Deepavali/Diwali: A Dissection.

Deepavali/Diwali always meant long holidays, fireworks (crackers, really) going off all day and all night and a smorgasbord of sweets sent by neighbours.

Time passes. Diwali meant more prep time for exams, duties I'm required to cover, congested shopping areas with hordes of police-protection and crackers going off all day (bursting them between the hours of 10 PM and 6 AM has been banned. One of the rare useful laws the Government has passed)

However, there are some consistencies in Indian festivals. Things that don't have a shot in hell of ever changing. Read clash-y huge-budget releases (Vijay/Ajith, Vijay/Surya or Rajini/Yeah, right), marathons of sitcoms/"cine" programs on the TV, explosive rise in gold prices...

And yeah. Food and Family/Friends. Not in that order. Mostly.

While everybody wakes up at the crack of dawn for their oil-baths and the like, we sleep in. Wake up to the third cookie-hamper coming from one of Dad's friends. Lounge in front of the TV with a cup of black chai, getting my digestive enzymes ready for a true Tamil-style Deepavali feast.

C's mum's lunches are legendary... things you brave the rain and dangerous, Lakshmi-vedi-filled roads for. I learnt this when I overstayed one evening at their place, almost a decade back and was served piping hot rava kesari, bonda and filter coffee.

Meant to be consumed, sitting on the famous swing:

While being the butt of all jokes. Wait, that's just me.

This time, my little sister joins us for the first time, decked in her pattu-pavadai. She keeps me busy and worried enough... some how, I still get embarrassed. That stays consistent, too.

After catching up on the latest and sipping on preprandial juice, we wait for the last person to join us (with well-deserved guilt plastered all over their faces, anticipation over ours'). File into the dining room. And let the feasting begin.

Cautionary note: The photos, being taken on a stormy, grey day and by someone with zero photography-skills, will not do the food justice. But this practically applies to every post on the blog.
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Puffy pooris!

Served with chana masala, bursting with plump chickpeas and fresh coriander in a fragrant tomato-onion gravy. Meant to be scooped up with little pieces of the pooris. Not to be eaten in handfuls, like you would with popcorn. Doesn't stop me.

Eid's tamilian counterpart. Brinji/Vegetable biryani with buttery croutons strewed on top.

Fluffy grains of rice, crunchy bits of vegetable are tossed with variety of heartening herbs and spices. Soul-food and sophistication on a plate.

Eaten with a little raita made with homemade curd/yogurt and crunchy onion. And medhu vada.

The logical, human thing to do is to overdose on the extremely-rare-to-come-across and excessively-delicious Tamil-veg food. Experience has taught me better. Always save space for Thayir semiya.

Doesn't look like The Piece de Resistance, does it now?

I'm eating the leftovers (which I unashamedly asked Aunty to pack for me to take home) even as I'm typing this post. It ranks up there, with Nutella, for me. How else can I describe it?

C's mum protests each time I rave over the Thayir Semiya... it's extremely simple and unworthy of high praise, she argues.

But you know what they say about the best gifts coming in brown-paper packages.

This time, the best gift is boiled vermicelli tossed with homemade yogurt, a little milk, salt and pomegranate, basically. It won't taste the same if I make it. I've accepted it, and it's a valid life choice.

Lunch finishes with the best part of the meal (I'm allowed to have up to 4 best parts, right?) That would be the

Dessert! Homemade maavu ladoo, adhirasam (holy yum!), coconut burfi and chocolate cupcakes. This is also the time when you collect your Diwali bounty from all those in attendance: homemade murukku, sweets, foreign-chocolate (notice the Ferroro Rocher!) and gifts to take back in neat little Ziploc bags and boxes.

Calories don't count. Calories don't exist. They're in your head. And in textbooks of Physics. Wear your fatpants. You can believe in them again tomorrow.


The evening ends with introducing my fearless sister to fireworks. Not ones that are products of child-labour. Not enough to pollute the environment and exacerbate an acute attack in any passing asthmatic. Just enough sparklers to match the ones in The Sister's eyes (who randomly declares "I'm so happy!")

