Showing posts with label A-Z of Bengali cuisine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A-Z of Bengali cuisine. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 09, 2022

Kachki Maach er Charchari



Kechki Maach er Charchari | Small fish like Minnow or white bait cooked with potatoes and eggplant 

Kechki, Kachki or Kaski is a tiny, shimmering like silver fish that is very commonly found in freshwater ponds, streams and rivers of rural Bengal. They are really tiny, even smaller than the mourala fish.  These small fishes have such soft bones that they are cooked and eaten whole. Full of vitamins and nutrients they are very popular both in Bangladesh and West Bengal.


I think these fishes are farmed now days given that their popularity has soared high and export contributes a big chunk to this fishery business.. However when we lived in this small town by the river Ganga where the river swelled and rode high during the rainy season, the river water brimming with small fishes would spill into narrow streams and canals. This is where a variety of tiny fishes and small shrimps were caught by young kids with pieces of a woven cloth cloth called gamcha. Our house help's young boy often joined that crowd and brought back a lot of shrimp and chyala maach.

Here in the US, far from that small town, I get Kechki or Kaski, in Bangladeshi stores. All cleaned, they come in these small packets or trays in the freezer aisle along with a lot of other small and not-so-small fishes. 

The only time I buy and make this Kechki Charchari is when my mom is here. Surprisingly my mother never made anything with Kechki. Mourala was her limit when limit tended to tiny fish. But she loves all kinds of fish and so likes this Charchari.
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The husband-man’s home is where all the tiny fish charcharis ruled. Though he is not fond of Rui Kaatla type of fish he likes the Kechki Charchari.
He thinks of his Dida and anxiously reminds me to pour mustard oil generously when I cook it. The last time you air fried the Kechki, the Charchari didn’t taste as good as Dida’s he says.
Of course it didn’t. Nothing tastes as good as nostalgia, glugs of mustard oil and what grandmothers made🙄.


When I poste this photo on FB earlier this week, I got several great recipe ideas. Sharing some for future use

Soupayan Sarkar We first marinate them with chopped onion, julienned potato, kalo jira, salt and turmeric. Then we quick blanch some large laupata. Then make a small potli of fish wrapped with the laupata. Then those potlis are quickly shallow fried. Tastes heavenly with rice.

Cynthia Nelson Here in the Caribbean we call it Nettley 😀 it is seasoned with a fresh herb paste that includes lots of hot pepper and some turmeric and fried crisp. It is usually eaten with dhal, rice and some type of fiery achar. Finger-licking good! 😄

Jayati N
Oh I love this variety.... aam kashundi chorchori....shorshe posto baati chorchori .....dhonepata.kancha.lonka.makha makha ..... tomato.roshun.poda.chatni.type.... pineapple.diye.tok.......narkolbata.shorshe.diye.kumropatay.paturi.... aloo.bodi.diye.patla.jhol.....
Yummmmmmmmm

Shukla Biswas My girls love this fish, either kora Kore bhaja with daal or bati chochhori with sliced potatoes green chilies and onions,and of course a generous tablespoon of shorsher tel just before turning the stove off.

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I made this Kechki Charchari for a bhaiphota lunch few weeks back. Isn't eating a variety of good food is the reason why we have so many festivals right?
I made mostly fish dishes for lunch that day. We started off with Moghlai Parota but then Muri Ghonto, Kechki Charchari, Ilish Bhaape -- was on the lunch menu. Though both my girls are not fond of fish, their "bhaiphota brothers" are true connoisseurs of good food and will happily eat fish. I had added some shrimp, to give the charchari some bite and also to make the charchari more familiar for them. 

Now I don't know how much the brothers liked it, but us, the parents of all the brothers and sisters gorged on the charchari. 




Friday, August 09, 2019

Bengali Rice Congee or Phenaa Bhaat



Bengali rice Conge or Phenaa Bhaat

Phenaa Bhaat in all Bengali Homes == Bengali Rice Congee in a restaurant.

Few days back, I was talking to Pritha Di( the famous Pritha Sen) about typical Bengali breakfasts served in Bengali middle class homes until a few years back.

" Don't tell me about Luchi, Parotta, Kochuri. Tell me something else, " I said.

That is when memory of this ubiquitous dish, ever present in our childhood mornings, came back.

For the first ten years of my life, I remember rushing through the morning, sleepy eyed and grumpy to catch the school bus somewhere around 8 AM. What I cannot fathom is, how I managed to eat a hot breakfast of soft cooked rice, mashed potatoes and boiled eggs with a pat of melting Amul Butter, that early!! My daughters can barely finish a bowl of cereal in that time.

But it wasn't me alone. Millions of Bengali kids fortified themselves with a similar breakfast and probably still do. It is a healthy, one pot meal. easy for the mothers to cook and definitely good for the kids who swallow the soft morsels hurriedly in the morning.



In PrithaDi's home it was known as "Jau Bhaat". In mine "Phenaa Bhaat" and if the starch was drained then "Seddho bhaat" or "Bhaate Bhaat".

In those days, we had no idea that other Asian kids, strewn around China, Taiwan, Japan, Korea, Philippines, Myanmar are probably eating a similar gruel called Congee as their breakfast.

The key to the Bengali "Phenaa Bhaat" is the rice. It has to be a short grained rice and if a fragrant one, all the more better. So the natural choice is Gobindobhog rice. In its absence you can use Kalijeera or any other local short grained rice. The rice is to be cooked with lots of water and vegetables to a starchy gruel like texture. The vegetables vary with season and shouldn't overpower the dish. During summer it is usually potatoes, and then you pick couple of choices from okra, pumpkin, radish and green papaya. In the winter, there is carrots, sweet peas, cauliflower and of course potatoes.



Once cooked, the vegetables can be mashed separately and served with the dish. Some of the vegetables like pumpkin, potatoes and papaya can just be roughly mashed into the rice itself. My mother used to also serve fried fish with the seddho bhaat when she was pressed for time. All of this would be topped with Ghee or a pat of golden Amul butter.

I like it when the dish has a silky and smooth texture and served with eggs. I also like to dress it up with some green chili and ginger slices fried in mustard oil.



