Perfect Weekend Take-Out Food - Does It Exist?

Dear Readers,

As I may have already established through the rather alive-and-kicking 'Food' tab on my blog, I love to cook! For family and friends, Pammi Aunty's cats even. Unfortunately, I am a hit-and-miss sort of cook hence, for general good, I'm not in the catering business.

That said, there are days in my life, once in a week definitely (OK, it’s Friday) that I don’t want to please anyone but myself. When my mother’s home-cooked plain dal khichdi with mango pickles and papad trumps my own, hand-pulsed, spicy saag paneer. Naturally, since I don’t have access to my family in Mumbai and am not sadistic enough to torture my husband to venture into wearing a floral apron after a hard day’s work, I turn to the thriving business of take-out food to appease my senses of personal catering.

Now, I could just get myself hand-measured, pre-curated kits of frozen foods or ready-meal kits to give me the exact sense of nourishment for much less in just about a couple of minutes. But no. That won’t do. I won’t go near a steel cauldron or a cooker. Just give me meals in a box that I merely have to provide half-a-minute of heat to and set about laying on the table seductively with wine glasses and fancy blue china.

And that is exactly why, in my quest for the perfect take-out, I stumbled upon these fashionably suitable, build-to-your-palate, wok restaurants that are all of the rage in Mumbai at the moment.

I had been waiting, with bated breath, for something that will have me eating Chinese out of a cardboard box to arrive in Mumbai ever since I started watching The Big Bang Theory. The idea is delightful, right? All you have to do is receive your food and tip your delivery man — who’s all healthy smiles with just the necessary amount of cheese — handsomely. Also, very encouraging is the fact that they give you forks and everything so no need to bring your cutlery to the party. The only accomplishment that these hand-delivered meals will have you feel is that YOU get to build your own flavours. Yes. Whip out your little Masterchef scribblings. Figure out what protein goes with Kung Pao and coriander and what veggies would subtly pack a punch without being too stringy or clingy. That’s really all there is to it. And if you can’t even get yourself to do that, just consult the most popular choices on the web and play it safe. You get to order your personal wok so no need to negotiate with your partner about just how much broccoli needs to be in there. I mean what’s a romantic meal for two where one of you has to make big sacrifices for the other? Just order what you like and you can fork off as you please. (There’s an unintended pun in there, I’m sure.)

Alas, as rosy as this picture seems, this story doesn't have a happy ending. When I started ordering these take-out woks, I was mesmerized. I tried all the flavour combinations, however ridiculous it sounded to my husband. He called me a mad scientist and stuck to his better-safe-than-sorry Black Bean wok. I, on the other hand, liked playing this game of cooking food on-line, rising up to the adventure of exploring new, tongue-twisting menu items. Who's to say, they may potentially have an equally-satiating effect on my tongue as the joy of calling out their exotic sauce names on the phone. I told all my friends to try it out. Saying things like, “Oh, it’s so convenient!” or “You get what you ask for!” or “Try something-something Bao!” No, I am not making animal sounds. For the uninitiated, Baos are the latest sensation to hit the Chinese food market in Mumbai.

It took about six drunken seasons of Game of Thrones, one of Stranger Things and another two of Scream to awaken me to what my scorched taste buds were trying to telling me.

They all fucking taste the same.

Well, not quite though. There will be at least three categories of sauces in there ranging in the level of hotness-quotient mystique. One will be soy — salty, beany, slightly bitter for those of you who can’t handle any peppers other than the bell pepper variant. One will be posing as a full-bodied sauce — tangy, sweet, coconutty, mysterious, with hits of spices that’ll have you hold you a glass of water within your reach. The last one will be a no-holds-barred spicy sauce that’ll not give your palate enough time to look out for other flavours as it’ll get burned out before you try to go all, “Hmm…I get star-anise.”

So that’s talking about the sauces. You ordered protein in it too, remember? Since there are now only eight planets in the solar system (or is it nine again), you’ll get only those numbered quantities, in tiny, dried-out chunks, orbiting your portion of wok. (Serves you right for ordering a personal wok.) With each iteration of order, we’ll take one away. (Cos it’s fun that you still haven’t figured out how we’re ripping you off.)

Oh, also since you want an entrée to go with your main meal, what are you going to order? Sushi right? Sushi at your doorstep, so why the hell not? Well, here’s a run-down on how to order your sushi. Don’t take it away! And if you do take it away, you’ll have to drown it in soy sauce and dabs of Wasabi to have it do its fair bit of artsy-fartsy talking. Even then, it’ll give you nothing to speak of…except a foul-smelling barf.

That brings to imagination the desserts and beverages offered along with these largely-institutional meals. Well, they are no more carefully-curated than your local grocery’s can of Coke. So don’t jump in there with high expectations, please.

And finally, that brings me to a wider spectrum of thought. Why do we eat take-out food? Granted, you don’t want to step out and you don’t want to sweat your pantry muscles out. But when we do, why would we choose something seemingly-synthetic and gelatinous out of a cardboard box over Shetty Anna’s special, layered Hyderabadi Biryani or your trusted Chinese Dragon’s chowmein that your cute Nepalese sous-chef tosses right in front of you and that does satiate all your greasy, unhealthy cravings? Why would you not, instead, go to Ramu Kaka’s halwai and pick up that tried-and-tested Ragda Pattice that’s been simmering in ghee just for you? At the end of the day, they’re equally calling out to your taste buds, promising you a dinner date to savour and a morning volcanic upheavel to remember.

For me, the wok restaurants charmed me with their option of personalized menus. Considering the principles of a good Chinese meal being followed — the right amount of stir-frying, crispy textures, soy, garlic and ginger and an appropriate Indo-Chinese reinterpretation, there’s got to be win-win in a personalized wok. You get to say ‘No’ to crackling spinach and pak choy and ‘Yes’ to roasted cashews and burnt garlic.
Except for the fact that what I had was far from good Chinese cooking. It was far from good cooking.
For beginners, from what I have read about Chinese food, they consider the meal staple as the rice or noodle. Everything else is a side-kick. The last wok I ordered gave me noodles running chewy and dry.

So that was pretty much the jolting click of finality to me.

We live in a world where time is scarce, waiting-lines are long and convenience is key. One of the perks of living in a big city like Mumbai, I’d say, is woman, you’re never short of grub! Whether you’re looking for something spicy and satisfying or brothy and nourishing or greasy and err…greasier, you wanna make sure that you enjoy it thoroughly when you do (even if that possibly means that you’ll be waking up with burning regret.)

And on that count, I'm bidding farewell to build-your-own wok restaurants.

What are your favourite take-out options? I’d love to know more about what you’re eating this weekend. Especially, if you’re eating from the suburbs of Mumbai. Pray do tell :).

