Vazhaipoo Paruppu Usili and Kootu

Japam, madi and achaaram are some of the philosophies Kom Patti believed in. Her neighbors knew her as a madisar mami with modest upbringing. She never ate any fancy food at restaurants (lest that interferes with her achaaram) and had an early humble dinner and fasted on ekadasi, sashti and many other days. Patti who stayed with mama lived in a fairly busy household. While Mami managed the morning pandemonium at home, battling three school going kids in the midst of their fight over a missing pencil or an undone homework, trying to wake up the third one, who feigned sleep amidst such morning mayhem, so she might be excused from school and a disciplinarian Mama, who tried to herd them all, in the process of getting ready to work (I remember mama changed the setting of the wall clock time, faster by a few minutes every day that nobody other than him knew what the current time was. Does that explain the commotion?), Pattis’s help came handy. Patti oiled and braided the girl’s hair into rettai pinnal (that sometimes not just the hair but the entire face shimmered in oil), manually scraped the coconut for the day’s chamayal, attended to the boiling milk and shut the pressure cooker which seemed to ignore this bedlam to gain attention and even packed lunches in metal tiffin carriers for them. Mami and Patti got time to breathe only after the foursome left home every week day.

Mami and Patti escaped out of home under the pretext of procuring the week’s vegetables with lots of manja pais in hand on Sundays. This was their “women’s day out” and they got onto a world rife with spicy gossips about the “edthira aathu mami” who screams at the daughter in law or the “kodi aathu” daughter in law who chinwags a lot about her mother in law, as they strolled to the market.

After one such day of such satiation, Patti and Mami brought back bags of vegetables and unable to stuff the fairly blossomed vazhai poo in their pais, Patti managed to hold the two vazahipoos on either hands. As my koshampodavai Patti thus entered the street, with a slow gait, like an acrobat walking on tight ropes, my cousin who was barely 5 years old and playing outside in the early morning sun, caught sight of this. She was aghast at the sight and yet could not restrain from informing her dad and other neighbors. She ran to a few houses and shouted, “Yenga Patti kozhi vangindu vandhirukka!” Madi aathu Geetha, Pakkathaathu Chandra, Edhiraalaathu kanaga and Mama all came out to see what went wrong with this achaaramana Patti. When they saw blossomed vazhaipoo with its bracts fairly wide open, the entire street laughed until they were blinded by tears. Poor Ramya had mistaken the bracts for wings of a chicken! For many years since then, Ramya was the laughing stock at all kalyanams during pandal kaal ritual.

While Ramya could at least be dismissed as a child who misunderstood, what excuse can be given to a girl who was married at the right age immediately following graduation and sent off to Bahrain? I have no idea if my sister had lived all her life closing her eyes at home, when vegetables were being cut. My paternal grandmother, Thakkama Patti assumed unassailable pride in the art of cutting vegetables uniformly, in geometric congruent shapes, in small sizes. It only appears that Latha, my sister lived in her own world oblivious of her surroundings.

Soon after she was married she flew to Bahrain and like most, her husband became the scapegoat of her culinary experiments. Knowing that her husband loved vazahaipoo, she decided to make paruppu usili, her maiden adventure! She carefully separated the bracts from the flowers and started cutting them. She beamed with pride as she saw the cut pieces resembling exactly like that of Patti’s. After all, it was all in her genes, she might have thought. But her husband was really surprised at what she had done. As he pointed out to her that she was cutting the purple bracts instead of the flowers, she refused to believe him. After all, she had heard of “yengaathu vazhakkam” and “ungaathu vazhakkam” from many married women. But her husband persuaded her to call my parents to find out. When Amma also confirmed that what she did was indeed wrong, the couple laughed too much, for, she had discarded all the flowers and had retained only the bracts!

As I recollect these incidents, the kitchen is wafting with the smell of vazahipoo paruppu usili and vazhaipoo kootu.

Vazahipoo Paruppu Usili

Ingredients:

vazhaipoo – 1 (flowers clearly separated from the bracts and the long pistil removed, and cut into small pieces), channa dal – 1/2 cup soaked in water, red chillies – 3, hing – a pinch, turmeric powder – a pinch, mustard seeds – 1 tsp, curry leaves – a sprig, oil to season (preferably coconut oil) and salt to taste.