Thursday, May 07, 2015

G is for Gota Seddho, Ghugni, Ghonto, Goalondo Murgi and Gokul Pithey

When I asked for suggestions on the letter "G" in the series A-Z of Bengali Cuisine, a lot of ideas came pouring in. From Ghugni, Ghonto to Golaap Jam, Gokul Pithe the names were endless. I went into deep thought over all the suggestions and in the process found two amazing recipes for Goalondo Murgi and Ghugni. I steeled my heart and skipped "Golda Chingrir Malaikari" as we already had "Chingri Malaikari" while in C.

Finally after much dilemma(as if), the dishes that I felt could truly represent the Bengali Cuisine are here. If I am totally honest, I must admit that I skipped stuff like GolaapJaam because I had no idea how to make it.



Gokul Pithey -- Pithey is a very Bengali sweet made during the harvest festival of Poush Parbon, celebrated during Makar Sankranti in the cold months of January. Pithey was a typical home-made sweet made with basic agrarian ingredients of the region like rice, date palm etc. Many kinds of pithey were made and Gokul Pithey is a particular kind of pithey where a flat disc made of coconut and khoya is dipped in a batter of wheat flour, deep fried in hot oil and then soaked in a syrup of sugar or jaggery.


Gota Seddho -- "Ma said, "The day after Saraswati Pujo is Sheetol Shoshti. Shoshthi is the goddess of fertility and worshiped by Mothers as a guardian angel of their offspring. Sheetol==Cool. And on the day of sheetol shoshthi, cold gota sheddho that had been cooked the previous day, is to be had by Mothers worshipping Ma Shoshthi.

The way your Dida made Gota Sheddho was by boiling kali urad(the urad dal with skin) known as maashkolai in Bengali with five different vegetables in season which were to be added whole, little salt, sugar to taste, some pieces of ginger and drizzle of raw mustard oil to finish off. The vegetables most commonly used were small red potatoes, small eggplant, sheem, whole green peas in their pod and baby spinach."



Ghonto -- Ghonto is a typical Bengali dish which means a mishmash of different things, primarily vegetables. I guess it comes from the word "ghanta" which means to mix. Typically therefore a Ghonto will have vegetables which are softer and so will easily become a mishmash. Vegetables like pumkin, eggplant and greens are therefore almost always a must in a Ghonto. Of course a Bengali will have a fish version of everything and to abide to that theory, there is Muri Ghonto made with fish head and potatoes.


Ghugni -- Ghugni or Ghoognee is a very very popular snack in Bengal and in parts of Bihar and Orissa. It is made with dried white peas and cooked with myriad spices including Bhaja Masla.While the Northern India has its Chhole, Bengal has its Ghugni.


Goalondo Steamer Fowl Curry or Goalondo Murgi -- A rustic curry cooked by the Sylheti boatmen on the steamer that plied the river Padma, from Goalondo Ghat to the interiors of towns in Bangladesh.

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Monday, April 27, 2015

Somnath's Raasta'r Ghugni -- Ghugni from the street


Bengali Ghugni

Ghugni or Ghoognee is a very very popular snack in Bengal and in parts of Bihar and Orissa. It is made with dried white peas and cooked with myriad spices including Bhaja Masla.While the Northern India has its Chhole, Bengal has its Ghugni.

But as a child growing up in a Bengali home, I never liked Ghugni much. Our neighbor Jain Auntie's deep brown Chhole is what I salivated over. Though Ghugni was not made very often in our home it was a staple item in our neighborhood, served without fail by the para'r kakimas on Bijoya, at the culmination of Durga Pujo. My heart would go into a nosedive the moment I saw the steel bowl of ghugni accompanying two brown narus and one spongy roshogolla on a plate after the customary Bijoya'r pronaam. There was not a single homemade Ghugni that could woo me in its spicy deliciousness. Of course there were the myriad ghugniwala's outside school gates and at the street corner selling lip-smacking ghoogni in dubious steel plates which I never got to taste because of the mater.

As I grew older I realized I could not ignore the fact that Ghugni is an integral part of being a Bengali. If I was going to be a Bangali, not that I had a choice, I better know how to make Ghugni.



Before I write anything further let me make a honest confession. I suck at boiling the Ghugni motor. I know it is kind of silly but either I over boil it until the paper thin like skin floats around or under boil it. If I under boil it, then to cook it to softness, I again over boil it. Cooking Ghugni Motor to perfection is a chore I dread. So I mostly made my Ghugni with chickpeas!

However an authentic Ghugni is made only with Motor or White Peas(sold as White or Yellow Vatana in Indian grocery stores). So this time around I ditched the Pressure Cooker and cooked it in a open pot and watched with hawk eyes. After all I was making Somanth Roychoudhury's Father's Ghugni. I couldn't falter. I am not the kind of person who easily makes friends on social media but I must say that I have met loads of people whom I admire via facebook. Somnath, is one of them. His zest for food enthralls me and his ability to dig out local food stalls and sample street food has me in the throes of jealousy. You can follow him on his Facebook page The Street Gobbler. Or on Instagram

Ghugni at the roadside -- pic courtesy Somnath


When I was looking for a soul-punching "Rasta'r Ghugni" recipe, the spicy kind served at the street corner, I knew I had to ask Somnath. He not only shared his Father's recipe but also answered my questions and shared his pics of street-side Ghugniu wala. This is what I call a Food Connoisseur.

1. You are a street food connoisseur. List Kolkata street food in order of 1 to 5

I am not a connoisseur at all. Street food is a vastly spread out subject. I am just learning about them every day. It is really tough to make a list of best street food of kolkata. Everyone has different choice and their own favorites.

I always categorize street food in several groups of which the two major ones are Snacks and Meals, depending the time of the day when it is mostly consumed.

