Malai Kofta

Yum yum Yum. Only Indians can think of such rich gravies. A decadent vision of creamy spicy gravy with little islands (or rather meteors?) of paneer-based vegetable fritters floating and cruising through thick currents of tomato and cream - sounds as irresistible as it actually tastes!

The gravy part is actually pretty simple. Not to trivialize North-Indian gravies, but once you figure out the basic formula that makes the gravy, it's straightforward every single time. You can't go wrong! But, it's the fat little Kofta that intimidates us a smidge. What makes good Koftas? The answer is relatively easy. Mashed, grated vegetables and paneer formed into balls and deep fried into lovely fritters! The Koftas can't taste anything less than good, but what keeps the Koftas stable, allowing them to retain their glorious shape and swim through the gravy? That, used to be a tough question. Something needs to bind the Koftas and keep them together without letting them disintegrate in the gravy, right? Nothing is quite so tragic as watching your perfectly fried golden-brown Koftas crumble in the gravy as you hear your husband clearing his throat and pointing the obvious - "Ahem, I don't think this is Malai Kofta anymore." 

With my mother-in-law's help, I thought the secret binding ingredient was corn-starch or all-purpose flour or maida or even rice flour. But, no, no, and no. Through a friend of mine, I got to know that the elusive secret ingredient was sitting under our noses all this while- besan. Ah! So, I had to try it out!  

Ingredients for the Koftas (makes 30-33 Koftas)

1. A small head of cabbage - grated/shredded
2. 200 grams of paneer / Indian Cottage Cheese - grated
3. 1 teaspoon of salt
4. 1 teaspoon of coriander powder
5. 1.5 teaspoons of Phav Bhaji masala / Indian curry powder (optional)
6. Besan / Bengal Gram dhal flour - as needed (no more than a cup)
7. 4-5 cups vegetable oil for deep frying

I used a rough proportion of 1:4 (paneer : cabbage) to make the Koftas. I was feeling guilty about the cream and milk, so I decided to compromise on the paneer. But really, the proportion doesn't matter. The more you add paneer, the more awesome the koftas would be! 

Preparing the Koftas

1. Mix the grated cabbage and paneer with the spices. Add the besan in small increments until you are able to form a firm ball of kofta that doesn't crumble (your hand is the best tool for this). The amount of besan depends on the texture of the cabbage and the paneer. So, I am unable to give an exact amount of besan.
2. Heat the oil on medium-high heat. Add no more than 4 koftas at a time and fry them on medium-heat until golden brown. Drain on paper-towels. 

 Ingredients for the Gravy (8-10 servings. I usually cook in big batches):

1. 2 medium-sized onions, finely diced
2. 2 tomatoes, diced
3. 9 ounces / 255 grams of tomato paste (1.5 cans of the small 6 ounce Hunts' paste)
4. ginger garlic paste - 5 cloves of garlic crushed and mashed with a 2" block of ginger
5. 3 cups 2% milk (low fat milk)
6. 2 cups fat-free half & half
7. 1/2 cup finely chopped coriander / cilantro leaves
8. 1.5 teaspoons salt or as needed
9. Juice of half a lemon
10. 2 teaspoons cumin seeds / jeera
11. 1 teaspoon turmeric powder
12. 1 teaspoon cumin powder / jeera powder
13. 2 teaspoons coriander powder
14. 2 teaspoons garam masala
15. 1 teaspoon chilli powder (optional. I don't add)
16. 2 tablespoons tomato ketchup 
17. 2-3 tablespoons olive oil / vegetable oil
18. 1/3 cup golden raisins (optional)

Preparing the Gravy:

1. In a big sauce-pan, heat the oil along with the cumin seeds. When the cumin seeds sizzle, add the onions and saute until translucent. 
2. Next, add the ginger garlic paste and fry with the onions for a minute. Dump all the spices - the turmeric, cumin powder, coriander powder, chilli powder, garam masala, and salt. Fry the spices in the ginger-garlic-onions for another minute. 
3. Add the tomatoes and saute for a couple of minutes until they soften and release their juices. Then, add the tomato paste and stir well to coat all the spices. On medium heat, let the tomato paste stew/cook in the spices until some oil begins to separate from the paste. It takes about 7-10 minutes. At this point, drizzle in some tomato ketchup to bring some vinegar-y zing to the gravy. Mix and stir for a minute.
4. Next, add 3 cups of milk and stir well. Close the sauce-pan, reduce the heat and let the gravy simmer for 20-30 minutes until the spices meld together and the raw taste of the tomatoes is softened by the milk and spices. The gravy should have also thickened a bit.
5. Slowly add the fried Koftas to the gravy. Do not vigorously stir or mix. Gently mix the koftas in the gravy. 
6. Pour 2 cups of half & half (or heavy cream!) and raisins, close the sauce-pan and let the koftas cook in the gravy for 10 minutes. 
7. Remove the gravy from heat. Garnish with lemon juice and coriander leaves. 

Serve with warm rotis or rice! The Malai Kofta tends to thicken a bit when stored in the fridge. So, dilute it with a bit of milk and bring it to a slow boil before serving the left overs.