Recipe

Grind the soaked channa dal with red chillies and hing into a thick paste and steam them. Crumble them when cool. The cut flowers will have to be stored in a pot of water with a little buttermilk (otherwise it turns black) until it is prepared. Season oil in a pan with mustard seeds, hing and curry leaves. Wash the flowers many times to clear off the buttermilk stain and drain thoroughly. Add them to the pan. Add about 1/2 a cup of water, turmeric powder and salt and cooked till soft and all the water is absorbed. Now add the crumbled channa dal mixture. Toss and turn the usili.

Paruppu usilis get along very well with moar kozhambu and sambar.

Vazhaipoo Kootu

Ingredients:

Vazhaipoo – 1 (cut as in previous recipe), moong dal – 1/2 cup, grated coconut – 1/2 cup, red chillies – 2 or 3, jeera – 1 tsp, turmeric powder – a pinch, coconut oil – 2 tsp, mustard seeds – 1 tsp, urad dal – 1/2 tsp, curry leaves – few and salt to taste.

Wash and preserve vazhaipoo in water with a little buttermilk. Drain and cook in water. Add turmeric powder and salt and cook until soft. Cook moong dal in water with a little turmeric powder until soft. Drain the water from the plantain flowers and add to the moong dal. Grind grated coconut, red chillies and jeera into a fine paste and add to the dal- plantain flower mixture. Simmer for a few minutes and when it boils, season oil with mustard seeds, urad dal and curry leaves and pour on top of it.

The vazhaipoo kootu can be served with rice or as a side dish for samabr and rasam.

Bon Appetit!

Avial

The brief hiatus suddenly woke me and I realize that it has been a year since I last blogged. My silence crossed many occasions of happy cooking and yet preoccupations drifted me away from the world of blogging. Many friends that I met at the yearend parties were not too happy at my silence and I have resolved to frequent blogging this year (unlike my husband who has resolved to not resolve, for fear of being irresolute, again.)

A fridge full of a colorful mishmash of vegetables awakens my senses and sparks my fancy to cook something nice for the New Year. I am reminded of my childhood Sundays when Amma and I set out early, even as the sun’s first rays kissed the windows, with a few manjal pais in hand, to the Sunday Chandhai (Farmer’s market) in Madurai. I must admit that it took a lot of courage to venture out in the narrow, soggy lanes of the chandhai, where the pushcart vendors waded through muddy roads, where piles of vegetable wastes lay rotting, where sellers squat on gunny bags, with sacks of fresh vegetables and hollering and bargaining in the rural dialect. Huge produce loaded lorries barged in suddenly from nowhere, blaring their horns seeking passage and sometimes fighting with the unyielding vendors who had already spread their spread for the day. Amma  jostled her way from stall to stall bargaining her pick, demanding a few extra heaps of the free karuvepillai and kothamalli leaves, all amidst the hubbub of cantankerous people not to mention the uninvited, ruminating cows moving to find a feast with the vegetable remains. Wading herself out of these ditches and glitches, with heavy bags in hand, sweaty with the choking people, she would come with lots of vegetables at great prices to last a week, totally sapped of energy not just from bargaining with the sellers but also in elbowing to find a way out of that belligerent crowd to get back home. Once home, we emptied the bags, cleaned the vegetables and refrigerated them. A week’s supply of vendakkai, kathrikkai, murungakkai, chenai kizhangu, cheppankizhangu, keerai, beans, carrot, podalangai, butterbeans, elavan, mathan, murungaikai etc. – Oh what a mélange!

One of the humble pleasures of such a Sunday was eating – eating leisurely. Meals these days, in contrast, are a gulp and gallop affair. While Patti cut these vegetables into long pieces, it was not hard for us to figure out that Avial was on the menu. That means Pappadam was to accompany it. Avial always was served with Pappadams at home – it was a time honored tradition I guess, in my family, ever since Patti was married. The Pappadams mostly came from Guruvayoor. There was something about the Tamilnadu pappadams and Patti never approved of them. Old timers follow tastes and aromas into the past. It probably brought back memories of her childhood days in Kerala and so Appa managed to get supplies of Guruvayoor pappadams so we never ran out of it. An appalam is a poor substitute for the pappadam – this swells up like poori when deep fried in oil (the kitchen wafted of the coconut oil in which it was fried), yet very crunchy and is undoubtedly the guilty pleasure of the exhaustive Sunday lunches at home.

