Under Pressure

Pressure cooking is suddenly in the limelight again. It looks like it's the next new wave after slow cooking in the crockpot. If you grew up like me -- in a home where beans, legumes and pulses were eaten on a daily basis -- you're probably grateful that an efficient and effective cooking method is finally being recognized, and you're possibly also quite aghast at the various myths that are being repeated ad nauseam, especially the one that pressure cookers are dangerous because they explode in your face.

releasing pressure

There's no doubt that they used to explode and there were two reasons for that: poor manufacturing and user error (which, unfortunately, continues even today). Modern pressure cookers, especially the kind that don't open until the pressure has subsided, are much safer but so are the old-style ones with a weighted pressure-release, if used properly. If you continue to hear stories about how they explode, then more often than not, it is user error.

This reminds me of the recent article that said that immersion or hand blenders are dangerous because many people have almost lost their fingers to the blade. Well, it's only common sense that if the appliance is not unplugged, a blade that is jammed will start spinning as soon as the obstruction has been removed. But, since common sense is rather rare, it is easier to tarnish the appliance with the label: Dangerous.

I am still wondering why the author of that particular article was using an immersion blender for butter that was meant to go into chocolate chip cookies, and how an article of that kind made it into The New York Times. And, if she will ever be able to live it down.

I must say that I am rather surprised that such people still drive cars.

Or use a knife.

Read on...

But I am home

You're going home after so long?

How did you stay away all this while? We try to go home every year, if not every other year.

Enjoy your trip home!

Didn't you miss home?

But I am home.

I bit my lips, quelled those words and smiled because they meant well. But try as hard as I might, I could not think of my visit to India as going home or returning home because I am home. My home is where my husband and child are. We build the walls of our home together. It does not matter where we live.

Recently, an Australian woman living in Boulder tuned into a Sydney radio channel while making dinner for her family and tweeted that "Surrounding myself with home is pretty awesome." Again, I brushed away those same words.

Hmmmm?!

Read on...

Irio, a Kenyan food

Like N, I have been accused of being far too active on Facebook. I have been unfriended because my contacts only see me on their feeds.
It's all you, you, you and you. So annoying.
Well, of course, it's all about me, me and me. That's why it's called my Wall.
How much do you write?
I write a lot. A lot. A heck of a lot. Facebook doesn't even make a dent in the lot that I write.
Where do you find the time?
Do you talk to people during the day? You know, like in the next cubicle or desk or at the water cooler? Where do you find the time to do that and, also, update your Facebook Wall or comment on mine? Facebook is my watercooler. Your friends have to listen to you talk whereas you can Hide me and never hear from me again, unless you seek me out.

Thanks to Facebook, I've reconnected with a whole bunch of my schoolfriends from Kenya as well as college friends from India. And, very recently, one of my favorite friends from Bombay. She disappeared without a trace a few years ago, as did I for her. Facebook to the rescue!

Mso chicks!

It was during one of those infinite updates that one of my school friends asked me if I knew how to make bhajias, the kind we gorged on in Kenya. And if the pictures that these gals had posted had not taken me down memory lane, this question sent me hurtling down its path. I rued that I was a pathetically under-nourished kid who was not interested in food when we lived in Nairobi. I remember names of dishes and there are memories wound around most of them; but the flavors? For the most part, I have no recollection whatsoever.

I do, however, remember some things: like the time I ate ugali for the first time and didn't need to eat again for the next two days! It was like a giant idli that sat like a rock in my stomach forever. Whee! The freedom it gave me!

I had my first taste of rhubarb at one of my first hot lunches at school. I felt like I had licked someone's sweaty underarms and both, the smell and the image, made me extremely nauseous. If you had told me then that I would grow to love rhubarb, especially in a crumble, I would have given outlaughed all the hyenas on the Kenyan savannah.

Indian cuisine has had a fair amount of influence on Kenyan cooking; for example, chapatis and samosas are now as Kenyan as they are Indian. Spices and aromatics find their way into everyday Kenyan fare. A friend who is currently vacationing in Kenya reports that the "food is really good here!" And I believe her!

As my subconscious continued to be bombarded, I awoke one morning with the word irio ringing in my ears. Now, that was a stark change from the strange dreams that play vividly in my mind's eye otherwise! I remember it being described simply as food. Some sort of a nutritious mash that I am pretty sure I did not care for.

