Flavours of my childhood rekindled

It has been a long long time since I wrote something for just the sheer joy of writing. Of telling you stories, of giving you a peek into me, my life, my journey so far. When you live an earning as a writer and editor, the blog that does not serve any professional purpose suffers.

Talking of change, I think moving away from Kerala, my roots have made me cherish what I have left behind. Call it the ramblings of a Malayali slowly going senile away from the homeland (also a Malayali who knows she will go senile if she moves back to her hometown too) If only there were less of a love-hate tussle, if only there were fewer contradictions, less conflicted emotions about taking a decision of moving closer to my land of birth.

My tongue keeps reminding me that I am growing older. The flavours I crave are no longer those from across the world - I enjoy them, but I don't crave them the way I now try to recapture the smells and flavours that lingered in my grandmother's and now my Amma's kitchen. Just as I began writing this post, I realised that this blog is filled with similar posts of yearning, something that was unconscious for long. But I no longer try to deny the power it has over me.

In the many years that I have lived away from home, subsistence cooking was largely anything that was easy to cook and tasty too. And considering that I have lived in western India and abroad more than in the south, the choice of easy ingredients available to me defined the cuisine I cooked. So there I was, mastering rajma chawal and an assortment of paneer curries, rustling up chicken dishes adapted from north Indian recipes than the flavours I grew up with. I had the reasoning down pat too - who is going to spend time grating coconut? Not me! Who is going to meticulously choose all the ingredients that go into duplicating mom's dishes? Not me. Unlike north Indian dishes that are redeemable and salvageable at most stages of cooking, I often found Malayali cooking a difficult art to master - forget an ingredient or two and you know it doesn't taste authentic anymore! And if it doesn't hit the high notes that your mom's and grandmom's cooking hit, then you'd rather not play that music, but invent some of yours. The benchmark then can be set pretty low.

Since I moved to Delhi over four years back, I have been trying to bring bits of my mother's kitchen into mine. When you marry into a Punjabi family, you think they would be impressed with your love for roti over rice, your expertise in whipping up dals and chhole than an avial or a koottukari. Not the case for me! At every family gathering, there would be a demand for a dish from my kitchen - and you know by now which direction the cuisine suggestions would point!

So there I was, on the phone with Amma every other day asking for one recipe after another. Initially, the flavour profiles were baffling and the fear of failing to reproduce them faithfully a big stumbling block. When did that ever deter the new family from sweetly requesting more Madrassi dishes? From the dosa breakfast that I was pretty adept at turning out, I graduated to the appams and ishtu. The crowning moment perhaps was when Amma asked me for my recipe for making chicken ishtu (stew). At home, we have always stuck to the veggies version, but here, I went out and improvised my own version, which till date is one of my fail-proof signature dishes. And then buckling under pressure, I made a sadya for Onam of 14 dishes (you better believe it!) for about 20 people! Yes, I had help, but I was the only one who knew what I was cooking! (Perhaps that helped too, that I wasn't serving it to discerning elders who'd nitpick on ingredients being out of sync! Instead I was serving a family who made me feel like I'd just won the Masterchef competition)

These days, I have found myself craving dishes that I have stayed away from for the best part of my childhood. Avial has entered my list of all-time favourite dishes (I can hear Amma's evil laugh and I told you so!) Parippu dosas and an assortment of upmas are weekend treats at my place now.  The joy of trying out new dishes, opening the lid off the vessel on the stove and inhaling deep to be transported back into Amma's kitchen - that's the subtle nudge and power of nostalgia.

The cuisine that tingles your tongue is often one that lies dormant in your blood till one day you wake up - older and wiser - more appreciative of the wisdom in your Amma and Ammumma's cooking style, their precise measures and the unwillingness to experiment or tweak it too much lest the flavours they sought to recreate every time were irreparably tampered.

There was a time that I had laughed at the rigidity and promised myself never to be sucked into that. But even as I experiment and tweak recipes to suit my kitchen and convenience, I go back to trying to do it atleast once just like Amma does it - it makes me feel closer to her, smell the smells that surround her and to earn the delighted smileys she sends my way through Whatsapp when I tell her my dish tasted just like hers!

