A New Name, A New Direction! Welcome to The Tiffin Box.

Well, as you may have already noticed, Food, Football and a Baby is now The Tiffin Box. Its taken me a while to get to this stage. I loved my original name, but as you can imagine, it was cumbersome, and hard to tell people all the time.

While the 'Food' in the title was universal, moving to Canada meant that the 'Football' part always got misunderstood hugely. They like to call it soccer here (bah!) And of course, the 'Baby' is no longer a baby, and she also objects to being called a baby nowadays.

It was time for a change, but change is not easy. I agonised a lot over the new name, and while I already had in mind what I would call the blog, putting it into practice was another matter. I kept putting it off, but I was also slowly realising that the longer I put it off, the harder it was getting.

So, with the help of my friends, Marlow Moo's humans, and their friend Chris, I did it. We ate first, like you do, naturally, and then buckled down and changed the title to 'The Tiffin Box'.

Why The Tiffin Box?

For those who don't know, tiffin boxes are little lunch boxes that Indian people carry their lunches in. Usually consisting of three insulated tiers, they are brilliant for carrying different items like dal, rice, rotis, vegetables etc, separately, so the food items don't get soggy. Personally, I think its such a brilliant idea, especially for Indian food.

Tiffin boxes hold special memories for me, especially of India. My dear mum used to make up these boxes for us, and we used to lug them to school. And as soon as the lunch bell rings, a whole group of our friends would get together and we would excitedly poke around in everybody else's tiffin boxes, and share our food with each other. This was communal dining at its best, and what this website strives to be, a community.

Of course, tiffin is also a very English term. The British in India used to take what they referred to as a 'tiffin', usually a light meal in the afternoons, as Indians tended to eat very late in the evenings. And of course, who can forget that tasty cake called a 'tiffin cake'? Not me. The uniquely commonwealth approach of this name was my inspiration.

So, this website is now reflective of all my travels, and homelands. Its with sadness I bid goodbye to Food, Football and a Baby, but at the same time, I look forward to the future, with both apprehension and anticipation. There is still so much to be done, and I can't wait to get to it!

Here's to The Tiffin Box, and to my lovely, lovely friends and readers. Thank you for bringing me to this point in my blogging life.

Don't forget to 'Like' my new Facebook page. My Twitter is the same for now, though I do have a handle for The Tiffin Box as well.

* I am still working on getting the website quite right, so do bear with me during this transition period. If you have any questions, or need any information, please feel free to contact me, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

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Rocky Mountain Wine & Food Festival

Even the most hands on mum needs a break sometimes. And much as I love my li'l girl, I do need a break after spending practically most days (and some nights) with her. So when I got a chance to head to the Rocky Mountain Wine and Food Festival, wild horses couldn't stop me from making sure I attended.

My date for the evening was the polished and debonair Marlow Moo from Mr Moo's Adventures and his human sidekick. Armed with our super cool plates and our handbooks, we hustled our way into the Shaw Conference Centre where the event was being held. The Rocky Mountain Wine and Food festival is one of the premier food and drink festivals in Canada, and takes place in Banff, Edmonton and Calgary. Showcasing some of the best in food and drink, both local and international, it is truly a feast in every sense of the word.

Of course, a food event is no event if you don't bump into other Edmonton foodies. We waved hello to Marianne from Loosen Your Belt, Rita from Kerstin's Chocolates and Maki from In My Element. Maki has some gorgeous photos of the festival on her site, well worth a drool.

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Grilled Padrón Peppers and Home Grown Heroes

'It all started with an eighty nine year old professor leaning on his shovel' - Maryanne. 

Heroes are very personal, when it comes to me. I have heroes, people I would go 'squeeeee' and faint if I met them, but they're not necessarily people I like to talk or write about... I am a little bit funny like that. I think even my husband would struggle to name a person who he considered my 'hero', both in the food world or otherwise, simply because I find it hard to articulate what it is about a person that I like and admire. Its easy enough to spout out names with the hopes that one or two 'click' but this was not what the challenge was all about for me. So, to be honest, I did think about maybe not taking part this time around. What changed my mind was that I had already missed one posting, as things were a bit manic in my world, and I didn't want to miss another one. Plus, as it is, I was already going to be late with this post too.

Once I took away the personal aspect of this topic, though, something did strike me. Who were the people, Canadian and otherwise, that I admired most when it comes to food, both the eating of and growing of it? Well, other than my mom and grandfather, who are kind of, not Canadian?

Well, those people who grow food. Not specifically farmers, though they are pretty admirable, but all those ordinary people who grow food in their back gardens. Not to blog, tweet or talk about it, but just for the sheer joy of watching things grow and sharing the bounties of harvest.

Well, I know people like that. And one of my favourite persons is the lovely Maryanne, who plants her own 'guerilla garden' as she likes to call it. This is community gardening, but not like we know it. This is just gardening, planting food for the fun of it, and for the pleasure that it brings.

