Jhalmuri, Jhalmuri!

My beliefs as a pre-teen were mostly based on fantasy. I made myself believe that I could live happily ever after with a Jhalmuri wala from our neighborhood. He was young, wore a clean dhuti, skinny, and most importantly, not married. He also whisked out the best Jhalmuri in town. His hands worked magic with the ingredients on his push cart. Chopping, cutting, mixing and tossing an array of items in a steel can, sizzling it all up with lavish drops of mustard oil and finishing off each serving with finely chopped fresh coriander. Perfection was his persona. And I was in awe.
 
One day I told my Mother about my infatuation.  I was all about 13, and learnt the word “entrepreneur” in English class. I realized it perfectly fit the description of my street-food crush.

Mother was slow to react to my precociously coherent longing of an entrepreneur jamai for her. Then one day she freaked out when she realized that I had given two measly pieces of sondesh to my crush. Things were escalated to my Father, who said he had lost all hope in me. He also feared I would elope with that fellow. That day I saw a look of dejected sadness on his face. With her cold, stony silence, even my little sister made me realize I was the family pariah and had no business either eating or longing for “junk”. Let alone marry one. My Dida said all this was bad for my health!

Today, I am happily married to a man who is neither an entrepreneur nor a jhalmuri wala. But loves this Calcutta street food with as much passion as I do. Much of our long-distance courtship was spent in talking about whether I knew how to make Jhalmuri, and if I could do it in Canada for my deprived fiancé.

Bengali cuisine is never complete without talking about Jhalmuri. Puffed rice has never been treated with so much respect and reverence, as it is in this anytime snack which has its origins in the streets of Bengal.

Mere handfuls of puffed rice (muri) is transformed into a perky bowl of intense flavors, often rapaciously devoured by anyone who can stomach some heat, some sour, some crunch and some raw shorshe tel (mustard oil).

Ingredients for Jhalmuri are:

2-3 handfuls of puffed rice/ muri
2-3 handfuls of Chanachur/ jhal dalmut as per your preference (make sure it has peanuts)
1-2 tablespoons roasted gram
1-2 tablespoons boiled red gram/ lal chola
1 medium boiled potato, peeled, roughly chopped
1 small red onion, very finely chopped
2-3 tablespoons cucumber, finely chopped
3-4 green chilies, finely chopped (do not add if you are making for kids)
1-2 tablespoons coconut, finely chopped (I did not have it at home, and did not add in this recipe)
Handful of finely chopped fresh coriander
Lemon juice
Drizzle of mustard oil
Pinch of red chili powder
1 teaspoon bhaja moshla
Half teaspoon chaat masala
Black salt

Keep your Jhalmuri station ready to avoid any last minute missing ingredients. I like to make little portions for individual persons based on their heat and spice quotients. The rule to Jhalmuri is to mix in the wet/raw ingredients in the end to prevent the muri from getting soggy and limp.

 
(If you are using muri which has been lying in your kitchen for some time and is not as crunchy as you’d like it to be, throw some in a bowl and microwave for under a minute to get its texture back.)

Okay, so now mix together the chanachur and muri along with the roasted gram and give it a toss. Add the spices and mix well. Check the seasoning, if your chanachur is quite salty already, go easy on the black salt.

Toss in the chopped onion, cucumber, boiled potato, red gram, green chilies, fresh coriander and few drops of mustard oil and lemon juice. Give it a good mix and serve immediately in paper cones or bowls. A cup of hot chai is most often enjoyed with this Jhalmuri. Make sure you share this with your friends, it just doubles up the whole experience.

Say Hello…

…to my new handmade chutney bowl in warm green with a hint of yellow.
I have used lead-free, non-toxic glazes and under glazes, which means it is safe for food, microwave and the dishwasher.

And don’t miss the spoon in navy. Which was just an experiment actually. But practical enough to scoop some chutney out of my bowl.

And this free-flowing bowl in cream green with little freckles of turquoise.
 
This could be a multifunctional bowl, especially in this Holiday season, where I think I can use it as a salad bowl or just throw some potpourri in it and make it sit with all the reindeers I have!
What are your suggestions?

For more of my pottery work, click here.

They Call it Cauliflower!

When I had moved to Bangalore, I was, of course Kannada illiterate. But very soon I realized that I could get away by suffixing just one single syllable to a lot of English words and “speak” to locals who did not understand English and Hindi. Or Bangla.

Like if I had to direct the auto rickshaw wala to take a left turn, all I had to do was just say “left-aa”. Lingering a little longer on the “a”.

Soon I was prolifically saying right-aa, left-aa, tired-aa, and even food-aa. I was thrilled by the versatility of this one syllable which helped a “North Indian” like me transform a single word of English into a sentence – sometimes an innocuous statement, the rest of the times as a question.

The lady who helped me keep my apartment clean was an elderly matriarch called Muniamma. Muniamma wore glasses, as thick as the bottom of a soda water bottle. She wore printed cotton saris draped in the nauvari style. And she was on time every day.

Muniamma and I never talked. She spoke no Hindi or English and I no Tamil or Kannada, the two languages she spoke. Though we smiled a lot at each other. And when I say a lot, I mean even when the time she broke my favorite coffee mug which said – The World’s Best Daughter. Which I shameless must admit was a gift to myself, just as a reminder that I had to become one.