Delhi - Will you make Fraaaandship with me??

I just realised that 2011 for me began in Brighton, 2012 in Mumbai and now 2013 looks all set to begin in Delhi - my bags are forever packed and I'm always ready to go (but I have not travelled yet to celebrate New Year's anywhere) I'd rather be home ( mine or anyone else's and bring the New Year in quietly...and relatively soberly too! :)

2013 looks set to be a year like one I have not had before..it is true that I'm talking about 2013, a month after it is set in.. :) But then procrastination is the middle name these days..

So now I'm trying to make fraaaandship (friendship does not cover the hesitant overtures I'm trying to make) with Delhi...

• Taaak the talk...waaaak the walk...mix hariyanvi lingo into my English to mix in with the masses, while wearing boots and make-up for a quick run to the mall ( I forgot to mention my little handbag!) to fit in with the only seen-at-the-mall classes! ( I kid you...I couldn't really do that! Ok, the boots is true..they are really comfortable..but all the rest is not true! I hop to the mall mostly for movies, when I'm in my natty boots with my Uni sweatshirt)
• When you swear never to live in a city, be sure that the city is not listening and plotting to take vengeance...Delhi laughed its killer laugh when I landed bag and baggage, of that I'm sure.. I'm still quaking in my boots about Gurgaon's revenge - I had flatly refused to move to Gurgaon, wonder when that refusal will boomerang to thwack me in my face (someone up there is keeping a track of all that I swear I will NEVER do and ticking me off too saying NEVER SAY NEVER!) 
• From the best pubs to explore, I'm thinking homely barbeques to ward the cold...I am brrrr-ing away without central heating ( just in case you wonder how I can crib after braving England through two winters) 
• For a tie and dyed South Indian like me, Mumbai should have remained the final frontier, but then you realise that there is a big bad world out there ( read Dilli) - where the classes and the masses appear to be separated by a fort wall and a moat...I often feel that the Delhi that I see is not the Delhi that you see from a BMW or a Ferrari...similarly it must be very different when you look at it from one of those battered and dusty state buses that appear like sardine cans, packed to the hilt. 
• Can I woo you to my side by saying the food is a big lure? That once you get to Delhi, you live to eat and not eat to live?? Kulchas, Chhole, Kebabs, Moong vadas, Mattar Kachoris..and the list just goes on and on...
• That said, can I ask you to stay out of my face, Dilli? Polite request, don't punch me for that...Is it necessary for you to raise your voice, be rude because someone is taking three seconds more to take a turn? My eardrums still ring from the time you blasted them with a band because your nephew was getting married at midnight..

Every other day on Facebook, despite repeated filters and "I don't entertain strange friend requests" warnings that resemble "Keep away from this house, Dog inside" boards - I still get strange requests from people I haven't met, those who are 'acquainted' with me but I am strangely not, those who are serial Friendship Request dispatchers..

Today, I am sending out one for a change - Delhi - Will you make Fraaaaandship with Me?? 

I'll stay out of your face, just give me enough reasons to click Like on your current updates...

Europe - Point and Shoot - Food Gyan

While at the University of Sussex, I had the chance to meet a number of Europeans. Mostly, the discussions would veer towards food. Need I say, Brit bashing, then becomes the norm? Well Brit bashing, I must roughly define, is a game of one up-manship where you come up with the lousiest examples of British cuisines. Using vile adjectives don’t win you any points, but if you manage to elicit a shudder in remembrance from one or more members of the group, then your example was successful.
 So there, I have set the context...We started our two city Europe adventure with little expectations...When you race to Gatwick at 4.30 in the morning to catch a flight, food isn’t foremost on the mind. 

Food Funda(FF) 1: If you choose wisely, then each meal can make you feel like you died and went to heaven..Even before we caught the train to Amsterdam Centraal from Schipol Airport, we had our first taste of heaven – Stropwaffels..So what are they? Tiny, crispy discs of waffles with loads of sugar and butter in it – with or without chocolate and other fillings. Felt like a taste of heaven( a view that I kept amending every half a day as we had a new meal, till by the end, I wasn’t even inspired to get a packet of stropwaffels back home to UK with me!)

