Thursday, December 6, 2012

Making a difference: Stirring up memories

SOMA BASU
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  • DISHING OUT PROVINCIAL FLAVOURS: Samundeswari. Photo: Soma Basu
    The Hindu DISHING OUT PROVINCIAL FLAVOURS: Samundeswari. Photo: Soma Basu
  • Samundeswari's platter. Photo: Soma Basu
    The HIndu Samundeswari's platter. Photo: Soma Basu
Homemakers like Samundeswari are entering star hotel kitchens to revive grandma’s recipes and the homely taste of food
Who wouldn’t envy M. Samundeswari? At 52 and without a formal degree, she has walked into a job at the gourmet kitchen of The Gateway Hotel of the Taj group at Pasumalai. She wears the apron and cap and rubs shoulders with English-speaking chefs armed with degrees in Catering and Hotel Management.
Yet, she is the lovable “Amma” in the five-star kitchen, single-handedly dishing out home-made recipes for in-house guests and visitors to the hotel. The young chefs don’t mind when she corrects their cooking style or portions. As the only woman chef in the kitchen, she gives them tips on how “the food should just taste right”. She is on duty daily from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., rolling out a platter of rural cuisine which seems to be increasingly in demand. She is quick, focussed, meticulous and unfussy, say her colleagues.
Samundeswari is the hotel’s discovery in a new approach to serving food. “She has been hired to dish out authentic provincial flavours,” says General Manager Devraj Singh, “as part of our group’s Home-Style Regional Food menu launched across all Gateway Hotels.”
Samundeswari has been briefed but she is her own master. “I enjoy cooking and cook the same way I do at home. Given my age, local guests must be getting a taste of their mother’s cooking and for the foreigners it is something new,” she says.
Taj Corporate Chef K. Natarajan’s initiative has caught on. “Why would anyone go out to eat home food? But there are guests who come to hotels craving for it. Locals want a break from their home kitchen or a change in taste, people travelling often on business look forward to eating simple ghar ka khana and foreigners ask for typical local food,” says Mr.Devraj.
Common items like sambar, rasam, poriyal, gravy and sweet constitute Samundeswari’s cyclic menu. “Daily I prepare six to eight varieties and decide which vegetables and in what combinations after I get the basket of items from the hotel every morning,” she says.
She makes her own masalas. “Once I finish preparing the day’s lunch, I roast, pound and grind the condiments and spices that I will require the next day. Packet masalas in the market don’t have the same aroma, I never use them,” she says, adding her food has always been liked by all her family members. “I do it with the same love and care here. Guests often tell me they enjoyed the food. For me, cooking is something very natural and effortless.” She chooses to cook in less oil, without artificial flavours, colours or additives. Every dish is cooked in clay pots. “That’s where nostalgia and taste comes from,” she smiles. “I feel comfortable inside my territory, the kitchen, and like to do everything by myself.”
The home-cooked menu is not available for room service. “Like at home, it should be served piping hot straight from the kitchen,” she says. Her favourites are kathrika pulikuzhambu, potato masala and kathrikai chutney. But her hit item is the killi potta sambar. “Whenever I make it, some guests will enquire and I give them on-the-spot demo on the trolley,” she says.
She has an inherent confidence about the food she cooks, yet she is anxious to serve a fully satisfying meal to the guests. There is little doubt that from reigning as the little-known queen in her own kitchen, Samundeswari has become a speciality chef and is drawing people to The Gateway’s dining tables.
Samundeswari’s platter: ‘Tulsi vetrelai saru’, a starter drink made with garden fresh basil and betel leaves. , Vazhaipoo vadai, banana flower infused with lentils and grounded South Indian spices, the kara paniyaram, rice and lentil batter tempered with select south Indian spices and pan fried and Moru kali urundai, rice dumpling tossed in aromatic Madurai spices and paruppu podi, as accompaniments.
For the main course, rice and chapatis come with butter beans masala, poondu and paruppu urundai kozhambu, athalakkai poriyal, seasonal vegetables tempered in South Indian spices and coconut and murugakeerai thovattal, a regional delicacy with young drumstick leaves wilted with pearl onions and coconut.
The kavan arisi pongal made with black rice and paal kozhukattai, rice dumplings cooked in condensed coconut milk, make a sweet ending.
(Making a difference is a fortnightly column about ordinary people and events that leave an extraordinary impact on us. E-mail to soma.basu@thehindu.co.in to tell about someone you know who is making a difference)

