Black and White Wednesday with Elephant Garlic

Another Wednesday, another b&w photograph. Thanks to Susan's weekly event, I am at least keeping this blog current.

These giant elephant garlic were a regular offering at our local CSA farm till the crops gave in to relentless over 100 degrees heat and some unexpected rain showers. Despite their size, the elephant garic is milder in taste to the regular garlic and actually are a varient to the species that belongs to the leek family. It was still fun to use these giant pods for cooking and as a substitute for garlic they made for interesting flavor.

Size matters

Elephant garlic (for Susan)

Guernesy literary potato peel and pie society and

a dash of cilanto-mint chutney

It is 1946. World War II has ended. London is trying to resurrect itself from the ashes of destruction and Juliet is trying to get her writer’s mojo back. A successful columnist during the war, she is now on a publicity tour of her book, a compilation of her war-time columns.

Juliet is a liberated woman for her times, who dumps her fiancé the day before their wedding. His offense, you ask? Emptying her bookshelf and boxing up her books to make room for his hunting and sports trophies. So this then is our liberated heroine, a lover of books, who is searching for a subject that will inspire her to take up writing again.

Enter The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. A group of mismatched citizens of Chanel Island who inadvertently end up forming a book club and lifelong friendships in order to hide their roast pig dinner from the occupying Germans. Her interest piqued by a certain Mr. Dawsey Adams of the aforementioned club, Juliet starts corresponding with the various members of the club. Her correspondence with the literature loving simple folks inspires her to sail down to the island and find the inspiration for her book and a treasure trove of war time stories – of children separated from their parents for the duration of war, of famine and hunger, of the German’s cruelty and generosity, of the islanders’ struggle of survival in the midst of eating nothing but potatoes and turnips.

If this isn’t enough of a gist, savor the fact that this is Mary Ann Shaffer’s first and last book. Written as a series of sometimes witty, often times poignant and almost always revealing letters between Juliet and various characters in the book, it takes a few letters to grasp all the characters. Once you do, you can’t stop reading till you have read them all. It is almost like a guilty pleasure to read someone’s private letters but at the same time, the book makes you want to pick up a pen and paper and write a letter back home instead of shooting off an email.

The rava idlis that accompany the chutney were made from a box, and not from scratch.

For our book club, This Book Makes me Cook, I decided to go the way of our ancestors and tried to think up how they came up with green chutney made by grinding some abundantly growing cilantro and mint in their backyard. To be honest, I was stuck by the islander’s use of sea water in their cooking as a substitute to salt. This led me to think that maybe one of the older women pottering in the yard chanced upon some cilantro or mint and thought, “Hmm, this smells nice. Maybe if I grind it with some green chili and some garlic, it will spice up the bland rice?” In the same spirit of honesty I will also admit that the chutney is what I made in the morning and got a decent photo of it.

The recipe for this green cilantro-mint chutney is simple, really, but you can adjust it according to your taste. Increase the amount of mint to cilantro ratio or make it spicier by adding more chilies or creamier by increasing the crushed peanuts. This essential condiment in every North Indian kitchen requires the basic skill of pressing down the blender button. For this reason, the chutney goes to Aqua, who is hosting B2B this month for me. If you would like to host it for me for the coming months, send me an email here.

Cliantro-Mint Chutney

Ingredients
1 cup washed and clean cilantro/ coriander
1-2 sprigs of mint
1 green chili
1 clove of garlic
1 tsp of cumin seeds
1 tbsp of roasted, crushed peanuts
Salt to taste

Method:
Grind everything to a smooth paste, adding water as necessary.

Coming up in the next few posts: The roundup of Of Chalks and Chopsticks and the second part of my story, It takes two to err… marry.

A tale of independence, Baingan Bharta and Global Kadai

Mrs. Mohini Kamath was chopping a mountain of onions while the two big eggplants cooked in the oven. She brushed away the tears trickling down her face and started on the garlic. She always liked to mince the garlic with some chopped onions mixed in. With the heat of the oven, the tiny apartment had become cozy and she started humming a Bollywood tune as she washed the tomatoes and started chopping them.

“Aren’t we in a good mood?” she said to herself as she peeked into the oven to see if the eggplants were charred. She decided to give it a few more minutes before she turned off the oven. “They won’t have the same smoky flavor as back home but it is better than cooking it in the microwave,” she had explained to Naina the first time she oiled and put the eggplants in the oven.

