How Pabda Got Discussed, Got Cooked, and Got a Life

I am amazed and humbled, both at the same time how one little question can bring a veritable treasure trove of family recipes tumbling down from nooks and corners of the world. I am talking about several Pabda (Butter Catfish) recipes that readers and friends of PreeOccupied shared today. All I can do is, assure you that it will take you many Pabda sojourns to be able to make all of these recipes. I am so glad I am able to share them with you today.
Mala Ray Chatterjee of Hyderabad, India, shared a simple jhol with kalo jeere (Nigella seeds), green chilies cooked in a gravy of turmeric, salt and some freshly chopped coriander. I had all the ingredients at home and so I went on to make Mala’s Pabda Maacher Jhol. The only change I did make was to add a little grated ginger to my jhol and added red chili powder too the thin gravy of turmeric and salt where the fish got dunked in.
Subharsee Basu of Bombay was confident that adding a clove of garlic to the mustard paste base would take the taste of the Pabda Maach a notch or two above the ordinary.

Purba Mitra suggested a phoron of Nigella seeds and green chilies in hot oil to start with, followed by the fish to be cooked in a sauce made of yellow mustard seeds and poppy seeds. Adding fresh coriander in the end is a necessity – both flavor-wise and aesthetically.
While Amarnath Chatterjee of Japan who calls his recipe of Pabda, Dum ki Machili typed out a detailed recipe I am copy-pasting here: Try a yogurt, green chili paste thing....sauté some cloves, one black cardamom with some caraway, add ground onion paste, brown, add ginger garlic, fry, add holud, red chili powder then add 1- 2 cups yogurt and 8-10 green chilies turned paste, cook till thickish, slip in the fish, simmer uncovered till done...
Pritha Dutta of Delhi who had once shared her Mother’s stuffed Kankrol recipe had another ace up her sleeve. She bowled us over with her Mother’s un-patented Tomato Pabda. Here is the recipe: Shallow fry the fish. For a kilo of pabda, you will need about two tablespoons of onion paste, one teaspoon each of green chili, ginger and garlic paste, two bay leaves, 3-4 cloves, 3-4 large ripe tomatoes, ghee and Bengali garam masala. Blanch the tomatoes in hot water, remove skin and grind into a paste. Heat ghee, add bay leaves and cloves, onion, green chili, ginger and garlic pastes. Once the masala starts to leave the sides, add tomato paste, salt and sugar to taste, garam masala and some water. Add the fish, cook covered for about 3-4 minutes. Gently turn the fish. Cook for another minute, remove from heat. Garnish with slit green chilies. Serve with steaming fluffy white rice.

Ronita Biswas adds that adding a little drizzle of raw mustard oil (kancha shorsher tel) to the cooked Pabda Maach curry adds a whole lot of zing to the dish. Point noted, Ronita.

Prem Chowdhury of Virginia, USA, recounted how his Dida taught him a Paturi recipe with Pabda. He adds that the recipe just has onions and red chilies and is lip smacking good. One day soon, we will have Prem write out his Grandmother’s gem. And cook it too.

Two ladies by the same name answered the Pabda calling, both painstakingly detailed out their respective recipes.

Sumana Sen-Bagchee of Edmonton, Canada, whose aunt’s bitter gourd recipe was an instant hit with the readers of my Blog has this to say: Pabda can be done very simply too--with kalo jeerey or panch phoron. Lightly fry the fish if they are frozen. Mix in a small owl halud-dhoney and lanka powder with some water. After adding phoron and kancha lanka to the oil pour in the liquid, carefully, thin it if needed, let it come to a boil, add a few pieces of chopped tomatoes, cook a while covered. Salt it, Slip in the fish when the gravy looks nicely cooked, the tomatoes married, add some grated ginger, cover and cook till fish are cooked. Sprinkle a little mustard oil, my mojo for all Bengali food, sprinkle with chopped coriander. My mom-in-laws recipe: Pabda from Pabna.

Sumana Raychaudhuri of Maryland, USA, says her favorite Pabda recipe is a simple curry made with ginger and green chili paste. Here is her recipe: pre-frying the fish is optional.
Soak two inches of fresh ginger (after peeling) and three red chilies (for 5-6 medium size fish) in water for few hours and make a coarse paste with the same water. Soak two large tomatoes in hot water and remove the peel. Now make a smooth paste with ginger-red chili-tomato. Heat oil, add kalo jeera, green chili and the ginger-red chili-tomato paste. Add salt and turmeric. Boil once, add the fish and wait till the fish gets cooked. Garnish with dhonepata.

