, stir in some honey, tasting as you go along, and the salt and powdered cardamom.

My experience

After I boiled the mango pieces for three minutes, they became soft, I didn't know if they would hold their shape at all.

The sugar syrup turned to a hard sheet of sugar at the bottom of the bowl and was all liquid on top - maybe the mangoes had oozed liquid as well but they were swimming in more syrup than I had made in the morning.

I was tempted to throw it out but I let it stay in the fridge for about five or six days during which I sought repair advice on Facebook and got a few suggestions, of which I took one - fish out the mango pieces with a slotted spoon, drain off the liquid and melt the sheet of sugar. When I did that, I ended up fishing out very little sugar so I added a splash of water and heated it. It caramelised and I abandoned the attempt.

Sitting in the fridge, the mango pieces seem to have absorbed some of the sugar and attained a texture somewhat similar to my colleague's own paagu manga.

I simply added some honey and the cardamom and salt to the mangoes. It looked runny and I was disappointed again, but I resolved to let it stay in the fridge for a few days.

It seems to be thickening.

I ate with my popped amaranth cereal for some texture, it wasn't enough to sweeten it, though.

All in all, I am very taken with its process of maturation.

How, or whether, I will eat it is another thing entirely.

Mango relish Humour Musings

The Big Lunch

In my safe and cosy un-momentous world, some momentous things happened recently. No, no, I haven't quit my day job to go into blogging or all things foodie full time, I've not been invited to do a TV show, I haven't been discovered by a publisher - the momentous things are momentous enough for an un-momentous life.

 I stuck to a resolution of sorts to travel a little more, spend at least two days outside my city and I'm glad to say I've done that. I've visited four places and had a very fun, relaxing and restful time with my friends.

 I shaped up a bit within two weeks of starting a new workout - I always do but not so fast. I haven't lost any kilos, though!

On one of my trips, I found out that my friend considered me the fittest of our girl gang, and that when I went to Pune's Shaniwarwada, I was the only one to reach the top of the fort without any trouble. To add to that, she said she had noticed it that every time we went somewhere together, I had been the first to reach the peak. Now this was a revelation - I thought years and years of working out had not worked out because twice when we went to visit the Gomateshwara statue I huffed and puffed all the way up, always falling behind the rest of my companions - and the two visits were years apart, by which time I had racked up many years of aerobics and gym.

 Then the most momentous thing of them all - I finally hosted a lunch that was due to my colleagues for several years. The true old friends that they are, they never let me forget it, often ribbing me into embarrassment but somehow I never plucked up the courage to do it. Some of them had visited individually but never as a big group. Even when one of them said, "What Sra, come on, can't you just do it, all you need to do is cook a couple of simple dishes, order some and get us to bring the rest," I could not. I don't believe the first formal meal at my house should be a potluck - and I don't believe in calling people over and giving them only a little to eat. I know how it feels.

I cooked for eight people two years ago, who were older friends from my college days and whom I had never invited for a meal with family, either, but somehow this office lunch never materialised.

However, I finally gathered my guts and issued an invitation which was accepted with alacrity and this past Sunday. I had the previous day off and resolved to cook through the day and keep myself free and fresh with only the pulao to be cooked the next day. The biriyani was outsourced. We were a group of nine altogether, with six guests.

As soon as I woke up on Saturday, I realised we were still in the first week of the month and that we had not had our 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. power cut yet. My suspicions were proved right and the electricity went off a little before 9 a.m. At 11, I started cooking - by 2 p.m., I had only cooked two dishes. By 3.30, I had made another. I took a break then and started cooking again at 5.30 and went on till about 8 p.m. Then the next morning I made the vegetable pulao.

First, here's a look at most of what I made, I forgot to take pictures of a chutney I had made.

And here's the vegetable pulao for which the recipe is given in this post

 

I have a recipe on this blog which I vaguely remembered as containing coconut milk. I thought I was making that, but it turned out to be completely different. It even acquired a bright green hue, how I have no clue.

 I used a big pressure cooker.
 Vegetables, chopped: 3 cups (I used mixed frozen vegetables)
Basmati Rice: 2.5 cups
Mint: 20 leaves, washed and chopped
Green chillies: 2-3, slit
Thick coconut milk: 400 ml (2-1/2 cups in my measure)
Water: 2-1/2 cups
Garam masala powder: 1.5-2 tsp
Star anise: 2
Marathi moggu: 2
Bay leaf: 2
Ghee/Oil/Mix of both: 75 ml/4 tbsp
Juice of 3 limes
Salt to taste

Soak the rice for 20 minutes and strain.

In a heavy bottomed pan or pressure cooker, heat the fat and fry the whole spices.

Add the garam masala and fry for a few seconds.

Add the mint, green chillies, fry a bit and then add the vegetables.

Fry well "till raw smell goes and good smell comes".

Add the coconut milk and the water and let it come to a boil.

Add salt. When I tasted the mix at this stage, it seemed salty.