F F2: It is better if you aren’t a vegetarian in Europe, for it limits your food-orgasms drastically. But if you travel with friends who eat anything that does not talk back or bite them, then you will be able to at least report on how good the food is! In Amsterdam, the check-in times are usually around 2PM, which meant that we had to while quite some time away in other places.

FF3: I wouldn’t suggest you walk into a ‘coffeeshop’ the first thing in the morning. If you do, you might not walk out for the rest of the day. Plan your trips to the coffeeshop, would be my wise advice. So after chucking a couple of ‘wholesome breakfast’ options at coffeeshops, we finally walked into a cafe that served us some wholesome food indeed...I twisted my tongue over ordering a chicken schnitzel sandwich( try it, try it casually and see if it does not go schnizhhhul, snitszhul and stuff..or maybe I was in sleep-deprived semi-coma!) but the world righted itself, after the first cup of a great cappuccino and the sandwich. 

FF 4: Amsterdam is great for food. Especially when you arrive here from the UK, the food feels delicious and under-priced. Never thought I’d say that about any place in Europe. But then, Paris began punching massive holes into my Euro wallet. The only consolation was, I was paying good money for some great food!

FF 5: We followed our brunch with a hearty snooze and then began planning our food stops even as we tried to find our way across Amsterdam. We ended up at a Bagel chain ( I forgot the name – it was a clever one) that we girls thought was a Quaint Cafe discovered by us. We hadn’t gone two streets down after having some yummy bagels with exotic cream cheese and one sweet one ( apple and cinnamon bagel with butter and chocolate sprinkles) when we noticed just another similarly ‘quaint cafe’. The realisation hurt, but what the heck, the stomachs were singing with pleasure. The hot chocolate with cream (seen here along with a fruit explosion) also helped ease the hurt!

FF 6: Travelling to Spain didn’t materialise, but we had some gorgeous Spanish Tapas. Tapas is typical Spanish fare which is served in small portion. So you might need about 6 dishes to feel kind of close to satiating your hunger. If you ever get to do it right, don’t miss the chance. And boy, did we do our meal right or not...A jug of Sangria –that is red wine with orange and apple rinds and a dash of orange juice to make it cocktailly – set the mood. Some of this yummy bread dunked in olive oil, with the tapas – ahhh...another slice of heaven. And between the three of us, the meal was about 42 euros only!!! In the UK, you’d easily shell out that amount for a meal for two without the wine and I’d not take wagers on the food.

FF 7: If you are ever in Amsterdam, don’t say no to their breads or stuffed pastries. The Dutch bake like a dream and when you pay under 1 Euro for most of these concoctions, you feel like you are getting great value for money. However, a Europe trip straight out of India’s cheap food prices might bring on a mini heart attack at the cost of everything in this part of the world!

FF 8: On one of our padayatras through the myriad –straats along the canal, we had seen a tiny shop called the Pancake Factory. A little searching online revealed that it was the most popular destination for all kinds of pancakes, crepes and what not. So we kept aside a considerable amount of time on the last day in Amsterdam for sampling their fare. Travelling with good friends make your food journeys cheaper. Between the three of us, we ordered up all the house specialities – pommefritjes (remember I told you about that in the last post?) with chocolate and cream and honey and mandarins and a savoury pancake with chicken and cheese. We had to wait for our seats and for our orders to be taken. But it was worth the wait, I say!

FF 9 : The stereotype about Parisienne food was created because there were enough people who endorsed it. We joined that rapidly increasing group. The Indian girl who travelled with me – a hardcore carnivore said she’d died and gone to heaven after her first encounter with a French steak. So much so that she willingly offered herself for a high cholesterol death by ordering different versions of the steak at the various meals in Paris. Must I say much about the wine and cheese? Though I must admit here, that we had by then started going cheap with our selections as the wallet began getting lighter faster than we anticipated.

