Author Archives: hAAthi

About hAAthi

Just another lost soul, swimming around in a fish bowl.

What’s up

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In which I don’t share a recipe, but lots of news instead

I’ve been itching to come here and type a few words, share some of the recipes I have stashed away, edit some pictures that have been pending for a week, and most of all do some cooking-shooting-blogging. Life has been hectic, with many changes bubbling beneath the surface. I just wrote a mammoth post about it here, giving updates and explanations for going missing in action.

It’s been over a week since I have posted anything here, and even though I have enough drafts to keep me going for a while, I’m longing to get back in to the normal flow of things. Of course meals are still being cooked at home. A girl and a boy still need their daily sustenance, but there just has been no time. Scratch that, mindspace, actually. To sit and document it. You know how they say when the going is good, things begin to snowball and roll into a frenzy? No, nobody really said that. I just made it up, because that’s how I feel.

What have I been up to?

Well I’ve been toying with the idea of selling cake! This might not be a surprise for those of you who already follow me on facebook, but the truth is I’ve moved from informally making cake for friends to believing them when they say they’d pay money to eat my bakes! Yeah, they asked for it. Now they’re going to have to pay me every time they ask for cake.

Imagining, building, writing, checking, designing, baking, shooting. Its been a hectic couple of weeks and things are finally shaping up. On the baking side itself, there has been orders, deliveries, recipe testing, tasting, tweaking, finalising, and it has kept myoven as busy as me!

It’s funny how when I was in the throes of miserable notice period blues and I was baking to save my life, and I nonchalantly said “If only someone would pay me to bake all these cakes,” I didn’t in my wildest dreams imagine I’d be doing it in some part, just 12 months down the line.

photo 3The going has been good, but for the whole story, you’re going to have to go on and read it there.

Beetroot raita

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Pink murder on the kitchen floor

Despite my general fondness for veggies, there are a few things I tend to ignore. Beets, for one. I have no rational reason to avoid them. In fact I really love beets, but I find that whenever I cast my eyes on a pile of beetroots at the market, something about their muddy exterior and grubby, mottled skin makes me turn away. Forgetting completely that on the inside, the gorgeous pinky glossy finish almost always takes my breath away. So last week, I bought me some beetroots for a change.DSC_0023I usually make a typical Kannadiga palya, with a simple seasoning and shredded coconut, to top it off, but this time I turned to an old favourite that my mother makes. This beetroot raita is creamy, gloriously pink and typically goes well with pretty much anything. It helps that it is bright and beautiful, and makes an interesting side to perk up even the most average, simple meal.DSC_0059I am constantly innovating with curd-based dishes so as to get the husband to consume a basic amount of yoghurt on a daily basis. And this beetroot based innovation can now neatly go into the veggie-raita category!

On Monday, I took the beetroot raita to lunch with a bunch of new lady friends with whom Monday potluck is fast becoming a happy habit. When it was polished clean, and when the husband came home from work to tell me he loved it, I knew I had to post it here.

What I used
3 medium beetroots, pressure cooked till soft
1 small onion chopped fine (you can skip this if you are not fond of raw onions, I added it to bring in a crunchy texture as the beets go soft when pressure cooked)
Thick curd, whisked till creamy (not runny) with just a tiny dash of water
Salt to taste
Finely chopped coriander leaves
Coconut oil for tadka (can use any other, but I highly recommend coconut)
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
2 sprigs curry leaves
A dash of asafetida
3 small red chillies (or more, depending on your appetite for spice)

How I made it

I pressure cooked and cooled the beetroots first. When they were cool enough to handle, I chopped them into smallish squares.DSC_0027Then I whisked the curd, set it aside and chopped the onion too.DSC_0030I tipped the beetroot and onions into the curd and mixed them up and added salt to taste.DSC_0037In a small tadka pan, I warmed some coconut oil and added in mustard seeds, red chillies, curry leaves and asafetida in quick succession. Letting it crackle for a few minutes, I then tipped it into the raita.DSC_0052Mixed it up well and topped it with freshly chopped coriander.DSC_0061DSC_0049Done!DSC_0026

Mango madness, part 5: chopped mangoes on whole wheat pancakes

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Goodbye King of Fruits, until next summer

Probably the best thing about the summer has been the amount of mangoes I have consumed this year. Both raw as well as ripe. We ate them like they were going out of style. Which technically they kind of are. Until summer brings them back again.