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Your highness, dinner is served

Dining halls that spell opulence, decadent elegance, well-guarded thousand-year-old recipes, mustachioed chefs and a pageantry that is reflective of India's princely states. Dining with the Maharajas is a stunning time piece on the life, food, and fanfare of some of these families by Neha Prasada with photographs by Ashima Narain. We invited Narain to pick her five favourite photo stories from this memorable journey



 
AWADHI REGALIA The Mahmudabad Qila is beautiful and charming partly because of it’s architecture, but largely because it is a ‘living palace’, which includes a zenana where women cook, sew, laugh and learn. Exploring it was unique.
GLASS ACT The preparations to set the table at the Falaknuma Palace for 101 people begun the evening before our shoot with Princess Ezra the next day.

We walked in and were all blown away by the sheer majesty and scale of it — it felt as though we were going to dine with Maharajas. Made entirely of Italian marble, it was built in Hyderabad in 1893.

A ROYAL FEAST It was a rare privilege to have three royals cook for you and that makes this image very special. They were all relaxed, and enjoying each other's company and the food. It was lovely to be privy to this side of the Patiala royals.

Baby Appams from Mysore These were just delicious. Priya (Kapoor, Publisher, Roli Books), Neha (Prasada, author) nor I had ever tried these before, so we had to really restrain ourselves from eating them, in order to save them for the shoot.

Dining with the Maharajas, A Thousand Years of Culinary Tradition, Neha Prasada & Ashima Narain, Roli Books, R4,000. Available at leading bookstores Ashima Narain, photographer

STATE OF CALM I love this image, because I loved this place — it had the magic of a bygone era. Here, Ali showed me where the horses are taken to exercise.

The fields, the horses, the mist, the quiet, as well as Ali’s (Mohammad Khan) personal style came together at that moment. These elements really translated what I was experiencing, and how different it was from Mumbai city life. Each year, he takes a break from his studies at Cambridge University, England, to spend the month of Muharram in Mahmudabad, along with the rest of his family.
From the Maharaja files
>> The dining table at the Falaknuma Palace in Hyderabad is the world’s longest, and is called the 101, as it seats those many diners.
>> In the Kashmir royal family, yellow food items are made on Basant Panchami, and sundh, an energy portion, is made out of ground dry fruits for the pregnant women in the family.
>> The Umaid Bhavan Palace has 347 rooms, making it one of the largest private residences of the world.
>> Once upon a time, Mahmudabad chefs would add gold coins in the baghar (tempering) of desi ghee and spices to temper the Raja saheb’s food.
>> The Mysore Maharaja, Srikantadatta Narasimharaajawadiyar (or Wadiyar, as he is known) is an avid collector of jewellery and art and has an enviable collection of 35,000 miniatures.
>> It was the weakness of the Patiala royals for fine spirits that led to the term ‘Patiala Peg’ being coined for drinks that were much stiffer than the accepted 60ml.
>> The lone shortcut that Rampur cooks take while cooking for royals is using gas burners for expediency, all other preparations are done by hand.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Tales of cookery from the remote village of Jarpen in Sweden

