Sunday 29 April 2012
But sometimes that stubborn streak can be a pain in the proverbial behind. Like when I attempted to make this chaat masala, for instance. I love chaat masala. For those who have never heard of it, chaat masala is a hot-salty-tangy mix of spices that are used in a lot of Indian street foods. Chaat masalas can also be added as a finishing touch to many other Indian dishes, like this chana masala, for instance or an okra fry or just as a seasoning mix for vegetables and paneer. I love sprinkling it over fruit for a spicy fruit chaat. The possibilities of this fragrant spice mix are umpteen, and its one of my favourite mixes in my spice cupboard.
Now I buy perfectly good, even fabulous chaat masalas. But then I think... but why not try and make it at home instead? And I try and try and try... and fail miserably. The first time, it was not salty enough. The second time, terribly spicy. The third time not tangy at all. And then finally... just when I was about it give it up as a bad job... success! It took me a long time to perfect this recipe, and I finally feel able to share it here on the blog.
Sunday 22 April 2012
Gulab jamuns (translated very roughly as 'rose-fruits') may have got their name from the fact that they are jamun (an Indian fruit) shaped, round, and usually soaked in a rosewater scented syrup. Essentially, deep fried balls made of milk powder, flour, butter and cream or milk, and then soaked in sugar syrup. They sound terrible when you put it like that, but oh!! they are so decadent, and very reminiscent of a rum baba in many ways.
These sweets were a rare treat for us when we were growing up. I am not sure why, but am guessing that the amount of work involved put my mum off a lot of the time. Its not a very hard recipe, but it does take a bit of patience and time. So my earliest memories of this sweet are associated with hot Saturday afternoons at home. My mum didn't work on Saturdays, but we had school in the mornings. We would get back, have lunch, then my mum would chase us into bed for a siesta. Of course, we being kids, protested very vocally at this intrusion into our playing time, but looking back I see why mum did this. It was her 'quiet time' where she could putter around the house, maybe sew a bit, garden, try out a new dish... and those new dishes were what we looked forward to the most. Ocasionally one of her friends or colleagues would join her, and they would together whisk up some magic in our teeny kitchen.
Tuesday 17 April 2012
Peas pulao. Aka, what I cook when I can't get my arse around to cooking anything else. This simple, flavourful pulao has been a staple in my culinary repertoire ever since I had a yelling match telephone conversation with my dear grandma. It was one of the first things I learnt how to make, which makes me wonder why on earth I've never posted this recipe before.
My grandma's version calls for a Maggi cube (a stock cube) to be crumbled into the boiling water when making this pulao, and I have always credited that little cube with all the flavour in this dish. However, I recently had a small stock pot's worth of homemade vegetable stock left, and so I decided to make this pulao with it, instead of using the stock cube. I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of flavour homemade stock added to this pulao, so if you happen to have some homemade stock banging around your kitchen, go ahead and use it. Obviously, my stock was vegetarian, because of Kay and Aditi, but I imagine that this pulao would really suit a full bodied chicken stock as well.
Other than that, this recipe is pretty much foolproof.
My grandma's version calls for a Maggi cube (a stock cube) to be crumbled into the boiling water when making this pulao, and I have always credited that little cube with all the flavour in this dish. However, I recently had a small stock pot's worth of homemade vegetable stock left, and so I decided to make this pulao with it, instead of using the stock cube. I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of flavour homemade stock added to this pulao, so if you happen to have some homemade stock banging around your kitchen, go ahead and use it. Obviously, my stock was vegetarian, because of Kay and Aditi, but I imagine that this pulao would really suit a full bodied chicken stock as well.
Other than that, this recipe is pretty much foolproof.
Monday 9 April 2012
Have you ever told your other half something that you promised that you'd never tell anyone? And then been mercilessly teased by them about it?
Yep, thats happened to me :) Most memorably, on a day when we were chatting about nicknames. Now my husband's name is an easy two syllable name, so its really very obvious what his nickname was. Mine, on the other hand is one that has a story behind it.
It all started when I was in this community group in college. On one of our regular field trips, we usually had time to kick back and relax and play games and do all such activities that young (innocent, ahem!) Indian teenagers do. One of the games was that we'd all put our names in a hat, and one name would be picked out. This person would get to do a dare or have to take part in an activity. One fateful trip, it was my name that was called out, and the group leader at that time had the brilliant idea that I should be given a nickname. Aaarghhh!!! Ideas were thrown back and forth but the name that stuck was.... nooooo.... Mowgli! And for obvious reasons too, if you see the picture below :)
Wednesday 4 April 2012
Don't you just hate it when something you've taught your kids comes back to bite you in the bum? Like, literally in the bum <blush>? I apologize in advance for the slightly unedifying contents of the next paragraph, so if you're not into... ahem... flatulence, you can skip to the paragraph after, no worse for the wear.
As any responsible parent, I've drummed the value of saying 'excuse me' into Aditi. Especially if she coughs, sneezes and erm... 'put-puts' (a more childish term for aforementioned bodily sound) Except when you then are in the library, and you really have to 'put-put' yourself. So, of course, you find a deserted corner, and let out a discreet 'put'. Not even a damn 'put-put' just a lousy, barely there 'put'. And then your utterly polite child bellows (and I mean, really bellows out!) 'mummy, mummy, you made a put-put and didn't say 'excuse me''... hehe... erm... excuse me? And then, to my horror, that little rat plugs her nose and goes 'pheeeeewww, disgusting mummy!' What? That did NOT stink. It so did not!!! A speedy exit was then made! Damn children and their utter lack of respect, I tell ya... kids these days!
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