Malai Kofta is definitely a labor of love, but it's surely worth it!

Peach Jam

It’s that time of the year when our garden blooms and comes alive with fruits, vegetables and more flowers. As Summer inches towards its end, the only consolation for us is the bounty we reap. Among others, we have an old and mellow peach tree that faithfully bears us bags upon bags of fruit every year. Despite leaving a share of fruits for the birds and squirrels, and passing on fruit baskets to friends and colleagues, we still end up with an overflowing refrigerator filled to the brim with fruits. After trying to eat them, juice them, and make smoothies out of them every other day (to note: peaches+mango+banana makes a lush tropical drink), we eventually tire of them. As the peaches start reaching their expiry, we begin to scuttle around the place, wringing hands with worry, wondering what to do, and shuddering at the thought of throwing away rotten peaches. It never occurs to us to sell them, for they become a little too personal to us. We both are such sentimental fools. So, I decided to make jars and jars of peach jam.

My mother-in-law prepared awesome peach jam last year that came for a good long year for us. So, inspired by her, and her delicious jam, I followed her easy recipe, and modified it a bit to convert 30 peaches into yummy jam.

I love the combination of peaches and oranges (from a smoothie trial), so I generously added the zest of three oranges that were sadly being neglected for a while. And, upon my mother-in-law’s suggestion, I also added saffron and cardamom powder. I am thrilled that these little touches enhanced the taste and flavor of the jam!

Ingredients

1. I used 30 peaches. It translated to 7 cups of peach pulp.
2. 14 cups of sugar, following a 1:2 ratio of peach pulp: sugar. This does evince the raised-eyebrows look, and it drained my teeny sugar container in no time, leaving me dazed and guilty. But jam is eventually about sugared fruit. Besides, one wouldn’t consume more than a spoon or two of jam per day, so it shouldn’t be so bad. If your peaches/fruit happen to be sweet, moderate the sugar accordingly. Peaches are generally tart and need sugar.
3. The grated zest of 3 oranges
4. A couple of pinches of saffron
5. 3-4 teaspoons of cardamom powder
6. The juice of 1 lemon. Lemon is a good preservative, and its tartness brings out the flavor of the peaches and oranges much better.

 
Preparation

1. In a big pot of boiling water, add all the peaches and let them blanch for 10-15 minutes (mine took about 20 minutes, due to the sheer volume and inadequately sized pot). Remove the peaches and immerse them in another pot of cold water (ice-cold water is much better as it shocks the peaches, stops them from cooking, and makes their peels slide off easily).  Remove their peels and pits, and put their pulp in a blender/food processor.
2. Pulse the blender/food processor till the pulp reaches a uniform consistency. Do not puree or grind, for it would then result in peach juice. I also personally like little bits of fruit in my jam as opposed to a pureed mass.
3. Transfer the pulp into a large, heavy bottomed pot. Add the required quantity of sugar and orange zest. With the heat on medium-low, start stirring the mass until the sugar dissolves and begins to bubble.
4. At this point, reduce the heat to low and continue stirring every now and then to avoid the pulp from burning or sticking to the bottom. Continue stirring until the mass begins to thicken a little, resulting in uneven chunks that don’t drizzle down. It took me 1 hour and 20 minutes (precisely) from the time I switched on the heat to get to this state. At around 1 hour add some saffron and cardamom powder and stir well. Remember, the jam will thicken as it cools, so do not wait to reach the exact consistency of room-temperature/cold jam when the jam is hot. So after 1 hour, every 5 minutes, I started testing the consistency by taking a drop of jam on a cool plate and checking on its consistency when it cools (within a minute). If it cools to become sticky yet spreadable (like jam) then it’s done. If it cools to a watery, runny consistency, then it needs to cook/boil more.
5. When the jam reaches the right consistency, squeeze the juice of 1 lemon and stir well.
6. Then, transfer the jam into clear, clean, sterilized jars with an air-tight lid. Transfer the jam when it is hot, else it becomes difficult to spoon out all the jam.
7. Let the jam cool down overnight. Then close the jars with the air-tight lids and refrigerate. They easily last for a year (and perhaps more!)

I felt like Monica (in Friends) as I ladled out several containers of jam and had the house smelling of peach and orange! But it felt good to translate the fruits into so many bottles of finger-licking lip-smacking jelly! The saffron was the star ingredient of this jam. From now on, all jams of mine will contain this luxurious flavor. Our close friends have received several months’ worth of jam.... hopefully they enjoy it during the upcoming cold mornings. How I wish I could parcel a couple of jars to India and California!

And since Meenakshi ammal has similar jam recipes in her book (on jackfruit jams and banana jams!), I can partially tick that chapter off too ;).