On the weekend, we decided to have them plain and simple, chopped and dropped over whole wheat pancakes. Its been a long time since I made pancakes and I was in the mood for a hot, hearty breakfast. The last time I made anything of the like was the crepes we had with strawberries and then with oranges. And since both crepes and pancakes pair wonderfully with any fresh fruit, it was an easy decision.DSC_0043We had our pancakes with a drizzle of maple syrup and lots of fruit. You could also use honey, jaggery syrup or even try the mango and lime compote, which I think would go so well. I always squeeze a hint of lime over the syrup, when I am having pancakes so I’m pretty sure the lime and mango would be a genius combination!

This is a good and simple way to use up mangoes if you’re still in the mood. Mango season has officially ended here in Panjim. I know, because the last lot I bought were horrendously expensive, and were just average in taste. So until next season, this is us saying adieu.

What we used
1 cup whole wheat flour
1-2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/4 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 egg
2 tablespoons oil/melted butter (I used a neutral cooking oil)

How we made them

First I measured out the flour, added int he baking powder and baking soda to it.

Then, in a smaller bowl, I cracked an egg and whisked it. To it I added the oil, vanilla extract and whisked again. I then slowly drizzled the milk into it, while whisking continuously till it was fairly frothy.

I added the sugar to the flour, gave it a good mix and then added in the mix. At this point, feel free to add a little extra milk, a little bit at a time, if you feel the batter is not at the right consistency. Pancake batter should not be runny, or too thick, but should be easily pourable.

Then I lightly greased the tawa/griddle I had heated, turned the flame down to medium, and poured a ladle-full of it in the centre and let it spread a little.DSC_0047I let it cook, until the edges began to curl up, and then flipped it over. And repeated till we had enough pancakes between the two of us.DSC_0049Then I topped it with chopped mangoes.DSC_0055Followed by a drizzle of maple syrup.DSC_0064And we chowed it down.DSC_0068Done!DSC_0079Pretty, no?

DSC_0074I’m really sad to see the mangoes go, but this recipe would actually work well with any fresh fruit, so its definitely the last of the pancakes around here. But if you think that’s the last of all things fruity around here, have you seen what I have been up to lately?

Chocolate mini-tarts

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Quick fix, pish-posh dessert

You know how sometimes you see something gorgeously sinful on the Interwebs, or you eat something that looks deceptively simple but ends up being super rich, and you want to immediately go home and make it yourself? Except you think about the effort and start making mental assumptions about the amount of butter and cream that might have gone into it and try and quickly convince yourself you’re better off without it. But all along, in the back of your head, that little seed of a thought is growing larger, louder and increasingly dissatisfied.

It happens to me, far too often. And the only saving grace is I am far too lazy spontaneous a baker to actually go through with recipes like that, to plan. But one rainy afternoon last week, I was at the cafe with Pooja and Roshan, when I took a bite of this beauty that was placed before me.tartImmediately decided I was going to make a chocolate tart over the weekend, even if it killed me. But the lazy baker in me thankfully swooped in just in time and took charge because I really couldn’t be bothered with making pastry and a mousse-y filling and what not.

So I conjured up this quick-fix. This is not rocket science, I’m pretty sure this recipe exists in several other places on the Interwebs, so I can’t claim I created it. I did however imagine it, step-by-step in my head and then proceeded with growing surprise when things turned out as I imagined them and the result was a rather deceptively posh looking little tart, that actually took very little time and effort to make.DSC_0106The husband was chuffed, and ate his share as well as half of my share. Later that evening a couple of friends came over and asked about the tart I had posted a picture of on facebook. Of course I had to offer the rest of my half to them. And that was the end of it. Now I need to make this again and get my fill!