So I've realized what Diwali/Deepavali actually means: Tamilian hospitality, good (albeit annoying) friends, great food and grey skies lit with laughter and light.

Thanksgiving.

Homemade Pumpkin Puree. Toasted Masala Pepitas.

If you religiously follow FoodGawker and TasteSpotting, you would have realised one major fact. It's Fall!

Yes, Fall, of the autumn variety. Fall, in my opinion, is the best season, food-wise. Considering the mercury tends to dip a little during these months in Madras as well, indulge in all of the gorgeous apple and pumpkin recipes!

And if you've had enough Apple Crisp and Minestrone soup for a month, try something with pumpkin in it. Don't be dubious. I was. My Vegan Pumpkin bread was received with as much happiness as a batch of brownies, and that totally changed the way I looked at pumpkins.

They can be used for something other than haphazardly carved Jack-o'-Lanterns. Think soups, pastry, pies, curries and a host of other random deliciousness.

Almost all of the aforementioned recipes call for pumpkin puree. Warning: not even the snootiest of groceries at Madras stock these. In fact, they usually have no idea what you're talking of. Instead of harassing your America-based friends on Facebook for tins of Libby's Pumpkin puree... make your own.

Ask your kaigarikaar/sabziwala for Sugar pumpkins, the kind you use for making halwa. If you can track these down: yay, Step One cleared (yes, I'll save the enthusiasm for Step One of the USMLE variety). Let it ripen to the fullest. Cut it open, gut out the insides. Toast the seeds and flavour it with powders and potions of choice. Puree the gloriously-scented pumpkin flesh and use away!

Homemade Pumpkin Puree:

Ingredients:

1 huge sugar pumpkin

Method:
Cut the pumpkin vertically into two halves. I'm tempted to say saggital section.

Scoop out the pumpkin seeds and innards, just like you would do for a papaya.

Cut into smaller sections, leaving the pumpkin peel/skin on.

You can see that I've packed a lot of the wedges in because my roasting tin was too small and I didn't want to bake twice. You totally shouldn't do that.

In a big roasting tray, arrange the wedges, cut-side down. Pour in a little water, so that the water level is about 2 cm.


Bake in a preheated oven (325 F or 180 C) for around a couple of hours. The pumpkin should be blistered on the outside.

Test one piece by digging in with a spoon. It should be soft with no resistance whatsoever.

Scoop out all of the flesh. When cool, blitz it in a mixie or use a hand blender to puree it.

Once pureed, pour the pumpkin into a bowl lined with muslin/cheesecloth or just use a huge-ass tea-sieve. Like you would for making hung yogurt. Let it filter for about an hour... plenty of pumpkin liquid would have steeped down.

Pour the pumpkin puree into a freezer-safe, airtight box and store in the freezer until you need it! Or you can just cling-film it and refrigerate if you're planning to use it in a couple of days.

Oh. P.S. Bonus recipe coming your way, since I post once in a long white.

Who wants to throw away those cute little pumpkin seeds that are bursting with nutrition and guilt-free nuttiness, right? Toast them and make a post-gym snack! Next best thing to them being dunked in dark chocolate and candy-coated, M&M style.

This is also something you can peck away at (my brother did call it bird-feed) while watching random episode of Criminal Minds/Rizzoli & Isles/Jersey Shore. Except that I don't watch Jersey Shore. Not every episode, first telecast and such like.

To change the topic very quickly, I give you:

Toasted masala pepitas:

Rinse the pumpkin seeds so that there are no pumpkin flesh/fibre sticking to it.

Dry them off with a kitchen towel or tissues. Except for scented-facial tissue. Don't ever do that.

Spread the dried pumpkin seeds on a baking tray lined with foil. Rub a small knob of butter onto the seeds.

Sprinkle over salt, red chilli powder/garam masala, garlic powder and tabasco sauce. Or use olive oil, italian seasoning, garlic powder and salt. Soy sauce, chilli powder, butter and tabasco. Whatever strikes your fancy. In various permutations and combinations.

Bake for 10-15 minutes at 350 F or 180 C in a preheated oven. Keep stirring it from time to time, so the pepitas don't burn. Pull them out, see if they're crispy. Cool. Munch away!