I had not yet added the rice but I didn't want to take chances, so I added the juice of three limes then and there, praying it would not turn bitter. It didn't.

Add rice. Turn off the heat after three whistles. My friends loved it and one of them said she found it extremely unusual, that she had never tasted a pulao with such a tang, so I thought it was worth putting on my blog.

Appealing To The Universe, With a Gourd

I haven't meant to become a columnist on my own blog, writing just once or twice a month, but that's how things are turning out, much to my dismay. The only good thing, among many bad things, that prevents me from doing that is that I wind down for the day earlier than I used to. I seem to be going through a slow and sluggish phase and I really wish things would change.

Let's see if the law of attraction works for me. Here I go throwing my wishes out into the universe: I wish things would change for the better, for you, me, everyone, the world. I wish we could be peaceful and content, with just enough desire to propel us on to achieving whatever we want. I wish for the strength and will to accomplish those dreams. I wish for patience and fortitude to stand me in good stead while I'm waiting. (But really, I just wish I get what I want without much struggle!)

I have several material wishes too: I wish we have a lot of time to follow our passions and interests, whether they are travelling the world, decluttering a life and home, or writing a blog or a book. Make that books. I want the abundance of health, time, energy, money and peace of mind to follow my dreams independently, and I want to look back on life and see one for which I can pat myself on the back. I wish the universe grants me this and much more. I wish it gives you whatever you wish for, too.

And of course I wish none of these wishes, when they come true, fall into the be-careful-what-you-wish-for, you-might-just-get-it category

Now while we wait for the universe to pool its energies and help us (and that may sound irreverent but I certainly don't intend it that way, the above-written portion of this post was written with much deliberation), let me show you how to make some snake gourd chutney.

There seemed to be a time in my mid-20s when the snake in snake gourds seemed to be going out of circulation. Till then, I only saw long, curly, grey-green snake gourds a mile-long suspended from their vines, draped over an uncle's arm when he visited from the village (this image is not mine, but it's one of my favourite movie cliches), sold whole in the market. It was also that smelly vegetable I never ate, among others, before I went to live in the hostel. Then when I set up a kitchen in a new region, I only saw what I thought was the antithesis of snake gourd or the form that gave it its name. It was very short and stubby, more gourd than snake. Curiously, the ridge gourd, which I knew only to be shorter and smaller, was very long and tiresome to process. They still are. While I see the long snake gourds back in existence, I rarely see the small ridge gourds.

I think this was made with the short and stubby ones.

Saute
2 cups of washed, peeled and chopped/diced snake gourd

in

1 tbsp of oil

after tempering it with

1/2-1 tsp of mustard seed
1/2 tsp of cumin
6-7 green chillies (or fewer)
1 tsp of black gram/urad dal
3-4 cloves of garlic

You need not tend to it constantly if you sprinkle some water on it and cook it covered on a low fire till transparent and tender, but not soft and wilted. You can add some salt midway.

Cool.

Grind to the consistency you like. I prefer it to have some texture so I don't grind it fine.

Add this mixture to

1-1.5 cups of beaten curds

Garnish with coriander, and curry leaf fried separately in a spot of oil. Or you can choose to add the curry leaf with the rest of the tempering.








Vegetarian/Vegetable Curds/Yoghurt

The First Time Happiness Bubbled Over - The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013

Let's call it The First Time I Remember Experiencing Total Happiness. Many people say it's the day they had their child or the day they got married or the day they got a job, a carat(s) (or carrot(s), but not a stick), or the day that was marked by similar achievements, but for me it's nothing big like this.

This is something I persevered with and accomplished. Many times since, I've thought to myself that this was one of my happiest moments. Some of you might remember reading of my foray into cooking. You can read about it here.

I was waiting to join the University and needed to do something with all the free time I had, so I took up baking. Without knowing the ABC of anything culinary, of course. There were no blogs then to tell us how fulfilling baking bread was, and the few recipe books that we had at home didn't have much in them.

So I bought a book and would sometimes try out the cakes and desserts. Apple and ginger souffle. Caramel pudding. Devil's food cake. Pumpkin halwa. One of them was something multicoloured, and involved creating a dent(s) in the pudding by weighing it down with another vessel(s) - the hollow(s) that formed after it set was filled with other colours. Something like that.

 There were other confections that needed yeast. The bakery we patronised stored dry yeast and I bought a packet. I would religiously soak it in hot water, count out the sugar grains (yes, I've been watching my weight forever), slip them into the cup and wait for it to rise. Twenty, thirty, forty minutes would go by and nothing would happen. It would stink a bit but that was it, there were no bubbles, nothing to indicate it was working. It would lie there muddy and despondent, and it mirrored my mood.


I even have a recipe that involves yeast on the blog, you can find a recipe for Qatayef, stuffed pancakes here.

 After a few tries, I asked the owner of the bakery why it wasn't working. He said, "You have to use warm water, not hot water. You're probably using hot water. If you use hot water, the power of the yeast will go away," he said in his Malayalam-accented Telugu, his hands mimicking a running-far-away action.