The Dreaded Dhokla Chronicles

One of the ambiguous pleasures of being a mum to a morning-school going toddler is having to fix her breakfast tiffin. I don't necessarily think that going to the kitchen the first thing in the morning before even addressing my camel breath is a mood-kill. I love cooking, so in a way being Ambrosia-like even at seven am gives me joy at some masochistic level. But get this. It was Thursday. Which spells the dreaded words D-H-O-K-L-A on her weekly menu. Nahin!!! Ye dhoka hai. 

Like Seriously...what's your secret?

For those of you who've never gone for high tea in an Indian household or have managed to overlook the savouries in a desi mithai shop or still haven't found their calling to take the great Indian train yatra to just about anywhere in India, let me paint you a picture. Dhoklas are light, airy, yellow savoury cakes made out of chickpea flour and semolina. Spiced with a bit of chilli, tempered with popping mustard seeds and curry leaves, garnished with coconut, soaking in a bit of sugar syrup for a mysterious angle, they're the most irresistible of street snacks.

Since even the street-corner chai waala seems to serve these airy delights with a breeze (pun not intended), I thought it only makes sense to open my somewhat-deft hands to them - well the pressure of cracking them seemed immense considering it now featured in my kid's weekly menu. Peer pressure in a nutshell y'all.

Let me just say that I've had my fingers burned, literally and figuratively, in the quest of making my Gujarati sistas proud (or just have me sit at their table.)

The curtain raiser to every one of my dhokla attempts started with my house-help talking about magic spells and secret ingredients (Did anyone whisper Eno?) and swishing of wands - aka - whipping spoons. I thought to myself, "Hmm...there's too much dependency on voodoo going on for a savoury delight that's as ubiquitous as the "I've got kids" hairdo at school drop-off." But whatever. I did everything diligently, with my nimbu mirchi on the side, and a prayer in my mind. Alas, it didn't rise. The first time. Or the second. Or even the third. I had to get my house-help to do it and it rose to the rooftops, like a surgically-enhanced bosom, shining in all its sun-kissed, velvety sheen.

I don't get it. Am I not giving it enough space? Is my dhokla relationship crumbling under the weight of pressure? Am I the cursed one?

Making instant dhoklas in the kitchen has been like living  in my own self-raised hell, for reasons I can't even begin to understand. But today something had changed. You see I put the dhoklas in the steamer and went to get dressed and just out of the blue, I got a strong whiff of smoke. I raced back to the kitchen waiting for a brand new disaster to greet me this morning. I opened the steamer.  Et voila! Amidst the mist of smoke, I could see the dhokla batter revealing itself to have risen perfectly! Tears of joy stream down my eyes as I attempt to unveil the pillowy magic on my plate. But no....wait! Let me do the tempering first. In a ruse to add the Jamnagar to  my nerve-jamming production, I temper it with mustard seeds and curry leaves and decorate it with coconut strands. 

I do a flip like the way the cooks on Masterchef do it, in my head the tense drumbeat ushering in uptempo flute-cello in the background. 

Wait, change that to an anti-climax music score. It was stuck. Even though it was perfect and airy outside, it was all gooey and mushy on the inside, much like me on Dhokla Thursdays.

With quivering lips, I gather it all up in crumbs and stuff it in Saanvi's tiffin. It's a gloomy Thursday. We're walking down to the rickshaw and I ask Saanvi to watch out for fresh dog-poo on the side, before staring at it for a good twenty seconds to appreciate the uncanny resemblance of it to her dabba contents.

Well, as Matt Preston would say, it's the taste that counts :).

Have any memorable cooking disasters to share? Nothing to be ashamed of, people!

Grandma's Desi Ghee Laddoos - An Epic Journey

"Many a hands have rolled me into life, folding me with their own legends to tell. Each pair of hands tries to recreate the same magic touch of their ancestors; they hushed into my ears a little heirloom secret. Some said, "My mama told me to wait for your essence to envelop the whole house in its earthy aroma before embellishing you with cardamom, sugar and nuts. Some told me how the cracks to my spell can be found in pure, unadulterated ghee and dollops of love, of course. Some hands held me unsteadily, not knowing how to bind me intact. Some trembled with a pallor, when I failed to emit that matronly glow that is oh-so-inviting. The hands that held me most steadily were the ones that were creased with the warmth of a million lines. These lines mapped the journey of a seed sown with love, laughter and care blossoming into memories that lasted a lifetime. And these memories live on in me with each pair of hands moulding me into their own happy place...into their own blessed childhood."

Source: Astropeep

When it comes to festivals and celebrations, it begins with the rolling of magic in your kitchen, doesn't it? Let's face it. As ladies of the house, we're just expected to pouf out floaty meringues and perfect parfaits and al dente gulabjamuns and flawless what nots! So God help me... In my first year as a mum, I was consumed by an overwhelming nostalgia - one that got me attempting the un-attemptable. Making besan laddoos. You see, before I became a mom, I never quite crossed over completely to the other side to switch places with my mum , mum-in-law and grandmum.  It just felt like such a sacred, high-pedestaled spot. Ah, the pressure of creating a memorable laddoo! What if it turned rock-hard and my daughter tossed it around in play instead? What if it crumbled to bits before she could put it in her mouth? It'd be as terrifying as watching an avalanche, I think. I could easily be the mom who created laddoos that should be tucked in a handbag along with pepper spray as defense weapons. So I wasn't really ready to be on the other side of life stirring a slotted spoon vigorously into a mountain of besan in a bronze-enameled pan, knowing exactly when to turn the heat off. Come to think of it, it was also my unusual way of remaining a kid.

Despite all that, I found myself struggling to untether away from the desire to add the epic to the epicurean laddoos, rolling slickly from generation to generation, also fondly known as dadima ke laddoo. Surely, everyone in a desi home would remember stuffing their face to the point of misery with these cheery little balls lodged up in glass burnees, way ahead of festivals. Some households have besan laddoos all year round with a generous dose of dry fruits. They say it serves as an antidote to every ail that dares to afflict a family with kids. My husband told me a story of how he and his cousins vacationed together every summer. Before they went out to play, their grandma would catch them by surprise at the door by unexpectedly popping laddoos into each one's mouth.  Of course, his grandma's laddoos were melt-in-your-mouth, roasted-to-perfection delights that would hardly meet with any resistance. She happened to be famous in every neighbourhood that she went to for that reason and people waited for her in gleeful anticipation when she travelled to other cities.

So considering how much of an emotional pull this plump confection carries, I just had to get on the phone with my guide and mentor, my mum-in-law, to unravel its mystery. As always, she made it sound incredibly simple and inspired me into my very first attempt. It sounded suspiciously easy-peasy to me. Anyway, I collected all the core ingredients, pulsed the sugar crystals into a fine powder, crushed cardamom pods into it and then ran assorted dry fruits separately through the same grinder. And then I began roasting besan in my holiday-food, giant-sized aluminium pan. I checked my whatsapp in between. I checked on my daughter. I resisted the urge of capturing the steps leading up to its epic-ness on my phone camera. I complained of heat. Maybe, I should have donned a flimsier tee for this task. And then I thought about women from other generations who did the same thing in a much-larger proportion...I mean did they get distracted and impatient like me too?