 

Ingredients

Potatoes -2; Green beans – a handful, carrots – 2; Plantain – 1; White Pumpkin – a small piece; Yellow pumpkin – a small piece; Snake gourd – 1 medium size; Yam ( chenai kizhangu) – a small piece; taro root – 2 or 3; Drumstick – 2; Cucumber – 1; Chow chow – 1; turmeric powder – 1 tsp; Grated Coconut – 1 cup; green chillies – 4 -5; coconut oil – 2 ladlefuls; curry leaves – 2 sprigs; salt – to taste

Recipe

Cut all vegetables into long pieces, about the size of the index finger. Boil them in water with a teaspoon of turmeric powder and salt. In the meantime, grind coconut and green chillies to a fine paste. When the vegetables are cooked, drain the water but reserve them. To the drained vegetables add the ground paste. Add the reserved water in moderation. Avial is neither runny nor too stiff. Heat the avail and add coconut oil and when it boils, add curry leaves.

This medley of vegetables is not tempered and is either eaten with rice and pappadam or as a side dish for sambar rice. Any elaborate feast includes the avial and while many people grind some jeeram along with coconut and green chillies, Patti vouched for its authenticity by grinding just coconut and green chillies. Sometimes Patti used a few pieces of raw mango, cut into long pieces and boiled them along with other vegetables to give that slightly sour taste but curd or buttermilk was never used at home. According to Patti – the bonafide taste of Kerala – yes, this is!

Bon Appetit!

Milagu Kozhambu

As I enter, I am greeted by a beaming smile of the hostess with the traditional warmth of “Ulla Vaa”, I find myself amidst gundu malli poo vasanai (yes, it is now available once a week at our Indian store), the rustle of Kancheevarams, the glitter of diamonds, fragrant perfumes, a few brightly colored bouquets, little girls in brilliant silk finery, running around the area with their friends, fluorescent lights hitting the cynosure and the gentleman of the house with a camcorder, not to mention the irresistible aroma emanating from the kitchen. If you have assumed that I am writing about a nichayathartham or kalyanam that I attended recently, you stand forgiven.  It is Golu that I am talking about! It was Navarathri – the festival that heralds the season of silk, music and diamonds among the ladies.

Yester years’ Indians though settled abroad have not forgotten their roots. For them it is their way to stay connected to their tradition. It is the season of art and handicrafts, the season to polish their diamonds, the brass kuthu vilakku and other dainty silver ware, air out or bring out their most recently purchased silk sarees, a season when gravity surfaces from within them to showcase their artistic prowess. It is the much awaited season of Golu. While the average mami removes her Rubbermaid boxes of Golu Bommais from the garage only a couple of days prior to the start of navarathri, a mami of diligent planning removes the bommais a week ahead. Such a mami has not forgotten to add a few bommais to her repertoire from her annual summer vacation in July. While thematic golus are in vogue, props and backgrounds have turned up in the US stage, adding a dash of color and fervor to resonate with their families in India. Golu and silk are inseparable here akin to Chennai and Margazhi Music. RmKV, Nalli and Pothys find free advertisement all over the city and the scenario is further augmented by the aesthetic tradition of Golu – the pattu.

One cannot deny that this is the much awaited session of the soiree. As the hostess initiates “Yaaravadhu Paadungo”, it is not unusual for a few shy to feign cough, blow dry noses and claim sore throat. Trained mamis reverberate to the season’s characteristic and perform their well-rehearsed piece. There are some occasions when the guests start off and it becomes a little too impossible to contain the amusements of all the people around when a guest jumps off the way unmindful of the scenario (sometimes closing eyes too) and it becomes imperative for the hostess to serve a juice to give a break. But everyone is convinced that there is no talent show here and the hostess just feels honored if they sang few songs.

The considerate hostess then serves a wide range of delicacies like kalandha chaadham, sevai, medhu vadai and sambhar, payasam, seven cup cake etc. in addition to the customary chundal.

And while eating there is always some little tidbit that is shared or exchanged among the women folk – the other Golus, the latest sarees, the newly purchased diamond bangles – after all, it is our way of catching up with oor vambu in addition to the ones on FB!

As if the icing is not enough, the hostess also sends with a big tamboolam – the traditional vethalai, paaku, manjal-kumkumam, pazham and an extra something unique, that she has carefully chosen from Jaybee creations in Mandaveli or the newly opened Tambulya in Mylapore but certainly that which deserves an air of appreciation for her thoughtfulness. As the guests leave, an invitation is extended to the others there – “Enga Aathulayum Golu Vechurukkom. Vethala Pakku Vaangikka Vaango” is conventional.

