Thursday, June 07, 2012

Lau er Malaikari -- not by andaaz

Like 99.99% of middle class Indian Parents my parents have or at least had an unswerving faith in education. They also had an almost blind belief in the Indian education system and honestly in the late 70's when I started school it was not such a bad one. I mean yes it did not allow exploring or free thinking but it provided wholesome disciplined learning and that suited me fine. I was never the kind to drop out and start Facebook after all.

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My Mother never forced me to study in so many words, neither did she send me for tuition or spank me with a haatpakha if I refused to do homework. However it was somehow understood that the only thing I was expected to do reasonably well was study, academically and rank at least amongst the first three in class. I was one of those boring, obedient kind of child who would rather study school books than study the lifestyle of an ant and so the deal suited me fine. It probably helped that I also could read as many fictional novels under that pretext.

To make it easier for me and also maybe because Ma stayed home and had some sort of help, very little was expected of me regarding household chores. Of course there were set things I did but nothing major and hardly anything in the kitchen."Ekhon porashuno korar shomoy", she would insist that this was a time for studying.

My Ma did not think cooking was something that needed to be taught early on. She believed it was a skill anyone could pick up when the time was right and according to her there was a lifetime left for me to learn those. In absence of Food Network and amidst drudgery of home-cooking she clearly did not put a lot of value to it. I guess she liked it given that she was always cooking one thing or the other, setting up 2 kinds of breakfast and a minimum of 4 dishes for dinner, experimenting and never delegating a meal to a cook. But what I mean is she never thought "cooking food at home" was an important thing. Nothing that demanded accolades, appraisals and a year end bonus. In those times phrases like "Cooking is therapeutic" or "Cooking brings me close to home" were not flung around freely.It was not really a choice, rather a necessity, something you did to feed family. There was no getting away from it. Period. If you loved it good for you, if not bad for the family.

So  I got away with cooking maggi in almost raw mustard oil at 12 and was heavily applauded by Baba for making a simple cup of tea at 13. Cooking was not expected of me.

Food though was something I loved and was often chided for my finicky tastes. My kaku, uncle had once said that I should get married to a rich restauranteur because though I would never want to cook myself, I preferred to eat well and in my own terms.

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But as they say "Life comes a full circle" and there came a time in life when it was cooking that became worthy enough for me to spend a major chunk of my time and energy for. And wonder, wonder I even liked it. As my Ma had said it wasn't too hard to pick up either, if you kept an eager mind.

When I first started my blog I don't think I even mentioned it to my parents. It was a minor thing. He..e..l..l..o it was about cooking. Home cooking at that. They would think "What was so great about it", I thought. But because I wrote about my daughter I gave my Dad the link to read up anecdotes about his granddaughter when they were thousand miles away. It was just one more means for connecting in the modern world.

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Soon they got hooked and they would now read the blog often, if not regularly. Baba would sit in front of his desktop later at night, the phone would be off the hook, the wire connected for dial-in and over a slow ethernet connection they would read whatever part of the blog decided to load. Okay, I might be romanticizing and he might actually be checking Facebook instead of reading my darn blog.

My Ma would discuss recipes that I had blogged or could blog. She would sometimes cook something from the blog and tell me so. Of course 90% of the recipes there were hers so I am not sure why she would do that. Maybe to make me feel good or something.

I would discuss some of the e-mails, readers sent, with them.Baba would share pics of the vegetable market he had  taken with the blog in mind. 

But my Ma never wrote a recipe for the blog for the simple reason that she does not believe in boundaries of cups, teaspoons and tablespoons. While cooking she never measures, always relying on her perfect sense of andaaz, her fingers trusted to pick up the right pinch. I mean which Indian home cook measures their ginger, and it was okay. If she told me ektu jire..I cooked it at home and replaced ektu with 1 tsp only if I was to blog. Else I too relied on my "pinch". A week or so back I told her that what with the work on the book and the impending summer vacation I don't get time to update the blog as often as I liked and it would be nice if she send me post ready recipes.

"But I don't measure..like you", she panicked.

 "Err..well you could. It doesn't have to be precise to 3 digits after the decimal but anything to give an idea.", I said.

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Yesterday, with a "ping" an e-mail landed in my mailbox. The subject said "Lau er Malaikari" -- Bottlegourd cooked in Coconut Milk. and the body had the recipe written in Bangla with the cinnamon measured to an inch. It was a recipe Ma had seen on TV and tried at home. There was a picture to boot. It was overwhelming to say the least. I have come a long way but so has my Mother. From "ektu Darchini" to Darchini -- 1", it has been a long walk.

That single status on FB got more likes than even my Book announcement. Thank you so much for this and though I rarely say corny lines in public, Thank You Ma and yes you too Baba.