I'm so sorry I go Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Geek on you all the time. Give me my random moments? I'll give you true-and-tried recipes, with badly taken photos to boot.

Preferably ones that don't show my unmanicured hands (the dryness is because of living in smelly, powdery surgical gloves. Don't judge.)

Mash Grill House. Should or shouldn't I?

"It's Friday, Friday... Fun-fun-fun-fun."

I understand that it is no longer Friday, but it's still The Weekend, Weekend. Yes, I'm inching towards the big Two-Five and yet I'm up to date on YouTube sensations and Disney Darlings. Story of my life.

You should totally trust me on my info, though. E! News is automatically clocked on my TataSky. I've been known to run back from the library or the hospital just in time for my daily fix. Even keep an alarm so I can wake up at 4 in the morning to watch Giuliana (who seems to get skinnier by the day, if such a thing could be metabolically possible) scoop out the Goss.

God, I'm totally not proud of anything I've said until now.

What I'm proud of is my knowledge of food. So I won't know if Satvic food can ever allow for legal Umami flavours, or the exact fermentation process of fromage bleu, but I do know where to get a good cheesecake and how to make kick-ass Overnight Oats.

This post is for the gourmands and the Lazies. For the fully loaded and those who've got their salary a little early. You deserve it.

Last week, W and I cruising around Khader Nawaz Khan road in search of lunch at 4 PM. If we're starving at around the time, we usually hit Sparkys for deficiencies in the availability of actual food at the time. However, we thought we should save Sparkys for another occasion (one that justifies the taco salad and the wedges) and give another place a shot.

Our quest came to an end at Mash GrillHouse. It's easy enough to find... and nothing like the Mash of yore, the one on Besant Nagar Beach. The differences start with the prices.
Two tiny blips:
1)A steak plate is priced at 450-ish. Not something you'd be willing to shell out for an impromptu mid-day meal.

2)They serve pork, something that is an ABSOLUTE contra-indication, but they offered a tour of the place to show that they used completely separate grills and spaces. The waiter also informed us that the rest of the meat comes in from Bismillah Meat Mart (and hence, 100% halal) and many of the patrons were muslims.

The place was clean and pleasant enough. Nothing exceptionally luxe, but minimalistic interiors, well-lit dining room overlooking the pristine roads-and-trees of the posh neighbourhood and glorious silence.

But mostly, hunger won out, and we stayed on.

Hunger also dictated the stuff we ordered. Safe things that are hard to screw up, with enough starch and spice to satiate the two important nuances of our collective appetites. W asked for a medium to well done steak, with the sauce that the waiter recommended. I don't remember the name, but it had mushrooms in it and was apparently the speciality.

I asked for the Jalapeno Chicken grilled plate, priced at 350-ish. I was forewarned that it was the Mexican cousin of our beloved orange chilli chicken (in not so many words), but the promise of chicken chunks in a spicy sauce sounded enticing to my food-deprived brain, so I went ahead with it anyway.

So we waited for quite a bit (which I do not blame them for, we went at totally crap timings when the kitchen wasn't even functioning and save us, there were no other diners)... during which W was mostly fantasising about his mum's Friday biryani and me over the Sub of the Day at the Subway next door.

All this changed when the food made its grand entry.

The steak (you can ask for a sizzler plate or not) came with the usual suspects; steamed veg, sublime mashed potatoes, a scoop of Mexican rice and a side of polenta fries and gravy.

It's hard for me to be objective here. I was hungry, so it'll obviously taste good. But it was expensive, which automatically reduces the taste for me. I'll try, though.

It tasted like things that dreams are made of.  Crisp, sizzling meat that was fork-tender and doused in a peppercorn-ish sauce. Mashed potatoes that were wonderfully creamy without being greasy and nausea-inducing (95% of the time, I get disappointed). Objective enough?

We asked for an accompaniment of Steak fries. Potato wedges that had a cornmeal coating to them. Loved the textures, but was a teensy bit oilier than the baked wedges I'm in love with.

The Jalapeno chicken was, yes, like your neighbourhood chilli chicken. I polished it off with gusto, though.