And while I was doing that daunting task of roasting besan in ghee that had now begun annoyingly lumping around my spoon, I was, rather abruptly, shoved inside another time capsule.

It was mid-afternoon in a seemingly old house with a terracotta roof.  It was of staggering breadths (and not just by Mumbai standards). Its vast rooms were decorated with ornate furniture and crotia table tops here and there. The women sat in a courtyard surrounded by potted plants — the presence of which helped in bringing down the villainy of afternoon heat some notches. The women sat in a circle near the kitchen. Three generations of women immersed in their share of tasks for the day. One sifted flour by vigorously tossing it in the air. Another crushed cardamoms and dry fruits in turn in a large mortar. Another lady in her late-forties carved out symmetrical rectangular shapes out of dense, caramelized coconut in syrupy-goodness spread out on a large thali. They worked closely with the head of the family, a grey-haired woman working in the kitchen. She was emitting beads of sweat, while engrossed in a swift, graceful rhythm of roasting every granule of a large mound of gramflour in a colossal bronze pan. They were all dressed in light cotton sarees, with their pallas cinched at the waist tight, neatly tucked out of their way for maximum productivity. The kids ran about the courtyard and their mums fussed over their near-accidents every now and then. At first, nobody spoke. But soon began a spurt of stories from reminiscences of bygone eras, to the sky-rocketing price of dry fruits, to period stains, to scandals in the neighbourhood. Every now and then, a glint of mischief passed through the grey-haired lady's eyes, who was now evidently flushed from the heat. I don't know much about these women. I don't know if they had aspirations to retire for an afternoon siesta instead or merely read a book in their pjs by themselves. I don't know if they were consumed by any other higher ideals of finding themselves that  directly conflicted with their mundane life.  But looking at them from a distance, I thought that that these ladies, with #no make-up and hair spruced up in awkward buns or #messybraids, were in their prime element here. They seemed most uninhibited in each other's company; perhaps the boundaries of rank melted when they worked together this way. They were happy.

And it occurred to me, that if there's anything missing in the so-called mythical quality of my desi ghee laddoo, it is this magic ingredient. Undoubtedly, our modern lives are getting faster and more cramped with virtual distractions. Our city-dwelling families are shrinking in size. This ghost of an era haunts us with a lesson that the joy of familial cooking was in teamwork and in the innocent pleasure of companionship. It was in putting down our phones and being there in the moment with everybody else. Making the perfect laddoos has never really been JUST about the getting the exact measures or making huge commitments of time and energy to give them an irresistible sheen of golden-brown. It's about the buildup to the laddoo. It's about the whole atmosphere of connecting with our primal senses and of the boisterous hustle-bustle of a family gearing up for festivities. Of stealing them before they can be offered as prasad and then feeling awfully guilty about it. Of sitting round the courtyard in a large family gathering waiting for your turn to be served.

It's no wonder then that I felt the immense pressure of recreating these memories. And while my culinary frenzy pitched high enough for me to create decent laddoos, it goes without saying that they were not quite the same.

But I take it in a bowl to my daughter anyway. And I hope that three decades from now, when she eats one of these, they'd be memorable enough for her to be involuntarily whisked away into a magical place of her own. For now, all she does is squeal "laddoo" before stuffing it in her mouth whole.

And that's a pretty good starting point if you ask me...

Love, Blossoms And Butterflies - In a Bowl of Pasta

If shoes, romance and opera weren't the first things that came to your mind when you heard the word Italian, it's fair to presume you were thinking straight from the gut. (Football lovers...no offense.) The thing that came to my mind (before pizza and Italian hotties) was pasta.

Sure, I may be reading the room wrong here but maybe it's time to profess my love out loud. I LOVE pasta! In a million ways. I love it to every chunk of tomato, every velvety string of mozzarella, every crumble of pesto and to every splash of wine! Let's face it. There's something in it for everyone. Kids love it for cheese. Adults love it for healthier versions of flavor-bursting sauces (and cheese). And cooks... May I speak for all cooks when I say there's no greater joy in cooking a memorable pasta? There's not a single cook I know who doesn't have a go-to pasta recipe. I can cook Arrabbiata on auto-pilot. I can cook a Jain version of it with pantry basics and fresh tomatoes and it'll just taste as great.

Of late, however, I have this inexplicable wanderlust which is leading me to kitchen experiments like never before. So, in an attempt to take my bowl of pasta around the world, I thought of playing a little cupid and getting a bit of Moroccan 'swag' to my red sauce. I mean, it should be a marriage made in pasta heaven. Italy and Morocco are both Mediterranean in essence, right?

So how did I bring a twist to my pasta sauce to tone down that fiery rouge and give it that rosy 'first love' kind of blush instead?
I may have given the answer away, you know.

Farfalle in creamy rose-harissa sauce with pine nuts, sun-dried tomatoes and feta cheese.

This sauce combines the flavors of grilled smoked chillies, ripe tomatoes and rose petals to give you a wonderfully balanced, unusually refreshing flavor. The thing is I make harissa regularly, the lazy cook that I am. Harissa happens to be this inventive North African dip that goes with everything - bakes, grilled veggies, pan-fried fish. And this lovely rose petal harissa, inspired by a Jamie Oliver recipe, is one that elevates even your plain-jane grilled something-something to a smoky, swanky delight.

So I thought, you know, what's the worst that can happen if I swirl it into a bowl of pasta?

And it blew our minds! Butterfly-shaped pasta immersed in a sauce blended with ripe, juice tomatoes and fresh fragrant blossoms of rose petals with spicy, smoky hints of chilli. I reinvented it with cream and feta cheese for a pinker-looking sauce. Besides, the creaminess of Feta mellows down the fiery temper of chilli. Add to that the earthy crunch of toasted pine nuts and the playful, tangy notes of sun-dried tomatoes and you have yourself an irresistible recipe. There's butterflies, there's blossoms and there's cheese. Coupled with a glass of sparkling wine, this one's sure to make your hearts flutter.

OK, maybe I'm overselling it a tad. But if I've piqued our curiosity enough, here is the recipe. Feel free to control the heat level to your delight.

(Note: You can stock up on the Harissa and store it in the refrigerator to be used later. It stores well for up to two weeks.)

Farfalle in Creamy Rose-Harissa Sauce with Pine Nuts, Sun-dried Tomatoes and Feta Cheese
Serves: 3 (Preparation Time: 1 hr 30 minutes.)