The same scene is looped many times during the weekend. This whirlwind of social visits has the ripple effect of reciprocity in an ever widening circle of acquaintances. While the season leaves a sweet taste in our minds, it does leave our stomachs in a bit of protein extravagance that I am forced to quote something that I came across in the web –

I have an earache:

2000 B.C. -Here, eat this root.
1000 A.D. -That root is heathen. Here, say this prayer.
1850 A.D. -That prayer is superstition. Here, drink this potion.
1940 A.D. -That potion is snake oil. Here, swallow this pill.
1985 A.D. -That pill is ineffective. Here, take this antibiotic.
2000 A.D. -That antibiotic is artificial. Here, eat this root.

(Author Unknown)

I must admit that this is true at least after a season of profligacy. An antidote is the milagu kozhambu. Its fiery taste tickles the taste buds yet remains gentle to the tummy. A chutta appalam is its best confidante for lunch the next day.

Ingredients

Tamarind – a small lemon sized ball; turmeric powder – 1/4 tsp; asafoetida (hing)- a pich; curry leaves – 1 sprig; salt – to taste; chana dal – 2 tbsp; toor dal – 1 tbsp; black peppercorns – 1 tbsp; red chilli – 1; asafoetida – a pinch; curry leaves – 1 sprig; oil – 1 tbsp; mustard seeds – 2 tsp.

Recipe

Fry chana dal, toor dal, peppercorns, red chilli, hing and curry leaves in 1 tsp. of oil till golden brown and grind into a paste or powder. Soak tamarind in hot water for a few minutes and extract about 1/2 cup of pulp. Add the paste or powder into the pulp. Add turmeric powder, hing and salt to the pulp. Season mustard seeds, and curry leaves in 2 teaspoons of oil and add the tamarind pulp. Boil well till it thickens and the quantity is slightly reduced.

Serve hot with chutta appalam (roasted appalam) or deep fried appalam or pappadum.

Bon Appetit!

Moar Kozhambu

Years ago, our the kitchen fire shut down for the night fairly late with Amma adding a few drops of butter milk to the warm milk. The next morning the thayir (curd) was set. Patti sat down in the dining room with a mathu (churner) by mid day . Whipping up the butter from the yoghurt was a daily affair and it was a serious job for Patti. The warmer days floated the butter atop the buttermilk sooner than the monsoon days. Athai who lived close by, finished her daily chores joined Patti for a quick exchange of oor vambu. The two would talk for as long as the butter was churned. When at last the butter came up to the top, Patti carefully removed the handful of butter in a small vessel full of water. When she collected enough butter from a week’s curd, it was time for the butter to be melted to ghee.

The buttermilk thus collected was very versatile – the elders mixed buttermilk in rice and sometimes it served to quench the thirst – especially in the summers. Patti would garnish the buttermilk with green chillies, rock salt and curry leaves (this was called sambhaaram) and we loved it. On Rama Navami Neer Moru was offered to Rama.

But above all, the Tambrahms of Kerala loved to prepare Pulissery. The Pulissery is consanguineously related to the Moar Kozhambu yet subtly different. Vendhayam and red chillies are roasted in oil and ground along with coconut for the Pulissery while for the Moar Kozhambu Amma ground coconut with a few green chillies.

The Moar Kozhambu is a harbinger of respect. It is always served when the son in law first visits his father in law’s home. I have never seen a Kerala Tambrahm wedding without a moar kozhambu. The Tirunelveli Tambrahms and the Kerala Tambrahms love a peculiar combination – the Sevai with moar kozhambu.

As I talk about the moar kozhambu I am reminded of a fairly recent incident. I had offered to bring moar kozhambu for a potluck a few years back. My moar kozhambu stole the show that day and many at the party went for a few more rounds. After lunch an elderly gentleman (who already had had a generous serving of moar kozhambu chaadham for lunch) helped himself with a few ladlefuls of moar kozhmabu in a cup. Though I was touched with pride, I quickly realized that he had mistaken my moar kozhambu for the beverage of the day – badaam kheer. As I politely told him that he was helping himself with moar kozhambu instead of badaam kheer, I made sure that I liberally seasoned my moar kozhambu since then!

Although there are no hard and fast rules to couple food together, certain combinations do accentuate the taste and one if smitten by a kind of heavenly rage when the combined flavors burst out. I am definitely referring to the fact that the moar kozhambu marries well with a Paruppu Usili. Sometimes a Keerai Masial too! And yes, the ubiquitous Urulai Kizhangu or Cheppankizhangu roast too!

