Brewing Memories

Given the amount of tea Indian families consume, the ubiquitous chai shakkar ke dabbe (covered jars of tea leaves and sugar) hold a special place in every Indian kitchen. Typically, the tea jar is smaller than the sugar jar, probably because in preparing tea, the amount of sugar used is more than that of the tea leaves. For the ancient Indian cuisine, tea is a relatively new phenomenon, introduced about 200 years ago by the British. That by itself should make the tea making process an heirloom recipe, if it weren’t for the Chinese drinking it thousands of years before that. By that standard, we are merely toddlers chugging tea first thing in the morning and some every few hours after that.

Making tea, like thousands of other Indian recipes, is unique to every household and every chai dhabba
(roadside tea stall) that dots the busy cross streets and highways of India. What makes the tea unique is the blend of tea leaves, the amount of sugar, water and milk used, not to mention how long it is boiled to bring out the color of the tea leaves. If that does not give enough permutations and combinations of tea to come up with, cardamom, ginger or a blend of spices (chai masala) is sometimes used to give the chai a kick.

Tea is offered to every guest as a courtesy and served with another ubiquitous cookie – The Parle G or Glucose biscuits.

In the dhabbas, one can buy khari (a savory puff pastry cookie), aloo bonda (potato dumplings, dipped in chickpea batter and deep fried) or samosas. The bhabbawallas know the art of stretching/ boiling their tea leaves to the maximum. The leaves are usually tied in a linen or cotton cloth and immersed, bouquet style, in the milk, water and sugar solution boiling in a big aluminum pot.

Photo Courtsey: Jhinuk Chowdhary, a talented photographer and one of our good friends. On his recent India trip he took this picture of a lady selling tea in Kolkatta.

Growing up, I would watch my aaji (maternal grandmother) make tea every few hours. Her lidded jars of tea and sugar are made of brass and were a permanent fixture above the ledge of her gas stove. She always kept them polished and even as a kid I loved the two fat little jars, presiding over my aaji’s tiny little kitchen, sniffing the aromas of her simple cooking and my grandfather’s occasional mutton curry.

Her four daughters, including my mother, with their families, live in the same city and close enough to visit almost every day. As a result my grandparents have always had a steady flow of uncles, aunts and cousins, who come over to visit if they are in the vicinity. Nowadays, one of my aunts or cousins will put the tea on the stove to boil. But for the longest time I can remember, my aaji liked to make tea her way.

She would pour some water in a pot and put it on the stove to boil. She carefully measured some sugar to add to the water. A little bit of milk was put in a small pan and heated up on the smaller burner. When the sugar had all but dissolved and the water was about to come to a boil, she measured the tea leaves and threw them in the water. A little boiling later, the heat was turned off and the pot covered with a plate. This helped the tea leaves seep in the hot water and release their flavor. When the leaves had settled to the bottom of the pan, warm milk was added to the now dark water, the concoction strained with a sieve and poured into china tea cups and saucers. It was accompanied by Marie biscuits, which are a crispier, sweeter, round version of Graham Crackers.

My entry for Jugalbandi's Click: Heirloom Event

In all of my thirty something years, my aaji has been a major influence on me. My cousin and I lived with her as a five year old for a couple of years and though I do not have a lot of clear memories, one stands out the most. We were not allowed to play outside after sunset. My cousin and I had to wash up and then perched on three legged stools, in front of her little pooja corner, we recited our evening prayers and repeated the multiplication tables.

As I grew older, I learnt that she and her two sisters had lost their parents at an early age and had been brought up by an unmarried maternal uncle and a strict grandfather. She managed to graduate in an age when women were lucky to study past eighth grade. She eloped with my grandfather because his family opposed the union and managed to earn a master’s degree while taking care of two girls and pregnant with another. She was a high school English language teacher for 40 years before retiring at the age of 70.