I asked Maryanne how she got started with her 'guerilla garden', and she talked about how she had always wanted a garden while living in a condo. Amidst all this, she said she used to get together with a group, who worked in an set of offices, behind which was a patch of grass and hedges. The professor, in particular, kept mentioning how well tomatoes would do just up there, against the brickwork of the building. But, despite thinking about starting a garden there, she didn't particularly relish beginning the process. And then, fate took a turn, whereby part of the lawn was dug up for replacing pipes. Once that happened, the aforementioned eighty nine year old professor took it upon himself to hurry the process along, digging a giant trench for the tomatoes, and the rest, she says, is history. She recounts a funny story about the first garden year, where they decided to plant potatoes in straw bales... 'mouse heaven' says Maryanne. 'What were we thinking?' she recalls ruefully... thankfully, the lesson was learned, and there were no more mouse condos.

I found out about the garden from my husband, Kay, when we first moved to Edmonton and were living in a condo in Garneau. Kay lent a hand in getting the garden in shape one year, and we spent many days and evenings, just hanging about, sitting around a firepit and eating fresh, local produce that was all grown in the garden. It inspired a sense of camaraderie, that did a lot to ease my way into a new city and make new friends. 

The garden has been going along for a few years now. Maryanne points to a pair of scissors on a small table by the water hose. That pair of scissors is left there, so if anyone stumbles on the garden they are more than welcome to take a piece of it home... fancy some fresh, organic lettuce? Or some beans? Broccoli? Well, its all there to share. Its part of the magic of guerrilla gardening. Its what makes my food heroes special.

I am certainly not a gardener. That would be my husband, Kay, and my little girl Adz. As Adz poetically put it, 'dad is the grower, mum is the cooker'... gotcha in one. So I admire people that garden for the fun of it. They are my heroes. 

To celebrate home grown produce, I decided to share a simple recipe, but one that completely and utterly depends on the freshest produce. One of Kay's colleagues recently brought back Padrón pepper seeds, and Kay grew them in pots on the deck. We were lucky enough to get a whole bunch of peppers, and as we were told, all we did was douse them in some fresh olive oil, and grill them until the skins blistered. We then ate them, dunked in a titch of crystal, flaked sea salt, and all I can say is, this is what summer is all about. Sweet, salty heat, utterly moreish... so much so that Kay has now been told that there better be a lot more of these delicious little guys grown next summer. 

Apparently eating Padrón peppers has been likened to playing roulette. While the majority of the peppers are mild, with a light heat to them, 20% tend to be super hot. The only way to tell? Eat them. Now that sounds like my kind of roulette :) 

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Indian Sweets - Gulab Jamun

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.

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Tales From India - Shivanna's Charmuri Stall, Making New Friends (and a Recipe for Charmuri)

One of my friends recently posted a picture of her baby girl – who just turned six. I left an offhand comment on the post, saying that our children would be teenagers by the time we considered ourselves adults. Afterwards, I spent a long time thinking about that offhand comment. I've always considered my generation of Indians a rather unique generation – a lost one. My contemporaries were almost all born in the late seventies, and we are definitely not Millenials. We are also not flower children, or children of the war, or children of the freedom fighting generation. Nowhere else is it more obvious than when I go back to India and catch up with all my friends. In India, I revert back to being a teenager. When my friends and I all catch up – some of us after more than ten years – it is a warm, comforting familiarity, like we were never away, like we were still young and carefree, like we had families, but we were absolutely comfortable with leaving the kids with our parents when we are out drinking socialising.

This lost-ness is obvious in our professions, in particular. When we were growing up, we had two options (which increased to four, by the time I'd graduated) – doctor or engineer (or IT/ software specialist and investment banker or both). Somewhere along the line, things changed in my generation. When I go back now, I catch up with architects, advertising gurus, writers, entrepreneurs, those dagnabbed investment bankers, speculators, small business owners, restaurateurs and artists. In my generation, a switch flipped, turning us from robots who did what we were told to do (and what everybody else did), into bright sparks who followed our own way. However, a lot of us are still conflicted and this is where the gap is most apparent.

I mean – take my own story. I moved from a science based background, to being a sociologist to a grad student, to an academic, to a food writer. My teachers thought I'd end up being a poet (okay, I do consider food to be poetry, so they may be right there?). When my sister and I were born, my mom and dad became parents. They behaved like parents, they provided like parents, they loved like parents. When I became a mother, I found the deepest love I could have for another human being. But somehow, I didn't lose myself the way my mom did in us. I still stayed the same, and in many ways, I saw that sameness in my friends, in that retaining of their individuality, of what makes them who they are.