What I used
Makes 4 mini tarts. I used my sasta, tikau aluminium moulds that are about 2.5″ in diameter and have removable bottoms which made it very easyDSC_00271 packet (100 gms) digestive biscuits
3-4 tablespoons of butter melted in the microwave
1.5 packed cup finely chopped cooking chocolate
1/2-1 cup fresh cream (I eyeballed this quantity so I cant be sure, I’m sorry)

DSC_0003How I made them

I pulsed the biscuits in the mixie till they were coarsely ground. Then I poured in the butter and pulsed it a couple of more times till it was combined.DSC_0005I set the oven to preheat at 170 degrees C for 15 minutes and while that happened I divided the buttery biscuit crumbs equally into the 4 moulds.DSC_0007Using my fingers I pressed the base into the moulds evenly and stuck them into the oven. I baked them for 10-12 minutes just so the base would get nice and toasty.DSC_0010Then I pulled them out and set them on a wire rack while I chopped up the chocolate and placed it in a bowl large enough to allow mixing of the ganache.DSC_0032In a saucepan, I warmed the cream till tiny bubbles began to appear on the surface. Then I poured the warm cream over the chopped chocolate.DSC_0047And gradually let the chocolate melt into the cream.DSC_0061Mixing gently, till it was one homogenous glossy mixture.DSC_0069The gorgeousness that is ganache was then poured equally into the 4 moulds.DSC_0078Every little bit of temptation to just gobble them up as they were, sitting pretty, shiny and gooey, were put to rest.DSC_0093I stuck the moulds into the fridge and sat on my hands for the next 3-4 hours (or as long as it might take to set).DSC_0090When I took them out, I gently un-moulded them one at a time and let the husband have his share. DSC_0100And some of mine too.DSC_0108 DSC_0111Its time to make this again. Because it was really that low on involvement. And because I want to add some fruit to it next time.

Notes:
- If you are a diehard chocoholic, use a denser variety of chocolate for the ganache
- A teaspoon of cocoa added to the biscuit base might give you ane xtra chocolate kick
- If you would like a thicker biscuit base, increase the number of biscuits by 4-5 and add a tablespoon of butter more
- Fruit would make a good topping with the chocolate with a dab of fresh cream, if you’re feeling indulgent
- The longer the tart stays in the fridge the more solidified the chocolate gets, so if you want it set, leave it in longer. For a softer tart, a few hours will do

Bhindi raita: spiced okra, tossed in whipped yoghurt

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There are some things that just never change. No matter how much you try, coax, cajole and gently nudge them, they remain fixed, unchanged. Like the husband’s hatred for dal and bhindi. It is impossible to change his stance towards the two.DSC_0029Unfortunately, his hatred for the two are only as strong as my love for them. And since I am nothing if not persistent, I continue to make the veggie in various forms (this sabji and this curry being some of my most oft-repeated dishes) and dal whenever my heart pleases.

Sometimes I give VC prior notice, so he can prepare himself for a bhindi/dal attack when he opens his lunch. Sometimes I adopt a slightly sadistic tactic, and give him no warming. I simply spring a box full of his most hated veggie or dal, but I’ll slip in an extra box of something fried (always a win!) to make up for it, and sure enough the effects of the bhindi (the horror!) and dal (egads!) are diminished in his eyes.

But sometimes I toss up something he has never eaten before, and leave him no option but to try it. Like I did with this bhindi raita last week. And like bhindi by itself wasn’t horrific enough, I paired it with dal parathas made from a dal makhni I made a few nights before. The same dal he grudgingly ate at dinner, lunch the next day and unfortunately for him, a third time, sneakily disguised as parathas.Merge1Lo and behold, the unimaginable happened. He walloped it.

“It was rather yummy. More than it looked actually,” he admitted.

Feeling triumphant at my little victory, I enlightened him that the parathas had dal, and as he already knew the raita had bhindi. I probably had a devious smile on my face at having tricked him again. And this is where the story should actually end. But VC must always have the last word.

“As long as you surprise me and I don’t know what’s in my lunch, it’s cool,” he said.

Bah.