Afternoon Snack

1) Fuchka or Phuchka
2) Alur chop/ Beguni/ Fuluri
3) Egg Roll /Chicken Roll /Mutton rolls
4) Kochuri with assorted sabjees -- kochuris with different fillings among which the most popular is motordaal-sattu combination , Hing-chholardaal , Koraishuti (mostly in winter) and some more which are served with daal/alu torkari/alukumro torkari.
5)Jhaalmuri / Moshla Muri / Alukabli / Ghughnee

Meals or Street Foods available all day

1)Ruti Shobji - Ruti/Roti with a side dish of curried vegetables. Yes this combo is slowly winning over our maach bhaat / shobjee bhaat / pore bhaat which at one time used to be popular in the small bhaater hotel or paise hotels. It is sad to see Bengalis eating ruti for lunch but I guess it makes more practical sense in today's faster lifestyle.
Kolkata makes over a 100 thousand rutis every day and those are consumed by pedestrians throughout the day.You will always find garam ruti with various options of shobji be it day or night.
2) Poori Shobji/Luchi torkari/ with mini bhatura
3) Dosa / Idli / Vadas
4) Deem Toast / Butter Toast / Jelly toast
5) Chow-chili chicken
6) Litti -- chokha

2. In your search of street food, I see you sample many kinds at different locales. Any interesting experience?

There are so many of interesting experiences in my trail on Kolkata roads for street food... most of them are amazing. Telling about you one in recent days. Few weeks back myself and Soma Chowdhury (from blog Spices and Pisces) were craving for this very elementary beef haleem at Esplanade (in front of Nizaam).As there were some official program around there, police wasn't allowing the thela owner to put up his shop on time.We were getting restless.So both of us literally pushed the cart to its right place and helped the person in setting it up. He got irritated at us at first but then he smiled, seeing us crazy for Haleem, and served the food with a smile. It was awesome in taste and the experience is also memorable.

3. Where do you get best Ghugni on Kolkata streets?

The toughest question in this row. There are many kind of ghughnees available all over, on railway platform, on running train, on tea stalls and yes of course the stand alone ghughnee sellers. I prefer the stand alone ghughnee sellers the most. Two places I must mention.

Ghugni at the station -- pic courtesy Somnath


1. The sealdah south section platform no 12. there are few vendors who comes with a handi with cooked ghughni in it. They serve with chopped onions green chilli and few drops of tamarind pulp water aka Tetul jol.

2. One (not so)old man in behala, near behala tram depot.. I am having ghughnee from him for last 2 and half decades. The best part is the unchanged taste...serve with just sliced cucumber and tetul jol.



This recipe of ghugni is from Somnath's father. Somnath says his Father picked up cooking from his grandmother and though he cooks only a few items, he does them well. I took the recipe Somnath gave and matched it with what my Mother does(she cooks Ghugni on rare occasions) and voila the result was fantastic. The husband-man who has always turned up his nose at my Ghugnis said "Ekdom rasta'r taste esheche"(tastes just like the Ghugni from street side). Hope he meant well.

And oh yeah, inspired by one of Somnath's pictures, I added boiled eggs to my Ghugni. I am not going back.


Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Goalondo Murgi -- Steamer Fowl Curry

Goalondo Chicken Curry

I have never had a Goalondo Murgi in all my childhood.

I do not know anyone in my family who has tasted this dish cooked by the boatmen on a Goalondo Steamer. That is kind of justified given that my family on the large is probashi bangali, meaning Bengalis settled outside of Bengal. Their ties to East Bengal might seem very very faint but quiet a few of my Baba's uncles spoke in a heavy "Bangal accent" and my Dad fondly remembers the single trip that he made to Dhaka as a young boy with his grandmother, who had her maternal family in that area. He did go on a steamer on his travel but he has never mentioned the Goalondo Steamer curry. I assume he did not taste it.

In the last couple of years the internet is however awash with the recipe of this rustic curry cooked by the Sylheti boatmen on the steamer that plied the Padma. A recipe with a story always intrigues me and this one had enough nostalgia and romanticism going for it. However I wasn't fully convinced  to cook it. Yet.



Goalondo Ghat is a small town on the southern banks of Padma, or rather the confluence of Padma and Brahmaputra, in Bangladesh. Way back in 1871, the Eastern railways established a train line from Kolkata to Goalondo. To go from Kolkata to Dhaka, one would take a train from Sealdah Station which would reach Goalondo ghaat after an overnight journey. There you would then change to a steamer which chugged on the waters of river Padma and traveled down to Naraynganj or Chandpur. Once at Narayanganj, you would then again take the train to Dhaka.

As we see, Goalondo was a major transport hub with daily service steamers connecting it to railway service in Narayanganj, Chandpur as well as to steamer services to the regions of Sylhet from where you could then proceed to the tea plantations in Assam.

A vivid picture of the journey is descirbed in this Handbook from 1913, "From the Hooghly to the Himalayas"
"From Goalundo to Narayanganj by steamer on the Padma, as the Ganges is called on its lower reaches, takes about seven hours, and as the boats are comfortable and the prospect always pleases, the journey is well worth making and serves as a introduction to the great system of waterways that is the main characteristic of this province. The amazing width of the river, the fights and shades reflected on its muddy waters, the vivid green of the fields of rice and jute that fringe the banks and recede into the mists of the far horizon across the flat alluvial plains, the thatched huts with hog's-back roofs - or huts modernized and ugly with the more water-proof iron tops—and the little clusters of palms and other trees - all this makes up a moving panorama that one may watch for hours untired."



I haven't been to Goalondo or on that steamer, but the stories and songs of these boatmen have been retold in many Bengali tales. Aided by literature and imagination, I can imagine the deckhands(also known as Khalasis) preparing their mid-day meal while singing Bhatiyali songs as the steamer plowed down the river. These were men probably from Sylhet or Chittagong, regions famous for their cooks. With sparse ingredients in hand they cooked a chicken and potato curry on the days they could buy dishi murgi or fowls at a bargain price. While they cooked with onion, garlic, mustard oil and lots of red chili ,the fragrance of steaming hot rice and the bubbling curry wafted around the boat, the flavors intensified by the boatmen's songs, songs of the joys and pains of the mighty river.

The life and curry that we romanticize now must have been a routine and mundane thing for those boatmen. As the curry gained popularity, the pise hotels around the ghaat started offering them to travelers. In those days murgi/chicken was taboo in most Hindu homes. For a long time, we weren't allowed to cook and eat murgi in my grandmother's home, though goat meat was allowed. So naturally the lure of the gorgore laal murgir jhol at these hotels and steamer was hard to resist.



Now I have tried two recipes of Goalondo Steamer Fowl Curry. One was guided by Pritha Sen's description of the curry as a "fiery, thin red curry with a layer of oil on top". She had done extensive research on the recipe and had deduced dry shrimp paste as the magic ingredient which the boatmen used.

Very logical, as dried fish(shukti) or dried shrimp paste was very popular among the Sylheti cooks and it was an inexpensive ingredient that could be carried on their boat journeys. I got a bottle of shrimp-chilli paste from the Asian Market but I am not sure if it is the right kind. I worked around what Pritha Di said but I am sure my Goalondo Fowl Curry was nowhere as good as hers.

