Sunday, September 26, 2010

Lentil stew from Hyderabad - Khatti Daal






A much loved, more elaborate preparation of lentils which is a specialty of Hyderabad. The heart of the tart dish is in the right combination of tamarind and tomatoes. This recipe is for Sana. Enjoy!


1 cup lal masoor daal (red lentils)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp. turmeric powder

1/2 tsp. red chilli powder
2 medium tomatoes, de-skinned and pureed
1 sprig cilantro with stem, chopped
3 green chillies, slit down the middle
4-5 curry leaves
1 tbsp. tamarind


2 tbsp oil
1 tsp. cumin seeds

1 tsp. black mustard seeds
2 clove garlic, thinly sliced
2-3 dry red chilli


Salt to taste

Serves 4 people

Bring the daal to boil in 2 cups of water on high heat.
Reduce heat to low, add the turmeric and chilli powder and cook covered for 15-20 minutes or till the lentils are soft.



Add minced garlic, tomato pulp, tamarind, curry leaves, green chillies, cilantro and salt. Add more water if needed and mash thoroughly with a slotted spoon. Cover and let cook for another 30 minutes or so till the desired consistency is achieved and all the flavors are in harmony.


Separately, heat oil on med-hi heat.
Add cumin seeds, mustard seeds, sliced garlic and the r
ed chillies, latter split in half.
When the garlic starts carmelizing (will take only a few moments), remove from heat and add to daal.
Cover the sizzling dish and smoke the daal for 10-15 seconds.
Uncover the dish and scoop two ladles of daal into the still hot pan and let it sizzle there for a few seconds before adding back to the main dish.


Serve hot with basmati rice.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Beef and Beet Curry- Chukandar Gosht ** 2nd time winner of salon.com Kitchen Challenge!






My parents lived in Muscat, Oman in the late 1970s. The summers were bone-dry and scorching. To escape, we would travel to the equally scorching but more smoldering, humid heat of Karachi, Pakistan where my maternal aunt lived with her family. My grandmother lived with her at the time too. Their house was a modern version of a traditional South Asian home. The rooms wrapped around a central courtyard that was open to the skies. It was here that we pursued our world of play with an abandon and dedication that now seems so elusive. A full day of childlike hooliganism almost always ended with a water fight much to the dismay of the adults. Leading off of this courtyard was a gate that led to the beach. This stretch of land and water wasn't in any way idyllic or pristine but rather raw, rough and odorous, a beach the likes of which I have only come across in this part of the world. It had an immediate, intense and dangerous beauty. We were only allowed to enjoy it from the steps leading down to it from the gate. However, the briny air drifted up to the house and was always present.
If monsoon ever interrupted our play, we would spend endless afternoons lounging on the veranda. My aunt would put on music, either classical raag or songs from an Indian film du jour, but always about the rainy season. We would eat vegetables pakoras (fritters) or samosas (savory turnovers) with delicious, piquant, tangy chutneys and listen to our respective mother or aunt and grandmother tell stories, discuss politics or better, people and share jokes. At other times, we would listen to the pitter patter of raindrops or the thunder in the clouds. I remember many a washed out days dozing off to these sounds and smells. Ah yes, especially the smells.
As is the desi* way of life, my aunt had a cook who took care of the daily meals so it was a special day when my grandmother cooked. She would spend the whole day in the kitchen and the aroma wafting down the corridor would tantalize our senses and keep our appetite alert in anticipation. One of my absolute favorite dishes of hers was chukandar gosht (beets and meat curry).  I did not have a child’s aversion to vegetables or, specifically, beets. Maybe it was the color staining my fingers (of course, as another time-honored desi tradition, I used my hand to scoop up the curry with bread) and lips (in the days when lipstick was taboo) or its rich, dense, sweet earthiness that made me love this root so much. Curried, spiced and cooked with hearty red meat made this a uniquely soul-satisfying dish.
Recently, I shared the fact that the smell of roasting beets was a tug of nostalgia at my heart like no other with a friend of East-European descent. She could not wrap her head around the simple fact that I knew of, much less that I had been eating this root vegetable since I was young. For her it was a comfort food, particular to her region and tenderly introduced to her by her grandmother, same as me. This made me wonder if the love of this vegetable is so passionate and personal that all who have it feel that it could only have come from the deepest, most sacred part of us. 
Ingredients:
1 pound beetroot quartered and diced. 
1 pound beef/lamb cubed
1 large onion, thinly sliced
1 tbsp. ginger paste
1 tbsp. garlic paste
1 tsp. red chilli powder
1 tbsp. coriander powder
1 tsp. turmeric powder
2 tbsp. amchoor (dried mango powder)
fresh coriander leaves
grated lemon peel 
1/2 cup oil 

salt to taste
Recipe:
Heat a heavy bottom dish over medium high heat.
When hot, add oil and then the sliced onion.
Brown the onion over medium heat till nicely caramelized, about 10-15 minutes.
Remove with a slotted spoon and lay out on kitchen towel to drain the excess oil. 
 
In the still hot dish, add the garlic and ginger paste, red chilli, coriander powder and turmeric and sauté for a minute or two.
Add the meat and brown on all sides.
Add the beetroot and some water to cover the mixture and leave little extra for curry.