Naina didn’t know how to cook. All she managed in the mornings, before Mrs. Kamath arrived at her apartment was a weak cup of tea. “I have to give it to that girl. She listens when I tell her something which is more than I can say of my own flesh and blood.”  She remembered how she had told Naina to grate some ginger in the tea and boil it a little longer. Now, stepping in from the harsh winter outside, Mrs. Kamath arrived to a hot, steaming cup of adrak wali chai (ginger tea).

“My own daughter-in-law never offered me a glass of water,” she thought as she took some wheat flour and started kneading it with water. She did not realize she had stopped humming and was kneading the dough with a ferocity that would have surprised her if she could have seen herself.

It was ironic, she thought, how a cup of tea offered by stranger could make her feel appreciated. “Is that what happens when your family disappoints you?” she wondered.

“Aunty, this is so yummy!” Naina had come looking for her in her room. “How did she know I made the food?” She could overhear the guests appreciating the food she had slaved over all day, crispy Aloo Tikkis, spicy Baingan Bharta, creamy Aloo Dum, hearty Palak Paneer, subtly flavored jeera rice, Vegetable Pulao and cardamom infused Shikhand.

She waited for her son or his wife (that’s how she thought of her nowadays) to tell everyone that she had made the food. But all she heard was her daughter-in-laws’ “Thank you,” in that exaggerated accent she put on in front of company, as if she was the one who made all that food.

“Why are you in your room Aunty? Come out and meet everybody,” Naina had implored her. How could Mrs. Kamath tell her that she had been instructed by her son to stay in her room till the party was over and all his friend’s had gone home? She wanted to believe it was “his wife’s” instructions he was following, but she knew that it was as much her son’s wish as hers.

“Ma, you must be tired after all the cooking. Why don’t you rest in your room while the party is on? You will get bored anyways,” he had said but she knew what it really meant: “You are good enough to cook the food but not meet my friends.” She had been banished with a movie to watch on the small television in her room. Now, this strange girl had strolled into her room with a knock and was asking her to come out.

“Na beti (daughter), I am tired. I want to watch this movie and then go to bed,” she had tried to muster a smile but her lips failed her.

“That’s ok aunty, I understand,” Naina had said with a knowing look and went away.

She had come back a few days later, when Mrs. Kamath was alone in the afternoon. “Aunty, I was in the neighborhood and thought I will check on you. May I come in?” she had asked.

Eager for company and a friendly voice she had let her in. Over a cup of tea Naina told her what she had come for.

“I know I am asking you this behind your son’s back but if I asked him, he would just turn me down. I was wondering if you would cook for me and my husband. We both work long hours and we love your cooking. We will pay you $600 a month,” Naina had said.

Mrs. Kamath had never in her life thought she would cook for other people for a living. She had lived a comfortable, middle class life in India, taking care of the house and raising a son while her husband worked. She had never felt the need to work the way some of her friends did, delegating cooking and household chores to maids. Then, she had looked down her nose at them. “That is karma for you,” she thought. If two years ago someone had told her she would be living in this foreign land and considering cooking for young couples who did not have the time or know-how to cook, she would have scoffed.

After her husband’s death, she had started to feel lonely and when her son asked her to move to US with his family, Mrs. Kamath accepted immediately. It took her all of six month to convert her savings to dollars, sell off the house and move into her son’s house.

“What a mistake that was,” she muttered as she remembered how her status in her son’s house had been reduced to that of a maid who cooked, cleaned and laundered. If only her son had more time to sometimes sit with her and chat. Or if the grandkids would gather around her and hear the stories she had wanted to share. Instead, they would go from school, to different activities and in their free time watch TV rather than spend time with their “old” grandma.

“What do you think, Aunty?” Naina’s voice had brought her back from her reverie. “Like you said beti, I don’t think my son would like that,” she had replied with a tight smile.

“Will you at least think about it?” Naina had asked her before leaving.

It had taken several months for Mrs. Kamath to finally decide to leave her son’s house. In the end, she figured she might as well get paid and appreciated for what she did for free every day.