In the three decades, I have been fortunate enough to know her, she has not changed much. Since moving to the US, I get to visit her every two years and each time she looks older and frailer but her spirit is as strong as ever. She does yoga and pranayam (breathing exercises) every morning, still cooks twice a day, goes for a walk and travels once in a while. Her cooking is as good as it was when I used to live with her and her sweet and sour varan (dal or lentil soup) and batata rassa (potatoes in onion gravy) taste the same as it did when I was growing up.

Her brass tea and sugar pots have been another constant in her kitchen. For the first time this year I did not see them by her gas stove. She had put them away for a pair of shiny, steel ones. But on asking, she graciously passed them on to me. All banged up and dented with years of use, with the original knobs on the lid missing, I still cherish them. They have travelled thousands of miles to occupy a permanent place on my kitchen counter, next to my stove, smelling the aromas of my cooking. Through them I draw on my aaji's gentle strength and her love for her family.

Sending the sweet and strong nostaligia of my aaji's pots to Manisha's IFR: Memories.

Eat Cake and make merry

Jeanne Ray’s Eat Cake opens with Ruth, the heroine of the novel, imagining herself enveloped between the walls of a giant Bundt cake. She is attending a seminar on reducing stress and as she explains, it is not the act of eating cake that calms her down, but the smell and the texture of the cake and in her words “being part of something that I find profoundly comforting”. She feels, correctly so in my humble opinion, that cake has got a bad rap and there is nothing wrong with eating a piece of cake once in a while. “A slice of cake never made anybody fat.”
Raised by her mother, a high school music teacher and an absentee father, Ruth has come to value her stable family life – Sam, her faithful husband and her teenage kids, Wyatt and Camille. She has even adjusted to her now retired mother, Hollis, living with her family.

Ruth has simple cares and concerns of a housewife, shopping for groceries, cooking for her family and trying to bond with her teenage daughter going through a vegetarian phase. Her mundane world is turned upside down when Sam loses his job as a hospital administrator and her father, after breaking his wrists, has to move in with her for lack of any health insurance or a house to call his own.

Faced with a self centered, pouting teenager, forever quibbling parents and an out of job husband exploring the possibility of renovating yachts, Ruth takes refuge in baking cakes for her family. She finds an unexpected friend and advisor in the volunteer physical therapist, Florence, who occasionally visits to check on her father.

Eat Cake is the story of how baking cakes saves her sanity, her family and helps her discover the potential in a hobby she loved. Jeanne Ray’s tale of the neighbor next door rings true on many levels, the characters are easy to relate to and the language is self deprecating and funny. It is an easy read at 225 pages with additional pages for cake recipes.

I found the recipes elaborate and sometimes complicated, which is not to say the cakes don’t turn out good. I just do not have the patience that Ruth’s selfless character has (the reason why I did not bake a cake for this review). She tolerates her teenage daughter’s insolence, her mother’s nagging, her husband’s laziness and her father’s nocturnal routines with a fortitude that defies logic. I was waiting in every chapter for her to break down and yell at her husband or argue with her mother or just smash some plates on the kitchen floor. Only once does she break down, for a brief moment, in front of Florence. She immediately buckles up and trudges on, more as a martyr than a trooper.

It all ends well for Ruth in the end though, with the whole family pitching in to help out her expanding cake business. Like one of her cakes, perhaps too delicious an ending. If only things turned out so well in real life and cakes never deflated in the oven.
Check out other reviews from our This Book Makes me Cook foodies -- Simran,  Ann, Aqua and Curry Leaf.

Of cool breezes and dark clouds

The sweltering summer has given way to cool breezes and intermittent rains in my part of the world. I have been humming this song for a few days and all my desi readers will agree, there is nothing like a golden oldie when the mood strikes. This is from the movie Mr. and Mrs. 55 starring the suave Dev Ananad and the beautiful Madhubala. Singer -- the melodious Geeta Dutt.
Enjoy!