Ingredients

Buttermilk – 1 -1/2 cups; any vegetable (carrot, okra, cheppankizhangu/taro root, vazhakkai/plantain, pooshanikai/white pumpkin, chow chow/chayote squash) – 3/4 cup, chopped into bite sized pieces; turmeric powder – 1 tsp; grated coconut – 3/4 cup; green chillies – 3-4; mustard seeds – 2 tsp; oil – 3 tsp; curry leaves – 1 sprig; salt – to taste.

Recipe

Heat oil in a pan and season with mustard seeds. When the seeds crackle, add the chopped vegetable and curry leaves. Saute for a minute and add a cup of water and turmeric powder. While the vegetable is being cooked, grind coconut and green chillies into a thick paste and dissolve the paste in the buttermilk. Mix thoroughly. When the vegetable has been cooked and the water is completely absorbed, switch the burner to its lowest point and pour the buttermilk mixture. Most of the time, curds separate out of the hot buttermilk, yielding an unplesant texture. But the Organic Valley (Drinkable Yoghurt) buttermilk from PCC or Whole Foods have endured the Indian rigor of cooking and tastes good. Warm the buttermilk until it starts to foam. Remove the pan from the burner. When cooled add salt. The moar kozhambu was never re-heated at home. It was made sure that the rice was hot enough at lunch time.

As for its relative the Pulissery, the most popular vegetable was the mampazham (rather fruit). I somehow never liked the sweet-sour taste combo of the ripe mangoes in moar kozhambu, however Amma loved it. The procedure remains the same except that a teaspoon of vendhayam (methi seeds/fenugreek seeds) and a couple of red chillies were roasted in oil until the methi seeds turned golden and were ground along with coconut. This paste was added to the buttermilk before heating.

Bon Appetit!

Paruppu Urundai Kozhambu

While Indian menu has gone haute with quite a few confluence of flavors like the Tandoori Paneer Pizza, Paneer Subs, some recipes have stood the test of time and do deserve veneration. Take for example, the Paruppu Urundai Kozhambu, or the Molagu Kozhambu, or the Kandathippili Rasam. I am not sure why these time tested recipes are relegated to the backburners of the stove while other dishes alone strut in the buffet tables at parties.

Frankly, these recipes can never be appreciated on an all-is-fine day. When kids lovingly pass on their virus to us, the uncanny disappearance of the olfactory and gustatory senses in us hankers for the sober yet piquant molagu kozhambu or molagu rasam. A recovery from a gastronomic extravagance is made possible by the humble kandathippili rasam.  The monsoon friendly paruppu urundai completely eliminates the need to go out and buy vegetables in the rainy Seattle, in that it is the bliss of a modest lunch. As I write this flash backs of Amma’s paruppu urundai kozhambu blurs my vision!

Ingredients

Tamarind – size of a small lemon; chana dal – 1 cup, soaked for an hour; sambhar powder – 3 tsps; red chillies – 3; hing – a pinch; turmeric powder – 1 tsp; curry leaves – a few, salt – to taste; mustard seeds – 1 tsp; oil – 2 tsp to season.

Recipe

Extract about a cup of  pulp from the tamarind. Grind together the soaked chana dal, red chillies, some salt, hing and a pinch of turmeric powder into a fairly thick paste. Roll the paste into balls. If it is a little too watery, add just a couple teaspoons of rice flour and roll them into small balls.

Add sambhar powder, turmeric powder, hing and salt to the tamarind pulp and bring it to a rolling boil. Add one chana dal urundai (ball) into the boiling gravy. In about a minute, the urundai would have been cooked and would float atop. Add the second urundai now and allow it to float on top. Add the other urundais slowly one after the other, making sure that the previous one floats.

When all the urundais float, the gravy would have thickened sufficiently. season mustard seeds in oil. When mustard seeds crackle, add curry leaves and temper it over the kozhambu.

Serve hot.

Bon Appetit!

Strawberry Jam

Every kitchen has its chronicles. Mine does too. Patti spent her time in preparing the vadu manga, oorugai, vadaams and vathals. Once the bharanis were filled with oorugais for the year, Patti’s diligent venture was on vadaams. She would spend hours in the kitchen making javvarisi vadaams, with generous pepperings of ground green chillies and salt and when it was ready, she would spread them out in clean polythene sheets for a sun dry. Mor molagas and a few vathals (manathakkali, chundakai and pavakai were her favorites) also found their place in clean sheets beside the vadaams.Invariably, I would be the designated scarecrow – I hated to sit down in the portico in the midday sun, chasing birds that would come to taste the vadaams. But on an unguarded moment, I did have the privilege to gulp a few vadaams!