He was right. I had been using boiling hot water and it was killing off the yeast. I went back all recharged and followed his instructions. The yeast worked beautifully. I still remember gingerly going back into the kitchen and peeping into the dish with great trepidation. There it was, tiny bubbles on the surface, a little bit of white foam, and a smell so yeasty it seemed nothing less than fragrant in that flush of triumph. I could see some movement too! I must have used a steel katori or a cup but it was nothing less than a petri-dish that day!

I don't remember what I made with the yeast but I do remember a savarin that was a great success, it could have been that same day or later.

Now tell me, what was the first time you felt total, total happiness?

This is my entry this week to The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Project.

 Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Humour Musings Nostalgia

Of Failures, Going Back to My Roots and All That

Over the last one week, I had a spate of culinary misadventures that took me back to ordinary, everyday stuff. As I'm always trying out something new, and I cook only every other day or once in three days, I don't make too many dishes traditional to where I grew up, except dal with some vegetable or greens in it. The nice part about that is that they always remain special that way.

Last Sunday, I plonked myself down in front of the TV and patiently cut up half a cabbage and two onions for "Zunaka", from a cookbook of the West Coast. The Indian West Coast, that is. I tended to it patiently, trying not to shudder when it turned a sludgy green-brown after 2 tsp of chilli powder and 'jaggery to taste'  went into it. Then I added the asafoetida.

Now, I have some 'pure' asafoetida from my trips to Delhi and Dubai which I powdered - I stumbled on to a blog post for that and it was useful, though my house stank for the better part of the day and my eyes burned  - and The Spouse swore that it wasn't him but the hing (asafoetida) that turned the sambar bitter. I was determined to prove it wasn't the hing so I used it in the cabbage. I can be cussed sometimes, so I used a large pinch as the recipe dictated knowing rather well I should have used just a smidgen because this was 'pure' (not cut with wheat and turmeric).

Bitter defeat.

That's not the end of the recipe or the cabbage dish. The recipe also said to add about 1.5 or two cups of gram flour/besan in small lots and keep frying it till it turned dry. By the time I finished adding about a cup, I knew the dish was going into the bin. Neither had the besan masked the bitter taste of the dish nor had the besan itself cooked. The Spouse smirked, I scowled and we dumped it after it cooled down.

Only as I write, it strikes me that my next set of misadventures too involved besan. Half a kilo of it was consigned to the flames in two days. I set about making something called paat vadi, a Maharashtrian dish which seemed easy enough. The first time, I got the instructions wrong, involving nothing less than an entire cup of oil, so the recipe went wrong. I tried persevering but it didn't taste right. The next time, which was just a few minutes later, it just didn't work out  - is it supposed to remain slightly under-cooked, or how should I test for doneness? I don't know because in both attempts the finished product tasted raw. I don't see how I could have cooked it further. I dumped all that too.

My friend V berated me in both instances that I should not follow any recipe to the T. I should use my brain, instead, she said. You should read through it and then decide, she said. I told you so, she said. Well, I don't know about brain but  I'm a much humbler person now. My confidence in even simple things such as cooking has taken a beating and I decided any culinary effort for the next few days must be tame, ordinary.

So I ended up making this

At the back is dal with greens, a cabbage and peas stir-fry and on the left is the dosakaya (lemon cucumber) chutney.

I have made dosakaya chutney only rarely and decided to refresh my memory about the method before I launched into it. So I Googled and my search led me to this recipe which was most interesting because it had a tip which I hadn't known of earlier: grind the 'seed jelly' along with the chillies and toss the raw pieces of cucumber in it.

In a nutshell, how you make it is: Peel and dice two cucumbers into thin pieces. Test seeds and pieces for bitterness. Scoop out the seeds and reserve them. In some oil, fry urad dal, mustard seed, a little bit of fenugreek, salt and many green chillies and a few red chillies. Add some tamarind to this, the seed jelly and grind it. I stayed away from the asafoetida and used garlic instead. Mix this with the cucumbers. Fry some more urad dal and top the chutney with this for some crunch.

It was great, and very much like what I am used to at home.

Then I made a dondakaya (tindora/ivy gourd/coccinea) chutney. Fry some jeera/cumin, tamarind, green chillies and lots of garlic in about 4 tsp of oil. Add sliced tindora to this (about 350 gm) and saute until brown spots appear. (I wouldn't cook it completely as it needs to be slightly resistant even after it's ground, for texture - traditionally, the entire mix is tossed into a grinding stone, given a few thumps with a heavy pestle and that's it - the chutney is thus ready.) Grind it all. Temper with some red chillies and urad dal.

And then, there's the tomato chutney we make.

Fry lots of tomatoes and garlic and green chillies in oil, grind with salt, and tamarind if the tomatoes aren't sour enough, and temper with mustard, curry leaf, cumin and urad dal in a teaspoon or two of oil. That's it!

We eat these chutneys with rice. The tomato chutney has other applications too - idli, dosa, and such absorbent snacks.