What You Need:
300 gms Del Monte Farfalle pasta
Feta Cheese - 1/4 cup grated
Fresh Cream - 1/4 cup
Sun-dried tomatoes  - 1/2 tablespoon
1/4 cup Pine Nuts - toasted till fragrant (You may also substitute with walnuts)

For the Harissa Sauce:
4 ripe tomatoes, quartered
6-7 fresh red chillies (broken)
4 cloves garlic (unpeeled)
Olive Oil - 5-6 tablespoons
Sea Salt
Coarsely ground pepper
2 teaspoons cumin
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1 teaspoon paprika
A handful of rose petals, washed
4 tablespoons rose water
2 tablespoons caster sugar
A splash of red wine vinegar
Extra Virgin Olive Oil

For Garnishing:
Rose Petals
Parmesan Cheese - slivered
Parsley - chopped

Method:
I. Harissa Sauce Preparation
1. First, make the harissa sauce. Preheat the oven to 160 degrees C. On a baking tray, spread the tomatoes, cut side up, along with fresh red chillies and unpeeled cloves of garlic. Drizzle generously with olive oil and sea salt. Roast in the oven for an hour.

2. After an hour, remove from the baking tray and set aside to cool. De-seed the chillies and peel the garlic. I already de-seeded mine before putting them in the oven to control the heat.(You can also place them under water to get the seeds out.)

3. Blend together cloves of garlic and chillies until roughly chopped. Now toss in coriander seeds, cumin seeds, paprika, salt and pepper. Blend until smooth.

4. Then, add the tomatoes, rose petals, rose water and sugar. Pulse briefly so you get specks of tomatoes and rose petals in your sauce.
Note: Roses are in plenty, no doubt. But you want to make sure your roses are chemical-free. I got mine from an aunt's flower pot. Opt for edible dried rose petals otherwise.

5. Transfer to a bowl and mix in a splash of red wine vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. Your harissa is now ready.

Special Tip: For more fragrant, deeper flavors, make it the night before using it for your pasta.

II. Pasta Preparation:
1. Bring a large pan of water seasoned with a generous amount of salt and two tablespoons of olive oil to boil. When the water reaches boiling point, drop Farfalle pasta into it. Cook according to the pack instructions until al dente.

Note: Al dente really means you want to have a soft texture when you bite into it but it has to meet with an ever-so-slight resistance when you chew. (As opposed to just melting away.)

2. Drain onto a colander and refresh immediately with cold water. The reason you do that is when your pasta gets to this immaculate state, you don't want the heat to cook it any further. Drizzle with olive oil and leave aside for five minutes.

3. In a wok, heat some olive oil. On a moderately high flame, add the harissa sauce. Stir in cream until it turns a lovely coral orange. Blend well.

4. Now toss in farfalle with sundried tomatoes and toasted pine nuts and grated feta cheese. Toss vigorously on high flame for 2-3 minutes until the cheese starts to melt and the sauce is well-infused.

5. To serve, finish with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and a garnish with parsley. Decorate with rose petals and slivers of parmesan.

If you like this recipe, you're going to love a host of innovative, lip-smacking pasta recipes as offered by Del Monte on:

https://www.facebook.com/DelMonteIndia

Bon Appetit!

All My Love for Red Bean Biryani

You know how sometimes kids can be all-so-discerning about food for no reason at all? And while you may give that an optimistic spin and think they're the next Gordon Ramsay or something, may I speak for all mums and say it's not so much fun being around them. For Saanvi, it's the same old story that goes for all three-year olds. No greens, no pasta, no slimy noodles, no chillies....no everything...unless maybe if it's accompanied by Shrikhand. And then you also gotta deal with the toddler fixation. Everything has to be one uniform color. If it's yellow, it's gotta be all yellow. No dark seeds, stringy leaves, mushy tomatoes and other icky-looking stuff peeping right back at you.

That look...it says you're doomed! 

But then I found this magic bowl of rice - food worthy of unicorns and tiny, picky pixies with long faces. It seems to break all the rules of toddler pester- power over eating. It's got longer grains of rice, red beans, muddy brown colored nuts, leafy herbs and a variety of colors and textures. When thrown all together, they made it all the way to my little girl's gut without being contemplated about, tossed around the roof of the mouth for a minute and 'blah-ed' up on the floor in utter rejection. What more, I could  leave her with a bowl of it and she was perfectly good eating it by herself.

Long story short, it was a huge hit. I've been making it almost every weekend and it hasn't gone out of style, unlike Saanvi's former love - her prized corn pancakes and dal khichdi.

It's funny how good food can be a cure for so many life-wrecking problems. Like getting an extra hour of me-time rather than squandering it away on cooking something anew. Whether you're dealing with a notoriously fussy-eating crisis at the dining table or crowd-pleasing party food, this rice delicacy is your go-to recipe!

It's Kashmiri red beans cooked in a fragrant, gently-spiced tomato-mint gravy layered together with long-grained fluffy saffron-infused rice, nuts and herbs. Cynics might say, oh Rajma Chawal! What's the big deal about that? But it's so much more. The variety of textures and flavors give it such an intriguing makeover. Have it on its own or eat it with mint chutney. My daughter, of course, eats it with tomato ketchup and a dollop of ghee. (No surprises there.)

Red Bean Biryani - Serves 2 (and half)

What You Need:

For the Gravy:

1 cup Kashmiri rajma (the smaller, darker variety) - soaked overnight

3 medium-size tomatoes - finely chopped

1 large onion - sliced

2 teaspoons ginger-garlic paste

A handful of mint leaves, torn

A handful of coriander leaves, finely chopped

Dry Spices:

1/2 teaspoon turmeric

2 teaspoons coriander powder

1 teaspoon chilli powder

1 teaspoon amchur powder

1 teaspoon freshly ground cumin powder

1 teaspoon garam masala

Bay leaf - torn

Whole spices - 3-4 cloves, 1 inch cinnamon stick and 4 green cardamoms (slit)

Olive Oil - 3 tablespoons

Salt to taste

For the Rice:

1 and half cups long-grained Basmati Rice

Olive Oil - 1 tablespoon

For Layering:

A few Saffron threads (dissolved in two tablespoons milk)

Dry fruits of your choice - Roasted in ghee until golden-brown (I used almonds, cashews and raisins)

Ghee

Sprinkling of Kewra Water (Alternatively, use rose water.)

Chopped coriander and mint leaves 

Method:

Make the Rajma Gravy

1. Pressure-cook rajma in ample water with a piece of ginger and salt. You don't want it too mushy. Eight whistles on a moderate flame would be just right.

2. Drain the rajma in a colander. Reserve the liquid to be used in cooking rice.

3. In a pan, heat olive oil. Add bay leaf and whole spices.

4. When the spices get aromatic, add onions and saute them for two-three minutes on moderate flame. You want the onions to get a light-brown color - just when they start to caramelize.

5. Add ginger-garlic paste and saute for half a minute.

6. Now add finely chopped tomatoes, herbs and dry spices (except garam masala). Cook on moderate flame for five to seven minutes until the oil starts to give way around the edges.