The rest of the ingredients etc. was based on a recipe that Ahona Gupta gave me. She had found it on a cooking forum in FB and made it few years back. Her recipe asked for same ingredients but the shrimp paste. Other than that her recipe called for a more simpler method of cooking and also she advised against adding any water. However I did add water because you know what, the curry has to be a "thin red curry".


My curry was thin and tasted pretty good but didn't have the fiery red color, probably due to my skimping on the red chillies. Mine also tasted more or less like the Murgir Jhol my Mother or Mother-in-law cooks with the faint note of the shrimp paste adding a new layer. It has to be more about my cooking though as the recipes is perfect and I hope with more trials my murgir jhol gets the "gorgore laal" (fiery red) rustic flavor like that of the steamer fowl curry.


Method I


Start off with 1lb of bone-in chicken, skinned and cut in pieces

Make a paste of
5 fat cloves of garlic
1" of ginger
4-5 Dry red chilli that has been soaked for 15-20 mins(Note: My curry was medium hot, you need to use double the chilli to have a more spicy curry )

I made the paste using my mortar and pestle given that this was supposed to be a rustic curry. I am sure if the boatmen had an electric grinder they would have used that, so please take liberties and do your best.

Now grate 3/4th of a red onion and keep aside. I was lazy to grate and so boiled and then made a paste of the Onion. Also the onions I get here are really big in size, so 3/4th of my big onion would amount to 2 small onion.

Chop 1 potato in 4 quarters

Now wash and clean the chicken pieces. Marinate the chicken and potatoes with
half of the garlic-chilli paste
2 tbsp of Mustard oil
half of the onion paste
generous sprinkle of turmeric
little salt
Keep aside for 30 minutes to an hour.
Note: If I am not wrong, Pritha Di had asked for a little fish sauce in the chicken marinade which I skipped.

Heat Mustard Oil in a Kadhai/Wok. Be generous with your mustard oil

When the oil is hot, add
the rest of the onion paste
rest of the chilli-garlic paste
about 1/2 tsp of this dry Shrimp paste/dry Shrimp powder.
Saute the onion and spices until starts turning brown.

Add the potatoes and the chicken and saute for about 5-6 minutes.When the potatoes start getting a touch of color and the chicken has lost its raw coloring, add about 1 cup of water. Add salt to taste.

Let the curry come to a simmer. Now reduce the heat, cover the wok/kadhai and let the chicken cook in low heat. After 20-25 mins or so, lift the lid and there is a fair chance that you will see a slick layer of oil floating on the top.

Now open the lid and cook for 4-5 minutes more until the chicken and potatoes are cooked.


Method II


I marinated 1lb chicken and the potatoes with all the ingredients as above(i.e. grated onion, garlic-chili-ginger paste, mustard oil,, salt, turmeric powder)

Now heat mustard oil in a wok/kadhai.

Add the marinated chicken and potatoes. Saute for 8-10 minutes. Now cover, add a little water, salt to taste and let it cook until a layer of oil floats on top and everything is cooked.

Serve this thin curry with steaming hot rice, red onions slices and a twist of lime.




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Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Fuluri or Phuluri ~ on the trail of a fried snack

Let me jog your memory and remind you of the A-Z of Bengali Cuisine that I have been half-heartedly attempting since last year. I mean my heart is fully into it but I keep falling back in chronicling the recipes.

Anyway,let me remind you that around November last year, we were stuck at the Letter "F". Not the word, the letter. The reader's choice popular awards demanded "F for Fuchka", "F for Fish Orly" and "F for Fish Fry".

However what was stuck in the grooves of my brain was steeped in memory, nostalgia and zero real life experience. F for "Fuluri".


A few yards away from my maternal grandmother's home in northern parts of Kolkata, right behind a small temple that was built upon faith and an old banyan tree, there was a narrow lane. This narrow lane was one of the many, many narrow lanes that crisscrossed that part of the city.Those days cars and buses were few and they for the most part stuck to the main roads. Bicycles, rickshaws and mostly people on foot plied the narrow gallis. Even then the by-lanes were a quiet, peaceful haven where you could chalk the time of the day by observing the thoroughfare.



Early morning as the eastern sky turned pink, you could hear the trill of the bicycle bells of the doodhwallah, the thwack of the newspaper guy who brought news on his bicycle and the faint All India Radio signature tune of "Vande Mataram" from the houses along the lane who stirred and woke up from deep slumber. Little later the lane would resound with high pitched voices of kids in school uniform, the tiny ones with sleep in their eyes and their small fingers wrapped around their mother's, the older ones huddled close with their friends, walking towards the school bus stop. Almost the same time as the school crowd there would be the "bajaar goers", middle aged men, sometimes women, purposefully striding towards the morning market to get the best fish for the day. This was when the lane would get really busy and you would know the small hand of clock was somewhere around 8 and 9 in the morning.

By the time the sun had risen further and the shadows stretched long and thin from one end of the lane to the other, office goers with their briefcase, three tiered tiffin carrier and a small box of paan, marched along the lane, to wait for their crowded bus at the corner where the narrow lane met the main road.



Soon after, with the sun high up in the sky, the lane would turn hushed, sleepy, interrupted only by sounds of a pressure cooker whistle or the hiss and sputter of mustard oil. Elderly men would sit out on the porch and maids with slim waist bang doors as they rushed from one home to another.

Sometime around 5 in the evening, in this very ordinary lane, a small shop would open its shutters. The shop was nearer to the main road and closer to the temple. A very strategic location.



And in this shop, there would be an old woman, sitting behind a huge black kadhai that rested on a unoon, a coal fire stove. Great amount of oil sizzled in this Kadhai. The old woman swirled her bony wrists and poured dollops of chickpea and various other batter into the hot oil. The oil bubbled and sputtered angrily, magically turning the batter into golden balls, which she then took out with a slotted spoon, and served to her customers in paper cones made of day old newspaper. Her small store front would be so crowded with cries of "Chaar te Chingrir Chop", "Duto Beguni", "Dash ta Fuluri", that you had to stand sideways and push with your shoulder to get an entry. By mid evening pools of yellow light gathered under the street lamps and the lane was redolent with heavenly smell of deep fried food. This was "Buri'r telebhajar dokaan"(the old woman's fritter shop) from where my uncles got beguni, aloor chop and fuluri, wrapped in newspaper, on rare evenings.

