Monday 24 June 2013
Coorg, or the Kodagu district in Karnataka, is a beautiful little hill town on Eastern slopes of the Western Ghats. Its intense green hills are lush with coffee plantations and the fragrance of citrus and spice is one of its best known characteristics. Its hard not to be totally captivated and fascinated by this small, magical piece of India, and its also one of the country's best kept secrets.
Coorg is heavily reminiscent of my childhood. Growing up, I went to a private school, which also had a boarding school attached to it, run by nuns. The boarders were usually girls from Coorg, and two of my best friends were girls who hailed from this lovely place. I saw Coorg through their memories and descriptions, and when I went there to see for myself, I was not disappointed, it was a beautiful place, made even better by the wafts of fragrances that I spoke about.
Coorg is heavily reminiscent of my childhood. Growing up, I went to a private school, which also had a boarding school attached to it, run by nuns. The boarders were usually girls from Coorg, and two of my best friends were girls who hailed from this lovely place. I saw Coorg through their memories and descriptions, and when I went there to see for myself, I was not disappointed, it was a beautiful place, made even better by the wafts of fragrances that I spoke about.
The first time I ever went to Coorg was,
weirdly, for a debating tour. A friend and I took thelate evening bus
from Mangalore, and we reached the capital of Coorg, Madikeri (or
Mercara) at 3 AM in the morning. And holy (word) was it ever cold there.
Both my friend and I had no idea how cold it can get in Coorg, coming
from hot and humid seaside Mangalore (that said, now that I have experienced the Edmonton winter, I laugh at our feebleness) The temperature was about 18 or 19 degrees, and we had no
sweaters or blankets or anything remotely resembling warm clothes. We
actually wrapped ourselves up in our Indian shawls, called dupattas, and
huddled into a dingy bench in the bus station. As we'd reached there at
a silly hour, there were no buses to get us anywhere to where we
wanted, so we had to stay in that bus stop till almost six in the
morning. Both my friend and I were so grateful when the chaiwallahs (or in Coorg's case, coffeewallahs, more on that in a bit) started their lilting tunes... we must have gone through gallons of hot, milky coffee to keep us warm.
We
finally managed to grab another bus at 6 AM, which took us to the
college hosting the debate. I still vividly remember the beautiful
morning mist that we drove through, and the dew still cold and wet on
the coffee plants in the estates. Early morning students were already up
and about, and we were soon fed and ready for the tournament (we won, in the end... made that journey worthwhile :))
We then spent the rest of the afternoon at another friend's place and
we were taken on a tour of her coffee estate, before finally wending our
way back home.
Monday 17 June 2013
I will hold my hand up here. I am terrible at piping, icing or decorating. My biggest achievements when it comes to doing any sort of measly decoration have been Aditi's (very easy) birthday cakes (its not like one can go wrong with Hello Kitty or Binoo) and the odd Christmas or Valentine's Day cookies.
Its not like I am not a creative person. Its just that the majority of my creativity seems to be taken up with savoury food, ice creams, popsicles and easy cakes. Cuisine and desserts, of course, but that's a given. So when my very talented friend Lillian from Beyond Umami asked me if I'd like to learn how to make macarons, I was understandably apprehensive. But then she mentioned that she'd like to play with Indian flavours, at which I relaxed considerably. I can do Indian, and I can do flavour. We brainstormed a bit, and I asked her if she'd be interested in trying out a very classic South Asian flavoured syrup called Rooh Afza. Lil was intrigued, and so we settled on this first flavour.
Rooh Afza is a flavoured rose and herbal syrup from India and is well known all over the subcontinent as a cooler and flavoring for several classic Indian desserts and drinks like kulfi and falooda.
As a kid, we always had a botle of Rooh Afza in the fridge. It came into its own during the hot summers, where we would be out playing in the blazing hot sun all day, and whenever we were thirsty, we came in and drizzled some of this fragrant syrup into cold water and quenched our thirst. Rooh Afza is incredibly sweet, and a little goes a long way, so we would get constantly yelled at for pouring in lots of the syrup into our iced waters, and mum would threaten to take it away if we kept at it. And when I was a little more grown up, during my short stay in Bombay, I loved to hang out at small roadside halwai (sweetshops) that did some of the best Rooh Afza faloodas *more on those in another post.
Rooh Afza is very easy to source in Edmonton. Any desi grocer on 34 Ave will have boatloads of these bottles, and they are reasonably priced too. And like I said earlier, a little goes a long way, and the syrup never goes off, so if you like the flavour (and to be honest, it can be an acquired taste due to its flavour and super sweet taste) its worth getting a bottle.
Wednesday 12 June 2013
So I know the title is a bit, WTH? But please, let me explain it all, and I am pretty sure it will make sense at the end. It's all about life, love, countries old and new and foods unusual and 'exotic'.
The first time I met my husband, I was a newly arrived, fresh off the boat Indian student in the UK. I hadn't been exposed to very many international cuisines and when I had, they were all heavily dolloped with hot sauce :) So some of the first authentic food experiences I have had are indelibly etched in my memories.