November 16, 2012 5:11 pm  • 
In a fairy tale land – think the darkly beautiful landscapes of the Brothers Grimm – far, far away on the shores of Lake Kallsjön nestled under the eastern slope Åreskutan, in the small (some 1500 live here year round) village of Järpen, Sweden, lives a wild haired giant who serves those who come by strange edibles like reindeer lichen, vinegar matured in the burnt-out trunk of a spruce tree, cow’s heart, turnip leaves that have never seen the light of day, fermented paste of pulses and fermented juice of mushrooms and oats. His dishes have long, terrifying sounding names – Broth of Autumn Leaves and Wild Trout Roe in a Warm Crust of Dried Pigs’ Blood.
This giant can often be seen with a bloody knife in his hand and dead animals hang from rafters in his fiefdom. He is, some might say, the Norse god of Fäviken, described as a former agricultural hamlet and now a collection of slättbrännas, Swedish mountain farms, and if he doesn’t like you he will throw you out of his lair which is called Fäviken Magasinet before you even get a chance to taste his duck-egg liqueur or Pine Tree Bark Cake.
Reality check, please.
Magnus Nilsson isn’t really a giant and his blondish hair is more tousled than wild. He doesn’t wantonly kill animals but he was raised foraging, hunting, fishing and butchering and after time spent cooking at several Michelin three-starred restaurants in Paris, he has returned to the lands of his ancestors and embarked upon an approach to cooking hyper-regional food “that is real.” As for being far, far away, well that part is true. Fäviken is 400 miles southeast of Stockholm in a remote region of lakes, mountains and forests. It is far from Paris, not only in miles but in concept. But if you want “retun mat” or real food from the nearby land with great attention to detail, it is the place to go. Bon Appetit magazine describes it as the world’s most daring restaurant. Oh and about throwing people out – he once did that to a customer who was beyond rude to a waitress.
Most of us can’t make the long and complicated trip to eat at this 12-seat restaurant open only for dinner, but we can read Fäviken (Phaedron Press 2012, $49.95), Nilsson’s wonderful cookbook, a homage to the bounties and a way of life in this remote region.
“It’s important to make the most of what you have,” Nilsson says in a wonderfully Scandinavian accented English. “And it’s about respecting the obstacles and limitations of wherever you have. I want people to understand what we do. This book isn’t for people just trying to cook the recipes, it’s nearly impossible in some cases given that they don’t have the same circumstances and equipment. I want them to understand what we do, why we do it and whom we do it with.”
For Nilsson, who says that the inspiration for his food comes not only from his surroundings but the real food of his grandparents style of cooking, “whom we do it” with means the farmers such as Leif and Stephen Kullen who raise Fjallko mountain cows whose milk Nilsson describes as “tastier and more perfumed” and the eccentric Mr. Duck who raises poultry.
Reading Nilsson’s writings takes us into a different world as we walk with him through the woods, gathering leaves which will be aged for a year before turning into soup, hearing the crunch of nettles under his feet (another soup ingredient), visiting honeybee keepers whose practices have changed little over the centuries and picking the vast selection of delicate berries with such seductive names as Bird Cherries, Cloudberries, Arctic Raspberries and Crowberries.
Though most of his recipes are stuck firmly in rural northern Sweden, some of the recipes let us enter into his world without having to make pine bark flour-- though Nilsson tells us how to make it noting that the first step is to chop down a pine tree or cook over juniper branches.
“The shortbread cookies, the linseed crackers and the bread are all things we serve at the restaurant,” says Nilsson, “and can easily be made in any kitchen.”
He also tells many stories like that of like that of Slättbränna Fabodara, a farming hamlet dating back to the 1850s though roads didn’t reach it until the 1930s, reciting from the diary of 17-year-old Signe who wrote about her experiences moving to Slättbränna Fabodara in 1917 with her large family and the life they led. His tales, whether they’re about the legends of his place, the seasons and what they produce or how to dry marigold petals to use the following year, seem magical in the telling.
It is like a fairy tale indeed.
Recipes
Douglas’s Shortbread Cookies
2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
10 1/2 tablespoons salted butter, room temperature
1 large egg, room temperature
1 large egg yolk, room temperature
3 tablespoons (about) raspberry jam
Preheat oven to 400°. Whisk flour, sugar, and baking powder in a large bowl. Add butter; using your fingertips, rub in butter until coarse meal forms. Whisk egg and yolk in a bowl; add to flour mixture; stir just to blend.
Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Measure dough by 2 tablespoonfuls and roll into balls. Place on prepared sheets, spacing 2" apart. Make an indentation in center of each ball; fill each with 1/2 teaspoon jam.
Bake cookies until golden, 12–14 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Life’s Bhat a great cuppa!