It reminded me of Wangs Kitchen in the '90s with a little Tex-Mex ketchup-style sauce thrown in (Mex-Indo-Chinese?) The chicken was juicy, bountiful and studded with bits of spicy jalapenos. Would I order it again? I'm not sure. It was Chilli chicken/chicken manchurian/General Tsao's chicken... nothing that qualifies for semi-fine dining prices. It was definitely yummy in a street food way, though. And the accompaniments were good.

We decided to give desserts a miss since I felt like ice cream. Mocha Temptation at Cream and Fudge factory to be precise. If you head there, don't order the fruit flavours (such as Mango) but try sticking to chocolate-peanut butter-coffee-esque flavours. You heard it here first.

The staff were extremely helpful (without being overtly helpful) and courteous, as was the chef (who gave away the secret for the mashed potatoes!). They made sure we had a fantastic lunner (lunch+dinner, duh) so a shoutout is in order.

OK. Last of the ridiculous questions I pose and answer myself for the day. Would we go back? If it's for an actual dinner, replete with dessert and mocktails, on an occasion that justifies the expenditure of cash and consumption of calories, then: heck, yes.

P.S. If the photos are good, it's because I didn't take them. The W did.

Dates-coconut-dry fruit samosa.

This is one of those Ramadan posts that never made it in time because... Life happened. Lame even to my ears.

I don't know how often I can post from now on, but seeing the viewer stats makes me extremely grateful (and I check them each day!). It eggs me on to post more than I possibly can.

This does not mean I don't cook or eat out. I do loads of both, trust me. Uploading photos on the blog and typing out semi-sensible words are time-hoggers. How many alternative adjectives exist for delicious, anyway? Don't answer. Many, I know.

There's nothing in life worth starving over or compromising on your food habits for. Not skinny jeans (Apple bottoms, any one?), not gorgeous blazers (wear them even if you have man-shoulders). Not long duties (granola and fruit to the rescue!). Not heartbreaks, not jiggly love handles. None of it.

At one point, Kate Moss's famous comment ("Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels") was practically the guiding point of my life, but I like to think I'm finally beyond crack-inspired ideologies.

Incidentally, I've got to get around to doing a review. So many places I want to physically push you into going; so many I don't want you to waste your money and Sundays over.

For now though, I'll post a recipe that most people would consider a bastardization of the samosa, but is indigenous to my village-of-origin and would be fiercely defended by the natives (it's politically correct for me to insult them, I checked). I might have played around with the recipe, adding dates to the filling, somewhat inspired by the sticky date rolls you get in Chinese restaurants.

 It takes five minutes to throw together (a wee bite more than that, maybe), has practically zero cooking (unless you're willing to deep fry) and tastes beyond excellent (to my tastebuds, at least. And yours', if you like cardamamom and coconut). Oh, and is healthy. If you're willing to not deep-fry it.

Try making these when older, distinguished guests visit. I meant it when I said no excuses were allowed.

Dates-and-coconut samosas/samose:

Ingredients:

Readymade wonton/samosa wrappers: 5
Dates (juicy medjool-type dates): 10*
Coconut, freshly grated: 1/2 cup
Sugar (white granulated): 2 tbsp (or to taste)
Cardamom (ground) 1 tsp
Cashews: 10 or so, halved
Split channa dal (roasted): 2 tbsp
Honey and sesame seeds: to serve

*This recipe is traditionally made without the dates, as the photos indicate. A handful of raisins are added in its place.

Method:

In a medium saucepan, saute the deseeded and chopped dates in a little butter or ghee until it turns gloriously gooey. Not for more than a couple of minutes, though, it'll turn chewy and caramelized. You can also make this healthier by steaming the dates. Keep aside.

In a small bowl, combine the coconut (you can use sweetened desiccated coconut, but skimp on the sugar in that case!), powdered cardamom, the roasted dal and mix. Add the dates if using. Or add raisins and cashews instead.

Take a sheet of samosa wrapper. Make a cone out of it.

First you fold one end of the rectangular wrapper into a triangle. Fold into another triangle. Repeat until you have a cone.