What I used
1 cup bhindi, chopped into thin discs
3 teaspoons ghee
1 sprig fresh curry leaves
1/2 teaspoon whole jeera/cumin
1/2 teaspoon mustard seeds
A pinch of asafetida
Salt to taste
1/2 cup curd, whisked with 1/4 cup water till smooth
1/2 teaspoon red chilli powder

How I made it

I warmed the ghee, tossed in the mustard and jeera, when it sizzled I added in the curry leaves and asafetida, and immediately tipped in the bhindi.DSC_0031I turned the flame down and tossed the bhindi till singed. I added in the salt and continued to toss more or less continuously, for about 12-15 minutes till the bhindi was crisp.DSC_0035Meanwhile, I whisked the curd, water and red chilli powder till smooth.DSC_0033When the bhindi was crisp, I let it cool a bit, tipping it into the curd only right before we were going to eat.DSC_0043Then I mixed it up.DSC_0062 And served it with dal parathas.Merge2Done!

Victory or not, this is going to be a regular feature at home now. Its a good way to use up leftover dal that VC refuses to eat two meals in a row. And its a good way to sneak in bhindi.

Win-win, right?

I thought so too.

Cardamom, ginger and cinnamon tea

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An evening ritual turns spicy

Although I love my filter kaapi, a nice frothy cappuccino or a good strong shot of espresso, every now and then, coffee isn’t really my primary choice of beverage. I am a chai-person. I like the energy-boosting caffeine kick that coffee gives me, and that’s why I often indulge myself, but I am usually too full of beans anyway, to need help in that area. A lightly invigorating brew of chai, milk and a touch of sugar suits me just fine.

Chai has become an indelible part of my life, in recent times. I’ve turned into one of those people that cannot function straight in the morning, until that first mug of chai has been consumed and the full force of its placebo effect hits me.DSC_0003The subtle infusion of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger, that I previously saved for the odd occasion, has silently become a part of the evening chai ritual. And while I usually have my tea the light, mix-in-milk-at-the-end-way, these days gently bubbling a pot of milk+water together with tea and spices provides a sort of incomparable comfort. Especially when it is pouring down cats and dogs. And cows and pigs outside.

Come 4 pm, I amble into my kitchen and make myself another cup, a habit that suffered hugely right through the summer. The creature of habit that I am, I felt compelled to have it, but my body just couldn’t handle it most days. Now that the rains are here, I am making up for it. And how.DSC_0027Chai time chit-chat (Rox, I’m looking at you :P), with the glow of evening light and the feathery view of the rain, and I’ve mostly been pleased as a peach this whole week.

I bet there is no standard way to make chai. Indians are experts at it, especially the masala variety. But as an ode to the monsoon, and how much I am loving it, I’m sharing my beloved habit, the daily evening ritual, with you.

What I use
For 1 mug of chai
3/4 cup water + 1/4 milk, poured into a saucepan
1.5 flat teaspoons of tea leaves (I use Red Label)
1 teaspoon of sugar (because I like it that way, increase for a sweeter brew)
2 pods of cardamom, just cracked
1/2″ piece of cinnamon
1/2″ piece of ginger lightly smashed

How I make it

I measure out the milk and water into a sauce pan. This ratio can be changed as per your liking. I prefer it lightly milky so go with a 3:1 ratio.

Then I set it on a high flame. In a couple of minutes when tiny bubbles begin to appear on the rim of water, I add in the tea leaves along with the sugar and spices.DSC_0002I let this come to rolling boil, and turn it down just when the water in the pot threatens to boil over.

I let it simmer away on a low flame till the tea gets a little colour, and when it is strong/light enough, I turn the flame off.

Strain the chai into my favourite mug. Grab a muffin. Settle into my beanbag and watch the rain.PourIf someone brought me a plate of pakodas or cheese crackers, I might never want to leave. But we’ll save that story for another post.DSC_0014

Mango madness, part 4: mango and lime compote

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A gorgeous and versatile way to use up the last of the mangoes

I made this compote over the weekend, as a topping for the boca negra but I realised, simple as it is, it was worthy of making a post in itself.DSC_0116Simply because it combines luscious mangoes with lime zest and a touch of sugar, and makes for a versatile topping that would pair well with multiple things. A plain fruit custard, vanilla ice cream, cold milk kheer — and I am tempted to make it again before the mango season is done!