FF 10: Don’t eat by the eateries near the Eiffel Tower if you are the kind to feel the Euros pinch. Save your hunger for the smaller, lesser known bistros along Montmartre regions. The food is equally luscious – my personal favourites – a salad with grilled goat’s cheese on tiny squares of toasts and a divine dressing and a chicken leg with French fries dunked in a glorious mushroom sauce cooked with wine. It set us off by about 20 Euros every meal – the food and wine together, but you wouldn’t regret it!

FF 11: In France, also remember to try the chocolate éclairs and the simple croissants for breakfast with a dash of butter and some jams. The French, I think say some secret chant, as they cook their food. It just refuses to turn out bad!! Ohhh..and did I mention the simple crepes at roadside eateries? They seem like our dosa stalls – they are available just about everywhere...While you are at it, order the one with the Nutella and banana..and tell me if you saw heaven too?!! J
I’m now back to English realities and sandwiches with no salt or pepper. The last baguette that I had packed from Paris before boarding my bus – I remembered how I tried to make it last longer by taking smaller nibbles. The bread alone would have been worth the 5 Euros I paid!!

These Inglorious Bastards...'Truly Indian?'

Ok, No one is allowed to groan....It's another post on food...But I just had to write it....This post is open-ended, hopefully it will bring more dishes to your memory - do send them to me, the most outrageous of them shall find 'meritorious' mention in the annals of my blog. Thanks The Analyst for setting the ball rolling so far as thinking about this post goes... India and China may not have much love lost when it comes to Foreign Relations...after all they are thought of as the Sneaky Chinese, aren't they? Supplying Pakistan with weapons to fight us with when the Indian intelligence has been distracted by squatters sent across the porous North-East borders so that the map along the far flung boundaries in Arunachal Pradesh and Kashmir can be redrawn with red colour pencil and called Chinese territory!! Now I have developed a theory that I might put dub 'The Indian School of Action'. Theorising might be a new addition to my repertoire of skills, thanks to the vast amounts of academic calisthenics that you pursue that while you 'read for your MA'. The question framed: How does India deliver a sucker punch at the more powerful-more prosperous-more enterprising Chinese for their 'outrages'? Basic Premise: Attack them at what they have become famous across the world for, and mutilate it out of recognition!!!! Atleast that's what a lot of 'Indian Chinese' cuisine would have you theorise...It's 'authentic' Chinese food cooked in Indian spices, with soy sauce and loads of corn flour to gag an army with as the ingredients that make them Chinese bastards. And that's how Gobi Manchurian was born. And if the Chinese see it on the menu and think its a tribute to the Gobi desert that stretches barren through a great part of China, well, the ycouldn't be more mistaken!! It's the Revenge of the Indian! Gobi has nothing to do with China, but all to do with how the humble cauliflower is called in Hindi. So you batter fry florets in corn flour till you don't know where the congealed dough begins and the florets end and then dunk them in an unholy sauce made of more cornflour and soy sauce and green chillies with bits and pieces of capsicum and spring onions as floating survivors of the massacre. Now that's the first version that I tasted, later I realised that depending on the Indian cook's particular mood and also his regional location at the moment he was tossing up the dish - the Gobi Manchurian could be red with generous dollops of schezwan sauce also adding to the bastardisation process and instead of capsicum and spring onions, you might be assaulted with huge lumps of soggy cabbage - and all this in enough oil to ensure nothing sticks to the stomach, just uneasily floats around...And then there is the final insult upon injury - garnish with Coriander!!! And there are more bastards living on the innumerable menus of restaurants big and small across India. How about Schezwan Masala Dosa - (gag, you Chinese devil, gag on what we produce in your name!) Chinese Bhel ( that's the humble bhelpuri where the rice puffs are replaced by fried noodles which are called chopsuey and served by all self respecting Udupi hotels who pride on providing tasty Chinese takeaways) And then there are the Chinese soups which have massive dollops of ingredients non-Chinese including Tamarind and Turmeric.... Ohhh and did I mention Chilly Paneer? Paneer or Indian cottage cheese (very often rubberised as well in South India where they still haven't figured how to make it yet and rely on the ugly little bricks that come frozen in packets) deepfried ( can Indians have anything any other way?) and then smothered in enough green chillies to turn your ears red like the Chinese flag... Thankfully, since Indians take a rather mild view of tossing up the innards and the entrails of animals and totally look down on frying those pesky grasshoppers that find their way into the house from the garden, many more authentic Chinese food got left alone. Only the bastards managed to thrive successfully here... But if the Indian massacre of Chinese cuisine made the Chinese gurus wince in pain, then they will take pleasure from the way the Indian gurus are yelping in agony at the British carnage of Indian cuisine...Our pakodas taste here like sawdust batterfried with limp onions, the lamb korma is as sweet as kheer or payasam with as much coconut milk also in it...let me not even mention the Chicken Tikka Masala...the list can go on and on... Thats my Global Story of Cuisine Massacres... (P.S: This is not to say that you don't get great Chinese food in India...There are many good restaurants that must make the Chinese feel that there is still some chance for peace talks without filing cases for the genocide of their cuisine at The Hague)