Much as I would love to try the vadaams, the sun in Seattle is a little unreliable for me to try the vadaams especially at this time of the year. I will have to wait for a few more weeks to pass by before I can get on board with vadaams but I guessed that this would be the right time for me to start a summer ritual– I decided to make jams. The canning jars in the shelves of the grocery stores have tempted me for years however I did give it a try with the succulent strawberries from Costco. I borrowed the recipe from www.freshpreserving.com and made slight modifications to theirs’ – omitted the lemon juice and added some extra sugar to satiate the cravings of my sweet toothed family.

Ingredients

Strawberries – 4 lbs; “Ball” Real fruit Classic Pectin – 6 tbsp; sugar- 8 cups.

Recipe

Wash and hull the strawberries and blend them in a blender. Boil the blended strawberries in a 6 quart sauce pan and slowly add pectin. When it comes to a rollong boil, add the sugar. Keep stirring and when it comes to a rolling boil, lower the heat slightly and keep stirring constantly. When it slightly thickens remove them from heat. I poured the jam into a glass cup and let stand for a couple of minutes to check the consistency. Pour the jam in sterilized glass jars. Seal them and cool the jars. When set in a few hours, refrigerate.

This yields about 60 oz of strawberry jam.

Bon Appetit!

Pav Bhaji

This dish rekindles my memories of eating Pav Bhaji at the street side chat shop.  Street food was the fad then.  Hot Chips opened its fast food sales by the evening. As the road got busy with the typical hullabaloo and the evening vegetable market, the aroma of Pani Puri, Bhel Puri, Samosas and Pav Bhaji fanned the air. Watching the vendor add a dollop of butter on end of that big steel hot tawa, smearing the pavs on it, as he sauted the bright red color bhaji at the other end of the tawa, was half the fun. The fancy of eating out in the open air amidst the hustle bustle of the evening crowd and the buses and auto rickshaw horns providing a crude accompaniment to the street food was the soul of evening life! It was such a satiating meal for my sister and me, fairly fiery with its Mumbai roadside provenance.

I tried to duplicate that true roadside taste but I should confess that my dining table does not impart the street side air and hence it is only close to the original. The roadside tawa seems to have the magic potion – no “All Clad” or “Le Creuset” can match it!

Ingredients

Pav Buns or hamburger buns – 1 pack; potatoes – 3 boiled, peeled and mashed; chopped and boiled vegetables (cauliflower, peas, carrot, green bell pepper) – 1 1/2 cups; tomatoes – 4 finely chopped; onions – 1/2 cup, finely chopped; jeera – 1/2 tsp; red chilli powder – 4 tsp; garlic – 2 pods; Pav Bhaji Masala – 1 1/2 tbsp; turmeric powder – 1/2 tsp; kesari powder – a pinch; salt – to taste; butter – 1 tbsp; oil – 2 tsp; coriander leaves – 2 tbsp; chopped onions – 2 tbsp.

Recipe

Grind garlic and 2 tsp of red chilli powder to a fine paste. Heat butter and oil in a pan and season with jeera. Add the garlic-chilli powder paste and saute for a couple of minutes until the raw smell of garlic disappears. Add the onions and saute until done. Add chopped tomatoes and 1/2 cup of water and cook. Mash tomatoes with a potato masher. Add Pav Bhaji Masala ( I used Badshah Masala, though my personal preference is Everest), remaining red chilli powder and salt. Mash the boiled vegetables completely with the masher and add to the pan. Add mashed potatoes, turmeric powder and some water. Simmer for almost 20 minutes, adding water if needed. Add kesari powder to impart that bright red color to the bhaji. (Thanks to the vendor for the tip.) Add a dollop of butter for an enhanced taste, if you prefer. When oil floats on top, remove from stove.

Toast the buns on the tawa with butter. Serve hot with the bhaji, coriander leaves and chopped onions on the side. A lemon wedge may be squeezed, if you prefer.

Bon Appetit!

Rasam and Kada Mark Perungayam

As I rewind, I can’t help contain this amusing incident that happened during that wedding.