But before she could leave, she had to learn how to drive. Mrs. Kamath smiled as she thought of the day she had asked her son to teach her how to drive. “Beta (son), then you or bahu won’t have to bother with groceries and supplies,” she had reasoned. She had surprised herself with her guile. Once she had her driver’s license her independence would be complete.

Naina and her husband, Ajit, had helped her get a cheap apartment and a few of their friends had hired her as a cook. She brought Ajit’s ten year old reliable car and she was all set to embark on her new journey.

She had figured out that with her savings and her income from cooking for a few families, she could live comfortably. On weekends, she had started babysitting, not only to supplement her income but also to while away her time.

Her son and daughter-in-law were not happy at what they perceived was her desertion. “What will people think?” was her daughter-in-law’s concern. Her son tried to dissuade her in his own way. “How are you going to manage by yourself? You don’t know enough English to get by. Why do you want to leave?”

How could she tell this son of hers why she wanted to leave and be on her own? All her life she had always put the interests of others before her and she had been happy to do it, or so she thought. Here, in this land, away from relatives and friends, she finally had a chance to try it out on her own. She wanted to do what she liked doing best but with dignity and respect. Mrs. Kamath knew her son wouldn’t understand. She could only hope that one day he would. Till then, she had the baingan bharta to finish.
(End of fiction)

This piece of fiction, written for Of Chalks and Chopsticks, conceived by Aqua and hosted by Sra, is based on some of the older women I have come across in the US. They work here as cooks and nannies. For many of them, food is the only tie that connects them to their roots back home.

Mrs. Kamath’s Baingan Bharta (eggplant mash)

Ingredients:
1 large eggplant
1 tsp of cumin seeds
1 tsp of turmeric powder
1 big onion, chopped fine
1 green chili, chopped fine
5-6 cloves of garlic, minced fine
1/2 tablespoon of ginger-garlic paste
2 medium sized tomatoes, chopped fine
1 tsp of dhana-jeera powder (cumin-coriander)
1 tsp of garam masala
A handful of peas (optional)
Cilantro for garnish

Method:
Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Oil the eggplant, put it on a cookie sheet lined with foil and bake it in the oven for 20-25 minutes. Turn off the oven and leave the eggplant in the cooling oven.

Heat a couple of tablespoon of oil in a heavy skillet. On medium heat, add the cumin and turmeric, stir for a minute till the turmeric starts smelling fragrant.

Add the green chili and chopped onions. Cook till onions turn translucent, about 5-8 minutes on medium heat. Halfway through, add the chopped garlic and the ginger-garlic paste.

Toss in the garam masala and dhana jeera powder as the ginger-garlic paste starts giving off a delicious aroma. Stir for a few minutes before adding the peas and the tomatoes. Cover and cook till the tomatoes are mushy and the peas are tender.

Meanwhile, take the eggplants out of the oven and gently peel off the charred skin. The oil should make it easy to peel. Chop the skinless eggplant, making it as mushy as possible.

Add this to the cooking tomato-onion-peas mix. Add salt and cook for another ten minutes before turning off the heat.

Garnish with chopped cilantro and some lime. Serve with chapattis or rice.

*********

July has not only been one of the hottest months in our neck of the woods, it also has been a busy month for me. I have been constantly falling behind in my posts. This story should have been up and running by 31st of July but since I was running late, Sra graciously let me submit it before she did the roundup. If you liked my story and want to read an excellent piece of fiction on first love, head on over to her blog.

Speaking of which, my roundup for the B2B event will be up after the 5th of this month. So, if you have any last minute entrees, send them in.

Is it against the protocol to announce another event before the roundup? I don’t know, but Cilantro’s Global Kadai rules stipulate that I announce it on the first of August. So sticking to the rules of the host, I would like to challenge you to Indianize tofu. There is a wide array of possibilities here, for example, substituting paneer with tofu to make palak tofu or making tofu stuffed paranthas instead of aloo paranthas. If you live in a part of the world where access to tofu is limited or nil, try making your own, like this. With so much creativity out there, I am pretty sure there will be some great recipes. Here are the simple rules:

1. Make an Indian recipe using tofu as the main or one of the ingedients.

2. Include a link back to this post and to Cilantro's original post.

3. Make sure the recipe is an original one. If it is adapted from another blog or a recipe book, give it its due credit and link.

4. The last date for submission is September 1st. If you are late by a couple of days, email me at this address. If I haven't posted the roundup, I will accept and include your entry.