With the coming of the rains, I’m trying to hoard the last of the mangoes before they disappear from the market completely, so another batch of this is definitely in order.

What I used
1 heaped cup of chopped mango
Zest and juice of 1/2 lime
1/8 cup water
2 tablespoons sugar (I used white, but I think honey/brown sugar would work equally well)

How I made it

First, I chopped up the mango, squeezed the lime on to it and set it aside.DSC_0072Then, I combined the water, sugar and lime zest in a saucepan and warmed it gently on a low flame, swirling it continuously, until the sugar had melted in fully.

I set it aside till it had cooled a little, because I didn’t want the mangoes to cook once I combined the two. When sufficiently cool, I poured the mixture over the mangoes.DSC_0074I tossed it a couple of times and set it to chill in the fridge.DSC_0076Done!DSC_0115Serve over warm chocolate cake, boca negra, vanilla ice cream, sweet lassi, or anything you think would be enhanced by lime scented sweet mangoes!

Kind-of, sort-of boca negra

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My once-in-a-while baking indulgence

My approach to baking sort of quickly took a turn for the inspired, spontaneous, go-with-the-flow kind, without too much effort. I know, its just the kind of thing purists mock and deride us novices about. But what can I say, I’m just not the kind of person who likes to do things to the T, all the time. Maybe if and when I go to baking school, I will learn the art from scratch, and see the value in why precision and procedure is key. But until then, I will do what works for me. Which is to wing it 9 out of 10 times, make adjustments to pacify my conscience, replace butter with oil when I can, go sugar-free and eggless when I can help it, and still enjoy my cake. But every now and then, I come across wicked things like this recipe, by the Baker in Disguise. And that 1 out of 10 times, I am in awe of people like her, who take up baking challenges, participate with baking groups and stick with technique-heavy recipes, rather than chicken out in favour of those that can be made in ones sleep.

Every now and then the lets-challenge-myself-and-do-something-different keeda in me surfaces too. And a few weeks ago it serendipitously occurred when I saw her gooey, sinful, densely chocolate-y Boca Negra, that threatened to give anyone who took a bite a black mouth. Almost-flourless held together only by the richness of butter+dark chocolate+bourbon, what’s not to like? I see cakes like that and immediately want to grab at them.

Sarvani was kind enough to send mer the recipe, complete with her own adjustments and learnings from the attempts that she and others within the baking group had made. So I was more than prepared for what could go wrong, and how I could minimize disaster.

What I couldn’t control however, was the bitching temperatures we had here in Goa until a few days ago. So while I did bake the cake for the stipulated time, I think I could have overdone it a bit, to compensate for the immediate melt-fest that it was going to face, when I put it it out to rest for a full 15 minutes as instructed.

So on day 1, I had a cooked, but floppy cake. A gooey fudgy dense mass of chocolate that didn’t quite hold shape. Did that stop us from eating it anyway? No. So I packed the rest away in butter paper and stashed it in the fridge, overnight. That did the trick.DSC_0108The next day, the cake held shape and I was able to cut it our in bars and serve it with a mango and lime compote.DSC_0116And this dessert kicked some serious butt, reminding me that once in a way it is good to indulge. Butter, eggs, sugar, the works.

What I used
(I halved the original recipe and used an 8″ square tin)
170 grams coarsely chopped bittersweet chocolate
1/2 + 1/6 cup sugar, divided
1/4 cup Bourbon (I used Jim Beam, it was the closest I could get)
70 grams butter
2 eggs at room temp
3/4 tablespoon flour

How I made it

First of all, I set the oven to preheat at 170 degrees C, and prepped my tin by lightly buttering it and lining it with butter paper and once again buttering it. I placed the pan in a shallow roasting pan and set aside.

Then, I mixed 1/2 cup sugar with the bourbon in a saucepan and simmered it till the sugar had dissolved. I poured the golden mixture over the chocolate that I had chopped and melted it down. This was a bit of a wrestle, so I set the bowl over another saucepan with simmering water (like a double boiler) ad stirred the chocolate till it was smooth.Choc-mergeTo this, I added the butter in small bits, until it had all mixed well and turned smooth and glossy.DSC_0016In a separate bowl, I whisked in the eggs with the 1/6 cup of sugar, till frothy.DSC_0028By then, the chocolate mixture had cooled down considerably, and I added the mixture into the whisked eggs and blended it with the spatula.DSC_0021Next in, the flour. And more whisking till smooth.