It had been served to us at a friend's home in rural Kenya, when he took us on a tour of his farm. His family had been fascinated by my mother. They couldn't stop touching her sari and asking about the bindi she wore on her forehead. All I wanted to do was run around outside after having been caged inside a car for over three hours. Who cared about the food when there were new kids to play with! Especially kids with an endless yard to romp around in.

But I am a different person now - the same friend who asked about bhajias wrote something about Sammy Sosa on her Wall and all I could see was samosa. I had to look up irio and while I was very tempted to make this spiced up version, I chose to stay closer to the home recipe and used Congo Cookbook's recipe instead. A simple mixture of mashed potatoes, dried peas and maize with a healthy dose of greens.

Irio

• 1 cup dried split green peas
• 6 medium red potatoes
• 6 ears of fresh corn
• 1/2 lb baby spinach, washed
• green and yellow beans, a good handful
• freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• salt to taste

1. Soak dried green peas overnight or give them a quick hot soak. Cook in a pressure cooker or boil in a saucepan until done.
2. Peel and dice potatoes into large pieces.
3. Scrape the kernels off the cobs.
4. Mix peas, potatoes, corn kernels and baby spinach and cover with just enough water to cook the veggies.
5. Mash the cooked mixture to a thick consistency.
6. Serve hot.

This is a great alternative for mashed potatoes and a lot healthier, too. Traditionally, irio is served with grilled meat, usually steak. I served it with broiled lamb chops. No special recipe: I marinated the chops with ginger-garlic paste, red chilli powder, turmeric powder and salt.

Leftovers can be rolled into small patties and shallow fried. Or used as stuffing for a toasted sandwich.

This was supposed to be my second entry for my own event, IFR: Memories. Remember that? I have been a terrible host but this particular post was a mental block. The pictures were awful, the words wouldn't flow and it came at a time when I haven't been able to sit at my desk for several hours at a stretch. Whatever time I do get is focused on work and at my watercooler. I have been very self-absorbed lately, for which I apologize profusely.

Does this post mean the round-up is coming up? Like you, I sure hope so, too!

Disclaimer: I'm really sorry but I do not add friends to my Facebook page unless I know them personally or have had a reasonably long online association with them.

A cultural thing, perhaps

Generally - which means in general, so don't jump on me all at once and show me examples of where it has been done - Indian food blogs don't entice you with pictures of empty bowls that once had delectable food in them. Or with half eaten food, with teeth marks showing on the food or a sizeable chunk of the food missing.


Therefore my question: Is it a cultural thing? You know, kind of like
- how you don't offer jhoota food to dinner guests.
- how you quickly do away with dirty bowls but proffer bowls filled to the brim with goodies instead

I wonder if that held me back from participating in a Dirty Dishes Challenge last year. This year is different. So much of what parades as tradition and culture is old ladies saying whatever they want and getting away with it. Some of it made up on the fly just before they spout it, that I thought Pfffft. Here's more anti-culture for you:

I ate half of that before I took the picture and I don't regret it. My hips and thighs do, but I don't.

The only part I do regret is that I may have been cursed in return, as I have a new affliction: shakinghanditis. No matter what I do, my hands tremble when I point the camera in any direction and then when I press the shutter, my hand moves downwards to assist the camera with that action.

Result: blurry pics all the time.
Proof: all the pictures in this post. I have cleverly masked the effects so that they are not easily apparent.
Attitude: I really don't care, the gajar halwa was perfect!

Gajar Halwa

There are several regional variation of gajar (gah-juhr) or carrot halwa. The further North in India you are, you will get grated carrots that have been cooked in ghee and mawa. I am biased to the one stewed in milk forever, with very little ghee. I also prefer gajar halwa that is not cloyingly sweet.

Sue Darlow's recipe seemed like the perfect way to have the carrots cook on their own without much fuss. That it is pressure cooked and uses sweetened condensed milk appealed to that part of me that likes to cock a snoot at the purists. My first attempt over three years ago was a hit with my dinner guests. The leftovers were frozen and flown like a trophy to the East Coast where they were shared with more willing mouths who now swear that I am best halwai, in the world. We won't shatter their beliefs or my ego; instead, we'll just ride on the positive feelings that ensue. But the sad part is that I was not completely satisfied and I kept tweaking this recipe until I hit the jackpot - just right for our tastes.