The Comfort of Mulled Wine and Cinnamon Bagels...

With leisure comes the will to appreciate wining and dining... One thing I'll forever be thankful to England for will be the opportunity it gave me to experiment with my cutting boards and knives, spatulas and masalas... The first day that I lugged in my two suitcases into my new residence, I remember my flatmate asking me if I wasnt carrying any kitchen stuff...And like an airhead diva, I laughed my professional laugh and said, I think I will just maybe grab a sandwich or a salad perhaps..Don't think I will be using the kitchen much really....She had smiled wisely at me then- little was I to know that in under two days,I'd be eating my words, literally... When all I could see on menus in eateries around Brighton was Fish and Chips and Bangers and Mash..and supermarket aisles filled with red meat, redder meat and some more red meat...realisation dawned that making my own sandwiches and salads along with a little rajma and a few rotis and some bhaaji in the little cozy kitchen that five of us share... might suit my taste buds and (more importantly) my rather constricted student budget better...Moreover, when the weather gets really cold, theres nothing like a spice-soaked curry to pull you out of the blues... I can't say I endorse the Brit motto of keeping their food far away from the salt and the spice that yearn to cling on to them..But then, when Im not tucking into my cooked-at-home fare I have discovered some things here that are to die for... Coming right at the very top of my favourite comfort food these days is a hot toasted cinnamon and raisin bagel...best fresh out of a bakery.. but even the supermarket ones can be made to taste like chunks of divinity if you cut it perfectly into two equal halves, spread a neat layer of butter and toast it brown inside, slap on some blueberry preserve and eat it even as the buttery vapours rise from it.. And ohh...one of those little fluffed up omlettes..not that they are essentially Brit, but the lack of too many breakfast options like what's rightly demanded by my South Indian palate, makes my mouth water these days for a well done omlette filled with little bits of mushroom, garlic, peppers and maybe even some slices of chicken... also could you please toss on a couple of potato wedges by the side, provided the salt that I add over them is not frowned upon... and while they do that, How I wish to introduce the Brits to the marvels of sprinkling Chat Masala onto anything and everything.. And that brings me to my humble declaration...Im in love...I'm a sucker for the festive spirit already in the air and one spirit in particular...mulled wine...and this is just the season to indulge in one too many glasses... The other day, I went on an expedition literally to taste mulled wine across Brighton..from the little eatery outside Churchill Square which served me a really mean one to the pubs of the city, where the measly glass served got a frown - that was chased away by a smile as the hot drink glided smoothly down my throat.. So now I have decided that through the month of December, I shall have a little pot bubbling on my stove...a few barks of cinnamon, some cloves and some brown sugar caramelised before the red wine is liberally added along with orange juice and some chunks of fruit and mulled right....Has anyone got a better tasting recipe? So next time someone says British food like the weather is insipidly unpredictable, Ill ask them to try my favourites..And then, let them tell me I have not discovered the best things British yet...Oooh talking of which, I have not even talked about the cakes and the assorted English tea accompaniments...Lets save that for another rainy day, shall we... Cheers to the festive spirit and the warmth of the mulled wine in my system..