Posts Tagged ‘cooking’
A Kashmiri winter dish
Two summers ago, I grew a bunch of vegetables in my front yard. Outcome – I ended up with way more than I could eat, so I was drying. Mostly herbs. But that got me curious about dried vegetables. About the same time, I had learned about Kashmiri dried vegetables, Hokh Syun (link). For Kashmiris, it used to be necessity back in the days when snow would isolate villages and homes. Now it is a childhood memory food for most. For me, it is curiosity. So I dried some in my trusty dehydrator – eggplant and bottle gourd. Both were store bought but the vegetables were unusually tender, so I could pretend that they were from my kitchen garden.
I have been meaning to cook these dried vegetables for a while, and I finally got around to making the dried eggplants, wangan hachi, earlier this week. I rehydrated the dried eggplants in salted boiling water – they were nearly cooked in the process. Like Bengali cooking, Kashmiri cooking starts with heating mustard oil to smoking point and then cooling down to normal heat. I dropped a couple red chilis, a generous pinch of cumin seeds and let them splutter. Then I added sliced onion and minced garlic and let them soften. To that I added the powdered spices (turmeric, kashmiri chili pepper, fennel) and let them lose their raw aroma. And to all that I added the rehydrated eggplants and a splash of hot water. The eggplants were so soft that the vegetable took on a bhartha consistency. Once the liquid cooked down, I added a bit of milk and let the vegetable medley reach a consistency I wanted. And finally, I acknowledged that I had run out of cilantro leaves.
I paired the sabzi with a ragi (finger millet) roti and yogurt raita.
I have been trying flatbreads with a variety of gluten free grains. One of my prized possession is a countertop mill. It allows me to buy grains and mill on demand, it lengthens the freezer free shelf life compared to buying whole grain flour. Ragi roti is wonderful when you add a bunch of onion and make a super soft dough. I used cooked leek tops instead of raw onion. I flattened the soft dough on a hot griddle with wet hands to shape a rough flatbread – I call it roti, but flatbread is more appropriate. These flatbreads are thicker than roti and take some time to cook. I don’t use ghee when making flatbread, but I imagine what it would taste like if I added ghee instead of neutral oil.
Again, I have never eaten Hokh Syun before, so I only had my imagination to rely on. The eggplant had a strong eggplant flavor. The mustard oil had given it a desirable pungency. It reminded me of bhartha without the smokiness.
The vegetable was great with the flatbread.
Experiencing a Laba porridge
Once again this year, I am hoping to celebrate cultural festivals around the world, via food. Last time I did this, it was 2023 and I was still grieving from the world wide impact of COVID. Back then, we were still eating meat intermittently (check out our celebration in honor of Mardi Gras). By no means have we gone vegetarian now, but animal meat consumption is minimal these days. We still have tinned sardines around for the days when quick access to high quality protein is required. Anchovies and nduja continue to flavors an occasional stew or pasta dish. This year, I have put myself up for a harder challenge, cooking vegetarian forward celebratory meals without going overboard on the joys of simple carbs.
For January, after some careful thinking, I decided to celebrate the Laba festival. Part of the selection process includes the learning about a new culture and custom. Part of it is finding a specific dish associated with the cultural celebration. This year the Laba festival coincided with India’s Republic Day (and my aunt-in-law’s birthday) and fell mid-week. Wikipedia notes that La is the twelfth month and Ba is the eight’s day and Laba is a knock on the door, announcing the upcoming Lunar New Year. On this day, it is customary to eat the Laba congee, also known as the “eight treasure congee”, a combination of grains (rice, millet, barley), beans (red, mung) and dry fruits (jujube, nuts, lotus seeds). I also read that the congee can be had sweet or savory. We make savory porridge five times a week, so I settled for sweet laba congee. I raided my pantry and concocted my congee mixture of purple rice, millet, white quinoa, hulled buckwheat groats, chana daal, and caviar lentils. I flavored it with bay leaf, walnuts, raisons, dried figs/apple/apricot/pear slices and dried mulberries. For sweetness, I added a hint of brown sugar.
I wish I had dried jujube, but I didn’t. It isn’t uncommon to find fresh jujube here in California. Maybe I will dry some for the next Laba congee. I also didn’t have un-popped lotus seeds in the pantry, a common Chinese stew ingredient. I had only the popped ones, a common Indian snack. I wish I had a reference for what it should have tasted like. Dishes like congee are often simple dishes that evoke a sense of comfort that I associate with mom’s cooking. To me, Laba congee was just a variation on the 250+ wholesome porridges that I make every year – this one had more ingredients than most and I am sure my gut loved it.
The closest cultural porridge for me is the Bengali khichudi. It is made with hulled split mung beans that are dry roasted and an heirloom rice called Gobindbhog (food for Lord Krishna). The combination of pungent mustard oil and umami ghee lends a unique flavor to the dish. The spiciness often comes from generous amounts of black pepper and ginger. It is often finished with Bengali garam masala (made from warming spices like cinnamon, green cardamom, and cloves) and eaten with fried pappadams and a sweet tomato chutney (sour desi tomatoes and sweet dates). For me, the taste of khichudi is the taste of winter. Mom would make khichudi often during our short winters. During the season, dad would request this warming dish every week. For mom, it was a fuss free meal unlike typical multi-coarse Bengali meals. As kids, we loved it because it didn’t require us to wrangle the fish bones, a skill one eventually acquires with practice.
Locomotoring 