Truly, these past few days I've been feasting on the chutneys, like never before, well, at least in a long time. And if you're mulling over this post, will you please tell me what went wrong with my zunaka and my paat vadi?

chutneys vegetarian

On The Gravy Train, Again

I only rarely used coconut in my cooking till I got Mikcee. I don't think we've ever used it that much for me to miss it but I miss the old-style traditional rotary grater, which looked something like this. Grating coconut was a breeze with those things.

Then in the last few years, a store we patronised began offering grated coconut but we couldn't really use it well because I had a fancy food processor which couldn't do many tasks that an Indian kitchen demanded, so between the lack of a grater and a mixie, our coconut consumption was pretty limited.

I finally traded in the food processor for a regular, no-frills Indian mixie because the former was occupying too much space, and it's one of the best decisions I've made. We consume a little more coconut now in the form of gravies and avial.

I like mixed vegetable gravies and recently went looking for recipes for something a neighbour had given us long ago. It may have been Poricha Kuzhambu but none of the recipes in the first few searches were printable. I didn't have the patience to write them down. So I kept surfing and searching till I came across some recipe that used tamarind, another that used dal, another that used coconut and others that used all these and more!

I combined all these into one and only halfway through remembered a colleague telling me that poricha kuzhambu was made without tamarind. But the recipes on the Net said otherwise and anyway, I had soaked some tamarind already so I just went ahead with my concoction.

I had had more than a cup of soaked and boiled field beans in the bridge, and some broad beans as well (a dozen), which I boiled and chopped into big pieces.

I ground

1/2 a cup of coconut bits 
2 red chillies
A teaspoon of cumin
More than a teaspoon of peppercorns

I put a spoon or two of oil into a pan, heated it and sauteed a chopped onion.

Then I added the beans and the vegetables and sauteed them.

I cooked it for a bit in tamarind extract - a lime-sized ball in a cup of water.

I then added the ground paste and let it cook for a while.

At this point, I remembered I had some cooked toor dal (pigeon peas) in the fridge, so I added a ladle of it to that.

It was wonderful!

The next week, I did the same thing with a mix of 10-12 broad beans, one green banana, some soaked and boiled black channa and a drumstick. I omitted the dal, didn't miss it at all.

There are a lot of beans in the first dish and more than a handful in the second one, so I'm sending off this post to MLLA 55 hosted by Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook.
  Vegetarian Coconut gravy My Legume Love Affair

Pomogarnet - The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Project

I did think of a pomegranate initially when I announced the theme The Colour Garnet for Week 2 of The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Project. It was Aparna's idea to introduce a photography-only, colour-based theme once a month. I was going to announce a plain colour but thought describing it this way would be more challenging. At that time, I had no clue what I would serve up in fulfilment of the challenge. Then a little later, I spied a long-ignored pomegranate sitting in my fruit bowl. I think it's been around for three weeks at least. 

But as the days went by since the announcement, I was struck by a horrible doubt - was it the ordinary pomegranate where the arils would be pink or the Kabuli variety, where they would be deep red ... er, in a jewel-like colour? Gripped by that fear, I couldn't slit the fruit open for two days. Because, then, I'd have to go scrabbling for garnets in my cupboard or worse, if they weren't there, in my bank locker. And that seemed a bit over the top. There was another option (which I won't reveal because many of us are yet to work on this challenge) but it seemed like I was trivialising things, taking the easy way out and trying to be smart alecky.

This morning, I started things early, so I got back from the gym with some time to spare before I left for work. Last night, or was it this morning, I had remembered that my camera has a colour accent option (which is why I chose that brand, in fact) and that I could probably put it to good use if the arils were indeed garnet. 

I cut open the pomegranate with some trepidation and danced with joy (figuratively, of course) when I saw the colour. Then I spent several minutes staging it for the photo: on my old yellow MW plates, on a sunken white plate that I bought solely as a blogging prop, now covered with years of dust, and in a certain spot that I thought was sunny (but not sunny enough - I have not a single balcony in my apartment, and the builder has done a good job of protecting it from the sun on all the sides.)

That's the original above. 

Have you visited our project group on Facebook yet? We're in Week 2 and there's 50 more weeks of fun to look forward to. 

The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Photography

Not Resolving To Do More ... The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Project

I don't remember when I stopped making resolutions. I don't remember how long my resolutions lasted. They were usually mundane stuff, well, now mundane - lose weight, eat better, write a diary, blah blah. I don't think I took resolutions very seriously at all and then I found the exercise pointless and stopped making any, though I do think about them whenever the new year comes around. This is not to say I gave up on the resolutions but I didn't organise my life around them. So while I'm fairly obsessive about losing weight and eating better, I don't have a goal because it makes me sad when I don't achieve it by a certain date. These are constant, ongoing projects for me.

Then a couple of years ago, I was so irritated by the yelling-shrieking-holier-than-thou-intolerant-of-others anchors on the news channel I generally watch, and I resolved to watch less of it. I succeeded. Though I would choose that channel by habit, I would click away and watch another.