Crush the cooled, browned onions and add to the dish.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook covered over medium-low heat until both the meat and beetroot are tender, about 1.5 hours.
Uncover, add salt and amchoor powder and cook over high heat till the curry is of desired consistency.
Let it sit uncovered for 5 minutes before serving.
 
Garnish with freshly chopped coriander and grated lemon peel.

* people or culture of South Asia

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Spicy Roasted Corn - Bhutta (* category winner of salon dot com Kitchen Challenge)


Glorious corn!

It is available to us in so many delicious forms. One of my favorite ways to eat it is roasted. It is fresh, hot and messy (for those who like to get their hands dirty while eating like me). Corn on the cob is a street food in most cultures where it is available. In my present home of New York city, 'Hot Corn Girls' of the early 19th century were the predecessors of the present day hot dog vendors.  

My earliest association of this food takes me back to the streets of South-East Asia. The spice rub used in this preparation was for me, by far, the most delicious version. The corn vendors appeared on the roadsides at the onset of the monsoon season. The bright, savory and tart taste was a perfect accompaniment to the overcast, ominous skies. Today, as these streets are being battered by incessant rains and floods, I share my spiced recipe as a tribute to these vendors in particular and the resilience of the human spirit in general, whether it is in the face of tsunamis, hurricanes or floods.


Ingredients:
4 corn on the cob
2 lemons
1 tbsp melted butter


Spice rub:
2 tbsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp white pepper
1 tsp red chilli pepper
2 tsp paprika
2 tsp amchoor (mango powder- available at most Indian grocery stores), optional


Serves 4
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Shuck the corn, removing the husk and corn silk. Lay the corn in the oven on foil and roast for 10 minutes each side.  Remove, lightly brush with butter and put back in the oven changing the setting to broil high. Broil each side for about 3 minutes.
Separately, mix all the spice mix ingredients and slice the lemon into two halves.
Remove the corn from the oven when nicely browning. Lightly squeeze the lemon and use the juice to absorb the spice mix and apply directly to the corn on the cob.
Serve piping hot. 

Note: For more information on the SA floods and to contribute in any way, please visit http://www.mercycorps.org/ or http://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/ 


http://www.salon.com/food/recipes/2010/08/16/asian_spiced_roasted_corn_on_the_cob

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Crazy Pot - Deewani Handi


This is one whimsical, colorful, crazy dish that combines winter greens and root vegetables to deliver a hearty, extremely nutritious and delicious punch. To put it simply, it is choke full of everything that is good for the body. In the recipe, I have mentioned specific greens and root vegetables. Feel free to substitute and/or add other available vegetables that falls in these two categories, i.e., kale, collard greens, parsnip, etc. This dish was eaten on cool, lazy winter days with plain, fragrant basmati rice.


1 medium potatoes
2-3 medium carrots
2 japanese eggplant
1/2 cauliflower
2 turnips with leaves (if available)
1 bunch fenugreek leaves (if available)
1 bunch spinach
1 handful dill
1 handful coriander leaves
1 cup peas
4 green chillies
11/2 tsp. tumeric
1 tsp. red chilli powder
11/2 tsp. coriander powder
1 lemon


Baghar:
1/2 cup oil
1 tsp. cumin seeds
1 tsp. fenugreek seeds


salt to taste

Serves 4-6 people
Prep: 20 mins
Cooking time: 40 hr

Separate the turnips and the leaves. Put the leaves aside.
Dice the potatoes, carrots, turnip and eggplant.
Detach the flower heads of the cauliflower.
Combine the above in a baking dish, toss with some oil and half of the spice mixture.
Roast in 425 degree, preheated oven for about 30 minutes.


Chop all the greens (including the turnip leaves) finely.
Toss these in the remaining spice mixture and sit to marinate for the same amount of time.


Heat oil and add the cumin and fenugreek seeds.
Allow to sizzle and then add the marinated and roasted vegetables.
Cook on med-high heat till the greens condense and liquid rises. Add a splash of water if the vegetables are sticking.
Finally, add the peas, green chillies and herbs and salt to taste.
Reduce heat and cook till the liquid reduces.
Garnish with cilantro and lemon slices.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Simple Lentil Stew - Arhar ki Daal


This daal is a regional comfort food. It has a lingering, nutty taste and is available two ways; plain or oily. I have used the plain one for this recipe. The preparation is minimalistic. It is best when eaten with plain white rice and achaar. 


2 cup Arhar daal (toor or pigeon pea lentil)
2 clove Garlic (minced)
2 tsp. crushed red chilli
4 tbsp oil
2 clove Garlic (sliced)
4-5 Red chilli (whole)
Salt to taste


Serves 4-5 people

Bring the daal to boil in 2 cups of water on high heat.
Reduce heat to low and cook covered for 15-20 minutes.
Add salt, minced garlic and the crushed red chilli flakes and mash thoroughly with a slotted spoon.
Cover and let cook for another 20 minutes or more till the desired consistency is reached.


Separately, heat oil on med-hi heat.
Add sliced garlic and whole red chillies.
When the garlic starts carmelizing (will take only a few moments), remove from heat and add to daal.
Cover the sizzling dish and smoke the daal for 10-15 seconds.
Uncover the dish and scoop two ladles of daal into the still hot pan and let it absorb the residual tadka before adding back into the dish and covering again.