However, when I go back home, despite the familiarity and comfort, and the rightness of hanging out with my friends – there is a gap somewhere. That gap comes in when I meet the next generation, the one born after the Millenials (Generation Y? Z?). That gap acutely brings back to me the discomfort of being old enough to be considered an 'aunty', but young enough to easily get all the cultural references of Generation Y/ Z, thanks to the overwhelming reach of the internet. That gap, which is so painfully familiar to me and my generation of in-betweeners. I am always wondering where I fit in and this lack of space is what I always struggle with when I go back to India.

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GIVEAWAY - Win Tickets To Winefest Edmonton 2013 (Closed)

Yay! We have a winner!  

Aditi picked Comment Number 2 as the winner, so congratulations to Peggy Doyle. I will email you shortly, please respond to me latest by 9. 30 AM. 

And to see how Aditi chose the winner, check out the video :)

What better way to celebrate the arrival of a new computer than with a glass of wine... or two, or three eh? So enter...

Yay! Winefest! 

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My Masala Dabba (Spice Box) - All About Cardamom

New Series on The Tiffin Box - My Masala Dabba (or My Spice Box)

This series is something I've been thinking about for a while, ever since I wrote the Exploring Ethnic Cuisine, over at Food Bloggers of Canada. I finally got around to it after one of my readers commented on my post on homemade chaat masala where I agonised over what a spice was, only to find it sitting in my spice cupboard under a different name.

So I thought it may be time to do a series on all the spices I use for my everyday cooking, and perhaps introduce you to new ones as we go along. Along with My Masala Dabba, I will also do a Herb Collection, but to be honest, that will probably be quite a shorter series.

I would very much appreciate your feedback on this series, as its something that is very new to me. What kind of spices would you like featured? How much information would you like? How would you like them presented? I'll start off with the spices in my own cupboard, and slowly move to the more exotic ones that may not be as familiar or easy to source, but I'll try my best to make sure you can find them. After all, the ethos of The Tiffin Box is that I should be able to find what I need here and you should be able to source them too, without needing a trip to India, otherwise all my recipes are essentially redundant, so to say :)

I am not aiming to be Wikipedia here - I just want to share my knowledge of the spices I use and how I use them, along with pictures. This is not a comprehensive dictionary of spices or their use. And sometimes I may well be wrong in what I write, so please don't hesitate to jump in and correct me or add your own thoughts to the post. Tell me what you know, and what I've missed and I will add it to each post. I welcome all criticism and feedback and its what makes me and this site better.

(Green and Black) Cardamom

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GIVEAWAY - Win a pair of tickets to Winefest Edmonton this Saturday

Update:

Congratulations to the winner of the Winefest tickets! It was comment number 4, who is Amanda H.

Please email me your full name and either phone number/ email address to michellepatriciapeters@gmail.com, so I can arrange for you to pick up your tickets at the 'Will Call' booth at Winefest on Saturday. I probably won't answer your email until late tonight, but I will have got it.

Thanks so much to everyone for taking part in this giveaway. I'll be doing more of these giveaways soon, so please keep your eyes out for them!

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Previewing Taste of Edmonton 2012 + News

Last year I was, unfortunately, away for Taste of Edmonton, a foodie event that brings together restaurants, food businesses and foodies from all over the city. This year, Taste of Edmonton is being held from July 19th - 28, 2012, and is coinciding with Race Week Edmonton, and Edmonton's Capital Ex. So this is my first year of experiencing ToE!

So as you can see, Edmonton is the place to be this July and I, for one, have no intention of missing it, and was very pleased when I received an invitation to their media launch. I do adore the flexibility of my day, and have always aspired to be a lady that lunches (or gets invited to lunches, anyway) and it was great to head to the Shoctor Lobby at the Citadel Theatre, and bump into many familiar faces, including Lillian from Beyond Umami and Diane from Argenplath. 

I wasn't expecting there to be actual food at the launch, as I assumed it was going to be a series of presentations, and perhaps, some tasters. So it was a pleasant surprise when there indeed was some great food on offer, and even better, these were all the new restaurants on the block. 

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Indian Classics - Chicken 65 (South Indian Style Spicy Fried Chicken)

Woohoo, I am on vacation! Finally, after a long season, we packed up our bags and headed over to the in-laws place. This time around, we decided that dad needed to experience some true Canadian culture, so we ended up camping a few nights, one in Jasper, where we managed to get eaten alive by those pesky mosquitoes... but at the same time, had a fabulously relaxing time at the hot springs. My dad, who's never been recreational camping before kept flipping constantly between being amused and amazed at everything that people brought to camp with them. It rained pretty consistently, and even though it was slightly cold and miserable, it was still a brilliant experience for dad. We were also lucky enough to spot a wolf (eating something I don't want to mention) which was pretty rare and of course, elk were everywhere.

The next night at Beaumont was much better, in terms of weather, and the sunset over Fraser Lake was pretty spectacular, as you will see for yourself! We had a pretty good evening, pushing on to the in-laws the next day. So yayyyy, on vacation now, with not much to than relax and enjoy everything in this beautiful Northern BC town.