This year too, I don't have any resolutions, just some amorphous thoughts. Maybe I could describe them better as being halfway houses between thoughts and resolutions, teetering on the threshold of crossing over to resolutions, me unwilling to make the commitment. What's the point of starting out with great ceremony (even if it's limited to your own mind) only to feel misery and self-loathing for grand goals not fulfilled later? Might as well cut out the mental pomp and formality and strive for whatever you want with some sincerity unfettered by a starting date and an ending date. That said, January 1 is a nice, clean, easy-to-remember date to start on.

Getting more social: Maybe I'll get more active on Twitter - I've got an account and have signed on to follow some folks whom I know through work, but I rarely visit it. Keeping up with work, life and other social media is quite time-consuming, do I really need another? Maybe not, but that's where the vocal, the bold and the beautiful seem to be saying a lot and I don't want to miss out.

Itchy feet: Another nebulous thought is about making the time for more travelling, even if it's a short trip. I have promised myself, and my friends, at least three visits in total. None of them worked out and one friend is moving away from the city where she now lives that I want to visit. I have to get there soon. The last time I went there six years ago, it was so cold during this time that I had to rig myself out in woollens from top to toe, replete with mittens, two blankets underneath me, five above and a room heater. My host told me she didn't tell me the temperature dipped to zero in case I felt colder. But still ...

Some other thoughts: Learning something new, be it a craft or some music; being less obsessive and more easy-going about certain things; watch more movies; volunteer; even more home-cooked meals; taking healthier snacks to work, not giving The Spouse a hard time ...

This morning, as soon as I returned from vacation, I told him I had made some resolutions.
"Oh?" he said.
"For you," I said. "You will give (the ironing lady) the suitcase full of curtains that we washed about a month ago. You will empty your writing desk and move it out of the house. (This is so that we can make more space in our TV room for the recliner we bought recently. He promised.) ... And you should get the plumber to check on the heater in my bathroom." I forgot the third. I would have woken him up and checked but I had decided to be easy-going. Luckily, he woke up and remembered. Now let's see if he sticks to his resolutions.

And best of luck with yours!

The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013 Musings

'The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013' Project

Happy New Year! Here's a new year wish in someone else's words: "Cheers to a new year and another chance to get it right!"

And that's what we're trying to do with The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013. Aparna and I were brainstorming about an easy-to-do, interpret-it-your-way, in-your-medium kind of project and we've cobbled together something by this name. There will be a theme every week which you can interpret in writing or in photography or in any other medium such as art. It can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be. You can upload the photographs on Flickr and if you are writing, it can be on your blog or it can be a note/photo on your own Facebook page. You can then link those posts to the open Facebook group that we've created: http://www.facebook.com/groups/243917995739438/. This is so that we have a collection of everyone's work at one place.

Now for the first theme of the project: New Year resolutions. Write about it or express it pictorially. (That doesn't mean you can write it on a piece of paper and photograph it like the stuff we see on Facebook. We may make an exception for calligraphic depiction, ahem!)

Have no clue how? Neither have I. Put on those thinking hats, and join the Facebook group. If you aren't on Facebook, just do it on your blog!

And here's another new year wish:
May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions! (Joey Adams)

I Made Marmalade

Of late, I've been getting more active on Facebook and have been uploading a lot of pictures of food, mainly of my daily meals. Two nights ago, what went on to Facebook was not a picture of a daily meal but of midnight madness - I attempted to make marmalade, with oranges and limes, for the first time ever and it was quite a success.

The picture was quite pale despite the oranges and limes that went into it but it attracted some attention, especially for the knotted piece of cloth that was in the dish. A couple of friends asked me why and I was very relieved I knew the answer - I had done some research before getting bored and confused and didn't do anything crazy like I do when I'm eager to get on with it and not have to delve into a whole lot of learning. But then I've been called the Queen of All Things Shallow (for joking that I'd rather have a good figure than good health) so you see why I am not so inclined ...

But I digress. My marmaladic venture has its genesis in a recent conversation with my uncle who was complaining about not being able to feel the peel in most marmalades. I threw the words 'thick-cut' and 'macerated' at him and as I was saying them, I felt like I had to finally make it. I had always been fascinated by the idea of making marmalade, easily my most favourite preserve, by the idea of soaking oranges in water overnight, ever since I read the recipe, but never did anything about it because I didn't like the idea of making anything using so much sugar - I mean, eating it on a croissant or a piece of toast at a breakfast buffet at a nice hotel is one thing, but keeping it in your fridge everyday and eating it just because it's there? Nah ...

As you can see, I capitulated.

I went through several recipes which had several instructions on how to remove the pith and tie it up in a muslin bag with the pips and etc, etc, etc. I was in a hurry (it was close to midnight, I had already dithered for two days), I was tired and I didn't want to do any complicated operations. I finally came across David Lebovitz's recipe for Seville Orange Marmalade. He made it with six Seville oranges and one navel orange. I used four Nagpur oranges and three rather big organic limes but didn't make any adjustments to the rest of the recipe. The Scotch is optional so I didn't bother with that either, we don't stock any. He sometimes uses the overnight method, I did. The recipes with overnight steeping of raw oranges entailed a lot of work the following morning, which I wasn't inclined to do, so I went with this.