Stuff in the mixture, close and seal.

For sealing, we generally use a mix of flour and water to form a runny liquid that usually works as an adhesive.

Brush with ghee/butter and bake in a preheated oven (greased baking sheet, please!) at 180 C or 350 F until golden brown and crispy. And yes, you can deep fry it like a regular samosa.


The golden brown one has obviously been deep-fried.


Drizzle the honey over the piping hot samosa and sprinkle on the sesame seeds.

Or set these out on the table while you search for the organic white sesame seeds that you picked up at Spice Route and come back to see that the family has polished them off. And since it was Ramadan and every one was famished, I didn't even get to deliver my oft-repeated speech on etiquette/manners/uncouth behaviour et cetera.

Garden Pasta Salad, hold the guilt... hey, Pesto!

Why does everything have to come with guilt?

I wish they could make an official guilt-free day. Just one day, every two months or so. Where:

a)I don't feel guilty about leaving patients even though my shift finished 2 hours back and I haven't sat down or breathed normally in God-knows-how-long.

b)I can spend a quarter of my pay check on a good meal and not care about how I'm wasting money.

c)I can be the first person to leave the library without giving a flying *beep* about the rest of the homogeneous medico-nerds plodding away at 3000-page texts, oblivious of a world where people breathe and eat and excrete (even though that covers half of Physiology).

d)I can skip gym and watch two back-to-back movies (a chick-flick and depressing, film-noir). Two desserts in one day. One chocolate, one caramel/mint/coffee with chocolate. Back to back, even. Without feeling like ten types of crap.

Is that too much to ask for?

Experience (lousy teacher that she is) clearly agrees. Boring sayings like good things-are-good-only-in moderation and all of that have been proved true.

 Since I've been OD-ing on the cholesterol lately, I thought I'd give you a recipe that is delightful and quite easy to rustle up for one of those weekdays when you've overindulged to the point where you can no longer live in denial.

It's green. And not mint-chocolate chip ice cream from Baskin Robbins.

After a week of Iced mochas and Nutella-from-the-jar, this meal makes me smile extra wide. It's got all my favourite things in it; zucchini, basil, Parmesan, peas, lemon and wholewheat pasta. You can't screw this up even if you tried. Heck, I can't screw it up even if I left the kitchen to watch Bones.

If your family can be picky and complain of the lack of any meat to bite into, you've got tofu here! Don't substitute with paneer, just this once. Not for our collective arteries' states, but tofu works wonders here. Love how it goes from sour beancurd to baked little golden morsel robed in a luscious, creamy pesto and other similar Nigella-isms.

Garden Pasta Salad with Pesto Vinaigrette:

For the Vinaigrette:

1 1/2 cups fresh basil leaves (I used a mix of basil and spinach)
1/3 cups extra-virgin olive oil (more if you dare)
1/2 c grated Parmesan (I added half parmesan, half pecorino)
1 large lemon, zested and juiced
3 tbsp red or white-wine vinegar (I used Balsamic)
9 large cloves garlic, roughly chopped (you can use less)
1/4 tsp salt
Freshly ground pepper

Pasta Salad:

1 package tofu, drained
440 grams whole grain pasta (I used fusilli)
300 g green beans, trimmed and cut into 1 inch pieces
1 cup peas
1 medium zucchini, sauteed in 1 tbsp olive oil
3 Tbsp toasted walnuts, roughly chopped

Method:

Cut the tofu into bite size chunks. Place them a little apart on a baking tray lined with oiled-foil and bake in preheated oven for about 15 minutes until they turn golden.

Slice the zucchini. Place a sauce pan over medium heat. Add a tablespoon of olive oil. Saute the slices for about a minute. Add salt and pepper to taste. Keep aside.

Make the pesto vinaigrette:

In a mixie or food processor, add the basil/spinach/coriander,olive oil, Parmesan, lemon juice, lemon zest, vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper. Blend until a smooth, mint-chutney-like consistency develops and place in refrigerator until ready to use.

In a large pan, bring 5 litres of salted water to the boil.

Add the green beans and boil for about 5 minutes until they are cooked, but still retain that bite/snap.