In between cleaning the apartment and flashing toothless smiles, Muniamma would also run some errands for me, especially the times I was having 16-hour days at work.

So this day, I was going over my vegetable and grocery list with Muniamma with our smiles, hand gestures, nods and the typical of bobbing of the head, which could be interpreted as yes, no, can’t say.

I reached number six on my list which was phoolgobhi/ phulkopi/ cauliflower.

I mouthed “phool” and “gobhi” opening my jaws wide and raising my hands to shape a cauliflower. Muniamma looked puzzled. I quickly drew a big cone with leaves sprouting out. Muniamma peeked, lifted her glasses to look at me and giggled. I realized I had humiliated my way to bad drawing. So I leapt towards a blooming flower in the balcony, hoping she’d get some connection somewhere. Anywhere.

After being stuck on number six for a few exasperating minutes, Muniamma rolled the hundred rupee currency note in her hand, opened the front door and knocked on Mrs Uthappa’s door. Mrs U lived across my apartment and she took it upon herself to rescue me in my crisis situations from time to time. I quickly briefed Mrs U on the communication whirlpool Muniamma and I were stuck in and said – I am trying to tell Muniamma to bring me a C-A-U-L-I-F-L-O-W-E-R.

My utterance of the world “cauliflower”  seemed to have hit Muniamma with a flash of brilliance. She took a few steps forward, slapped her right hand on her wrinkled forehead and repeated the word - C-A-U-L-I-F-L-O-W-E-R, and added the not-to-miss “aa” after it, making it sound like a question.

I could only stare back and join the jubilant Mrs Uthappa and the wickedly intelligent Munianna in a heartfelt laughter.

Each time I look at a beautiful head of cauliflower or make my alu gobhi or phulkopir alu chorchori, I am reminded of a beaming Muniamma and my life in the silicone city of India.

And I still do not know the Kannada word for Cauliflower. Do you?

Nigella’s Bourbon-glazed Ribs

I now know why Nigella Lawson is such a hit with men. She uses minimum ingredients in her recipes which are not too involved. She is not a trained chef. And her promiscuous cooking technique is just an added bonus.

So turn to page 82 of Nigella Christmas: Food, Family, Friends, Festivities for this seductively simple recipe of Bourbon-glazed Ribs. But if you don’t have that book, count me as your BFF. I made these out-of-the-world succulent ribs on Sunday. For one they were my first time making ribs at home, and also that my husband who is not too fond of them pigged out on pork ribs! I guess its hard for a man to resist something which comes with the tag of N-I-G-E-L-L-A.

Ingredients for Nigella’s Bourbon-glazed Ribs are:

(I have kept her ingredients as they were but changed the measurements)

1.5 kg pork spareribs
1 cup Bourbon
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
3-4 tablespoons tomato ketchup
Half cup + 1 tablespoon dark brown sugar

Place the ribs in a large pan or plastic zip lock bag and pour all the ingredients over them to form a marinade. I marinated my ribs for 48 hours, refrigerating all the time.

After two days, remove the ribs from the marinade and place in a shallow baking dish, lined with aluminum foil for easy cleanup after.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (Nigella says 425). I cooked the ribs for 1 hour 15 minutes, turning them over halfway through cooking.

At the one hour mark of cooking the ribs, pour the marinade into a saucepan and boil on low-medium heat to reduce it to almost half. The marinade will start looking glossy and thick. It takes about 10 minutes.

Plate the ribs and pour the bourbon sauce on them. I served some steamed broccoli and potato wedges as sides for our Bourbon-glazed Ribs.

We Have a Winner!

…for the $35 gift certificate for CSN Stores.
Celeste of Florida, USA is the lucky person.  
   Celeste, I do have your email, and I am going to mail you the details about your $35 CSN gift certificate right away.

Thank you everyone for participating.

Rajnigandha Rhapsody

When in season, I always had vase full of these tuberose stalks at home in India. Today is the first time I found them here in TO.

Self control has never been my forte, especially when it comes to my favorite flowers – Rajnigandha. So they had to come home with me and get snug in my pink vase.

Don’t they look exotic with my statue of Lakshmi? I am so obsessed with Rajnigandha, that for my wedding (which was a traditional Bengali one), I had instructed the florist to do the decorations only with these fragrant flowers and red roses. I wouldn’t have it any other way!
Thankfully it was a monsoon wedding which meant Rajnigandha flowers were in plenty then.

Sweet Cinnamon Brown

I know good food does not necessarily create good mood. But good colors. And smells? Like the warm, sweet smell of cinnamon. Aren’t you glad God gave you a nose.

When this same sensuous warmth transcends to gooey cinnamon rolls, I also thank God that she gave me a mouth to taste and savor the stickiness Cinnamon Rolls bring with them.
Cinnamon is one of the greatest spices the merchants found in the barks of a tree. The Holiday season is just an excuse for me to become a part of a ritual called cinnamon, and give in to this picker upper spice in any form.

Even incarnating my newly-glazed free flowing bowl in the same color!

Because I am a bad baker, I stick to ready-to-bake indulgence. Today was a box of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls.

The easy substantiality of an under-30 minute baked delight with my favorite spice, cascading icing and toasted pecans in each more-ish mouthful, reinstates my faith in Nature’s bounty. Cheers to its colors and flavors.

For pictures of my pottery work, click here.