http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/opinion/lifes-bhat-a-great-cuppa/article4095348.ecehttp://www.thehindubusinessline.com/opinion/lifes-bhat-a-great-cuppa/article4095348.ece

Little Rajasthan

SRAVANTHI CHALLAPALLI
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  • Sugar ’n’ spice: A sugarcane juice-stall near the Jain temple in Sowcarpet, Chennai. - SRAVANTHI CHALLAPALLI
    Sugar ’n’ spice: A sugarcane juice-stall near the Jain temple in Sowcarpet, Chennai. - SRAVANTHI CHALLAPALLI
  • Murukku sandwich. - SRAVANTHI CHALLAPALLI
    Murukku sandwich. - SRAVANTHI CHALLAPALLI
Synonymous with moneylenders, Sowcarpet is also a delectable slice of north India in Chennai.
Never start a food tour with badam milk, especially one as rich as Kakada Ramprasad’s in Chennai’s Sowcarpet. It fills you up — and unless you want to brazen it out, you can’t eat much else. Chilled, sweet, and chunky, with bits of almond; perhaps you’d find that much badam only in a home-made version. No amount of walking is going to lighten your stomach after that.
Organised as part of the Madras Week, the Mint Food Trail took us to chaotic Sowcarpet, one of Chennai’s oldest localities. Madras Week is an eight-year-old annual event that celebrates the founding of Chennai (formerly Madras), which turned 373 years old this year. Heritage walks, lectures, photographic exhibitions, and competitions are all part of the celebrations.
A big section of Sowcarpet’s residents are Rajasthanis and Gujaratis — merchants and money-lenders who migrated to the city in the seventeenth century to do business with the East India Company, which traded in cloth. Mint Street was where the sahukars or sowcars (money-lenders) settled down, and hence, the area’s name. Setting foot in this area is like going through a time warp and stepping into a dusty little town in North India. Women in traditional North Indian clothes and jewellery lend colour to the grey and grimy landscape.
Kakada Ramprasad, a spacious, tiled outlet, stands out amidst narrow, long streets chock-a-block with money-lending establishments, pawn shops, stores selling steel regular and oversize utensils, groceries, dry fruit, vegetables and more — all cheek by jowl with homes. The eatery is a landmark in the area; say “Kakada” and the auto driver nods and sets off without further ado.
The Jain Temple close by is another landmark. Our tour guide, Pratibha Jain, co-author of two cookbooks - Cooking at Home with Pedatha and Sukham Ayu — grew up on Kakada’s treats. She recommends the badam milk and the aloo tikki chaat (which comes topped with a cube of paneer).
Though I was not able to discern it from the single bite I took, a member of our group said the tikki was fried in ghee, not oil. It was definitely tasty, all golden crispness beneath a blanket of curd, chilli powder and mint chutney.
From there, it’s a very short walk to the sugarcane juice vendor at the corner of Elephant Gate Street. He has just two jugs of juice, which are drained as soon as they are refilled — those who tried it said it’s very good. Then on to Ajab Mithai Ghar, where a traditional Gujarati combination of jalebi, fafda and crumbled dhokla was waiting for us. On Sundays and festive occasions, this is breakfast in Gujarati homes, along with a pickled chilli. Ajab Mithai has branches in Purasawalkam, Egmore’s Fountain Plaza (Ajnabi), Vadapalani, and Ayanavaram. We pass a nondescript store selling sacks of pasta — old Madras jostling with the new!
The pyaaz kachodi at Maya Chaats (General Muthaiah Street) are frying in an old iron kadai when we get there. We wonder if it contains potato, but it definitely has a touch of lime, which keeps it from being an entirely oily affair. Kesar-pista may be the flavour to go for at Maharaja Kulfi next door, but what catches my eye is an ice lolly called ‘Orange Dolly’. No, I didn’t try it; I just liked the name.
Turning left into Mint, I was drawn to a paan shop that was not on our list - Gupta Pan House. Its tagline read ‘Spicily: We are undertaking marriage and party orders’. I leave it to your imagination to guess the intended meaning. Agarwal Chaat, the pani puri stall next door, is another institution.
Finally, Pratibha leads us to Murugan Sandwich, where we have modern Chennai’s own North-meets-South creation: the murukku sandwich. Though it sounds bizarre, don’t dismiss it — at the very least, it is ‘interesting’, and has many connoisseurs. Between two murukkus are arranged slices of tomato, onion and cucumber, mint chutney and grated cheese, all topped with sev. No bread involved.
Mint is perhaps the only place in Chennai where one can do a food trail, says Pratibha. “In my experience, no one road has such variety in Chennai where you can just keep walking and finding snacks.” In Mylapore, for instance, there is Rayar’s or Karpagambal Mess, but they have a variety of snacks, and are sit-down places. Purasawalkam has some places, but not one such road, nor so many, she explains. So, whether you’re a gastronome or just want to explore something offbeat, you know where to go.