Remove with a slotted spoon and keep aside.

Add the peas to the leftover boiling water and cook for about 5 minutes until they're cooked (but don't let them mush up too much!) Remove and keep aside.

Add the pasta to the leftover boiling water. Cook until al-dente, as per package instructions. Whole grain generally requires a bit more cooking time, so pay heed!

Your pasta is now ready to be mixed! You can either

1)Place the drained pasta, tofu, zucchini, peas, beans, toasted walnuts in a big bowl and toss them with the vinaigrette. Stash in the refrigerate for about 15 minutes and serve. If you're planning to serve it later (this gives time for the flavours to meld into the pasta), cover with a lid or plastic wrap and refrigerate. Tastes best cold, like any other pasta salad.

2) Or if your family/friends are a little choosy, you might have plate up for each person separately, mixing-and-matching.

Arrange the stuff (as per requests/demands) on a plate.

Pour over as much vinaigrette as the person desires. Warning: there might be a shortage later.

Toss. Garnish with extra toasted walnuts or Parmesan curls.

Get a load of that goodness. The peas, garlicky pesto, hearty pasta and the nut, in one bite. Mmm. Not cookie-dough-brownie-bar mmm, but Mmm-glorious-food indeed.

Pimp My Pastry. Back-to-back episodes.

I have a secret. It's an embarrassing one.

I spend nearly an hour each day just looking at food blogs.

Not about the commercial use of Mycophenolate Mofetil in India for Myasthenia Gravis. Not about various religious worship in contemporary culture. Not even tidbits on Dexter Season 6. Food blogs. I'm doomed. The knell has sounded.

You'd think that eye-feasting on about 40 recipes per day would have me trying new things left-right-and-centre, right? How wrong you are.

Sometimes, when you need to impress peers or you need to not feel like a failure or just have a comforting bowlful to gobble up, you make stuff from standby recipes that you love and cherish. And it's OK to make your insecurities public these days. People make a lot of money off it on television. I need to get out of my scrubs and get me a Snooki-pouff.

So. I thought I'd put up a few photos demonstrating how your trusted recipes can be jazzed up. I played around with my cocoa brownies.

Made Chocolate-chip cookie rolls out of my most-treasured cinnamon roll recipe. Thank you, Pioneer woman. Let the unadulterated parade of eye candy begin! Even though my photos never do the dish enough justice.

Dulce de Leche brownies:
(idea from David Leibovitz)

Make a batch of fudgy, gooey brownie batter. Don't bake it just yet.

Brown the butter, add dark chocolate, whatever it takes to make it happen.

Make a batch of Dulce de Leche with one can of Nestle's Milkmaid.

Pour half the brownie batter into a greased pan. Add 1/3rd of the cooled Dulce de Leche in random spurts.

Run a knife through it, creating a swirly pattern. Go on, run amok.

Add the remaining brownie batter. Repeat the same dab-and-swirl thing with the rest of the Dulce.

Bake for 5 minutes less than the stipulated time. Check for done-ness. It's good to underbake than to overbake brownies.

Cool for around 15 minutes. Cut into slices and dive head-first in.

Ooooh. Yes.

I've unlocked the secret to happiness. And simultaneous obesity.

Chocolate chip cookie rolls:

Make half a batch of cinnamon roll dough.

Roll the dough out in the usual manner.

Chop up about a cup and a half (or so) of Lindt dark chocolate into chunks. You can also use chocolate chips but it won't kick ass as much.

Dab the roll with 1/2 a cup of melted (salted) butter, coarsely ground brown and white sugar (together totalling around 1 to 1.5 cups, max) and 1/2 a cup of chopped up almonds/pecans/walnuts.

Roll it up. Makes several rolls.

Bake as you would for the normal recipe.

Top with cream cheese frosting or just scarf it down straight from the pan. The leftovers can be cooled to room temperature and frozen for up to 2 months (unfrosted). You can eat them selfishly over the course of a week.

If you have any doubts regarding the techniques and measurements, refer to the original post. God, I feel like Padma Lakshmi and my Biochemistry Professor at the same time. All this butter surely has to dull one's brain.