• 2.5 lbs fresh carrots, grated
• 1 can sweetened condensed milk
• 1.5 tbsp blackstrap molasses
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• 2 tbsp ghee
• 10-12 pods green cardamoms
• crushed almonds (optional)
• crushed pistachios (optional)
  

1. Put grated carrots, condensed milk, molasses, and heavy cream directly into the pressure cooker and mix well.
2. Cook under pressure on medium heat and after the first whistle, turn the heat down to low and cook for at least another half hour.
3. Release the pressure slowly and safely. Be prepared to see some liquid in the pressure cooker when you open it, as it depends on how juicy your carrots are.
4. Crush the cardamom seeds, discarding the outer pod and add to the mixture. Also, stir in ghee
5. Heat on medium, stirring continuously until any excess liquid has evaporated.
6. Transfer to a serving bowl and decorate with crushed almonds and pistachios
7. Gajar halwa can be served warm or cold. We like the warm-cold thing and so I serve it warm with ice-cream!

Notes:

• I was dismayed by what masqueraded as carrots in this country, especially since I moved here when India was a luscious deep red into the carrot season. Supermarket carrots - because I did not know any better at the time - tasted like wood, and carrots were near eliminated from our diet. Those 'baby' carrots are just as bad. Until I discovered fresh locally-grown carrots and later, organic carrots. These are sweet and very juicy. Very orange, but still. So spend that extra 50 cents per pound and get yourself some real juicy carrots.
• Much as I espouse the benefits of stirring, I don't have the luxury of standing by the carrots, watching as they stew slowly in the milk since this has become a standard dessert when we have guests for dinner. I had to say that before the hoards of hecklers arrive to make smart comments on that, apart from expressing disbelief that this post actually has a recipe. So there!
  
• The blackstrap molasses adds a deeper dimension to the gajar halwa: to the flavor and to the color. It also serves to add a sweet tone without the added moisture of a medium like condensed or even evaporated milk.
• You could add more but remember that blackstrap molasses has a complex flavor and you might be better off adding some brown sugar instead, if you like it sweeter.

Dal Matters: Whole Moong Dal

Last weekend, my family celebrated Holi for the first time in the US. It isn't my favorite festival. I hated stepping out on Holi because I was a sure target for water balloons tossed from the 3rd or 4th floor. They hurt. People who refused to make eye contact through the year were suddenly pouring water all over me, touching me and plastering my face and clothes with color. No, thank you. I used to call it the "touch your neighbor's wife anywhere you want and get away with it" festival. This was Rangpanchami or Dhulivandan.

I did enjoy the real Holi. A lot. Mali-dada or the man who was the watchman-gardener-milkman for our little apartment complex would dig a large hole, fill it with twigs and dead leaves and set it ablaze. This, I later learned, was the funeral pyre for Holika, a demoness. The children would dance around the fire and chant:
Holi re Holi
Purana chi Poli

Mali-dada would crack open the coconuts we had given to him for prasad and then most of the women and kids would go to the terrace at the top of the building where much merriment would occur under the full moon, sans bhang.


We didn't partake of any celebrations in Chicagoland as it was always too cold and messing with powdered colors indoors was not something anyone was willing to take on in their homes. It was different last weekend: the weather held out at a breezy 60F with no rain or snow. Perfect for Holi.
We went armed with our Super Soaker but it was a little too breezy for that and Medha was disappointed. She's quite an ace when it comes to making sneak attacks and using the flash flood mode to douse her opponent with water. She made up for it by having a blast with the colors - apparently they smelled good, too. She was quite enthralled by her hair which soon had hues of purple and orange; a shower was the last thing she wanted to do once we got home.

Later in the week, she came home excited that the Time for Kids for that week had a picture of kids in Ahmedabad celebrating Holi.

Puran poli is the traditional food for Holi.

I don't celebrate Holi and I don't make Puran poli. Instead, I made whole moong dal. This recipe boasts a flavor that I had been trying to recreate from memory for what seems like forever. It is based on this recipe and is a keeper. There is no need to molly-coddle the whole moong with an overnight soak. A pressure cooker is all you need to ensure the soft creaminess of these beans.