Italian food, for example. My friend D was an amazing Italian cook. His recipes were traditional and very Italian, and he made the best food I've had in forever, or at least I thought that until I tasted his mom's food, after which D paled a bit. I remember my first carbonara, my first real Italian wedding feast, and my first Italian grappa (ahem, that may be a story for another time)
On the other hand, my then boyfriend (now husband) Kay was a rare breed... a pescitarian Canadian. I still remember looking at him in utmost bemusement when he said he didn't eat meat. Really? A non-meat eating 'Westerner'... that was a shock and surprise in itself. So, of course, the first meal Kay made me was a salad and stir fry and I looked at him and very politely and innocently asked him why there was grass on my plate? :) I am still not a green salad fan.
So yeah, the food of Canada didn't really have massive appeal to me at any point.
Probably the first time I tasted something that could be called authentically Canadian was that quintessential Canadian drink, the Caesar. It was at the Maple Leaf Bar tucked away in a side street behind London's Covent Garden Market, and populated, or so it seemed, by big, redheaded Canadians, a smattering of Aussies, a few South Africans and a disproportionately large number of Eastern Europeans. I can only assume it was the ice hockey that brought them all there (wink).
Every time we visited Canada, my first request on Air Canada was a Clamato juice, and I was always obliged. It was a running joke in the family, that the first drink I had aboard a Canadian aeroplane would be a heavily salted, extra spicy clam juice... in hindsight, probably not the best for flying, but for me, that defined the start of my Canadian adventure.
Coming back to the title of the post, though, Kay and I started off with a tradition, almost from the first year we were together, and that was our annual Canada Day party. The first year we threw the shindig, Kay was working, so I ended up schlepping down to Central London, back to the Canada Store near Covent Garden and came back with a giant backpack full of Moosehead beer. Between that and copious amounts of Caesars, I can only remember so much of the party, but I imagine it was a success. We have continued that quaint tradition, and so we throw a Canada Day party even here in Canada! Unfortunately after the first few years, the Canada Store didn't carry Clamato Juice anymore, apparently there were customs restrictions, so we relied on Canadian friends and family to bring in this contraband drink.
I can assure you I am not a complete alcoholic, promise :) Its just that the last few posts seem to have had some version of alcohol in them, but I put that down to the summer.
My first authentic Canadian food experience (I didn't just have drink experience, swear) was, funnily enough, again with my Italian friend D and his wife Cee. We were all good friends, and one evening, as we were kicking about London, D started ribbing Kay about Canadian food. At which, Kay invited them over for what he called a very traditional Canadian lunch.
Kay, who also happens to be a rather good cook himself (I haven't beaten it out of him, haha), decided on a few different items. Thankfully no
My recipe today is for the Bloody Caesar, probably Canada's favourite cocktail. I love it hot and spicy with a good glug of vodka. When in season, I love using asparagus to serve with it, though the classic accompaniment is celery sticks of course. I also like rimming my glass with sea salt, pepper and celery salt for an extra salty kick.
I will totally not claim any authenticity to this recipe, though, this is how I like my Caesars and I am pretty sure there are enough Caesar recipes as there are Canadian households :)
Bloody Caesar Recipe:
(Printable Recipe)Makes 4 Bloody Caesars
100 ml (roughly 4 oz) vodka
500 ml (roughly 16 oz) Clamato Juice (I used Mott's Extra Spicy)
1/2 teaspoon of hot sauce or to taste
A couple teaspoons Worcester Sauce, or to taste
1 teaspoon lime juice
To serve:
1/2 teaspoon flaked sea salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
1 teaspoon celery salt
Wedges of lime
Celery sticks
Method:
Muddle together the vodka, clamato, hot sauce, worcester sauce and lime juice. Taste and add more hot sauce, if you like your Caesar spicy.
Mix the salt, pepper and celery salt on a plate. Moisten the rims of your glasses and rim with the salt mixture. Pour in the Caesars and serve with a wedge of lime and a celery stick.
Wednesday 5 June 2013
Yay!! Grilling season is here. And what better way to start it off by making these delicious barbequed tandoori turkey drumsticks? And to make it even better, I also added a fragrant, earth spiced mushroom pilaf, to make it a complete meal.
I've been addicted to the smoky flavours of the barbeque and grill, ever since as a clueless ten year old I ate grilled sausages off a backyard pit in the coffee estates of the Nilgiri hills. OK, I also just realised that the above statement would make zero sense to anyone else reading it, other than me :) Please, allow me to explain. I didn't grow up with barbeque, in the sense that its used in North America. We had our tandoors, of course, but they were used more in restaurants rather than in homes. This didn't mean we didn't cook over open fires, in my grandparents' place, we still have a room with a fireplace stove that we cook staples on. My grandma maintains that you can't really get the true taste of a curry and rice without cooking it in a clay pot on an open fire, which infuses dishes with a smoky, deeply intense flavour. But barbeques were a Western concept, and some of my relatives learnt this when they lived in the States, Canada or Australia.
Some of these friends and relatives were coffee estate owners and spent their summers on the cool slopes of the Nilgiri Hills and in their estates. It was usually a treat to be invited to spend summers with them and I loved being able to romp around the estate, hanging out in the cool, ranch style houses, swimming in crystal clear watering holes and 'hiking'... usually walking a distance a teeny bit further than the nearest cane sofa :) And eating, of course. My uncle would rig up a crude grille over an open fire pit and we would then 'barbeque' 'exotic' Western food items like sausages and bacon and salami. It was the beginning of my addiction to all things barbeque.
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