Vata Tea

Trying out recipes for Taste and Create, an event started by Nicole of ForTheLoveofFood and currently hosted by Min of BadGirlsKitchen, was a unique experience. I was paired with Padmajha (she is known as PJ to a lot of you) and loved the chance to explore her blog Seduce Your Taste Buds.
I was intrigued by Vata tea for two reasons. I had never heard of it and PJ’s post said that when people with Vata personalities are out of balance they can be forgetful, spaced out, anxious and uptight. Now I like to think I am not the latter two but I definitely am forgetful and I sometimes space out. The recipe for the tea is supposed to be very calming and soothing.

Ingredients:
1 cup water
1/4 tsp fresh ginger grated
1/4 tsp ground cardamom
1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp carom/ Ajwain seeds

1 tsp sugar (my addition)

Method:

Boil water and put in all the ingredients. Remove from the heat and seep for five minutes. Strain and drink up.

The tea tastes more like cinnamon water with subtle hint of carom seeds. The sugar adds a sweetness to the tea that goes well with cinnamon.

Tomato Onion Chutney for T&C

This is my first time participating in Taste and Create, an event started by Nicole of ForTheLoveofFood and currently hosted by Min of BadGirlsKitchen. I was paired with Padmajha (she is known as PJ to a lot of you) and loved the chance to explore her blog Seduce Your Taste Buds.
Recently, T has developed distaste for all things coconut so making PJ's delicious tomato chutney from PJ's blog was a no-brainer. It was tangy and little bit spicier than I expected but it was consumed with relish.

Ingredients:
1 ripe tomato, roughly chopped
2 onions, chopped
2 tsp gram dhal
1 tsp Urad dhal
3ct dry red chilies
2 tsp oil
Salt to taste

For tadka or seasoning:
1 tsp oil
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1/2 tsp cumin seeds
3-4 curry leaves
A pinch of asafetida

Method:
Heat ½ tsp of oil and put in the gram dhal and urad dhal. Fry till golden brown and keep aside.
Heat the remaining oil and put in the tomato, onions, red chillis and cook till the onions are soft and the tomatoes are mushy. Keep aside to cool.
In a blender, grind the dhal first and then add the tomatoes and onions. Grind to a coarse paste and transfer to a bowl.
Heat oil for the seasoning and add mustard seeds. As they start to pop, add the rest of the ingredients and turn off the heat when the curry leaves start to crisp. Pour the seasoning over the chutney and serve.

Seduce your taste buds with Taste and Create

This is my first time participating in Taste and Create, an event started by Nicole of ForTheLoveofFood and currently hosted by Min of BadGirlsKitchen. I was paired with Padmajha (she is known as PJ to a lot of you) and loved the chance to explore her blog Seduce Your Taste Buds. Since she lives in China for the time being, her blog has nuggets of Chinese cooking, street food and culture. It was a treat to explore a facet of country and life I have little or no knowledge of. If you want to see China from the eyes of a South Indian foodie, hop on over to PJ’s blog. A lot of you do know her through the themed events she hosts regularly. Those of you, who don’t, check out her blog.

Pressed for time I made some simple but delicious recipes from her blog but I will be going back for more soon. I made Aqua Fresca, Tomato Onion Chutney with lentils and Vata Tea.

Refreshing Watermelon Fresca

The Watermelon Fresca was a result of a lot of leftover watermelon not to mention never having had fresca of any kind. I loved the refreshing sweetness with just a hint of the tanginess of lemon added to it. Just like PJ, I did not add any sugar to it.

Ingredients:
2 cups cubed watermelon (I used seedless)
1 tsp juice of a lemon
Sugar optional

Blend the watermelon and lemon juice in blender till smooth. Serve chilled.

Growing pains and stuffing Anaheim peppers

As an angst ridden (read dramatic) teenager in the late 80s, I had a volatile relationship with my mother. I was in the “know it all” phase and sensitive to any remark or objection from my mother. The arrogance of youth and the inherent need to rebel would bring the worst out of me at the slightest provocation. I would take it as a personal attack on my right as an enlightened youth. I picked up quarrels with my mom at the drop of a hat and went without talking to her for days on end or giving her the cold shoulder.