Pouring the batter into the butter paper-lined pan, I poured warm water into the roasting pan it was placed in (about 1″ up the sides of the cake pan) and placed it to bake for 30 minutes.Choc-merge 2When it was cooked (the cake was no longer jiggly) I removed it and let it rest for 20 minutes. Ideally, you should then cover the cake with plastic wrap, invert it onto a tray, then onto a cake plate and gently peel off the plastic, but my cake melted in the resting time, and I couldn’t risk inverting it.DSC_0102So I gently lifted the cake out using the butter paper hang-overs and placed it in a plate, cut and served it up with the mango compote!DSC_0115Done!DSC_0101Some notes:
- The chocolate is dense and fudgy, so it goes well with any fruity compote
- Whipped cream was the original pairing, but it felt a bit heavy for an already-rich cake, but that’s another option for you
- Do not risk making this cake without butter paper, it saved my life
- Cooking time may vary depending on your oven, the outside weather and ambient temperature, so proceed with caution

Mango and banana breakfast muffins (whole wheat, eggless, butterless and refined sugar-free)

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Fruit overload. The good kind.

There’s the kind of fruit overload that you get when your mother thinks you’re not eating enough fruit. Or at least my mother often went on these sprees. She’d slice up entire bunches of bananas, half a dozen apples, a few oranges and whatever else she could get her hands on, lay it all out in a big dinner thaali. Then she’d sit down with my sister and I, patiently ensuring that equal amounts of the stuff found its way into our respective bellies. That was when I was much younger of course. And too hyperactive to care about things like sitting down and savouring the food before me. But so much has changed since then. The sight of fresh fruit in the market is enough to make me stop in my tracks, find space in my shopping back and pile it in. So much so that sometimes I cannot consume it all in time. And you know what happens then, don’t you?

We make cake. And buns. Banana bread, and banana buns more specifically. That’s the kind of fruit overload that leads to living on the wild side of the oven-world, winging it with way too many experiments and getting lucky way too many times. All in the name of salvaging some almost-dead bananas.

There is a third kind of fruit overload though. Its what happens when you pile in whatever fruit you have in your fruit bowl, and concoct something a bit crazy with it. This is the best kind of fruit overload. Not new, this phenomenon, it’s happened before in these parts. The husband takes one look at my latest concoction and goes “Whaaaaaaaaa-aat?” but then he takes a bite, and quickly says “Oh yes.” And it only fuels my love for fruit some more.photo 1And it was no different with these these muffins. But for the fact that, for a change, they weren’t inspired by the need to save the fruit from winding up in the dustbin. The bananas were slightly overripe, the mangoes were fast ripening, filling my dining area with that summery fragrance.

I don’t know what brought it on, but I decided to mash the two up with a fork and throw it in with the usual baking suspects. Then, right before I toppled the batter into the cake tin, I decided these would be breakfast muffins, because its been too long since I made a batch of those.photo 2Low on sweetness, plump and airy, full of fruit, I could make breakfast of these and feel energised without feeling guilty. I told you, this is the best kind of fruit over load.

What I used
For 10 breakfast muffins
1 large mango, chopped completely (about 1 heaped cup) with all traces of pulp removed (if your mango is smaller, use 2)
2 small bananas
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup butter milk
1/4 cup maple syrup (or honey/jaggery/brown or regular sugar)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

How I made them

  1. DSC_0051First, I mixed in a teaspoon of vinegar into 1/2 cup of milk and set it aside, and set the oven to preheat at 170 degrees C for 25 minutes
  2. Then I mashed up the bananas and mangoes in a large plate, with a fork
  3. In a marge mixing bowl, I measured out the flour and added the baking powder and baking soda to it
  4. I added in the maple syrup and oil to it and stirred it around
  5. I gave the milk 15 minutes to settle and then tipped it into the flour and mixed it all up
  6. Lastly, I tipped in the mixed fruit and stirred it all together till there were no steaks of flour
  7. I spooned the batter into well a oiled muffin tray and topped them off with crushed cornflakes
  8. I set them to bake at 170 degrees C, for 30 minutes (these took longer than usual, but check your muffins after 20 minutes, with a toothpick and proceed accordingly)

DSC_0065Breakfast done!DSC_0058Dessert done too, I suppose.