Kasi was our family cook-on-demand. Whenever there was a function at home he would be summoned and he would prepare a big feast. On his recommendations, a few madisar clad mamis, with murukku thattus and boondi karandis in hand came home one auspicious day and set up a small shamiana at the backyard of the house and started the bakshanams for the kalyanam namely 7-chuthu murukku, 5–chuthu murukku, mysore paku, ladoo, adhirasam etc . Appa was apprehensive about giving charge of the entire marriage to marriage contractors. So he individually dealt with cooks, florists, vadhyam and others. While all other arrangements were taken care of, Appa was on the look-out of a good cook. Some recommended Ananthanarayanan, while others suggested Halasyam Iyer. But Appa continued his research on the best cook in town.

Amma received a few references for cooks from a few of her colleagues at work. One cook by name,  Payyachoo Iyer even visited her at the bank where she worked and gave her his visiting card.  Amma liked to discuss with Appa and then decide on any issue and so she asked the cook to come home that evening to talk. A visiting card, in those days was used only by the top business men and cooks never printed one. (His visiting card read – “Payyachoo Iyer”, Cooker! ) Patti hence conjured up images of a well-dressed male (with pant, shirt and tie) for Payyachoo (in contrast to the contemporary cooks who wore dirty white color veshti and a loose, big-checked, cotton shirt, with a towel on the shoulder and a manja pai  in hand) and was looking forward to his meeting at home.  Busy Amma and Appa went on their rounds of inviting people hoping to be back before Payyachoo came home.

My sister and I were busy with our home-work when we heard the door-bell ring. Patti received the well-dressed gentleman who asked for my mom. Respectfully, Patti received him and seated him at the drawing room and informed him that she was well aware that he would come home. The gentleman was taken by surprise at my Patti’s anticipation of his visit and enquired how she knew it. “Maatu ponnu chonna, neega varuvel nu!” said Patti. He still could not believe his ears. He however tried to contain his surprise and awaited amma.

Inquisitive Patti, while offering coffee, asked him how long he has been in the business, for which he mentioned a few years. Patti relentlessly asked how many people worked under him. He politely replied appropriately. Patti then asked what his specialty was (she was probably thinking that he would say badusha or avial) and how many people he could handle at a time (in a wedding.) The gentleman was quite confused at the question. He was not really sure why an old,  koshaam podavai mami, would question him of his authority at the Bank and competency at work. As he tried to mumble something I recognized his voice and rushed to the drawing room. To my shock I discovered that my Patti had assumed that the visitor was Payyachoo while the visitor was my mom’s manager at work. I greeted the manager and exchanged some pleasantries and sensing the humor of the situation my Patti quietly slipped into the kitchen where she broke into peals of laughter!

Finally, Appa chose Halasyam Iyer for the kalyana samayal. Though good at heart, he seemed very strict and unyielding. He wanted all the groceries from a particular store – not because he got a share in the bargain but because he relied on their products so much. He also said that he would refuse to prepare rasam if we did not provide him with “kada mark perungayam”. I distinctly recall Appa running desperately for that brand of perungayam until finally he found a store carrying it.

While we wondered what was so special about that brand of perungayam, the taste of the rasam was unique and vouched for the perungayam. Since then Amma became a faithful user of kada mark perungayam. Unlike the other brands of perungayam, the kada mark perungayam powder is to be added when bubbles surface and before seasoning.

Incidentally the Kada Mark Perungayam is available in all Nilgiris stores in Chennai.

Recipe

Follow recipe for Eeya Chombu Rasam. Add the kada mark perungayam powder just before seasoning.

Bon Appetit!

Idiappam

Patti was excited about her eldest grand-daughter’s marriage. Appa and Amma were very busy with the marriage preparations. The date was finalized and the kalyana mandapam was booked. Invitations were printed and had to be distributed. Back then, too many considerations went into the conduct of a peaceful kalyanam. Those were days when people strictly adhered to formality, in that, their likelihood of attending the wedding or a reception (or sometimes not even attending) depended on how they were invited. While the close relatives expected their names on the invitations (under “With Best Compliments From”, even though they had no participation in the wedding), other relatives expected “ner la azhaikaradhu” (an in person invite) for the wedding. A postal invitation would mean they attended the reception or sent a telegram. Sometimes there were a few who would boycott the wedding with their absence because there was “no maryadhai” in the process of inviting. (Avoiding sambandhi chandai and post kalyana chandai were the other areas of consideration.) As was the formality, Amma and Appa invited all relatives and friends in person. It cannot be denied that this gave a personal touch to the wedding and opened an avenue to share our joy with others.