I didn't really cut the pieces in any aesthetic manner, the limes were tough to cut and to my surprise, were totally seedless. The oranges didn't have fat pips either, they only had pipsqueaks of pips, pardon the bad pun. But I collected them for whatever they were worth, and they were worth the effort. Reading all those recipes had taught me that the pips were the most important ingredient to help the jam set - they contain pectin, the gelling agent.

That piece of cloth there was the only thing I had close to a muslin bag or a piece of muslin - I put all the pips in it, tied it up nice and tight and put it into the vessel.

After boiling it and leaving it overnight as per the recipe, I brought it to a boil again. I don't have a candy thermometer but kept stirring very frequently the next day while it was boiling, and after one hour, removed the cloth. Then after about 45 minutes, I did the has-it-set test. I passed, but I wanted to be sure and boiled it a little more because I thought it was too liquid even then. Maybe I was right, or maybe not - I ended up with a nice, thick marmalade which is not runny. This morning I had it on a piece of shallow-fried bread, it spread pretty easily with some difficulty, because there was so much peel in it, and tasted heavenly. It also wasn't as bitter as it was when I took it off the fire yesterday morning. And it had a lovely, rich colour.

A note: Towards the last 30 minutes, there was much foam in the marmalade when it was on the fire. Some more Internet searching and I learnt that a tablespoon of butter helps get rid of it. I did add the butter but it didn't seem to have any effect. I finally skimmed off the foam.
Beware of sensitive teeth - at one point when I looked into the vessel, just the steam made my teeth tingle!

Some Things I Need To Say About Food, Facebook, Etc

1. It's so heartening to cook for people who like to eat well. I was reminded of that today when a friend came home after some six months of falling out of touch and lit into the food with gusto, especially the bread pudding I had made for dessert. I have to admit that I too fell in love with the pudding and kept shaving off little slivers with a spoon and putting them in my bowl hoping to minimise how much I ate but at the end of it, we had left just two spoons which The Spouse was grateful for.

 I remember another dinner we hosted a few years ago for The Spouse's academic advisor and his wife. She must have been in her mid- or late 50s, a petite, twinkling, cheerful woman, who kept serving herself several helpings of everything on the table and appeared to enjoy every morsel. Why did it fill me with such joy to see someone enjoy their meal so much? Probably because such women are rare to come by.

 I've seen many who have one piece of paneer and claim to be full and not eat anymore. To add insult to injury, they say, "Oh, I can only eat this much." Some of them take it a notch higher and writhe in discomfort, pat their stomach and tell me they have a big belly and it needs to shrink. Needless to say, these are the people who do not have either a weight problem or a belly-size problem. Some don't do all this, they simply look ready to cry at the torturuous thought of putting another grain of rice in their mouth.

 Then there are the others who are outraged if you ask them whether they are hungry and would they like to stop somewhere for a bite. They are indignant that I should even ask. They never feel a base passion like hunger! Well, get this: Most of us get hungry and actually eat. Even like to eat. And we don't believe you when you say you don't. Especially if you go on trying to convince us that you can go on and on working, walking, shopping, doing anything, except feel hunger. Rile us a little more with such statements and we'll tell you that most of what's wrong with you is because you never allow yourself to have a decent meal.

About Facebook 

I am on Facebook as Whenmysoup CameAlive. I get friend requests from many people who don't identify themselves. If you are a blogger and don't have that information or a link to your blog in your 'About' section, please introduce yourselves through a private message.

 If you're a reader or someone connected to the food and beverage industry, or anyone who wants to make fransip with me, please do the same thing. I am wary about adding people without knowing who they are or why they want to be friends with me, even if we share 134 mutual friends.

I'm sure I speak for several bloggers when I say this. In fact, I used to try and check out the requests but it turned out to be impractical. So I simply do not add anyone who doesn't make it easy for me to identify them. Please do not add me to groups on Facebook without my permission - I find it maha tiring - and am crushed - to see the red notification flash only to tell me yet another recipe has been added to Magnificently Quotidian Recipes. Nor do I want it to flash only when I'm being invited to Farmville or open a message to see I'm in some group conversation to discuss something equally mundane.

Some real interaction would be nice. But I don't interact either, you say? Fine, then let us both coexist in companionable silence and contemplate why we are being unsocial on a social network, but please don't try to punish me for it by adding me to groups, chain mails and games - I will simply leave the groups and turn off game invite notifications.

And while I'm ranting, here's another one: I know we're all on social networks to draw attention to ourselves, our blogs, looks, or whatever aspects of ourselves we choose to promote. Should we not draw a line, though? How far will we go to get attention? Flaunting utterly private moments of ourselves, even in less than pleasant situations, do we really want publicity in exchange for coming across as tacky?