And this is the only place where I ever had "Fuluri". Rest were all Pakori.



Now, I always assumed "Fuluri" was same as "Pakora or Pakori". Whenever chickpea batter fritters were made at home, my Mother used the term "Pakora" and never "fuluri", but I though they both were basically the same. The husband-man who has stronger memories of Fuluri claimed that "Fuluri" has to be bigger, rounder and more air filled than Pakori. It doesn't have vegetable or onions which we tend to put in a pakori batter. He also insisted that in addition to besan(chickpea flour), "Fuluri" has to have some dal paste in the batter.

After all even "The word pakoṛā is derived from Sanskrit पक्ववट pakvavaṭa a compound of pakva 'cooked' and vaṭa 'a small lump' or its derivative vaṭaka 'a round cake made of pulse fried in ghee" -- source Wiki.

So what was after all Fuluri?

To verify the husband-man's claim, I scoured the internet for "Fuluri" and got pages and pages of Trinidad Pholouries. In Trinidad homes, pholourie is fried balls of a thick batter made from flour, yellow split-pea flour, turmeric and cumin (and other seasonings like garlic as well, depending on the cook).Clearly the Bangali Fuluri and Trinidad Phulourie were first cousins. It was more natural that it emigrated to Trinidad from Bihar where such fritters go by the name of "phulourie".



Next I turned to Progyasundari Devi's book, treasures gifted by my friend A. In there she has recipes of Fuluri which is made of only Besan just like pakori and she calls them "Besan er Fuluri". She also has recipes of Oriya Fuluri which uses dal paste in the batter.



To come to a conclusion, I then asked my trusted Encyclopedia Britannica of food, Pritha Sen. We debated a bit over whether dal paste should or should not go in a fuluri batter until she threw open the debate on her Facebook timeline. Somnath, another ardent food enthusiast got to work.This is what happened after that.

Straight from Pritha Di's Facebook post:

"Somnath Roychoudhury took matters into his own hands and went on a street food jaunt, talking to three Phuluri makers. Somnath said it was the fluffiness that led to the name -- Phuley otha besan bhaja (Fluffed up fried besan). He said that he doubted if any cook book writer ever mastered real streetfood. He said that there is a variety of besan you get in the market for commercial use. It's not as fine as the branded besan and that besan is a must for a good fuluri which tastes best if you eat it super hot. Somnath went across to Tyangra and two places in Behala, acorss the city and has this to say:

"According to the vendors I spoke to, there are two kinds of Phuluris -- one is hard and crusty with a soft fluffy inside, which is probably made from grainy and coarse besan mixed with different flavourings and fried the size of Rajbhog. The second has a softer outer layer with super fluffy inside made from fine powdered besan. No no daal paste business. Dalpaste is used in daal pokora or mixed with besan to make Daal bora."

His findings corroborated what some others had been saying. That a Phuluri is besan batter, beaten well with chopped green chillies and chilli powder and salt and bicarbonate of soda and deep fried into round fluffy balls and served with spiced salt sprinkled over it. To further prove his point he has pictures and a video of the Phuluri maker whipping the batter.

So Sandeepa, the conclusion was that when affluent Bengali homes recreated the Phuluri in their own kitchens, they did so with the ingredients they were used to making boras from, not having had the privilege to talk to the actual street food makers about how it was done. So a Phuluri is plain batter fried into fluffy balls and never has any vegetable in it."



Isn't it interesting how a simple thing like Fuluri can set you on a long trail ?

I decided to merge the recipe of Oriya Fuluri and the Besan Fuluri to make my own.  We liked the result. The inside was soft fluffy and the outside was more crunchy. Mine were almost like a pakori and didn't really look like round balls of Trinidad Pholourie. As Somnath said, you need some amount of street food expertise to make the perfect round balls.
*You can skip the chana dal paste and use only chickpea flour or besan to make your Fuluri.

Fuluri or Phuluri

Soak 1/2 Cup of Split Pea/Chana Dal for an hour.

With little water, grind this dal to a paste.

Now in a wide mouthed bowl pour the dal paste.
To it add
1/2 cp of Besan/Chickpea Flour
Salt to taste
1/2 tsp of baking soda
2 green chilli finely chopped

Adding little water, whip up the batter to make a thick smooth paste. Don't pour water all at once. Add water gradually until you get a smooth batter without any lumps.

Now heat enough oil for deep frying. Take a tsp of hot oil and mix it with the batter.

Now test if the oil is ready for frying. Put a drop of the batter in the oil. If it sinks, oil is not ready yet. If the drop of batter bubbles and floats back then oil is just right.

Drop in spoonfuls of batter in the hot oil and watch it swell and turn golden. With a slotted spoon gently move them around until the ball is golden brown.

Take the crispy golden brown balls out and let it drain on a paper towel. Sprinkle some rock salt/pink salt and serve.

Great with a cup of hot chai.

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Saturday, November 22, 2014

Phuchka na Fuchka -- street food in the house

The House usually lies empty at ten in the morning.
Quiet.
Except for the sounds that the house makes.

Phuchka/Golgappa/Paanipuri

Creak of the wood frames.
Squeaks in the attic.
Hiss of the heating pipes that run unseen.
Rattle of the shingles.
Murmur of the wind across the glass window panes.




Ten is a time for the house to be by itself, to do as it pleases. Probably it soaks itself in the winter sun, stretches its limbs, relaxes and drinks a cup of tea in leisure.Maybe it turns on the TV and watches "Real Housewives of LA" in the glare of the sun.I don't know if it throws pakori and chai parties on days when the sky is grey and there is rain drumming on the windows but I have a hunch that on particularly cold days, when the sun is toasty and warm, it probably takes a nap.

As the sun shifts, throwing shadows from this room to that, circling the house, peeking in through one bedroom window and then another, the house dances, plays music and patiently waits.



And then the shadows get longer. The house shifts, wraps up the sun soaked throws, plumps up the cushions and gets ready. The creaks and the murmurs quieten. They know the house will no longer be by itself. With the yellow bus rolling to a stop at the curb, footsteps will run through the garage and voices will fill the house.

Today I was there with the house. It behaved very well, polite and well-mannered. No raucous parties. No tantrums. I soaked up the sun, took a nap, and  kept thinking how lucky the house was.


Phuchka/Golgappa/Paanipuri


And then I made myself some Phuchka.