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Light Smoked Salmon Dip with Crostini

First off, I want to share with you all that my mum's fish curry recipe was trialled by Felicity Cloake of the Guardian. Holy!!! Yes, that Guardian, of which I am an avid reader and fan. I am still recovering from the honour of having my name mentioned alongside Madhur Jaffery and Camellia Panjabi.... faints again...

You can read the article here. Mum, you rock!

... recovers from faint... and on to our feature presentation...

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Hangouts: Chai Pani, Edmonton

Recently, Lis from the Daring Kitchen asked for people to write for their Food Talk section. I jumped at the chance, as I have been trying to refine my writing skills, not just food writing, but writing in general. I chose the topic 'Chai' or 'Indian Tea', and you can read the article here.

I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to come by and give me your criticisms, I always welcome feedback and appreciate it very much.

As a bit of a tie-in to the chai theme, I also wanted to let you all know about some of the places I enjoy hanging out in Edmonton. I am no reviewer, and neither am I am expert on various cuisines. But I know what I like, and so this feature is going to be on a recent addition to Edmonton's food and cafe scene, Chai Pani on Whyte Avenue.

'Pappppooo, chai pani leke aana' (Pappu, bring some tea-water) is a relatively familiar phrase for those of us who have lived in India. In fact, shopping in India can be so enjoyable, as most of the places we visit serve us chai pani, or thanda (cold drink) Its not only Indian, though, as a lot of far Eastern countries have a similar concept of cafes, or a place to have chai pani attached to them.

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Roast Parsnip and Garlic Soup

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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Global Recipe Swap - Beef Kheema Pav (A Mumbai Street Food)

I've been quite silent over here at The Tiffin Box, and first, I just wanted to say thank you to a few of you who have emailed me and asked me if things are okay. The internet is a funny thing. I don't know all my readers personally, yet so many of you messaged me, worried about me. It gives me this unbelievably warm feeling of being connected and cherished and so thank you again. 

I am fine. To be completely honest, at first, I was just burnt out. Last year was an interesting one. After almost nine years of being an only child, Adz was going to be a big sister. I found out that I was pregnant and while we were quite unsure about this whole thing at first, we decided to roll with it. Unlike with Adz, where I had an incredible pregnancy, this one was quite hard. Maybe it was just me being older, but the last thing I felt like doing was cooking or eating, or even writing, for that matter. I'd sit in front of the computer, and I'd just be blank. I'd have ideas, but I couldn't seem to get them out on paper. I didn't even pick up my camera for a while, with zero interest in doing anything. My mother was visiting, thankfully, and she picked up a lot of my slack, and after a few visits with my doctor, I gave myself permission to take a few months off without the associated guilt. 

I gave birth to Baby Sky in September. He's a gorgeous little squiggly handful of a guy, full of personality right from the moment of birth, and so very different from my mellow, easygoing Adz. Now that we have him, it is hard to imagine life without him. Well, technically, life is generally harder with him, seeing as I'd completely forgotten what having a new baby was like, but despite the complete lack of sleep and general zombie-esqe pattern of life (eat, play, nap, yowl, expel, and repeat) yes, life is better with this new little person. 

It has been almost six months now, since Baby Sky was born, but despite all my bright ideas and thoughts, I still wasn't ready to write. Like before, I'd sit in front of the computer and have all these thoughts, but no desire to tap those keys and put them in writing. Now, I haven't been accepting a lot of projects recently. Partly because I just haven't had the energy to do anything, but also because I am a bit of a perfectionist, and I give my best to any project I take part in. I didn't think that I would be able to offer anything when I was still burning out. 

Last month, however, I accepted a project from Merkato, a global recipe swap, rethinking beef recipes. The reason I accepted this project was the concept. I would be creating a recipe based on my cultural background, and swapping a recipe with another Canadian blogger, Shel Zolkewich whose recipe I am featuring in Part 2 of this post) 

But in truth, there were other factors behind why I decided to break my blog silence with this project. 

I went to India to visit with my family and introduce them to their newest member in December and January. Baby Sky was introduced to his great grandmother and a huge number of his extended family. We had an incredible time, and I reconnected with some family that I hadn't seen in well over ten years. It brought back to me the importance of connections and being there for each other. Maybe we hadn't seen each other in all these years, but as they say, blood is thicker than water and we fell back into our easy relationships with each other, just like we had when we were children, running back and forth from each others' houses. Social media has definitely made being in touch easier, and with Facebook, we are able to keep up with our lives, even though we live so far from each other.

I digress, however. 

Family is certainly important, and my life has been shaped heavily by my own family, both in India and here in Canada. 

But it was what happened on the way back from India that led me to write this post and take part in this recipe swap. 

