Oreo Cheesecake Truffles/"Dessert in a Minute!" or similar.

This post has been in the works for a long time now.

Especially after all those yummy, but let's be honest, tiresomely-long recipes, I wanted to let you know that I do have two-minute desserts up my sleeve. Literally and figuratively.

If you're ready to splash out on a dessert, or if you live in a country that isn't Robin Hoodian, this one is for you.

Actually, Robin Hood is an unfair comparison; he stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Here? They steal from the rich (an exorbitant VAT on cream cheese and cocoa powder) and from the "middle class" (fuel, public transport, milk) and from the dirt-poor (ration kerosene, rice, sugar) and store it in their own little coffers until the Opposition comes into power, unearth unfair wealth, splash it over their syndicated publications and proceed to transfer the funds to their own Cayman Island accounts. It's a lovely little vicious cycle.

I made this because

a)it has LOADS of chocolate in it.
b)Zaad and Sumaiya are huge fans of "cook-ay balls!"
c)A's birthday happened. This dessert has no eggs (that's never stopped her from eating dessert, but still, I wanted her folks to think I was empathetic towards their vegetarian beliefs). Oh, and she is one of the last few people on the planet who have no qualms about calories. The I-don't-give-a-crap-about-calories thing is refreshing, try it.

And yes, it takes only a few minutes to whip up. The downside to this recipe (not considering the pricey ingredients) would be the inclusion of Oreo cookies.

I don't like Oreos (fun fact #45 about me). I'd rather eat white chocolate than Oreos and if I were the type to use the word hate for food... well, I can't, so let's just say I wouldn't eat white chocolate or Oreos even if you paid me.

I know that hasn't stopped me from putting it into frothy milkshakes and birthday cakes, but I really wouldn't sit down, unwrap a vivid blue packet and stuff Oreos in my mouth. I'd do that with Hide 'N' Seek, but something about the white transfatty sandwich cream is very off-putting.

These Cheesecake Truffle Balls? I love. Blatant hypocrisy, I know, especially after that holier-than-thou speech about transfats but I belong to the well-established category of hypocrites who skip a meal and eat Nutella in lieu of the saved calories. Fun fact # 56.

This recipe needs about 1.75 long packs of Oreos. Buy two packs, take two cookies out and give it to the people hovering over you as you're cooking. That should keep them busy for a while.

You want to know why you'll have people "acting like they've never seen food" around? (Quoting mum). Maybe because of the half-kilogram's worth of chocolate laying around, as part of the mise en place.

Please use chocolate that you actually enjoy eating. No "Cooking Chocolate" from the frozen goods aisle or candy melts. Use good quality chocolate, preferably with 44% Cacao content. If you're skimping on calories or money, just bookmark this for another day?

Also, try not to eat too much of the prep work, yes? Being a hypocrite, again. Nom Nom Nom.

Oreo Cheesecake Truffles:

Recipe source: Bakerella

Ingredients:

1.75 long packets of Cadbury Oreos (the 137 g pack)

80 g cream cheese

Miscellaneous chocolate for coating

Method:

In a mixie or food processor, blitz the oreos, with the cream-centre and all, until you have a sandy mixture.

Transfer to a large bowl. Crush with the back of a spoon, if any biscuitty particles remain.

Fold in the softened cream cheese. You'll have a mixture that looks like this. If not, add in a little more cream cheese.

Form the mixture into bite-sized balls. Place these balls on a foil-lined or wax-paper lined tray. Freeze for about half an hour, so the shape holds.

In a small microwave-safe bowl, break up the chocolate into chunks. Make sure there isn't ONE SINGLE DROP of water in the bowl or the spoon you're using.

Run the bowl in the microwave for around a minute, then remove and stir in order to melt the chocolate properly. If there are little chunks, don't worry, it'll all melt in the residual heat.

Using two forks, dip the frozen cookie ball in the pool of melted chocolate until it's fully coated.

Transfer the ball back into the cookie sheet or cupcake liners. Let it fully dry and harden.



If you've used a toothpick, this is what will happen.



Refrigerate (do not freeze), covered, until you're ready to eat it!

Make sure it's hidden in some obscure cul-de-sac of the refrigerator. Especially if you have random toddlers running around (by that I mean your nephew and miscellaneous family), they will steal it, despite running a 102 degree fever.

This should make up for the Creme Caramel and the Dulce de Leche, I hope. Pretend I said some corny parting greeting, along the lines of "Dessert in a Minute!" or similar.

Creme Caramel Pudding/Eid Mubarak.

It's been 70 days since Eid-ul-Fitr (The Eid that comes at the pointy end of Ramadan). 70 rainy (not all of them, I should hasten to add) days and very few blog posts. It's Eid-ul-Adha already (the one with sacrificial goat).

The idea of putting up harried, uninspired posts doesn't, at all, appeal to me. Recipe cards and Twitter-like reviews of the kick-ass places that have been sprouting around the nooks and crannies of Madras, maybe?
Hm.

Or I could just give up going to the gym and post instead (Yes!) That'll work out well for all of us.

Instead of disbanding the blog altogether (saddening, because it's a product of my rapidly degenerating-but-still brain and my ever-growing love of all things edible-and-halal), I'll drop by when I have something I have to foist on everybody.

Case in point: it's Bakrid today! The festival of sacrifice. I'm going to make one of my most favourite desserts of all time. And then sacrifice it for the ones I love. Or double the recipe and keep a portion for myself. It's still sacrifice, voluntarily giving up dessert and all. It is, OK?