A Tribute to Cooking

I’m infamous for having been an extremely fussy eater as a child and for steadfastly remaining anorexically thin for the most part of my life thus far (although that phase has ended quite dramatically now). So, no astrologer would have predicted this. I would take ages to complete a bland meal of curd, rice, and naarthangai (dried and salted pieces of a tart fruit that is supposed to be a good digestive aid). I was that kid who needed her class teacher to check her lunch box of its emptied content at the end of lunch break. I liked only two vegetables, and perhaps one fruit. I didn’t even care for chocolates, pastries, or ice creams. If you gave me a box of exotic chocolates, I would carefully place the box in the refrigerator and will forget about it till I am reminded of it. If you pleaded with me to try one, I'd graciously eat one, or perhaps two, if I’m in the mood to please you. But I did like something. What I did like (but in moderation) was the unholy, unhealthy, fried food varieties - crispy dosai, chips, vadams, om-pudi, murukku, etc. The only exception to this was idli with (and only with) tomato-onion chutney. In displaying at least this much enthusiasm for food, I was able to call myself reasonably normal.

In short, I can’t call myself a foodie. It took me a long time to realize what “food craving” or gluttony meant; or for that matter, even properly understand what pangs of hunger meant to the tummy. I was totally impervious to it. That shows how blessed and fortunate my life has been.

Not sure when I crossed over, but at some point, food started to interest me. This interest was not in eating, but in cooking. I started watching cooking shows with my mother, intently observing the various smart techniques that converted raw vegetables and grains into delectable dishes. I viewed, and still continue to view the kitchen as a mini-science lab. There is science and precision to everything, and it excites me to recreate a dish as if I am recreating a fun experiment in the lab. Add a dash of creativity, and the experience only gets better. I also love basking in the thrill and joy of creating something that my family would relish, appreciate, and enjoy. I realized this quintessential "Joy of Cooking" when I was left by myself (in the kitchen) to feed my father and myself for two short weeks.

Though some may not relate to this “joy” (which is obviously subjective), cooking is essentially a basic necessity that everybody needs to acknowledge and appreciate. As social animals, men came together over food (and hunting). Sharing food was a custom that the earliest cave men (and ape) societies practised. The generous gesture of sharing your source of sustenance brings together communities and societies, and fosters communal harmony. Food-sharing has always been the center of any celebration, for food is the most vital part of our survival. We express our happiness and sorrow in the kinds of food we eat and distribute. And cooking was almost a turning point in our evolutionary game. Cooking meant we could eat and digest more plants and animal parts to suit our body’s constitution. This enlarged the set of items we could subsist on. It meant we could live even on tough roots, grains, and tubers, and weather droughts. The more items we creatively cooked, the more protein and vitamin-enriched foods got into us, helping us evolve into a more healthier, smarter species. We were one of the fittest who could survive, thanks to our tools, our ability to make fire, and the ability to adapt and change what Nature offers us to something that suits us (of course, we are also paying the price for this arrogance, but that’s another issue). But cooking is one such highly useful skill we acquired, and cannot do without. It deserves its own tribute.

I believe cooking is one of the most enduring, significant gifts you can give to your family. A happy tummy is a precious state of contentment! I have heard poignant stories of my great grandmothers who toiled in their kitchens, working with flimsy wood burning stoves, rugged manual appliances, and a lean budget to unfailingly deliver sumptuous dishes. It’s inspiring and touching to think of these women who selflessly worked themselves to the bone to keep their family well-fed. Despite the bleak finances, their pitiable physical ailments, the number of mouths to feed, and the very limited groceries available, they were smart and resourceful enough to always find a way to whip up something efficient, tasty, and relatively healthy. It’s humbling to think of their times in contrast to mine. In this pampered age when I am blessed with a plethora of fancy and time-saving appliances to grind, puree, shred, chop, dice, slice, heat, freeze, whip, beat, bake, clean, and do everything else in between, when I mostly have only two tummies to feed, when I have the blissful option of freezing and reheating food, and when I am fortunate to receive the help of my spouse, I still get overwhelmed. Even two hours of cooking everyday sounds daunting. When it’s time to celebrate a festive occasion, as much as I am excited to try out the authentic sweets and savories, I also keenly dread the aftermath of cleaning, and well, sore legs. And at the end of such long days when I have the feeling of having spent my entire life in the kitchen, I reflect on my great-grandmothers, grandmothers, grandaunts, mother, and every other woman in my ancestry, and bow down to their dedication, applaud their mammoth efforts, while also resenting their stifling, confined life.

So, this blog is mainly a tribute to all the kind and wonderful women, and to their art of cooking that has passed down generations and stood the test of time and varied palates! There are so many awesome cooking blogs that have spread like wild mushrooms. This feeble effort of mine pales in comparison. But I wanted a space to record my experiences and lessons learned from my culinary adventures, so to say. Recreating all the ingenious recipes of my ancestors is my way of acknowledging their hard-work and ingenuity. In doing so, I pay homage to them in my little way. By ancestors, I don't mean just my South-Indian ancestors, but I mean in a larger sense - the whole world of human beings is one family.

This blog will likely not contain any fancy recipes, for I mostly follow tried and tested recipes, and haven’t gotten to the stage of innovation yet. I don’t promise on delighting your visual senses with lovely photos of tastefully (and artfully) presented appetizing dishes, for I neither have the skill, the time, nor the equipment required to do so (as evidenced by the header image). But I will try to present decent-looking dishes with stories, suggestions, lessons learned, and little bits of adaptions and techniques. Every dish has a story behind its creation and cooking. My aim is to relate and record the story.