 Yeah, I'm probably in fuddy-duddy cantankerous crone mode now, but I needed to say it.

  Musings Blogging Rant Facebook

Discovering Radishes In a Pod

Some sort of underdeveloped beans, I thought, when I saw them a few years ago. I couldn't quite decide whether they were cluster beans - they really were not. What they were, I could not tell. Neither could the seller. I didn't even think to taste them - come to think of it, I don't really taste many raw vegetables except in salad, and I certainly don't taste them when I'm buying them. I do, though, flick the tops of ladies' fingers (okra) to see whether they're good enough to take home. I know that riles a lot of people.

They were chilling in my fridge, when Anita put out this post and I got to know they were radish pods. I don't remember what I did with them then, probably a stir-fry. This time when I saw them at the store they were a little wilted - not their fault, I usually do my vegetable shopping at the fag end of the day - but I bought them anyway. I remembered they were pretty hardy, took a long time to cook and there was no harm of their withering into insignificance.

I tried dissecting them to look at them more closely but I couldn't find much. A pod pre-supposes a seed, but I couldn't find any after I cut them, though before I did, I could see and feel some bumps. I'll blame it on their thinness.

 I searched for both moongre and radish pods and came across quite a lot of both information and recipes. I finally came across this one and chose it because the tempering seemed quite different from the kind I usually use. Well, only the carom and cumin must have stuck in my head because I quite forgot the curry leaves, ground coriander and green chillies the next day when I made this dish. I had decided to give the tomato puree a miss and replaced the courgette with bottle gourd, which is as mildly flavoured. I had also had some soaked cow peas in the fridge, which I boiled and tossed in.

And oh, I did taste a few raw ones and they were very much like radish. I've seen other descriptions say they weren't quite radish-y or that they were milder but I couldn't discern a difference.

 My cousin who was visiting and tasted the stir-fry said it was excellent.

 I can't remember whether I used chilli powder or not. Not, I think.

 Radish pods/moongre: 250 gm
Bottle gourd, peeled and diced: 1-1/2 cup
Cow peas, boiled: 3/4 cup
Ajwain/Carom seed: 3/4 tsp
Jeera/Cumin seed: 1/2 tsp
Turmeric: A pinch
Chilli powder: 1/2-3/4 tsp (Optional)
Salt: To taste
Cow's Ghee/Oil: 2-4 tsp

 Top and tail the pods.

 In a pan, melt the ghee and temper with the carom and cumin.

Add the radish pods, saute for a couple of minutes.

 Now add the bottle gourd, mix well and saute for about four minutes.

 Then lower the flame, add the cow peas. Add salt. Mix.

 Cover and let it simmer. You can sprinkle some water if you like.

 Keep checking to see at what stage you can bite through the radish pods. I think it will take a long time to soften them (unless you use the pressure cooker) but I liked them when they still offer a bit of resistance. And I couldn't taste any radish once they were cooked.

I'm sending this off to Elena at Zibaldone Culinario who's hosting WHB this week, created by Kalyn and now run by Haalo.
  Weekend Herb Blogging vegetarian Radish pods

Bathing The Microwave Oven

Iknow, I know, I've been making a big mistake, but truth be told, this is how I clean my microwave oven. Thoroughly, with a scrubber and detergent under the kitchen sink, or under the bathroom tap, like I did today, slipping on the soapy floor in the process. The stars were kind and I didn't hurt myself but I have been getting quite a few outraged queries on how I can do that to the microwave because it can short-circuit or set the house on fire.

Actually, I didn't do this till a few years ago. I saw a friend doing something similar to this and when I exclaimed in surprise, she said, "Just make sure it's not plugged in," with a hearty laugh. I used to wipe it down. Then after I started bathing it, I would dry it for a day or more, turning it over a couple of times in the fond hope all the water in all the holes and crevices would drain and evaporate.

Well, no longer. I go back to the non-easy way of more frequent and less invasive maintenance. I'm sending this off to Akheela of Torview Toronto who's hosting Black & White Wednesday this week, created by Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook and now organised by Cinzia of Cindystar Blog.

My Legume Love Affair-52: The Round-Up

Innovation, gorgeous photography and a lot of learning marked this edition of My Legume Love Affair, created by Susan. I hosted the October edition. Here are the entries I received. The winner(s) named at the end.