5. Older posts are welcome as long as you link them to this event announcement and Cilantro's. No need to repost them.

6. Don't have a blog, but have a great recipe to share? Email it on the above address with your name, location and the name of the dish. You will get your name on the blog and we will get another recipe for our collection.

A tale of tofu and tardy – II

Tofu Steak

In case you missed how to make tofu at home (and step by step clicks to go with it! The exclaimation because I don't do it often), check it out here. My first task with the Velveteers is not over until I make something sweet or savory with the tofu that I made at home, from scratch (I can’t mention enough that I made tofu at home, from scratch). But I am patting myself too much on the back, which is uncharacteristic of me and honestly, making me gag, which is the last thing you want to see on a food blog. So, I will quickly move on to the recipe, that I found at La Fuji Mama, while going through her tofu making tutorial. It is called tofu steak and is much easier than cooking or eating steak.

Pat dry the block of tofu with paper towels.

Cut into thick wedges or chunks and dry it furthermore.

Salt and pepper both sides.

Cover both sides with finely minced or grated garlic. Make sure there are no big chunks of garlic.

Lightly sprinkle flour on both sides.

Heat a non-stick or cast iron skillet. Drizzle a couple of tablespoons of sesasme oil in a hot skillet and cook the pieces on two sides till brown and crispy, approximately 2-3 minutes. Do this on medium to low heat to prevent the garlic from burning.

Take them off the skillet and line them on some paper towels to drain any excess oil.

Serve with duck sauce, soy sauce or any other sauce of your choice.

Carrot greens with moong dal

My mother was incredulous. Her grown up daughter of thirty six was experimenting with winter greens, she who had, growing up, caused her much heartburn by refusing to eat even the cilantro floating in the dal!
Yes, she was finally grown up and it had taken not a mother’s love but her husband’s love for all things vegetables to turn her around. There she was, listening over the phone at her excited daughter’s recipe for, of all things, carrot greens adapted from her (mother’s) fenugreek lentil sabzi!
And yes, I have also posted a similar version without the ginger and garlic for green beans and lentils and which Supriya adapted recently to suit her family’s taste.
If, like me, you have never cooked with carrot greens before, they taste a little carroty after being cooked and the taste is enhanced by the addition of some cilantro to it. I have on occasions also added some chopped up baby spinach but it does not make or break the recipe. I have added it purely for volume and not taste.

Ingredients
1/4 cup of yellow, split moong dal (lentils)
1 bunch of carrot greens
1/2 bunch of cilantro sprigs
2 carrots, chopped fine
1 tbsp ginger and garlic chopped fine (2 big cloves of garlic and 1 inch piece of ginger should do it)
1/2 tsp of mustard seeds
1/2 tsp of asafetida (hing)
1/2 tsp of red chili powder
1 tsp of garam masala
Salt to taste

Method:
Wash the moong dal two to three times in water and soak with1/2 cup of water. Keep it aside while you wash the carrot greens in plenty of water. They are gritty and it is important to soak them in a big pot of water for a few minutes to let the grit settle down.
Pick and clean the cilantro sprigs as well. Don’t be tempted to use the tough stems.
In a heavy bottom kadahi, add about two swirls of olive oil and let it heat gently. Add the mustard seeds. As they start to sputter turn the heat to low, add asafetida, red chili and the finely chopped ginger garlic. The ginger garlic should start giving off their aromas within a minute as they start to cook. At this point add the soaked moong dal and the chopped carrots. Turn the heat to medium low. The moong dal should start to puff up. Add the garam masal and some salt and cover for about five minutes. Keep checking in between to make sure it doesn’t burn.
Remove the lid, turn the heat to low and with a pair of kitchen scissors start snipping the carrot greens and cilantro directly over the cooking dal and carrot mix.
If you are the more organized or perfectionist kind of cook, feel free to chop it on a chopping board and then add it. More power to you.
Add some salt, give a final mix to the greens lentils combo and cover on medium low for about ten minutes or till the greens are wilted. Serve as a side with chappati or phulkas or dosas (hey, I have eaten stranger combos and this one tasted pretty good).

A review of Skinny Bitch in the Kitchen will be coming soon. But first, this is off to Rachael of Crispy Cook, who is hosting this month's MLLA #20 for Susan.