Adz, Baby Sky and I were connecting to our Canada-bound flight in Frankfurt airport. We had a few hours to kill, and while waiting for our flight to be called, I noticed that the gate agents were calling out these Muslim sounding names. When the people came up, there would be a hushed conversation, and then what sounded like people getting upset with lot of arm waving and some tears and general confusion. I wasn't sure what was happening, so I opened up the news on my phone. 

That was when I saw the mind boggling news from the United States, banning people from seven Muslim majority countries from entering the States. I realised that the airlines were informing people from these countries about this ban and to be honest, I couldn't even comprehend what was going on. On one hand, I was just so grateful that I wasn't transiting through the States and was going to Canada instead. On the other hand, I could completely sympathise with these people who were travelling to the US, being tolday they couldn't travel for whatever purpose they were going there for. Having just come back from India and having had such an incredible family trip there, my heart was bleeding for these people. I could not imagine how they must have been feeling. I know that I would have been devastated, had I been told that I wasn't able to visit my family back in India, for whatever reason.

Since last November, since that ill-fated election in the States, my anxiety levels have been extremely high. I am a brown immigrant to Canada, and my children are mixed race. While racism is not a new concept to me, having faced it in England as well as to a smaller extent in Canada, the sheer vitriol coming from supporters of that person (I am sorry, but I just can't say his name without heaving!) against immigrants and people who were different was scary. 

My experience of being an immigrant, twice, was much easier than others. I am not ashamed to say this out loud, and I am one of the lucky ones. In England, my path to naturalisation was easy, having been there as a graduate student, and then working there. When we came back to Canada, my path to residency was still easy. I didn't choose to fall in love with a Canadian, but the fact that my husband was Canadian helped ease my way. I was also lucky that I was so well versed in the Western world, that integrating into English and Canadian society was natural for me. I speak good English, I know pop culture inside out, I am abreast of news, and I listen to Blue Rodeo*. 

But while my life as an immigrant is easy, to the point where a lot of people I know don't even see the colour of my skin, as long as I am able to keep up with conversations around hockey, or sport or music or sociology – this does not mean that I am unaware of how precarious my status in this country is. When people on the street look at me, they see a brown woman with white children and assume, a lot of the times, that I am the nanny. Some people talk slower to me, like they feel that I am not able to understand English. Some people are shocked by my lack of accent (see here). And I have been accosted on the street and told to go back home. It happens to all of us, those of us who appear different. 

But to actually see the level of hate against immigrants that has manifested in that person being elected? I am truly flabbergasted and yes, it makes me anxious for my future and the future of my mixed race children. I'd like to say that such hate is not usual in Canada, but I would be wrong. Just a look at newspaper forums will tell me otherwise. People will tell me that those forums are not representative of what Canada is like, but then that's what we thought about the States. People will also tell me not to look at these news stories or engage with them, but it's like watching a particularly gruesome incident, and my morbid curiosity won't let me disengage. While both Canada and the States are countries founded on immigration, the rhetoric today has changed. Today, we are ruled by fear of difference. And when fear takes hold, hate is not far behind. 

And that was one of the reasons why I took up this project. The people swapping recipes in this project are all people who have different cultural, national and religious backgrounds. But what we all have in common is that we are all Canadians. 

I am going to be upfront with you all. I am not a nationalistic person. I've lived and travelled in too many countries to be the kind of person who believes that 'my country is the best' rhetoric. I love living in Canada, sure, and I adore the people I live with and all my friends, but I would be happy living anywhere else in the world, as long as I have my little family with me. Maybe this is an antithetic view of the world, but this is me and I won't apologise for it. 

My recipe for this global swap project is inspired by one of my favourite Mumbai street foods. When I was in India this year, I took a little street food jaunt with my friend Addie, and we hit up this little Parsi cafe in Bandra where the food is tinged with Iranian influences. It is, and rightly so, famous for its kheema pav. 

Kheema is a generic term in India for ground meat, and a good, spicy, salty kheema curry can have any kind of meat, with lamb and mutton being the most common. Beef, however, is also quite common in many communities in India, particularly the Catholic community. While it can be harder now to find beef in India, several places do have it, and this cafe did (or at least assured us that we were eating beef kheema). 

There is nothing fancy about kheema pav. This is street food at its simplest and most filling. You get a steel plate of curried minced beef, a soft, cheap white bun and a wedge of lime. You squeeze some lime juice on the meat, and use your fingers to tear the pav and scoop the kheema into your mouth. The flavours are an explosion on your tongue, your mouth being assaulted by salt, heat, tang and the fragrance of spices. You take a sip of sweet chai, and then mop up the last bits of curry with some more pav. 