                                             Chole Baingan - Garbanzo Beans with Brinjal

                                    

                                                   Susan Mathew of Chacko's Kitchen


                                                Jota/Bean, Sauerkraut and Potato Soup

                 

                                                           Simona of Briciole


                                                                 Methi Mattar Malai

                                                           Sharanya of Sara's Tasty Kitchen
                                               
                                                                         Spinach Dal

                                                       Sharanya of Sara's Tasty Kitchen

                                                                 Yardlong Beans Usil

                                                             Cham of Spice Club
  
                                                     Peruvian Mayocaba Bean Bowl with
                                                              a Roasted Pepper Sauce
                                                                  and Fried Plantains

Janet of Taste Space

Chocolate Peanut Butter Dessert Hummus

                                                                 Janet of Taste Space


                                                                     Hummus, Revisited

                                                     Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe


                                                               Muruku/Murukulu

                                                              Lubna of Yummy Food


                                                          Ammini Ramachandran's
                                                                  Pacha Sambar

                                                        Aparna of My Diverse Kitchen


                                                     Roasted Garlic Black Bean Stew

                                                             H T of Teczcape

                                                         Broccoli Paruppu Usili

                                                          Siri of Cooking with Siri

                                                     Rajma Chawal/Beans and Rice

                                                     Finla of My Kitchen Treasures

                                                           Vegan Refried Bean Soup

                                                     
                                                      Susan of The Well Seasoned Cook

                                  Green Pea Dessert with Agar Agar and Coconut Milk

                                                 Sra of When My Soup Came Alive


Using a set of numbers generated by random.org turned up Janet of Taste Space as the winner of the Super Natural Everyday: Well-Loved Recipes From My Natural Foods Kitchen by Heidi Swanson.

In the same way, I determined that the winner of Hurst Bean Box would be H T of Teczcape. This prize is available only to US residents.

You can reach me at srablogATgmailDOTcom for clarifications, if any.

Simona of Briciole is hosting the November edition - MLLA 53.

My Legume Love Affair Round-up

Pease Pudding, Twisted

Desperation is the mother of invention. What else would drive you to combine green peas, agar agar/China grass and coconut milk? This bears no relation to the traditional pease pudding which is made with yellow split peas and served with ham or bacon. Going by the majority of the ingredients, it could be more South-East Asian than anything else. But really, it is just the product of a fevered imagination.

Two days away was the deadline for MLLA 52 that I'm hosting for Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook, and I still had not zeroed in on a dish. I didn't want to make any of the routine stuff because I didn't want to have to sit and eat it. What if it bored me? I had heard of green pea burfi (fudge-like) too, but I didn't want to have to use any elbow grease - burfi has to be stirred and watched over.

Among the entries I had got so far, chick peas had been used. So had rajma. There's a green pea entry too, but along with the rest, they were mostly savoury dishes. And I badly wanted mine to be different because I didn't want to be a host in name alone but in spirit too. And I had some agar agar needing to be used up.

I looked up instructions on the proportions of water and agar agar needed for the latter to gel the former. It seemed to be 5 gm for just a little under 1 litre of water, so I set about making it yesterday before leaving for work.

I kept it in the fridge and hit upon the idea of the topping only much later. I had decided not to use any other flavouring but when I tasted it, it seemed a little bland, except for the taste of pea. But I didn't really fancy the idea of garnishing it saffron or with raisins and cashews. I went for sesame instead, and then I spied a packet of poppy seed. I toasted a tablespoon of each and sprinkled it on the pudding. It really lifted the taste and lent it texture too.

This morning, I messaged my friend S asking her if she wanted to try a mystery pudding - I had to know what others thought of it before I put it up on the blog. I was prepared to confess, of course, that it was 'peasy' but I thought I'd check anyway. My friend S is a big foodie and I knew she'd be sporting enough to play a guessing game.

When the afternoon rolled around, she came over and I gave her the plate in which I'd set the pudding and asked her to guess. Cucumber and pista were among her first guesses but they weren't right.

I dismissed all her guesses so finally she asked if she could smell it.

She couldn't smell anything. (Neither could I.)

Then she tasted it. She still couldn't taste anything green. I was relieved to know she couldn't taste any green pea because I doubt most people would be drawn to it if it tasted peasy.  I guess it smelt that way to me because I was too close to the whole affair.

Or maybe the sesame-poppy seed topping helped mask it.

What you need
Green peas, frozen: 1 cup
Agar agar/China Grass: 5 gm
Coconut milk: 200 ml
Coconut sugar: 25-50 gm (I used a block, not loose) (You can use ordinary sugar too)
More coconut sugar/white sugar (optional): 2 tsp
Water: 1 cup

Garnish
Sesame seed and poppy seed: 1 tbsp each

How to proceed
Soak the agar agar for at least 15 minutes in the water.

Heat the coconut sugar in less than 1/4 cup of water to get it to soften/melt.

Microwave the green peas till half done in less than 1/4 cup water. Cool and grind into as smooth a paste as you can.

Boil the soaked agar agar with the water. Once it comes to a boil, turn heat down and simmer for about 10-15 minutes till the agar agar strands have melted completely.

To this add the softened/melted coconut sugar.

Stir once and add the green pea paste.

Mix well and turn off the heat.

Add the coconut milk and mix gently.

Check for taste and add the white sugar or more coconut sugar if you want to.

Pour into a shallow rimmed plate and leave it to set. As it's agar agar, it even sets without a refrigerator, and quite rapidly.

After it's firm enough (after about 2 hours, just to be safe), it's ready to eat.

Sprinkle the sesame-poppy seed garnish on it. It unmoulded easily after it was cut into pieces.

My Legume Love Affair Green Peas Agar Agar/China Grass vegan

dessert