As kids, we accompanied amma and appa for those “kalyanam- azhaikaradhu” to Coimbatore. It was fun hopping many houses, all dressed up in pattu pavadais and matching jewelry, with pathrikai, kumkuma chimizh and akshathai kinnam in hand and personally handing invitations to all relatives by saying, “avasyam rendu vaaram munnaye vandhe nadathi kudukanam” and answering the same set of questions to all of them – maapillai yenna panraar, avaa yendha ooru, yethanai peru avaa aathula etc? .

(On a different note, years later, I remember my husband accompanying us to one of the kalyanam azhaikkal for my sister’s wedding and while we offered the kumkum to the women of the house, my husband offered the akshatai from the small silver kinnam to the man of the house. He was a pretty old man, who liked my husband a lot and started talking of his acquaintances in America and did not realize that akshatai was being offered. Now the significance of the akshatai at the time of marriage is really lost today – it was meant to be offered to the men of the house to be kept at a safe place to serve as a visual reminder to attend the wedding. These days people either eat the akshatai as soon as it is offered or I know of a family who forces the guests to do a namaskaram and throw the akshatai right at them! My husband tried to remind him of the akshatai by extending the kinnam a few times. I think the man got the message – he quickly accpeted the kinnam and placed it in a side table at his house and continued his lecture. How my husband managed to grab that silver kinnam for the rest of the day’s azhaikkal from that table is still talked every time our family gets together!)

Had it been any other time, I am sure amma and appa would have been irked at the number of times they had to answer but with an imminent marriage at home, they seemed to be overjoyed at answering the questions. At each repetition I could see renewed vigor in them.  That night for dinner, Appa took us to the famous chain Annapoorna.

There was nothing really fanciful about this restaurant, rather “hotel” – no plush leather seating, no chandeliers or a soft music in the background but a fairly decent sized hall where people barged in as soon as they found an empty seat, where trained waiters sang the day’s menu in one breath in tune to the musical accompaniment of the bus-horns, from the adjacent bus stand. Annapoorna was one of the first to serve idiappams then. However at home, Amma was used to preparing its twin – the sevai and so idiappam was new to us. Admittingly, the idiappams were really divine- the handiwork of some connoisseur of repute. With the nirapara idiappam podi, the same taste of idiappam is no longer difficult to re-create!

Ingredients

Nirapara idiappam Podi – 3 cups; 4 cups of water; salt – to taste; 1 tbsp. of coconut oil

Recipe

Boil 4 cups of water with salt and oil. When the water comes to a rolling boil, remove pan from the stove and mix in the idiappam podi. I used nirapara brand – I guess any other brand would be fine too. The water gets absorbed by the idiappam podi and the mixture becomes soft dough. When cool enough, squeeze the balls with an omapodi squeezer in idli moulds and steam them.

Serve hot with coconut chutney.

Bon Appetit!

Maalaadu

1988 saw the first marriage in our house. My eldest cousin was getting married. This kalyanam brings forth floods of memories in my mind. Right from the nichayathartham to the kattu saadha koodai! The family that my cousin was to be married to have their roots from Tirunelveli and so maalaadu was a requirement for the nichayathartham.  Amma grew up with flavors of Tirunelveli and so was adept in Maalaadu. (In fact Amma’s mom and her perima had made paruppu thengais about 3 feet high, seven such pairs for their eldest sister’s wedding.) Amma started preparing the maalaadus a couple of days before the nichayathartham.  This time my paternal Patti (who hailed from Kerala) was her faithful assistant.

The kitchen wafted the aroma of fresh melted ghee as the duo sat down and rolled down huge maalaadus. The super big sizes were for the sambandhis while the smaller ones were left for us. My sister and I kept visiting the kitchen every now and then in the hopes of sneaking a few maalaadus. Can’t believe the time they invested in the making of these ghee loaded maalaadus! But this is one of the quickest snacks that I can think of for my sweet toothed husband and daughter.

Ingredients

Pottu kadalai (fried gram) – 1 cup; powdered sugar – 3 cups; ghee – 1 cup; powdered cardamom (elaichi) – 2 tsp; broken cashew nuts – 3 tbsp (fried in ghee)

Recipe

Powder pottu kadalai finely. Add powdered sugar, elaichi and nuts. Mix well with hands. Melt ghee and when warm enough, add little by little to small portions of the pottu kadalai mix and roll them into small balls and serve.

Bon Appetit!