For me, this dish brings back memories of my time in Bombay as a student. I was forever broke, but also hungry all the time. Many of us hunted out the best street food joints in the city, and we would travel in the horrific Mumbai traffic to head down to Sardar's for the best pav bhaji, or to small Punjabi joints for delicious tandoori chicken. The Catholic cafes had great seafood, and every colony in Bombay claimed that their pani puri wallah made the best version. 

That said, my recipe for kheema pav comes from my aunt's cook, Christine, she of the delicious pork sorpotel.  Her recipe is simple and uses minimum spice, but can easily rival any of those from these famous street vendors. Add my recipe for fresh pav, a squeeze of lime juice and a pat of butter on top, and voila! You're on the streets on Mumbai, taking in the unique flavours of the ordinary Mumbaikar.

Thankfully, my recipe swap partner Shel loved it too, and her photographs are so much better than mine, so check them out. I also adore the fact that she made them for Hockey Night in Canada. Now how much more inclusive do you get than that? 

* I know you are dying to hear my Blue Rodeo story, yes? Well, when I was first dating Kay, my Canadian boy, he took me to see blue Rodeo perform in this tiny underground pub in London. Goodness, I think the entire Canadian population of London was there. I was only a couple of feet away from the band on the stage. After the performance, the band members all came and mingled with the audience, and I said hello to Jim Cuddy, who gave me a hug and asked me if Blue Rodeo was big in India. Well, I said, they were definitely popular with one particular Indian. Me.  

--> Kheema Pav
(Printable Recipe)

A Mumbai Street Food Recipe

Pav (Bread Rolls)

1 tablespoon active dry yeast
¼ cup warm water
1 cup milk, scalded
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons butter + a little extra
1 teaspoon salt
3 ½ cups sifted all purpose flour
1 egg

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Soften active dry yeast in warm water.

Combine milk, sugar, butter and salt. Cool. Add 1 cup of the flour and beat well with a wooden spoon.

Beat in softened yeast and egg.

Gradually add remaining flour to form a soft dough. Knead the dough (around 7 - 8 minutes) until soft and pliable, then shape into a ball and place in a large oiled bowl. Cover and let rise in warm place until doubled in size (1½ to 2 hours)

Lightly turn out the risen dough on to lightly floured surface. Pat down and shape into 12 small balls.

Place the dough balls next to each other in a baking tray, then cover and let rise for another hour.

Bake at 375 degrees F for 15 - 20 minutes, until the rolls are golden. Brush a little extra butter on the crusts while still warm.

Kheema

1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander seeds
1 teaspoon garam masala
½ – 1 teaspoon mild (or hot) cayenne pepper, to taste
¼ teaspoon aamchur (dried mango powder)
2 tablespoons canola or sunflower oil
1 tablespoon ghee (optional)
1 cup, finely diced onion
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 inch piece of ginger, peeled and grated
1 – 2 hot, green bird’s eye chillies, finely chopped
1 cup, finely chopped tomatoes
500g ground beef
½ cup water
½ cup fresh or frozen peas
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Small handful fresh cilantro, chopped
Fresh pav, softened salted butter and lime wedges, to serve

In a small bowl, mix together the cumin, coriander, garam masala, cayenne pepper and aamchur. Keep this spice mix aside.

Heat the oil, and the ghee (if using) in a heavy based sauté pan, and add the onion. Fry on a medium heat for 7 – 8 minutes, until softened and beginning to brown on the edges.

Add the crushed garlic, ginger and chillies and stir together for a minute, until fragrant.

Add the chopped tomatoes and the spice mix to the pan and season with a little salt.

Fry, stirring often, for 10 – 15 minutes, until the mixture is thick and the oil is beginning to shimmer around the edges.

Add the ground beef and fry for 2 – 3 minutes. Add the water, cover the pan, and let the kheema simmer for about 15 – 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, blanch the peas in salted, boiling water for 2 minutes, then drain.

Uncover the pan, and add the peas to the kheema, and continue to cook for another 5 – 7 minutes, until the mixture is on the dry side. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Take off the heat and stir in the chopped cilantro. Serve with the pav, butter and lime wedges.


Disclosure: This post was sponsored by Think Beef. 

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Indian Street Food - Bombay Bhel Puri Chaat - And Four Years On...

Did you know that this blog is four years old this month? Yes, I must admit it took me by surprise as well, especially since I am the queen of 'why-do-it-today-if-it-can-be-abandoned-tomorrow' philosophy.

Well, darn it all, I did do it in the end. Admittedly, I didn't post very much in the first year or so, mainly because I was wandering the world in a sleep deprived fog of motherhood, holding down a full time job, and basically being a hamster on a wheel trying to keep all the balls in the air (I am also the queen of mixed metaphors, hehe)

My original reason for starting the blog was really simple. After my appearance on Masterchef, I started receiving a ton of requests for the recipes I made on the show. Instead of emailing everyone who asked a recipe, I decided to start a blog, and post up all the recipes on here. So why call it Food, Football and a Baby? Well, refer to the paragraph above. I was so sleep deprived, I could barely function, let alone think of a cool name for the blog. So I called it after the three things that defined my life at that time. Food, of course. Football, of which I am still a passionate fan (Please, Gunners? Please? One trophy to console us all after six years? Please?) And the baby, who is of course, no longer a baby, but will always be my baby, if you're getting my drift?