As I saw it, it was my right to rebel. If she suggested I wear bright colors I would fill my wardrobe with grey and beige. Looking back on those days, I shudder to think the kind of hell I must have unleashed on my mom – demanding freedom but not wanting the responsibilities that came with it. I had yet to learn to embrace humility that is so essential to earn respect.

During that ‘difficult’ phase my mother would try to teach me basics of cooking, since I was of that “age” (how she found the patience or the desire for it, is beyond me). Initially I rebelled because I didn’t want to be one of those girls who excelled at cooking from an early age and settled down to a life of domesticity. In my day dreams, I had a higher purpose in life; I wanted to do something worthy of leaving an impact on future generations. If only that girl could peek into the future… Today the most impact I can hope is to have on my progeny, who is as rebellious, if not more, as me.

Ever since I became a mom, I have a renewed appreciation and admiration for all that my mom did for us three siblings. Between juggling a full time job and bringing up three kids she would try to find innovative ways to make us, especially me, eat a variety of vegetables. Stuffing Anaheim peppers with potatoes was one of her more successful recipes and she would make it as often as time would permit. Stuffing the peppers was my job and I saw it as her way of gently easing me into the drudgery of cooking.

Sulking, I would sit on the kitchen floor, stuffing the peppers and muttering under my breath. Secretly, I enjoyed the process of neatly cutting a slit along one of the edges, deseeding the peppers and then stuffing them with the prepared potatoes. There was a rhythm to the production and I didn’t want to acknowledge it but I loved the food prep. I suspect my mom knew it too.

Last few years have been a blur of establishing a married life, starting a family, house hunting, acquiring stuff and raising a kid. My mom and I are best friends and rarely argue over trivial issues.

Now I am trying to ease my son into eating veggies other than potatoes. I take him grocery shopping at Sprouts FM and it is a lot of fun to see him point out all the veggies and fruits. The fact that he helps me pick them does not in any way hamper his resolution to not try them.

When I saw the peppers in the store I thought of my mom wondering that first time, many years ago, what she could do to make me eat it. I could envision the sizzle of the peppers roasting in the kadhai and the sweet peppery smell of the charring skin signaling dinner time. I wondered if my son would try them and decided not to push my luck.
Traditionally in the north the peppers are stuffed with kneaded chickpea flour but potatoes are sometimes stuffed as an alternative. The peppers were spotted and cooked shortly after Manisha announced her IFC: Memories event. I knew I had the perfect memory (admission of guilt?) to ship off to her along with the basket of mangoes (Dare I add a smiley Manisha?).
This is also one of the many apologies, long overdue, to my mom for my brattish behavior.

Ingredients:
4 – 5 anaheim peppers
1/2 tbsp of olive oil

For the stuffing:
4 – 5 potatoes, boiled and mashed
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp fennel seeds
1/2 tbsp red chili powder
Salt to taste

Method:
In a kadhai or wok heat ½ tbsp of oil, turn the heat to low and add turmeric, fennel seeds and red chili powder. You want the raw taste of turmeric to turn fragrant before adding the mashed potatoes. Add salt and combine. If the potatoes are tinged yellow all over, you know the salt and chili have been incorporated.
Cut each pepper in three pieces and slice lengthwise. Deseed the end pieces and keep aside.
Let the potato sabzi cool down a little before stuffing the peppers.

Heat a non stick skillet or pan with a wide flat bottom. Add ½ tbsp of oil and swirl it around to coat before adding the stuffed peppers. You don’t want the peppers to overlap and steam. The goal here is to char the skins all over or as much as you can. So do it in two or three batches.

Cook the peppers in a single layer on medium heat, turning them around every few minutes as the skins start charring. I like to crisp the potato sabzi which is sticking out the slit end because that is the best part and I save it up to eat last.

Once all the peppers are charred and cooked, transfer to a serving dish and serve with toor dal and rotis.

My son stuck to his resolve and did not try it. Come to think of it I should have spiked it with his khichdi. That’s what my mom would have done.

The stuffed peppers also go to IVW: Indian currently hosted by Erbe in Cucina and the brainchild of Vaishali of Holy Cow.