A very different ambiance to have Phuchka, I must say. I don't know how the "phuchka" felt in this ultra sterile and quiet environment. It probably missed the giggling young girls with their long and short plaits, their hearts yet to see disappointments, standing in a circle around the "phuckawallah", asking for more tamarind water, begging for a "fau". Sitting there, the phuchka probably gloated with pride and self-importance, its chest pumped high with all the attention.

Today I am sure it was bored, serving a middle aged woman , in a squeaky clean home with no sweat or dirt in site. It probably complained to the house. I couldn't hear them talk but I did hear them whisper.



It didn't bother me.I stood by the kitchen island, shoving my phuchka with the potato stuffing and then dunking it in tamarind water. Popping each ball in my mouth it crossed my mind that I will probably never stand in a circle around the phuchkawallah, with a posse of girls, begging for a fau again. Those days lie far behind. The burst of the sour "tentul jwol" in my mouth is something I will always enjoy though.

A few days ago I had made phuchka for Big Sis and few of her friends who had come over for a movie and pizza evening. They watched "The Fault in our Stars" and I hesitantly served them phuchka  to start off.  The girls were super excited at the mere mention of "golgappa". They weren't cynical enough to distinguish between phuchka, panipuri and Golgappa, so all was good. I had toned down the spices that day and some of them vouched that they can handle more "hot spice" than this.

Today for only myself, I upped the green chillies though. I have no measurements and I tasted and adjusted the spices. It is very simple so I am sure you can do the same. I used ready made puris but if you want to make your own KichuKhon has the recipe.

Tentul Jol or Tamarind Water



To make the tamarind water, soak a ball of seedless tamarind in about 2 cups of warm water for 15 minutes. After the tamarind softens, rub with your fingers to extract the tamarind pulp and mix it with the water.

Now strain this mixture into another bowl to get the tamarind water without any pulp

To the strained water add
Rock Salt/Kala Namak or Pink Salt
Bhaja Masla (Toast cumin seeds and red chilli and then grind to powder)
paste of 2 green chillies
little sugar
little lime juice
Chat masala
few coriander leaves finely chopped

Taste and adjust the above

Mix well and add about 1 cup more water.

For the Potatoes



Boil and mash Potatoes

Separately boil some yellow peas

To the potatoes add
Rock Salt/Kala Namak or Pink Salt
Bhaja Masla (Toast cumin seeds and red chilli and then grind to powder)
Chopped green chilli

Red chilli powder
few tsp of the tamarind water

Taste and adjust the spices in the mashed potatoes

Now add the yellow peas to the potatoes and mix well.

For the final Phuchka

Buy a packet of ready made panipuri

Toast them a little in the oven for you don't know how long they have been sitting at the grocers

Tap the puri at the center. Fill with potatoes. Dunk in tamarind water. Pop into your mouth




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Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Fish Batter Fry or Fish Orly -- Bengali Style

I think I have said a million times on my blog, that I have spent a big chunk of my growing up years outside Kolkata. And by outside, I do not mean merely the suburbs, the once quiet localities where now the city has encroached with malls et al. But I talk about  places still further, where if you boarded the express train at night after dinner, you would wake up just outside Kolkata with the morning sounds of "Cha-Gorom Cha-Cha Gorom" from the chaiwallahs. This is just to make clear that even though I have lived later in Calcutta later, I am not as familiar with the so-called institutions of Kolkata as many of you are.


For a large part of my childhood, Kolkata, remained the city of winter vacations,wrapped in embroidered Kashmiri shawls and smelling of rich brown fruit cakes. December was the only time of the year when we would be spending one whole month at my Dida's home, eating, lazing and generally having the kind of time which memories are made of. Somewhere nestled among the sun soaked winter afternoons in Alipore zoo, escalator rides at RBI and the Birla museum, there were also "biyebaris",  weddings of several removed cousins of my Mother's and the wedding feast catered during the occasion.

The menu at these biyebaris scored high above those in our mofussil towns and the one thing I liked most about them was the "fish fry" served with slivers of purple onion and mustard at the start of the meal. Fillet of fish, usually Bhetki, was rolled in a coating of eggs and breadcrumb and then deep fried, to make the brown, crunchy fish fry. This technique, I later learned, is called "breading". One bite in the the crunchy outer layer, revealed the sweet fish inside, taking you straight to food heaven.

"Fish Fry" was a rage in the late 70's and early eighties in Kolkata and a wedding feast was not complete without them. Other than the weddings, fish fry was also sold at some restaurants and my uncles would often bring them home, packed in a paper bag with tell tale signs of oil spots and an aura of fried food around them. This delicacy was not available in the town we lived and so after a year's wait, the breaded fish fry in Calcutta seemed as magical as a snowflake to the child in the tropics.

When I asked my readers on Facebook, to nominate a Bengali dish to represent "F" in "A-Z of Bengali cuisine", a huge number said Fish Fry. Totally after my heart. This delightful and delicious example of the Anglo-Indian influence on Bengali cooking definitely deserves to be featured in "F".

The Anglo-Bangla Fish Fry




However I noticed that a substantial number of votes in the same thread went for "Fish Orly" Some were more specific and said "Bijoli Grill's Fish Orly". Now Fish Orly, is a batter fried fish preparation which I had never been particularly fond of. I am not a Kolkata veteran and the few times I have tried the "Bijoli Grill Fish Orly" at Nandan, I have not been blown off my feet. Maybe it is just me but I found "fish orly" greasy and not a match to the crunchy breaded "fish fry".I am sure, I ate fish orly at the wrong places all the time, and that is the reason never really appreciated this masterpiece.

At that time I had no idea what an "orly" was supposed to be, but cooking makes you learn a lot of things and only last week I learned that -- "À l'Orly is a French cooking term used to describe a preparation method usually used with fish fillets. The fish is usually a white fish such as sole, perch or cod.The fillets are skinned, battered and deep fried."

By the early 90's "fish orly" and "fish butter fry" (probably a mispronounced "fish batter fry") had shoved "fish fry" off the Bengali wedding menus. Bijoli Grill caterers were primarily responsible for introducing Fish Orly to the Bengali palate and most people loved it . They raved about it. The only thing I liked was the rolling of the french sounding name on my tongue. It made me feel oddly Parisian without an ounce of idea that "orly" was a French cooking term. I was clearly the square peg.