7. Add cooked rajma and salt to your taste. Cook it on medium flame for a few minutes. You want the gravy to be slightly dry. Also take care that your red beans don't get mushy.

8. Sprinkle with garam masala. Blend well. Remove from heat. 

Note: This recipe is gently-spiced. Feel free to add slit green chillies and more garam masala to your liking.

Make Rice:

1. Wash the rice. Soak it in warm water for fifteen minutes.

2. Drain the water and put it in a glass bowl. Add three times reserved bean stock and 1 tablespoon olive oil.

3. Microwave it on high for fifteen minutes.

4. Spread it onto a plate and fluff it using a fork so that each grain separates.

Cheffy Tip: 

1. Adding half a teaspoon of vinegar or lemon will ensure your rice grains separate and fluff. And look extra-long. (That didn't sound right for some reason.)

2. If you're making it for a party, you may even put your whole spices such as cardamoms and cinnamon sticks and cloves in a muslin cloth and pound it slightly and slide it into your glass bowl for some extra-fragrant rice.

Layer:

1. The fun part begins. In a deep microwave-safe bowl, start layering. Add a layer of rajma.

2. Next, add a layer of rice. To the layer of rice, add some ghee, saffron-infused milk, chopped roasted dry-fruits and a few drops of kewra water. (If you're using rose water, add a teaspoon.) Garnish with coriander and mint.

3. Continue layering this way, having rice with garnishing as your top-most layer.

4. Preheat your oven to 180 degrees. Pop your biryani bowl sealed with a lid in the oven. (You may seal it with aluminium foil too. I use a convection oven so I can't really do that.) Bake for thirty minutes.

5. Your warm and aromatic rice goodness is now ready. Remove from oven.

6. Mix well before serving. Serve with mint chutney and raita.

Bon Appetit!

Moveable Feasts - In Paperback

Cooking gives me great joy. So does reading. No wonder then that I have always found an odd sort of comfort in reading about food descriptions in novels, as a kid and now as an experimental home-cook. I can still feel the hunger pangs of little Heidi when she came to live with her grandpa and she can't help gushing over a slab of cheese that he fire-roasts till it was sun-kissed golden. Or even Cassandra's undying lust for fresh bread and eggs that make them seem as indulgent as caviar in I Capture the Castle. Or who can forget that abundant start-of-term feast in the Harry Potter series prepared with nothing but good imagination and a flicker of a wand? I'd give anything for a seven-course meal to conjure from thin air like that!

For a burgeoning cook like myself, I can spend hours reading blogs and stories about food, mesmerized by the pictures and the underlying stories that get brewed alongside every author's personal concoction of happiness.

Food has a way to evoke any powerful and potent feeling that you've ever felt consumed by.

Nostalgia. Remember that stash of your favorite desi ghee laddoos that mum made before Diwali, and then tucked them away onto the topmost shelf out of your reach? And you stood there looking at them pitifully, whimpering like a hungry pup...well until you devised an awkward tower of chairs that'll reunite you with your beloved. 

Infatuation. That desperation and hope and the urge to win over somebody's affection...with every artifice known to man/woman...with expensive dresses and make-up and arty-farty talk and exotic dinners. And you'd do anything for it. But hey have you craved for a slice of chocolate mud cake, post midnight, when even elves are too busy sleeping to oblige you? Nothing else could incite a similar feeling of despair, I'd say!

So without furthur ado, I present to you these epic, mouthwatering word feasts collected from my favorite novels. Hope you're hungry.

Disclaimer: You may be an epitome of self-restraint with your 'Keep calm and ignore junk food' posters and herbal-tea diets but these forbidden fruits will have you wanting to eat out of, uh well, any hand that offers them :).

1. Charlie and The Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl

"Mr Willy Wonka can make marshmallows that taste of violets, and rich caramels that change colour every ten seconds as you suck them, and little feathery sweets that melt away deliciously the moment you put them between your lips. He can make chewing-gum that never loses its taste, and sugar balloons that you can blow up to enormous sizes before you pop them with a pin and gobble them up. And, by a most secret method, he can make lovely blue birds' eggs with black spots on them, and when you put one of these in your mouth, it gradually gets smaller and smaller until suddenly there is nothing left except a tiny little DARK RED sugary baby bird sitting on the tip of your tongue."

And you can sure count on Mr. Dahl to make the most absurd fantasy seem real and accessible. This sugary baby bird is something that, I can vouch, will catch the fancy of the purest of puritans (as well as dentists.)

2. To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

“An exquisite scent of olives and oil and juice rose from the great brown dish as Marthe, with a little flourish took the cover off. The cook had spent three days over that dish and she must take great care, Mrs. Ramsay thought, diving into the soft mass to choose an especially tender piece for William Bankes. And she peered into the dish, with its shiny walls and its confusion of savory brown and yellow meats, and its bay leaves and its wine and thought, "This will celebrate the occasion…”

The delicacy in reference is the famous boeufe en daube. As intimidating as the name may sound, Ms Woolfe went to great lengths to marinate this beef stew with words that melt in your mouth. Ironic isn't it that she had to battle with food nearly all throughout her life and even her generous words failed to coax her to succumb?

3. Like Water for Chocolate - Laura Esquivel

"When nobody eats the last chile on the plate, it's usually because none of them wants to look like a glutton, so even though they'd really like to devour it, they don't have the nerve to take it. It was as if they were rejecting that stuffed pepper, which contains every imaginable flavor; sweet as candied citron, juicy as pomegranate, with the bit of pepper and the subtlety of walnuts, that marvelous chile in the walnut sauce. Within it lies the secret of love, but it will never be penetrated, and all because it wouldn't feel proper."

Like Water for Chocolate is a book that'll make you either very hungry or...well the other thing...

Either way, it will have you craving.

4. Five Go Down to The Sea - Enid Blyton

"The high tea that awaited them was truly magnificent. A huge ham gleaming as pink as Timmy’s tongue; a salad fit for a king. In fact, as Dick said, fit for several kings, it was so enormous. It had in it everything that anyone could possibly want. “Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, radishes, mustard and cress, carrot grated up – that is carrot, isn’t it, Mrs. Penruthlan?” said Dick. “And lashings of hard-boiled eggs.” There was an enormous tureen of new potatoes, all gleaming with melted butter, scattered with parsley. There was a big bottle of home-made salad cream. “Look at that cream cheese, too,” marveled Dick, quite overcome. “And that fruit cake. And are those drop-scones, or what? Are we supposed to have something of everything, Mrs Penruthlan?”

The only 'proper' way to celebrate this high tea menu is to have Julia Childs read it out to you. Only if life were an Enid Blyton picnic.