Whole Moong Dal

• 1 cup whole green moong dal
• 2 tbsp ghee
• a pinch asafetida
• 1 tamalpatra bay leaf
• 1" cinnamon
• 3 cloves
• 1 whole red chilli, broken into pieces
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 2 medium tomatoes, chopped
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 2 tbsp ginger, grated
• 1 tbsp garlic, grated
• 2 green chillies, slit vertically
• 3-4 tbsp cilantro, chopped fine
• 1/2 tsp red chilli powder
• 1/4 tsp turmeric powder
• salt to taste

1. Rinse the whole moong beans, drain and set aside.
2. Heat the ghee directly in the pan of the pressure cooker.
3. Add asafetida, bay leaf, cinnamon, cloves, and red chillies, followed by cumin seeds.
4. Add chopped onions and cook until they have softened some.
5. Add turmeric powder, green chillies, ginger, garlic, and tomatoes. Cook for a few minutes.
6. Add whole moong and approximately 4 cups of water.
7. Add red chilli powder and salt.
8. Add chopped cilantro.
9. Cook on a high flame for 2 whistles. Turn the flame to low and cook for about 45 minutes.
10. Do not release the built-up pressure; instead allow the pressure cooker to cool on its own.
11. When you can open the pressure cooker, adjust for seasonings, garnish with some cilantro and serve hot with rotis or steaming hot rice.

Notes:

1. What I love about this recipe, apart from its fabulous flavors, is that I don't need to plan a day ahead if I want to make this for dinner. One could soak the moong but it's not necessary.
2. Ghee adds a wonderful dimension to the phodni.
3. The original recipe suggests using some tomato paste to add an appealing color to the dish. It imparts no additional flavor so I skip that part.
4. To up the heat, increase the number of red chillies in the phodni and/or green chillies and/or red chilli powder.

Try it. It's a recipe you will want to make again and again.

Dal Matters: Masoor Dal for Rose

Her name may be Rose; she looks anything but...



This and other similar snide comments were whispered by visiting relatives and guests alike when they saw our maid, Rose. She was a tribal girl, an Adivasi, who had come to Bombay in search of a better life. She had some basic education so she could read and write in both English and Hindi, and she could count, too. She and her sister had dropped out of school because getting there took them several hours, as did getting back. They lived in a hut with a thatched roof in a remote area of Bihar and had to walk several miles for water on a daily basis. They had no electricity. Every year, she would go home for about a month, to take some of her earnings back to her family. The journey itself was long: several days by train, followed by several days by bus and about a day of walking. Every time she came back, she had lost a fair amount of weight from both the journey as well as the harsh conditions in which the rest of her family coexisted. We were like two lionesses - my sister and I - with nails drawn and teeth bared, when it was assumed that it was perfectly alright to snicker about her.

Rose was an excellent cook. She taught us many of her recipes, just as she learned many from us. The one that has stayed with me is her Masoor Dal. It is simple, it cooks quickly and it can be used copiously to drown rice in a large bowl and consumed in absolute bliss. Here is my adaptation of Rose's Masoor Dal.

Masoor Dal

• 2 cups uncooked masoor dal, washed and drained (hulled split red lentils)
• 2-3 tsp oil
• 1/2 tsp mustard seeds
• pinch asafetida
• 10-15 whole black peppercorns^{**see notes}
• 1/8 tsp turmeric powder
• 1/2 tsp red chilli powder
• 1 beefsteak tomato (optional), sliced into 8 wedges
  
• 6 cups water
• juice of one lemon
• salt to taste

1. Heat oil in the pan of your pressure cooker.
2. Add mustard seeds and when they pop, add asafetida.
3. Add whole black peppercorn - careful now, as they have a tendency to pop right out of the pan and into your face.
4. Add turmeric powder, red chilli powder and the tomato wedges.
5. Add masoor dal, water and salt. Stir well.
6. Cook under pressure until the dal cooks, taking care to ensure that it does not burn. The time and method varies depending on the type of pressure cooker. I usually cook it under pressure on medium-high and after the first 'whistle', I turn the heat down to low and let it cook for another 20-25 minutes.
   
7. Allow the pressure cooker to cool and open it only when it is safe.
8. Add lemon juice, mix well and serve over steaming hot rice.
   

Notes:

• Rose's original recipe called for a generous sprinkling of freshly ground black peppercorns over the dal just before serving. I prefer to add whole black peppercorn because it works for all of us. Those who can't deal with the intense flavor of black pepper can pick out the whole peppercorns. Those who need the punch can just munch on them.
  