After the Facebook comments however, I decided to look up the hoo-haa over "Fish Orly". The technique sounded pretty simple. I had some swai filet in the freezer waiting to go in the oven. All else looked good, so instead of the oven, the fish's fate were decided in the orly. "If the Universe conspires and so forth..." .

I marinated the fish almost same as in a Fish Fry, a tad simpler actually. Then for the batter, I used an amalgamation of recipes on the internet for "batter fried fish". Some suggested corn flour but I skipped it. Flour, eggs, water, baking soda was it. Maybe a little more of the baking soda would have made the coating more airy but I decided to stick to a pinch. On a cold winter evening, the hot fried fish tasted pretty good. The girls loved it to the hilt. I still found it oily and realized that it tastes best when had right off the fryer.

Maybe that is why I never liked it in all those years ?

Fish Batter Fry or Fish Orly


I had fillets of Swai cut in 10 pieces. Each piece was about a 3"x 2" piece or smaller. You can use fillet of fish like Bhetki if in India or Cod, Tilapia when Bhetki is not available.

Make a paste of
2-3 fat cloves of garlic,
1 tbsp of peeled & chopped ginger,
2 green chili
with little vinegar. This is the paste that will be used to marinate the fish.

Alternately marinate with
1 tbsp of ginger paste(homemade)
1 tbsp garlic paste

Put the fish pieces in one single layer in a shallow bowl. Sprinkle salt and pepper to taste on them.

Marinade the fish pieces with
the paste from step 2,
1 tbsp of vinegar, 
squeeze of a quarter of lime
Make sure that all of the fish pieces are nicely coated with the marinade

Cover & refrigerate overnight. If in a hurry, half an hour to an hour is fine.

For the batter

In a bowl sift
1 Cup of All-Purpose Flour/Maida
a pinch of baking soda(approx. 1/4 tsp)
salt to taste
pepper powder to taste

To it add
1 egg beaten
1 Cup of  Water
1 tsp of vegetable oil

Whisk to make a smooth batter like you would for pancakes. Keep the batter aside for 10 minutes

Now heat enough oil for deep frying

Dip each piece of fish in the batter to coat and then deep fry in hot oil. Keep the heat to medium-high during frying. Fry each side for about 3 minutes each until the fish gets a golden coat.

Eat 'em hot.



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Monday, September 22, 2014

D is for Dim Kosha and Dhokar Dalna


The A-Z series that I had started is still very much in its fledgling state. With each letter I am even more confused with the wide array of dishes that deserve a place. Thinking of D, I made Dim er Devil, Doi Maachh, thought of making Dhokar Dalna but skipped as it was too much work and then finally decided to give Dim Kosha the place that it so rightly deserves. Well, at least I think so. I love eggs, simply love, love them and when it is the letter "D", Dim or Eggs are in the forefront in my dictionary.

This time the Dim Kosha was made with "Haansher Dim" or Duck eggs. The husband-man has this uncanny fondness for Duck Eggs. It might be something about the town he is from, for anyone who is from there reserves a certain reverence for "Haansher Dim". Now my family was not keen on Duck eggs and it is Murgi ke ande in round wire baskets sold by Maulbi ji  which were staple in our home, so this longing for Duck eggs took me long to understand.



The first time I had Duck Eggs was when I visited my in-law's house in this laid back town which is few hours away from Kolkata and has an abundance of lush greenery.I could sense that the whole family was very excited about Haansher Dim and the kosha that would follow. The husband-man was brimming at the possibility of finally treating me to this delicacy.The way they went on about it, you would think it was some expensive caviar from France, but then really who likes French caviar? There was some uncertainty about the "dimwala" running out of duck eggs and finally when the guy rang his cycle bell around 11 in the morning, everyone ran to the gate expecting a miracle.

When I saw the eggs, they seemed pretty ordinary to me albeit larger. There was nothing ordinary about the Kosha that followed though. It was out of this world and the yolks of those eggs were more creamier than I could imagine.




Thursday, July 03, 2014

C is for Chingri Malaikari and Chhanar Dalna

After much thought and deliberation on the third letter of A-Z of Bengali Cuisine -- C is definitely for Chingri Malaikari aka Prawns in a Coconut milk gravy. Pheww, am I happy to make that decision or what.

And to honor the fact, I am re-publishing the Malaikari post. Since it is also in the book, I had taken it down from the blog. But now it is back again. This long weekend, celebrate 4th of July with a sumptuous Malaikari. Happy Independence day for US folks and for all others Happy Friday.

Chingri Maacher Malaikari | Prawn Malaikari


Chingri Maacher Malaikari -- Prawns in a spicy coconut milk gravy

Though Chingri Malaikari is the winner, Chhanar Dalna comes a close second, a very close second.

On its heels are the following:

Chitol Maacher Muithya -- Fish dumplings made from the fish Chitol and cooked in a gravy.This recipe is shared by a Bong Mom's Cookbook reader Rituparna Moitra.

Charchari -- A Bengali vegetable melange

Cholar dal -- The Bengali Chana Dal with coconut and whole garam masala


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Monday, June 09, 2014

B is for Beguni, Begun Bhaja and Bori

For the next letter in the A-Z of Bengali Cuisine, B, most of the readers said Beguni, a very popular Bengali snack, where slices of eggplant are dipped in a chickpea flour(besan) batter and deep fried.



Beguni -- a very popular bengali snack

Eggplants or Brinjals are known as begun in Bengali and so all things that are cooked with begun came a close second and third in the B-series.

Begun Bhaja -- slices of eggplant shallow fried in oil.

Begun Pora -- Roasted eggplant Bengali style

I could not leave Bandhakopi'r Ghonto out of the B series though no one really mentioned it. But trust me, this cabbage dish is very much a part of the Bengali culture and household.

Borar Jhol -- Lentil fritters in a gravy is another of my favorite dish with the letter B.


Another important part of Bengali cooking that starts with a B is "Bori". Bori is a sun-dried lentil dumpling made of ground lentil paste. The ritual of "preparing bori" called "bori deoa" is (or rather was) an age old custom among Bengali women during the autumn and winter months when the sun was warm and strong but not scorching. Women of the household led by the most senior member would bathe early at dawn and then immerse themselves in the task of bori making. It was a ritual made almost sacred with its demands on sanctity.