5. Chocolat - Joane Harris

“I select a dark nugget from a tray marked Eastern journey. Crystallized ginger in a hard sugar shell, releasing a mouthful of liqueur like a concentration of spices, a breath of aromatic air where sandalwood and cinnamon and lime vie for attention with cedar and allspice."
"I take another, from a tray marked Peche au miel millefleurs. A slice of peach steeped in honey and eau-de-vie, a crystallized peach sliver on the chocolate lid."

Oh woman, JUST stop there. Don't disturb the peace in my cavities, will ya? But if truffles and marzipan birds and "long twisted marshmallows that dangle from the stalls of sweet-vendors on carnival days" are your thing, get this book!

6. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - J.K. Rowling

"He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs."

I don't get it. All that she did was list down different kinds of food, half of which I don't even care for. But I'm ravenous!

7. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens

"Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready before­hand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah !"

Oh, forget the grace Timmy! How can you not dive in mouth-first.

8. A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway

"As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans."

And if anybody's looking for scientific evidence that oysters are a gloriously happy food, that's IT.


Got any literary food cravings? I'd love to hear from you.

A Summer Feast to Remember

A Summer-themed Feast

Last weekend, we were invited to a friend's house for dinner. This is a story worth regaling as there were so many lessons worth keeping, not just for the munificence of the feast we had but for how organizing a dinner in summer can be so glaringly simple if we can manage to skip the frills with grace. The key to doing that is to plan a meal using hand-picked ingredients that get along famously to release fresh, sublime flavours without much effort on your part.

Our gracious host, Vidya Nath, was kind enough to offer us a delightful peek into her kitchen to learn the secrets of her divine cooking. Like a seasoned host, she set the tempo of the evening, jiving effortlessly from one culinary wonder to another, while also swaying to some good old hip-hop and bhangra numbers and keeping us entertained. Peaches, my daughter, had a ball of a time gorging down bananas one after the other; the anticipation of good food with all the heavenly smells coming from Vidya's kitchen was playing havoc with her otherwise bird-like appetite.

Speaking of appetite, I don't have much of it during summers. You know how it gets really tedious and overbearing to see through the preparation of stove top curries in this oppressive summer heat... By the time, you finish cooking and get to the part where you can go 'mmm mmm' and pat yourself on the back, you already feel full. You head for a cool shower instead. And if you're from Mumbai, add frizzy hair, nausea and delirium to your state of affairs :).

Our hostess and chef for the evening led us to her beautiful kitchen, where she orchestrated her mid-summer symphony. It was a homey, organized space adorned with plants and stacks of fresh green herbs and fruits and vegetables in a refreshing colour palette. I guess just the look of it brought the temperature down a couple of notches.

This was a summer-themed platter of food that she had carefully planned using exotic herbs and fresh fruits and vegetables; light, airy flavours evocative of the Mediterranean. Each dish that she created was unique in its own right but it also blended so well with its accomplices that we had to take multiple servings just to revel in all the glorious possibilities.

I can go on raving about the food and the company and the simple fact that kids and adults ate and digested at the same time—that, my friend, is a rare phenomenon in my home :).

Without any further rants, I give to you a breezy, romantic summer platter as prepared by the multi-talented chef, Vidya Nath, served with a dash of imagination and dollops of love.

I. The Sides:

Yoghurt Dip with Beetroot and Dill

Yoghurt Dip With Beetroot and Dill

Serves 4
What You Need:
500 gms Hung Curd (left in a muslin for an hour)
2-3 garlic pods (peeled)
Dill - 3/4 cup (finely chopped)
Pepper - to taste
Salt - to taste
4-5 tablespoons Beetroot Puree (we used shop-bought)
Olive Oil: 1/3 cup
Lemon Juice: 2 tablespoons
Chopped Parsley

Method:
1. Place the garlic in a mortar and pestle with some salt and mash it. You may even finely dice the garlic pods.
2. Combine the lemon juice, olive oil, and salt with it. Whisk in the hung curd.
3. Now add the dill to it and mix well. Add freshly ground pepper.
4. Layer it with the beetroot puree. Garnish with chopper parsley.
5. Refrigerate till it's time to be served.
6. Serve with bread or lavash.

Tip: This dip can serve your family for 2-3 days if kept refrigerated in an air-tight jar.

Seasoned Olives

Seasoned Olives

What You Need:
2 cups black olives
4 tablespoons light olive oil
2-3 garlic pods - minced
2 tablespoons lime juice
1/4 cup parsley leaves - finely chopped
Chilli flakes (optional)
Freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Combine olives, lime juice, garlic, oil, pepper, chilli flakes and chopped up parsley in a bowl. Stir it well. Cover with a foil and refrigerate until it is to be served.
2. Serve with pita bread, lavash or any italian bread.
Tip: For extra tang, add some lemon zest to it. This can be refrigerated and used for up to 2-3 days.

Asparagus Spears with Lemon-Caper Butter

Asparagus Spears with Caper Butter

Lemon-Caper Butter
What You Need:
4 tablespoons butter - melted
1 tablespoon capers -mashed
1 lemon- squeezed
Salt and Pepper to taste

1. Melt the butter in a pan until golden.
2. Remove it from heat. Add mashed capers, lime juice, salt and pepper. Blend vigorously with a spoon until the sauce is foamy and thick.
3. Transfer to a bowl and serve with asparagus spears.

Asparagus Spears
What You Need:
6-7 Asparagus Spears
Water
Ice Cubes

1. Stem ends of the asparagus together and cut off one inch off the stems.
2. In a large pan, bring some water to boil.
3. Add the asparagus spears to the water and let it cook covered for no more than three minutes.
4. Drain them in a colander and refresh with ice cubes.
5. Serve immediately with lemon-caper butter else they'll go limp.

Tip: Asparagus can easily cross the line from being perfectly cooked to overdone. Make sure you give it your full attention while cooking it.

Herbed Cous-Cous (Tabouleh Style)

Cous-Cous Tabouleh Style

What You Need:
2 cups fine cous-cous
2 maggi stock cubes
3 cups water
1 tablespoon roasted sesame seeds
2 tablespoons pomegranate seeds
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon roasted coriander seeds (optional)
Coriander to garnish
Parsley to garnish

1. Add maggi stock cubes to water and bring it to boil.
2. In a bowl, toss the couscous in with the olive oil.
3. Slowly, pour in the boiling hot water, stirring vigorously to let it fluff. You can fluff it with your hands too to avoid lumping.
4. Stir in the lemon juice and roasted sesame seeds.
5. You can also season it with chilli flakes and mixed herbs for flavor.
5. When the couscous is all fluffed up and soft, garnish with pomegranate seeds, coriander and parsley.