Diwali special meal...Desi Macaroni and Ice- cream sandwiches!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCfwbzzUSUQ&feature=g-feathttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCfwbzzUSUQ&feature=g-feat

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Simple dish Idly has been in controversy regarding the origin.

Idly in literature
‘iddalige’, first mentioned in a Kannada work Vaddaradhane of Sivakotyacharya in 920 AD. The Sanskrit Manasollasa of 1130 AD has ‘iddarika’. Tamil apparently only first mentions ‘itali’ in the 17th century.

Gujarati origin
Gujarat have IDADA which is steamed dhokla made from same ingredients as Idly.Namely Urad dhaal and Rice which are fermented overnight and next day steamed.Gujarathis claim Idaly is a dish which came to south from Gujarat during 10/12th century AD.when lot of silk weavers from saurashtra came to south via Maharashtra.The dukkia is first mentioned in AD 1068 in Gujurathi Jain literature, and dhokla appears in AD 1520 in the Varanaka Samuchaya. Besan flour is fermented overnight with curd, and steamed in slabs which are then cut into pieces and dressed with fresh coriander leaves, fried mustard seeds and coconut shreds. A coarser version is khaman and both are popular breakfast and snack foods in Gujurat. But we have to note that Gujart was ruled by chalukyas and Rastrakutas for many centuries before that and Idada may be from iddalige. Since we dont find references to that before that.

Indonesia origin
Acharya notes:the use of rice grits along with urad dhal,the long fermentation of the mix, and the steaming of the batter to fluffiness. Only after 1250 AD are there references to what seem to be idlis as we know them. Achaya’s contention is that this absence from the historical record could mean that idlis are an imported concept — perhaps from Indonesia which has a long tradition of fermented products, like tempeh (fermented soy cakes), kecap (from where we get ketchup) or something called kedli, which Achaya says, is like an idli. This is plausible enough given the many links between Southeast Asia and South India, through rulers and traders. Acharyra also adds many legendary stories ,but there is no basis for them.
Heuan tsang says no steaming vessels south india in seventh century.But steaming vessels are not required for steaming dishes , steam can be produced using cloth over the vessel, still this method is used in south India.

Karnataka origin
Vaddaradhane by Shivakoti Acarya ( Rashtrakoota times)of the 10th century names Iddalige ( Idli ), Holige (Poli) and Savige ( Vermicelli). The 12th century encyclopedia Manasollaasa of Somashekhara Ballala III (Kalyani Chalukya) is a veritable treasure house of recipes and cooking styles. Lets not forget that these were empires with catholic tastes and wide trading hinterlands.