Dessert. I've compiled so many adjectives for the course, I could have a showdown with both Matt Preston and Nigella Lawson, and still win.

Dark Chocolate. Espresso. Peanut Butter. Nutella. Salt. Dark Chocolate. Mint. Demerara sugar. Raspberry. Dark Chocolate. Apple. Cinnamon. Pretty much covers all the dessert ingredients I'd give a passing grade for. However, before going off-tangent, I started like everybody else (we're all inherently good). With Dairy. And loads of it.

Crusty, day-old bread soaked in milk with a teensy sprinkling of sugar and a drop of vanilla. Creamy kheer (one portion I'd have warm, straight from the pot, and one portion, all cold, at midnight, with Friends). Sheer korma. Rice pudding with jam. Trifle with custard, jelly and sponge cake. Coconut-milk based Jaw arasi payasam (sago/tapioca payasam). Pineapple kesari.

Comfort food, all of it is. On a regular day, I'd take a Dark Chocolate Caramel Ganache Tart. On a horrible day which is on its way to Horrible-r lands, I'd take the comfort food.

Topping the comfort food list would be Caramel Pudding. Yes, of the Creme Caramel/Vanilla pudding mix variety that you get in green boxes and can be whipped up in a jiffy. Or the real way of making Creme Caramel, the only one worth trading in your skinny jeans for. I'm sure your granny or your mum has a treasured recipe for it. If not, you'd be happy to know that I'm giving away my family's version. Don't tell my mum. Kidding. Or am I?

This recipe has a lot of eggs, milk and sugar. Not much else; so you can spare me the "where in the world (I know you mean Madras by this) would I find Madagascar vanilla beans  or gold gelatin leaves?" The equipment, if we're getting all technical, would be an aluminium anda or a Rice cooker. No sorbet-crankers or waffle irons. This pudding does originate from a gazillion years back, before newfangled notions like electricity existed/was accepted.

If you like Creme Brulee or a good New York style Cheesecake, give this one a shot.

Creme Caramel

This makes a dense, cheesecake-like pudding. If you want a wobbly, flan-like pudding, reduce the cooking hours of both the milk and the pudding by half!
Ingredients:

Whole milk: 2.5 litres
Eggs- 3 cups (approximately 14 or more)
Sugar (white, granulated)-3 cups
Vanilla essence: 2 tbsp
Sugar for the caramel glaze: as needed.

Method:

Note: The proportions of the thick milk jam:sugar:eggs is 1:1:1, so feel free to play around keeping the ration in mind.

On a low fire, heat whole milk in a heavy-bottomed saucepan.

Make sure the bottom doesn't burn. Stir occasionally.

The milk will thicken and reduce down to less than half of the original quantity. This will take an hour or more.

At the end of the boiling process, you'll get a milk jam (sort of like a thinned-down Dulce de Leche or Confiture du Lait) that'll measure around 3 cups/tumblers.

And it's OK that there are icky bits of malai/milk skin/adai in it, we'll be straining the milk mixture.

Beat with a immersion/stick blender for 10 seconds, so you break down the skin. This step can be skipped.

Add in the sugar and eggs.

With the eggs, I can't give you an exact number since I don't know if you prefer free range, organic or the jumbo variety. Just keep breaking and pouring them out until you get 3 cups worth of egg whites and yolk.

Fold it all well with a spatula. Add in good quality vanilla so that you won't have a eggy smell at the end.
 Don't be tempted to use the stick blender after adding the eggs and the sugar as this will tamper with the smooth silkiness of the pudding. Mix until it forms a cohesive batter.

Next, strain the pudding batter through a fine sieve.

Keep aside the pudding batter.

Making the caramel top:

In a stainless steel or aluminium deep vessel (make sure it's DRY, not one drop of water allowed), add a couple of tablespoons of granulated white sugar so a layer of it covers the bottom.

On a low heat, swirl the sugar around. DO NOT use a spoon or spatula. Just toss the pan around.

An amber to golden caramel base will form.

Keep aside and let it cool and harden. If you pour in the pudding straight away, it'll mix with the sugar!

Pour the pudding batter into the prepared moulds (the bowls in which you've melted sugar into a golden glass-like layer).

Steaming the pudding:

You can use a water bath. Take an aluminium vessel. Fill up to a third to half of it with water.
Position a ring mould in the centre of the vessel. Place your filled pudding mould into it. Cover the pudding mould with a stainless steel lid or aluminium foil. Cover the water- bath with a bigger lid. Let the pudding steam on low heat on the gas range in this manner  for 3 hours.

Using the rice cooker:



This photo was clicked at the end of three hours of cooking time. You'll need way more water for your water bath!!

 Filling a third of the rice cooker with water. Place the ring, then the filled pudding mould. Cover the mould with a stainless steel lid. Cover the rice cooker with its own lid. Let it cook for 3 hours.

At the end of the steaming, it should look like this.

If you feel it needs more time, so be it. Take out the pudding, let it cool for an hour or so.

Unmould it into your plate. Run a knife through the edges before unmoulding if you think it necessary.

Once the pudding is fully cooled, place it in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours before serving.

I know this whole process sounds scary and labour intensive, but it is in fact one of the easiest desserts to whip up. Only the cooking time can be a little weird and prolonged, but it is a special day and for special people, so all things considered? Win.

Especially when the brunt work of it was done by the sister-in-law. Thanks, BV!

Eid Mubarak, you lot. Make sure you eat some extra biryani for me. And dessert. Always the dessert.

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.
.

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.