• This dal is meant to be sour. However, you can add less lemon juice, if you wish.
• You could add chopped cilantro, too. I don't because this is my go-to dal when I am out of fresh green chillies and cilantro. You don't even need dried red chillies. You could add them if you wish, but why bother pulling out the cutting board? I chop my tomato and lemon right over the pan. Enjoy simple flavors with very little clean-up.
  
• I don't have a picture of the finished dal. I might update this post later with a pic and do a Priya on you.
  

The funny thing is that no matter what they called her, everyone agreed that Rose had magic in her hands. Even funnier is that her real name was not Rose. She was Ruth.

(I know the ending does not make much sense. But that is why I am not a famous author that all of you are clamoring to meet. It is why I write a blog.)

Sambar with my eyes closed

Mumma, will you please write down this recipe? So that when you're dead, I will still know how to make this?

A compliment, I think!

Perhaps it comes from all that talk about my Mom's nankatai, not knowing which recipe was the one she used and how the only way to figure it out was to try both and hope that one of them was it. Either that or it's the prolonged morbidity that has prevailed in our conversations lately!

So many bloggers start their blogs as a legacy of recipes and memories for their children. Others because they hit a wall looking for accurate pictures and descriptions of ingredients and homemade Indian food. Many others use it as a tool to share memories with family and friends far away. Me? I wish I had something even remotely as endearing. But no, I just wanted to figure out how Blogger worked. This was back in March of 2003, and food & family was the easiest topic to blog on. It didn't matter whether anyone would ever read what I had to say, I just needed to figure out what the hype was all about.

I've never really conformed and our life path after marriage certainly hasn't either. However, once there was a child in the picture, a lot of things changed because we didn't want our child to bear the brunt of our lifestyle. But she remains different as do her thought processes, shaped as she is by our attitudes and outlook. Sometimes, a tad too mature for a 9 year old. Other times, too naïve.

So when she asked me to write down the recipe, I wondered whether that could be the new meaning of my blog. And my inner core shuddered. But, like I said, when there is a child or there are children, one's perspective changes. I don't know that my entire blog or all the recipes, anecdotes and thoughts are for her - it's really for me and it's perfectly alright to be selfish on some fronts, I think - but this recipe is definitely for her. As is the backup of all my recipes. My blog, though, remains mine and a release for me and me alone.

One Pot Sambar

• 2 tsp oil
• 1/2 tsp mustard seeds
• pinch asafoetida
• 1/4 tsp fenugreek seeds
• 1/4 tsp turmeric powder
• 1 Thai green chilli or 2-3 finger hot pepper, sliced vertically into two
• 2 sprigs of kadipatta
• 1 red chilli, broken into 2 pieces (optional)
• small ball of tamarind fruit pulp, about the size of a dollar coin
• 1 can of Hunts organic diced tomatoes
• 1 cup tur dal (split pigeon peas)
• 3 cups water
• 3 heaped tsp MTR Sambar Masala
• salt to taste
• cilantro for garnish, optional

1. Heat oil in the pan of your pressure cooker
2. Add mustard seeds and when they pop, add a pinch of asafetida, followed by fenugreek seeds.
3. Add green chillies and kadipatta. Be ready with a splatter screen if these are wet or damp.
4. Add the turmeric powder and the red chilli, followed by the diced tomatoes. Add about 1 can of water, too. This way the can gets rinsed out, too!
5. Add about 1/4 up to 1/3 cup water to the tamarind fruit pulp and heat it in the microwave for about 10-15 seconds. Mash the tamarind pulp till you have a thickish paste. Discard any fibers or seeds. Add more water if needed.
6. Wash the tur dal in a couple of changes of water and add it to the pressure cooker, followed by 3 cups of water, tamarind paste, MTR sambar powder and salt.
7. Cook under pressure for at least 3 whistles. Sometimes I forget and let it go to 4 without any problems! Or cook for as long as it takes for tur dal to cook in your pressure cooker.
8. Allow the pressure cooker to cool before you open it. Remember that it is still cooking in the built up pressure and you want to make the most of that. Plus it is wise to be safe.
9. Stir well, adjust for salt and sambar powder, if required. If it is too thick for your liking, add more water and adjust the seasonings again.
10. Garnish with cilantro and serve hot with rice or idlis or dosa.

We love this sambar so much that we can be found sipping on it, rather like soup. It's quite perfect for this cold weather!