Large quantities of lentils were ground on the sil-nora, then seasoned and whipped early in the morning. Then large expanse of a washed and dried cloth, usually a washed and dried sari would be set out on the terrace, its edges secured by rectangular pieces of red brick. On this cloth, the women would put scoops of the lentil paste, ensuring a peak at the center of the dumpling. The couple of times I have been involved in this activity dates back to the times my grandmother was around. I remember her telling us to make boris with sharper center peaks, the incentive being that the one whose bori had the sharpest peak would have a sharp nosed husband.

For us children, the main task however was to keep away the birds and crows from pecking at the dumpling while they dried in the sun. Once the dumplings had soaked in the autumn or winter sun and dried to a crispy brittleness, they were gently picked from the cloth and stored in containers. On days when fish or other vegetables were rare, these boris would be fried a crispy reddish brown and served as a side with dal or dunked in the broth of "jhol".

I have never tried making them at home and always depend on the stash that friends carry from India. My Mother will never ever carry "bori" or "pickles" during travel as she thinks it brings bad luck during journey!!! But a blogger friend KichuKhon makes them in the oven and it might be a good try for anyone attempting it at home

Bori in the Oven from KichuKhonn

In some regions of Bengal, bori making is more of an art than a mere ritual. The patterns and designs are so exquisite that these are called "Goyna Boris" or "Noksha Boris" as the lentil dumplings have beautiful patterns like jeweleries. There is more about these boris in the blog Homemaker's Diary-Goyna Bori.

Sunday, June 01, 2014

A is for Aloo Posto and Aamer Tauk

Yesterday I asked a question on my FB page
"If we did a A-Z of Bengali Cuisine, what dish would you choose to start with A?"

There was a huge response of about 78-77 answers and guess what ? The winner was Aloo Posto, as I had feverishly hoped.Please God, please, let the folks say Aloo Posto and then I can have one more reason to cook and eat it. Not that eating Posto needs any reason or season but it is always nice to have some validation. 

Aloo Posto or Potatoes with Poppy Seeds
This Posto is made with potatoes and other vegetables. The traditional Aloo posto has only potatoes

Now "Aloo Posto" or Posto with Potatoes is actually  a dish of posto or poppy seeds where the aloo (potato) is simply a qualifying adjective. This posto in Bengali cuisine is so versatile that we could do a whole A-Z of Posto with Aloo Posto, Begun Posto....Zucchini Posto and not even so much as glance at any other dish.But still the general consensus was that "A for Aloo Posto" is uniquely Bengali and even though there might be a North Indian aloor dom or a Mexican Mango Chaatni, there could never ever be an Aloo Posto that spoke anything but Bangla.

Given the season and abundance of green mangoes, coming a very very close second in this poll was  Aamer Tauk which I have blogged about in Aamer Chaatni or Ambol and Aamer Chaatni Version 2

The other A dishes that make a Bengali proud

Aloor Dom

Aloor Dom Niramish

Aloor Chop

Aloo Seddho or Aloo Bhaate

Aam Doi and Aam Kheer keeping in mind the mango season 

Aloo posto was one of my very first dish on this blog some eight long years back. A lot of water has flown in the Ganges and Hudson since then but this dish is still a favorite in my home and heart.



"Posto or Poppy Seed is an oilseed obtained from opium poppy. The seeds are harvested from dried seed pods and have no narcotic effect. Posto or the dried white poppy seeds are hugely popular in Bengal. It was actually the food of the people of Rarh, the "land of red soil" on the westernmost corner of West Bengal. More so for the people of Bankura and Birbhum district in this area. This region has a very dry and hot climate and they believe posto has the effect of a coolant and protects them against the heat. In the days when there was no restriction in cultivating Indian poppy and farmers in this area grew poppy in abundance, the posto seeds became an integral part of their diet. A mid morning meal of posto and bhaat protected the farmers from the searing, dry heat as they worked in the open fields.

But the reason why they started growing posto or poppy seeds goes back to the 18th-19th century when the last Bengali Nawab was dethroned by the British East India company. The East India company found that opium generated huge profit not only in local markets but also in China. Thus started the Indian Opium trade. The conditions in Birbhum-Bankura area were probably most suitable for poppy cultivation and the reason why the British colonists forced farmers in that area of Bengal to grow mostly poppy on all available agricultural lands. It was natural that farmers in those areas had little choice but to incorporate posto, the dried poppy seeds a by-product of the crop, in a suitable form in their daily meal. They ground the dried seeds to a nutty flavored paste(posto bata) which they had either raw with some seasonings(kaancha posto bata) or cooked with whatever little vegetable they could avail of. Little did they know that a dish invented out of necessity would one day be representative of Bengal."

Posto was mostly cooked in my home during the summer months keeping its cooling properties in mind and so it felt perfectly the right dish for a sunny, warm day in May today.


Traditional Recipe

Prep 

Soak 1/4th Cup of  White Poppy seeds in water for 10-15 minutes. Next strain the water and then wet grind the seeds in a grinder with little splashes of water. Ideally the seeds would be ground on a flat block of stone called shil-nora. The grinding should ensue a creamy white paste.


Alternately, you can also dry grind the seeds to a fine powder in a spice grinder. mix water with the powder to make the creamy paste.

Peel and chop 1 large potato in small cubes.

Start Cooking

Heat 2 tbsp Mustard Oil in a kadhai

When the oil is smoking hot, temper the oil with
3/4th tsp of  Kalonji/kalo Jeere/Nigella Seeds
1 Dry Red Chilli
2-4 Green Chilli slit along the center

When the spices start popping, add the cubed potatoes.

Saute the potatoes with a sprinkle of turmeric powder. Now this turmeric is  a cause of much consternation as there are two camps-- one who believes in turmeric in posto while the other doesn't. Choose which party you belong to.

Saute the potatoes until they are a pale golden brown. Don't over fry them. Now add the posto bata aka the poppy seed paste. Mix well and saute for a few more minutes making sure that the posto has coated the potatoes.

Now add water(about 3/4th cup), salt to taste, give a good stir and cover and cook.

Check for potatoes to be done. Once the potatoes are cooked, open the cover and drizzle a little Mustard oil. Give a good stir and cook for a few more minutes until the water has dried off.

Serve with white rice.

Modern Touch

Now on most days I throw in some vegetable or the other along with the potatoes and posto. The most recent usage by the husband-man has been about half cup of frozen vegetable mix(a mix of carrots, beans, corn and peas). He defrosts half a cup of this vegetable medley and throws them in with the potatoes. It tastes oh so good and looks as good as in the first picture.