Things have moved on in my life since those years of course. Two years ago, almost to the day, we upped and moved from England to Canada. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I had time. Sleep, of course, was a little longer coming by, but time I had. I started blogging more, with a purpose. Well, mainly to keep me from going loco, as I adjusted from being someone who was always on the go, to someone who was a stay-at-home-mum. And I freely admit, I struggled with it at first. My job and education, so far, had been my identity. And to let that go, and surrender financial control to my husband was a really, really hard transition for me to make.

I look back on my first year here in Canada, and I cringe to think what I must have been and sounded like. I hated the cold, and the fact that my family and friends were so far away, and, as I put it, I basically sat indoor and sulked. The next year, I realised that sulking would do me no good, so I went out and started to get to know people. I took a few leaps of faith, and suddenly I now have friends who are on the way to becoming really close to me as well.

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'Confessions' or 'Imitation/ Flattery and All That Jazz'

My secret vice, Britannia Little Hearts Cookies

I am a huge fan of Melissa's blog Eyes Bigger Than My Stomach. She has this amazing knack of writing things that resonate with me almost immediately. Recently, she posted this really lovely post that she titled 'Confessions'. When I read it, I had to laugh out loud at many places, because that really is how I feel many times.

So, as everyone knows, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? I loved her post so much, I asked her if she would mind if I wrote a similar post for my blog. Kind soul that she is, she didn't kick me to the kerb (she did tell me to knock myself out though, maybe that was the message) Hehe, I am being obtuse here.

So yes, this is a deliberately self-indulgent post. But hey, I didn't do any of those yearly round-up posts, so I think I am entitled to one indulgence a year, surely?

PS - For last year's self-indulgent post see here :-)

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Coconut Ice Cream

Memories are funny things. You may remember something completely random and unrelated to anything at a certain point. On the other hand, you may completely and utterly forget the name of your new neighbour. Then again, you might recall with perfect clarity the exact clothes you were wearing for your first interview. And forget what the heck you wore yesterday. Yes, memories are funny things indeed.

I was thinking about England a few weeks ago. I was trying to see if I could remember Hoylake, where we were living before we moved here. As it turns out, I remember quite a few things. But I also realised that my memories of Hoylake were fading, and it was as if I was viewing things through a bit of a foggy filter. I can remember names and places. For example, Julian from Julian's Restaurant, or Nick (the Arsenal fan!!) the owner of Flavours, and his son Justin (the Aston Villa fan!!). Chok, the head waiter at the Golden Orchid, who always took Aditi on a tour of the kitchens as soon as she arrived, while Kay and I enjoyed a leisurely Thai meal.

Oh, and 'Chocolate' Tom Sargeant from Sargeant's Chocolates. When my husband went to buy chocolates for me after I'd just given birth to Aditi, he said to Tom, 'you know my wife, of course, she's here every day!' To which Tom replied 'I cannot confirm or deny that sir, its a breach of client-chocolatier confidentiality' hehe. T'was a sad day indeed when he had to close down the chocolate shop and become a driving instructor instead.

I remember old Pat, who always had a pat for Aditi, yet could never remember that she was a girl, not a boy. And the myriad characters that made up the little village we lived in. I was thinking about all of them, trying to remember names and places, trying to preserve the memories, when I suddenly thought of an ice cream that I'd never been able to forget (yep, all memories lead to ice cream in my life :))

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Global Recipe Swap - PTL Chipotle Taquitos

Baby Sky's birth was wonderful. I had a planned C-Section – planned, because Adz's birth was pretty traumatic for me – but this one went without a hitch. I felt at peace and healed up beautifully. Mentally, however, I was still a bit unsure. On one hand, I was ecstatic with my beautiful new baby, but on the other hand, anxious again. When we took Baby Sky for his first immunisation and weigh-in, the nurse recommended I see a therapist, just to talk through things.

I mentioned my anxiety, and as we talked through it, I realised that the majority of my worry was from the election that had just taken place in the States. That person had won, and the fear in the pit of my stomach had never left. My therapist mentioned, almost as an aside, that I was not the only one who had had anxiety triggered by this election. As we chatted more, I realised that the root of my fear was the fact that I was brown.

I no longer felt as safe on the streets as I was. It might have been a false sense of security, but having now lived in Canada for over seven years, I was beginning to adapt to the Canadian way of living. When I first moved here, I wanted locks on every side gate and to the backyard. Now I was leaving our door open when we pottered around in the backyard. But suddenly, I was back to locking and triple checking everything. I was overthinking every sideways gaze at me and the children. I started spraying myself with fragrance because I didn't want people to think I smelt of curry. I kept an eye out on public transit instead of being immersed in my phone.