Notes:

• If you aren't sure if 3 tsp of MTR's Sambar powder is the right amount for you, start with 2 tsp and once you have opened the pressure cooker, do a taste test to see if you need more. I used only 2 teaspoons until recently as Medha could not handle the spice.
• I have used a lot of sambar powders, and made my own, too. But for a quick sambar, I think MTR wins in taste and flavor. MTR spice mixes can be found in any Indian grocery store. Remember that you want the Sambar Powder and not the Instant Sambar Mix. Avoid the latter!

If you don't yet have a pressure cooker, I would exhort you to consider buying one as a Christmas gift for yourself. Think about it: it takes 20 minutes to cook something that would otherwise take at least an hour, if not more. It's taken me almost 2 hours to cook 2 cups of dal in a stockpot in Boulder, which is over a mile high in altitude. So much fuel and time wasted, not to mention the added frustration. You can cook directly in the pressure cooker or you can get inserts or containers that fit in the pressure to place different items. Target and Kohl's have pressure cookers in their cookware aisles or you could buy online from Amazon. I have only recently started cooking meat in the pressure cooker and it's so tender that I wonder what that mental block was all about! At least give it a thought!

Update: I am sending this to the lovely Linda, who is the host for JFI: Toor Dal.

Ugly is Delicious

What is there to lose, I thought?

Just a few more subscribers to my feeds (I'm sorry you don't enjoy my blog anymore! Maybe you'll change your mind and come back? Or maybe you just switched to another reader where you are not another statistic? I hope so!)

And traffic to this blog.

The former has been on a decline ever since I signed up for NaBloWriMo and then NaBloPoMo. The latter swings wildly based on the day of the week, although I think I have a fairly reasonable trend all mapped out. The name, Indian Food Rocks, could be considered a bit of a misnomer but if you go back enough into my archives - heck! just look at last month! - it's obvious that my blog isn't just about food. It's about life being spiced by food. So while food is one of the themes, it's also about family life, memories and vacations.

And, if Jai can bring out his pictures of food and pretend they are ugly, I can do better: bring out at least one genuinely atrocious picture. It's something I have been hiding for quite a while now, not knowing how it will affect further affect my dwindling readership - whether it will finally kill my blog? I've made this dish so many times that I could make it with my eyes closed; but for the life of me, I cannot seem to take a half decent picture of it! It looks like one of those generic dishes with a brown sauce, which all food stylists will tell you to avoid like the plague. Perhaps that holds me back. The last time I made it I decided to use less oil and make it healthier but instead, it looks like it is drowning in grease!

Chettinad Pepper Chicken

based on a recipe from Flavors of India by Madhur Jaffrey

• 1-2 tbsp oil (and another 1-2 tsp oil for the last step)
• 3 tamalpatra bay leaf
• 3 whole cardamoms
• 1 cinnamon stick, about 1 inch and broken
• 1 tsp fennel seeds
• 3 cloves
• 2 tsp urad dal
• 1/2 tsp turmeric powder
• 2 medium onions, chopped fine
• 2 tbsp Contadina tomato paste
• 8 chicken breasts, boneless and skinless, diced into bite-size piece
• 20 curry leaves
• salt to taste
• For the paste:
  
• 1.5 tbsp cumin seeds
• 5 dried red chillies
• 3 tbsp coriander seeds
• 1.5 tsp fennel seeds
• 1.5 tsp black peppercorn
• 1.5 tsp white poppy seeds (optional)
• 3-4 medium cloves of garlic, chopped
• 2 inch knob of ginger, chopped

1. Heat 1-2 tbsp oil in the pan of your pressure cooker.
2. Add bay leaves, cardamom, cinnamon, fennel seeds, cloves and urad dal. Stir and fry over medium heat until the urad dal turns a golden red.
3. Add turmeric powder and the finely chopped onions. Sauté until they are soft and slightly golden.
4. While the onions are cooking down, lightly roast cumin seeds, red chillies, coriander seeds, fennels seeds, black peppercorn, and the poppy seeds till they are fragrant.
5. Allow them to cool slightly and blend into a paste with the chopped ginger and garlic.
6. Add this paste to the onions with a few tsp of water to prevent scorching. Sauté for a few minutes.
7. Add tomato paste and cook for a couple more minutes.
8. Add chicken pieces, salt, 2-3 cups water and stir well.
9. Cook under pressure for one whistle, then turn down the heat and cook for another 5-7 minutes.
10. Allow the pressure cooker to cool and open it only when it is possible to do so safely. Do not rush this process as you want the chicken to be cooked completely. Stir well and transfer into a serving dish.
11. Heat 1-2 tsp oil and add the curry leaves. Fry till the curry leaves are crisp. Pour over the chicken and serve with steaming hot white rice.