II. Mains

Summery Watermelon Salad with Parmesan and Mint

Watermelon Salad with Parmesan and Mint

What You Need:
Watermelon cut into 4-inch triangles and deseeded - 10-12
Parmesan Cheese - grated 1/2 cup
Olive Oil - 1/2 cup
Juice of 2 lemons
Thick Curd (or Greek Yoghurt) - 1 cup
Mint sprigs - 1/2 cup
Salt - to taste
Pepper - to taste
Toasted pumpkin seeds - 2 tablespoons

1. Prepare a salad dressing. Mix olive oil, yoghurt, pepper and salt. Blend well.
2. Add grated parmesan cheese into it while stirring continuously.
3. Arrange watermelon slices on a plate. Drizzle the dressing profusely on to the watermelon triangles.
4. Tear mint spigs or put them whole as garnish.
5. Sprinkle the pumpkin seeds on to the slices.

Tip: You may also use Feta cheese instead of Parmesan for a creamier dressing.

Black Grape and Rocket Salad

Black Grape and Rocket Salad

What You Need:
2 cups Black Grapes - halved
4-5 shallots (peeled and thinly sliced)
1 cup Rocket Leaves (torn)
1 Cup Red Wine Vinegar (or Balsamic Vinegar)
 Small Parmesan Slivers (to garnish)
Salt to Taste

1. Soak the thinly sliced shallots in red wine vinegar and salt. Let stand for 10 minutes.
2. Dice the black grapes into halves.
3. Mix the two generously letting the pink juices from the shallots and vinegar seep in.
4. Add the torn rocket leaves and mix.
5. Cut small wafer-thin slivers of parmesan and garnish them on top of the salad.

Caponata

Caponata

What You Need:
3 large Aubergines - cut into large chunks
3-4 Red Chillies - deseeded and cut long
1 and 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
10-12 small button mushrooms - whole
2-3 garlic pods - peeled and finely sliced
8-10 whole unpeeled garlic pods
Pepper - to taste
Sea Salt - to taste
4 tablespoons Olive Oil
Basil leaves - to garnish

1. On a pre-heated, greased baking tray, spread the aubergine chunks with deseeded chillies and whole garlic pods.
2. Mix in the seasonings and salt and pepper.
3. Pour olive oil in and mix well.
4. Bake in the oven at 180 degrees C for half an hour.
5. Season mushrooms with garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper.
6. When the aubergine is done, add the mushrooms. Bake for an additional ten minutes.
7. Garnish with torn basil and keep hot till it is time to serve.

Honey-Glazed Roast Chicken and Bacon

Honey-Glazed Chicken with Bacon

What You Need:
5-6 Chicken Legs
6-7 Strips of Bacon (minced)
4 tablespoons Light Soy Sauce
2 tablespoons Honey
1 tablespoon Garlic - minced
3 tablespoons Lime Juice
Salt - to taste
Pepper - to taste
Chopped fresh tarragon (optional)
Basil leaves (torn)

1. Using your fingers, mix together the chicken legs and bacon strips in a bowl.
2. Add soy sauce, honey, salt, pepper, garlic and lemon juice to the meats.
3. On a pre-heated baking tray, spread the chicken legs coated with bacon and seasonings and drizzle the remaining juices from the bowl on to them.
4. Pour a dash of oil and pop it in the oven. (Baking chicken doesn't require much oil as it cooks in its own fat.)
5. Let it bake on 180 degrees C for 30 minutes.
6. Adjust seasoning and garnish with torn basil or chopped up tarragon.

Phew...Can you imagine eating all of that for one dinner? To top it all, we had a home-made kiwi and cucumber mint sorbet for dessert.

I don't think I'll be able to reproduce the same symphony from that night even if I tried. But I hope these recipes will lead you to the incredible summer feast that we savoured, without driving you out of the kitchen in a heat stroke.

The Chef and All Her Helpers

Thank you Vidya, Purnendu and kids for a wonderful evening! And thank you Ajit for being such an enthusiastic co-learner (and ofcourse, for the lovely pictures).

The Upside of Holi - With a Summer Treat

The sun was rippling all over the amphitheatre from above the palm trees circling it and beyond the skyline of our high-rise building.  I dreamily watched Peaches playing in the pleasant heat, swaying to the cool summer breeze, her curly locks glistening gold in the mellow sunshine.

Taking a deep breath and thinking to myself, " Why can't Mumbai be like this all year around?"

This is the state I want to be in, the pre-Holi one. The one in which everything about living in Mumbai is a blessing, even being stuck in traffic. Where the heat's not moved up to the point of being oppressive and you can actually float around for a while in the daytime, feeling a clean sort of summer glow radiating from your skin. (As opposed to greasy T-zone and under-arm patches and all sorts of gunk showing up on the best of your face.)

And then we come to Holi. I try my best to put on a brave face for Holi, not just cos the weather starts taking a pretty ugly turn from here on till pre-monsoons. Don't get me wrong. I like Holi. I like the visual effect of air puffs breaking into a kaleidoscope of colors. I like seeing bright happy faces with stained teeth, moving around with the awkward gait of damp kittens. I like getting wet in the rain dance - for a while. But then it just gets monotonous. I like thandai too. Never had the bhaang variety though.

Peaches's First Holi

But hey, don't even get me started on the premature Holi celebrations. I mean you just step out for a walk and a dirty balloon chooses to piss all over your perfectly done-up hair. And no, you can't say WTF cos first of all, we need to watch our language in front of kids and second of all, what are you, a spoilt sport? And then some people just happen to pretend they're in some ridiculous life-threatening warfare and that you, an innocent passerby humming a sweet melody, are in fact a vicious Pakistani soldier in an apocalyptic state of mind. A little over-the-top, I'd say.

Anyway, I won't go on rambling about what I don't like about Holi and how I think some people take the "Bura Na Maano Holi Hai" clause to sleazy heights. Let's just stop at saying that I can't stand the aftermath, since, as a mum, I spend most of time dealing with mess.

But I've decided that there are some things that I am going to look forward to this Holi, food and refreshment wise. Among which, I'd love to share with you a heady summer delight, the perfect antidote to the imminent, intolerable cruelty of Mumbai heat.

Two words that shout out a staple summer craving. Watermelon and Ice-cream. A combination of it would really have to struggle to go wrong, I suppose. Ripe watermelons seeping all their generous juicy goodnesses into a light sorbet laced with the sweet, earthy hint of basil. And who can resist hues of pop-candy colors in summer?

Image Source: www.food52.com

While I prepare the Holi must-eats, a.ka. gujjias and mathri, I look forward to tomorrow cos apart from all the despicable madness, I get to usher in summer with this sorbet cup, relished with the hubby and kid.

Et voila! Here's an inventive watermelon make-over that'll bring the joy of summer to your homes. Not to mention, it's light on the calories.

Watermelon and Basil Sorbetto (Serves 2)
[If you're wondering about not having an ice-cream maker, this recipe doesn't use one. Just add some extra effort and ducking your face in the freezer on your part but I promise, it's worth it!]