The conversation around Pabda Maach had just begun…

With so many recipes shared and discussed over a period of less than a few hours, I was left confused and lusting for all of them. I chose one and got inspired by the rest of them. I shall leave you now with the pictures from my kitchen on this unique Pabda journey. I know you will get this silver-colored buttery fish the next time you are in a maacher bajaar, and cook at least one of these little gems shared by all the wonderful people.

Murgi’r Jhol - Chicken Curry With A Soul

How many times have you killed your chicken and cooked it too? I guess not too many times.
But Prabha did it every time she and her little brother wanted to eat some.

Prabha (pronounced Prðbha) was about 10 years older than me. She lived with my Kaka and Kakima (Uncle and Aunt) to look after my cousins. When my cousins were away for school, she would also do some cooking. Those simple earthy Bengali recipes which many of us would think its most convenient to buy from Bengali stores or restaurants.

There are as many different chicken curries as there are cooks. Although this post seems to be about a Chicken Curry, but really its not. Its about Prabha and her Murgi’r Jhol.

There was nothing strikingly different about Prabha except the long printed frocks she wore, and her long hair which was always glistening with oil and braided neatly and folded midway, to reach the center at the back of her head. A single cotton black ribbon, the width of her palm held it up there in a bow. Very, very tightly. 

Prabha also loved oiling my hair, which I later found out was an instruction from my Grandmother. Most afternoons during my vacation there, she would sit with a bottle of coconut oil on a small wooden stool and me by her feet while she’d take scoops of hair oil and nourish my scalp. The dripping oil would soon vanish into the pouffe of my hair. She would then take a comb to make two plaits with my hair.

It was during these one-on-one sessions in the afternoon that the not-so-talkative Prabha opened up to me with her stories about her little village in Bengal. How she thought my Kakima rescued her from poverty and a life of misery and gave her a home and a better life.

In the next couple of years, my interest in cooking was just beginning to surface. Most afternoons, I would sit on my haunches next to Prabha in my Aunt’s kitchen, and watch her make Sondesh, Nadoo, Goja, or the sweet of the day, while everyone else was enjoying their siesta.

It was during one such culinary session with Prabha that I saw her make this Chicken Curry. It wasn't some great gourmet, but this was how she learnt it from her Mother, I was told. I had my notepad ready.

As she was washing the pieces of the chicken under the courtyard tap, she said, “I used to catch my own chicken from someone else’s farm and kill it. My Mother would then clean it and cook it for my brother and me.”

I was already fascinated though I did not delve deep into the brutal method she chose to kill for her meal.

By the time, I had finished writing the ingredients, Prabha was already crushing a knob of ginger on the kitchen counter and throwing it in with the sliced onions which were sizzling in the mustard oil.

The city girl that I was could not keep pace with her, and fumbled writing down each step while she mesmerized me with her speed slicing.

“How much coriander powder?” I asked Prabha. She mumbled something and showed me the quantity by pursing  her five fingers in a round shape! I realized then that Prabha was beyond any measurements – culinary or otherwise!

Since that last Murgi’r Jhol session with Prabha, I have lost that notebook and all contacts with the girl from a small village in Bengal. But her great-tasting Murgi’r Jhol and fond memories are still with me.

This is the Murgi’r Jhol I associate with Prabha. I hope I am able to come close to the thought, effort and time she invested in making the chicken curry for us.

Ingredients for Murgi’r Jhol are:

One Cornish game hen (you can use regular pieces of chicken)
1 red onion finely sliced
5-6 green chilies slit lengthwise
1 ripe, medium tomato, cut into thick slices
Handful of coriander leaves finely chopped
2 tablespoons ginger-garlic paste
1 teaspoon red chili powder
1 teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon coriander powder
Pinch of garam masala powder
1 bay leaf
1 black cardamom
2-3 tablespoons mustard oil
Pinch of sugar
Salt

Heat mustard oil till almost smoking. Add the pinch of sugar and let it caramelize. Now add the bay leaf and black cardamom. Immediately add the sliced onions and fry on high-medium heat till the onions get a brown color. Add the chicken pieces and fry for 7-8 minutes stirring continuously. Add the slit green chilies. When the chicken is nice and brown, add the ginger-garlic paste and cook for five more minutes, covered with a lid. Add the dry spices – turmeric, red chili and coriander powder.

The pieces of tomato and salt go in next. Cover and cook for sometime on medium heat. Add about two cups of water and cover. Cook for 10 minutes till all the raw taste in the spices is gone.
Sprinkle a pinch of garam masala powder and chopped coriander.
Serve this Murgi’r Jhol* with steaming rice that has a smear of desi ghee.
*A jhol essentially is a thin gravy and its okay to have this chicken curry a little runny!