In some ways, I was happy to know that I was not alone, that there were other people who felt triggered by the nastiness of that election. But in some ways I felt more alone than I have ever been for a long time.

Even now, as I write this post, my hands are shaking, I feel nervous and jittery and my chest feels tight. If this is my reaction – the reaction of someone whose immigrant journey, as I mentioned in my previous post, was easier than most people's, then I can only imagine what people who came here fleeing war and persecution must be feeling. What those people who seek asylum and refuge in Canada are thinking. What the mental state of those people who are braving sub-zero temperatures to cross over to Canada from the States must be like. How they must feel, having their families torn apart, having to leave everything that they have behind, their worries for their children and parents.

I don't get it. I honestly don't. How did this person – this person who openly espouses intolerance and deals in hate and fear mongering – get elected? Was everything I knew about the States wrong? According to my Facebook feed, I am preaching to the choir. Everybody is against this person. Everyone is horrified. Everybody is exhorting resistance. Yet, there were millions upon millions of people who voted for this person. Who are these people? How do they not know that their history is also one of immigration, moving to the States for a better life, and fleeing persecution? How can they suddenly be all about white power and intolerance? I don't understand it.


But then again, maybe I do.

I might joke about this, but there is a reason why my family didn't make much of a fuss when I announced that I was marrying a white man. Just after Kay had proposed, I went back to India to go wedding shopping. My grandmother asked me to show her pictures of my future in-laws. She looked over carefully at the photo, and said, "well, this is good. They are white and fat and your children will be nice and fair." Eh, what?

I don't know how my folks would have reacted if I'd gone home and said I was marrying a black Muslim man. Or even if I'd outed myself as gay. See, it doesn't matter if you're being discriminated against. You can still be racist as a brown person. Or casteist. Or intolerant of another religion ("Jess: It's all changing now. Nasser Hussein is captain of the English cricket team and he's Asian. Mrs. Bhamra: Hussein is a Muslim name, their families are different.... Pinky: You can marry anyone you want. It's fine at first when you're in love and all that but do you want to be stared at, by every family that do because you married the English bloke? Jess: He's Irish. Pinky: Well, they all look the bloody same to them, innit" – fine, I am a 'Bend It Like Beckham nerd, but seriously... this.)

It takes courage to admit that some of your ideas about how things are in this world are wrong. I've snapped at some of my relatives when they talk disparagingly about 'furriners' (foreigners, as Indian people dub white people). My kids and my husband are 'foreigners'. Technically, so am I. Are they okay talking about me like that?

I had this experience with my mom, as I was trying to explain being gay and gay rights to her. She didn't understand it at all, and all her perceptions about being gay had been coloured by the vehement opposition of the church, as she is very religious. But we did have a conversation about it, and I got her to read this article on being gay in India  and the persecution they go through. At the end of the piece, she was in tears as she understood the discrimination and prejudice. She changed her mind that day. She is a brave, thoughtful woman who had the courage to admit that her convictions were wrong.

I wish a lot more people were like her. Perhaps then I would feel better about leaving this world to my children.


I found it rather fitting that my recipe swap partner, Shel Zolkevich, made these Mexican taquitos. In her recipe post, she has a funny story about why they are called PTL taquitos, I must admit I chuckled at that one, especially with a husband that mispronounces a lot of Indian words.

We don't need a wall in today's world. Having made and loved each bite of these, all I can say is that we need more taquitos, instead.

PTL Chipotle Taquitos 

2 tbsp canola oil
1 large onion, diced
1 lb ground beef, lean
½ tsp salt
1 tsp chili powder
½ tsp cumin

3 cups mashed potatoes
1 canned chipotle, from chipotles in adobo sauce, diced
½ cup mozzarella, shredded

24 corn tortillas, 4-5 inches wide
24 toothpicks

1 cup canola oil, for frying

Optional:

Sour cream
Chopped avocado
Salsa verde
Cilantro

Heat 2 tbsp canola oil over medium high heat. Add onion and fry for three minutes. Add ground beef and fry until all traces of pink are gone, about eight minutes. Add salt, chili powder and cumin. Mix well. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine mashed potatoes, chipotle, cheese and ground beef mixture. Mix well.

In a wide frypan, heat 1 cup of canola oil to 375 degrees F.

Place one tortilla on a flat surface and add 1 Tbsp of ground beef and potato mixture in the centre. Roll tightly and secure with toothpick. Set aside. Continue to make five more taquitos. Fry six at a time, for two minutes on one side and two minutes on the other. Repeat until all 24 are done.

Garnish with sour cream, chopped avocado, sour cream and cilantro.

Disclosure: This post was sponsored by Think Beef. 

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