You need:
1 cup of  sugar
1 cup of water
Half a watermelon - deseeded and broken into large chunks
1 tablespoon of freshly squeezed lime juice (the juice of 1 standard lime)
1/4 cup of fresh basil, minced

Prepare the sugar syrup:

• In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar and water to a boil without stirring.
• Let it boil on low flame until the sugar has completely dissolved. Remove from heat and keep aside.
• After it cools down, refrigerate while you make the rest of the sorbet.

Puree the watermelon:

• While the syrup is cooling, puree the watermelon chunks with lime juice in a blender.
• Strain it through a mesh strainer for some unadulaterated watermelon-y goodness.

Combine:

• Fold in the sugar syrup with the puree. Add some minced basil with this mixture. There you have it. Candy pink sorbet mix with little specks of green pixie dust.
• Chill it in the refrigerator for an hour.

Achieving a Smooth Sorbet:

• Use a deep baking tray or something durable that can be popped in the freezer for long. Pour your sorbet mix onto it.
• After 30-45 minutes, open the freezer. If it's freezing around the edges, take a spatula and just ruin everything. Your kid will be happy to oblige. You need to stir it violently so that it breaks down. Alternatively, use a hand blender. Like really...beat the shit out of it.
• Re-freeze and repeat. Do it every half hour for about two-three hours. Once you get a smooth icy texture, your sorbet is ready.

Quenelle it on to your ice-cream cups and enjoy it in all its vibrant glory!

Recipe Source: http://strawberrymint.org/2012/07/14/watermelon-sorbet-with-basil/

Saving Christmas - With Melting Moments

Grand Confession: I have a formidable attachment to Christmas.

It can be traced back to my rose-tinted childhood, even though we weren't much of those open-minded, all-embracing families that celebrate all major festivals with pomp and glitter. I guess it has something to do with my catholic schooling, where the teachers went out of the way to stress upon the true meaning of Christmas - the birth of Christ, not getting presents for being good kids for that week. What, no presents? But that didn't bother us much 'cos we were constantly surrounded by music, tinsel and ornament throughout December. I guess my personal contributions to brightening xmas weren't much to brag about. I was complicit of singing off-key in the choir and ruining the sombre, velvety magic of xmas carols for everyone. I also remained largely stony-faced in the auditions for the three wise men.  But that didn't stop me from enjoying the nativity scene enacted the way it should be alongside extravagant feast and amusement. Those guys. They really did put the Christ back in Christmas.

Then there was college.  I stumbled upon Xmas again with a motley crew of girls, two of them being my BFFs at the time.

Although, I don't quite recollect doing many xmas-like things. In fact, I'm pretty sure the traditional xmas got pretty much eschewed by the end of it.  But we were pretty much rhapsodic about being silly and ambitious and experimental (only food and drink wise). I can't really recollect much of that epic night but an unforeseen splurge of green later, everyone declared their undying love for one another and we all made an oath that the Xmas tradition must continue to live on. And  it sure did. It only got more awesome and traditional, atleast food-wise, with my best friend, Hedge, making her special brandy-soaked christmas cake, all of butter, eggs, syrupy fruits and booze.  Light, zesty and flawless. You can't get more festive than that, right? Oh, she even performed a flambe with the lights turned down and it looked spectacular; nothing short of fireworks.

That night- before the crazies crept in

Which brings me to food...the glorious food of Xmas. Delicious treats loom over my memory above anything else. The promise of a scrumptious Xmas-themed platter and decadent desserts to take home dragged me to awkward lunches with mere acquaintances, hoping that holiday spirit and the saving grace of stuffing syrupy goodnesses in your mouth will prevail over forced laughters and pseudo-intellectual conversations. Glazing roast platters, creamy mashed potatoes, drunken cakes and cookies... Sometimes with people who know you, who get you - well, that's the cherry on the top, ain't it?

Image Source: Pinterest

On the flip, I realized I hadn't made any personal contributions to add magic to this joyous day. Well, until last year. The mom in me sort of woke up to the fact that I better get started with recreating the potent, feel-good, "can't help smiling to myself" aura of this day for my daughter, who incidentally, is now old enough to ask me who Santa is and to sit me down and explain how she has been a good girl this year and that Santa will sneak in a cute lil gift under her plushy pillow. She so loves making prophecies of that kind from time to time.

But here's a teeny tiny bump. I'm not much of a baker. Clearly, I lack that methodical attention-to-detail that baking just constrains upon you. So I thought of going native...Like absolute strip-the-frills, Baking Moms 101 kinda stuff. Things that I can probably package as intelligent, artsy cooking and get my kid to eat them too.

And that's when I chanced upon these floaty, melt-in-your-mouth, exotic bursts of confectionery that you can't stop yourself from popping in your mouth...like every 10 seconds...cos they dissolve pretty quick. I made them for Saanvi...and she couldn't get enough. Well, I can only hope that one day I can hover from above while she's penning down about these conspicuous pieces of heaven.

OK, enough bragging. I'd love to claim that I came up with this on my own. But I guess I've already established I'm a novice. Here and here.

So this is me rejoicing in some innocuous knowledge-sharing. Find your own effortless concoction of nostalgic holiday delights below:

http://www.taste.com.au/recipes/19011/melting+moments

I've gotta say, I did bring in a delightful twist to these virgin mini-delights. Considering it was Xmas, I was looking for a bit of rouge in the filling. I made two variations: Strawberry-Orange and Raspberry Cheese Buttercream.

Here are the recipes to the variations in filling that you can venture out to sandwich your cookies with. Sure does add color and festivity to your Christmas-themed fare...

Strawberry-Orange Filling:
What You Need:
75 gms Unsalted Butter
1 cup Icing Sugar
I tablespoon finely grated Orange Rind
1 tablespoon  Fresh Strawberry Pulp
4 drops Strawberry Essence

Method:

• Beat the butter and icing sugar using an electric blender till light and fluffy.  
• Add the orange rind, strawberry pulp and essence till combined pink. 
• Sandwich this filling onto your cookies.

Raspberry Cheese Buttercream:
What you Need:
60 gms Unsalted Butter
1 Cup Icing Sugar
75 gms Cream Cheese
2 tablespoons Raspberry Jam
A few drops of Red Food Coloring
A little lukewarm water

Method:

• Beat the butter in an electric hand blender until smooth. 
• With the motor running, add sugar, 1/2 cup at a time, adding the next only until the first lot has been absorbed.
• Stop running the mixer after the icing sugar is combined. Add cream cheese. Hurl it back on on a medium setting.
• Now add the raspberry jam and a little water and blend it till its light and fluffy.
• Using a toothpick, add red food coloring till it reaches the desired color.
• Sandwich it onto your cookies.

 I hope to continue to spread the joy through more words. But it is a long day tomorrow. Meanwhile, I hope that you get busy with trying out these delectable melting moments for yourself.

Happy Holidays you guys! And Bon Appetit! (And don't forget to pack your roomy flannel pants.)