South-Indian pepper chicken

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9

A quick, easy and perfect accompaniment for a South Indian meal

Food memories form some of the strongest images in my mind. So like every typical South Indian girl, from a family with “Brahminical” leanings, my concept of homely traditional food didn’t include meat. I say Brahminical in quotes, merely because it was a pointless classification. Nothing about our habits and upbringing was ever guided by our lineage. And yet, despite my father’s rather staunch commitment to break every rule in the Brahmin book, when it came to eating meat at home, we veered safely away from our staple food. Meat was a whole genre in itself. Never mixed with our regular ghar ka khaana. Which is probably why eggs were the staple Sunday breakfast, chicken curry was a special treat saved up for lazy weekends, or to commemorate memorable events, and amma’s fried fish was much sought after by my sacrilegious cousins and extended family and cooking any sort of meat invoked a mini-celebration of sorts.

Our staple diet consisted of deeply flavourful homely curries, coconut-heavy gravies, lots of fresh spices and vegetables. Meat made a special appearance every now and then, but never paired with, say, sambar or rasam or any other South Indian staples.

A few years ago, the husband introduced me to the joys of walloping rasam/sambar with rice and a masala omelet on the side, a school-canteen hangover he still carries around. More recently I’ve taken to making fish and sometimes chicken too, doused in typically South Indian flavours, and pairing it with a typically homely meal, without going into an elaborate preparation of a separate curry etc. Turns out it is quite the match made in heaven. R’s crab masala was delish with pepper rasam. I often make a simple fried fish to go with saaru or this tambli. And when I see recipes like this one, heavy on curry leaves, coconut oil and black pepper, I immediately know what I’m going to make with it.

Yesterday, I had about 250 grams of chicken that had to be quickly used up. I had already made a big pot of palak sambar, replete with an assortment of veggies, so I went back to this recipe I had bookmarked ages ago, knowing that it would meld beautifully together.

I have more or less followed Nags’ recipe, with a few minor changes, so I’m just listing the steps down here.

photo 2What I used
250 grams boneless thighs, cut into thick-ish nuggets
1 large onion chopped fine
1.5 teaspoons black peppercorns
1 teaspoon fennel seeds/saunf
1 teaspoon coriander powder
1 teaspoon red chilli powder
1 teaspoon chicken masala (can use meat masala or garam masala, if you have that handy)
3 cloves of garlic minced
1 small piece of ginger minced
1 tablespoon coconut oil
2 sprigs curry leaves
Juice of 1 small lime

How I made it

  1. First I washed and cleaned the chicken and chopped it into thickish strips
  2. In a pan, I dry roasted the pepper and saunf till aromatic, then I transferred it into my mortar and pestle and pounded it roughly to crack open the flavours. You can also run it in a mixie or spice grinder to a coarse powder
  3. In the same pan, I warmed the coconut oil, added in the onions and sauteed for 4-5 minutes till they were golden
  4. Next, I tipped i the pepper+saunf mixture and tossed it till everything smelt wonderful
  5. I added in the minced garlic and ginger next, followed quickly by the coriander powder, chicken masala and red chilli powder (only for some colour. If you’re weary of spice, use your judgement here)
  6. When the masalas had cooked down a little, I chucked in the chicken and the curry leaves, turned the flame down low and tossed it all together till the pieces were coated with masala and turning opaque
  7. Then I added salt to taste, a wee bit of water (very, very little) and cooked the chicken covered
  8. When the chicken was cooked and the pieces broke away easily, I uncovered the pan, turned the flame up and cooked it till the water had evaporated, leaving behind a dry and glossy chicken masala
  9. Lastly, I turned the flame off, squeezed the lime juice over the chicken and tossed one last time

Done!

photo 5