Notes:

• The original recipe called for 5 tbsp oil. That can be brought down to under 2 tbsp. Even though it looks like the chicken is swimming in oil in the picture above.
• Madhur Jaffrey asks for the whole spices to be roasted in oil and then ground to a paste in the coffee grinder. I prefer to dry roast my spices and I generally do not put wet ingredients like garlic and ginger into my coffee grinder. I use the blender and the resulting paste is therefore a little more coarse.
• I have halved the number of red chillies and I skip the white poppy seeds cos that's one thing I forget to pick up from the Indian grocery store every time I go!
• Chettinad Pepper Chicken is not cooked in a pressure cooker and has a thick sauce. Madhur Jaffrey recommends removing the chicken pieces from the pan and reducing the sauce till it is very thick. Once the sauce has thickened, the chicken should be returned to the pan, folding it in gently into the sauce and then cooking for another 5-6 minutes. We prefer to drown our rice in curry so I skip this step.
• You could garnish this chicken with chopped cilantro.

It doesn't look very good but it is mind-blowingly delicious. Urad dal adds a great texture to the sauce and the fennels seeds are a treat to discover with every other bite.

Like Jai, I was planning to send this to Cathy for The Ugliest Gourmet event but my internal clock crapped out - the deadline was yesterday. I sent in my entry on Friday in any case but as I expected, it is not included. So take a look at the competition for Who is The Ugliest Gourmet and cast your vote. A comment I posted there earlier this afternoon does not show up so I am passing on the voting. Have fun!

This dish looks better when plated as it is offset by luscious long grains of basmati rice and some salad greens.

Apparently, there is someone called Bee who rants. Never heard of her.

Masoor with Red Chard

The day I was enamored by some adorable sunburst squash, I was also smitten by the lovely colors of a leafy vegetable - the red chard.

I've never cooked nor eaten any type of chard, let alone red chard. Here was a beautiful organic bunch of red chard, locally grown at 6000 feet in the Rockies of Colorado. I figured, why not! I'd already bagged the sunburst squash not knowing what I was going to do it; one more in the cart!

Since school started yesterday, I wanted to make sure that Medha's dinner the night before the first day of school was something she enjoys besides being nutritious. Chard is like a two-in-one, the goodness of spinach with the crunch of celery. It is rich in oxalates and vitamins C, E and K. It also has a good sprinkling of potassium.

I sautéed some chard in extra-virgin olive oil with some minced garlic and a dash of lemon. To me, it was delicious but I knew that this was a taste that she was not going to enjoy. It reminded me of the moolyachi bhaji (white radish) my mother used to make - a sharp tart flavor. But, there was a larger problem at hand. Luckily I still had half a bunch of red chard and I had to move quickly. Here's what I made:

Masoor with Red Chard

• 1 cup whole masoor or whole red lentils
• 1 green chilli
• 1/2 medium onion, chopped
• 3 tbsp oil
• 3 pieces of cinnamon, 1" in length
• 15 whole black peppercorns
• 5 cloves
• 3 tbsp tomato paste
• 1/2 bunch red chard, chopped (stalks included)
• 1 tbsp fresh ginger, grated
• 1/2 to 1 tsp red chilli powder (optional)
• 3/4 to 1 cup water
  
• salt to taste

1. Cook the masoor with the green chilli and the chopped onion in a pressure cooker.
2. Heat the oil and toss in the whole spices: cinnamon, cloves, and peppercorn.
3. Add the cooked masoor and onions. Pick out the green chilli, if desired.
4. Add the tomato paste. I used 3 blobs of my frozen tomato paste.
5. Add the ginger and red chilli powder and cook on medium heat.
6. Add the chopped red chard, stalks and all.
7. Add as much water to get the masoor to a consistency you like.
8. Add salt and cook till the stalks of the red chard are tender but still slightly crunchy.
9. Serve over rice or with naan, with lime pickle on the side

This was a hit because Medha loves masoor and had several servings with rice and yogurt. She was in bed before 9 pm, looking forward to the first day of school! Now, I'm off to get ingredients for my stuffed sunburst squash.

Tags: masoor, red chard, red lentils, amti