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Lau er Malaikari -- Bottlegourd in coconut Milk

 

1. Lau/Bottlegourd --  dumo dumo kore kata/cubed 4 cups ( 24/ 25 cubes ).

2. Onion 1- paste kora. Add couple of green chili to this if you like it hot.

3. Choto elaichi/ Green Cardamom - 4

4. Dalchini/Cinnamon  - 1" inch

5. Labanga/Clove - 4/5

6. Ginger paste -  1 table spoon.

7. Tejpata - 1

8. Red chili - 2.
9. Coconut Milk - 1 cup
10. Sugar -2 tea spoon
 11. Salt - to your taste

12.Vegetable Oil -- for cooking
13. Ghee -- 1 tsp to drizzle at the end.
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Prathame karai te sada tel ( oil ) debe, garam hole ote tejpata ,sukno lanka, garam masala phoron debe. Tarpore onion paste & sugar  diye ektu fry korbe. Tarpore ote lau ta diye fry korbe, gas sim kore. Ebar ote salt diye dhaka ( lid ) diye dao. Lau sedhho ( boil ) hoe gele ote ginger paste diye debe.Ebar ektu nere niye ( stir ) ote coconut milk mix kore, abar ektu dhaka diye rakhbe. Tarpore ektu makha makha  kore gas theke nabiye nebe. Opor theke ektu Ghee diye serve korbe.

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Heat Oil in a wok. Temper the oil with tejpata, dry red chili and the whole garam masala( cardamom, clove and cinnamon)

Next add onion paste and fry with a tsp of sugar. When there is no raw smell of onion add the cubed lau and saute at low heat.

Add salt, cover and let the lau cook .

Once the lau is done add the ginger paste and fry for a minute. Add the coconut milk and let the gravy simmer and come to a boil. The dish will have a clinging gravy and when that consistency is reached switch off heat. Drizzle little ghee on it and serve with rice.
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Some other blogs where parents share space with their blogger offspring 


Kalyan's FinelyChopped 

Shilpa's Aayis Recipes 

Nag's Edible Garden


Mandira's Ahaar  -- with podcasts from her parents

Monday, June 04, 2012

Lau er Khosha Bhaja -- for a lauly lunch

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Around 12 years ago, a then two or maybe three year old nephew of mine, in his freshly minted knowledge of English had said

"God is Lau"

I think he meant "Love". Or maybe not.

I am never sure of such stuff.

Everytime I cook a lau--the lauki -- the bottlegourd, I think of that line and try to search for some deeper meaning.

But he also went around saying "God is GodParmesh" which I THINK does not deliver any profound message. Or maybe does.

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The Bong's lazy and apparently wrong way of chopping bottlegourd peel

The bottlegourd---the one we call lau is a favorite summer vegetable for the bangali. It is a beautiful shade of green that captures your senses in the baked brown heat of an Indian Summer. Top it with its cooling qualities and high water content,and you have a veggie that is brought back from the haat every other day along with two more favored summer veggies -- potol and jhinge. By the time the hottest summer is over Bengalis are only too glad to tuck away their lau recipes and look around for a fulkopi.

Everytime my Ma made a Lau, she saved away the peel, the lau er khosha, to make a quick stir fry. She did a similar thing with potato skins. No points for guessing which I liked better.

Friday on a whim I saved the lau er khosha -- the peel. It is not a regular feature. Mostly I am lazy and throw it away. This time I didn't. I did not chop it fine though as is the norm. I have little patience with such things. The kitchen Nazi husband was aghast. "Jhiri Jhiri kata hoy ni!", he bemoaned. The peels are not julienned being the essence.

I ignored and posted the pic of the bottle gourd peels which were not "jhiri-jhiri" on my FB blog page. Well it turned out 99% of Bengalis were as aghast as the kitchen Nazi husband. Most of my blog readers are very polite and so they protested only meekly. I stir fried my un-jhirijhiri peels with kalonji and dry red chili. They tasted fine enough.

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The Bong's right way of chopping bottlegourd peel

The next morning the husband who was obviously itching to get the peels done right got hold of another bottlegourd. He peeled strips of the pale green peel in three-quarter of an inch width and piled them high. Then he chopped them fine along the width -- jhiri jhiri. Everyone breathed relief. I made the stir fry again. It tasted the same. I guess if the skin or peel is a tough one the fine cut is necessary else the peel might burn before it gets fully cooked. In this case the peel was soft and tender and both ways worked.

But I dare not tell a Bong that. If it is Lau er Khosha -- they want it jhiri jhiri.



Peel the skin of a bottlegourd. Chop it in julienne. There will very little peel from a single gourd, I had only 1/4 cup of it.

Wash it well. Now toss it with little salt and turmeric powder. Keep aside for 10 mins.

Heat 1 tsp Mustard Oil

Temper oil with 1/4 tsp Kalo Jeera(Kalonji) and 2 Dry Red Chili

Drain any excess water from the peels and add it to above. Now saute the peel at medium high heat. Sprinkle water as needed.

Add sugar and salt to taste. Go easy on the salt as you added some earlier. Sprinkle some poppy seeds on top and cook till the skin has softened and is cooked.The poppy seed is optional.

Variations:

A variation from Reshmi Bose as suggested on Facebook: Temper with Kalo jeera, sliced garlic and one green chili

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Waiting by the Sea -- Black&White Wednesday

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Waiting by the Sea@Betsy's Provincetown
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To be rewarded with the creamiest Clam Chowder in town along with fried clam and fish 'n' chips 
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Talk of the island -- Nancy's @ Martha's Vineyard 
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Fried Shrimp and Calamari -- Nancy's @ Martha's Vineyard 
There were many lobster rolls and more chowder's that alas lost their chance at a photo session but have settled into a happy place in memory and yet I am very chuffed to say the Bong's very own Chingri Malaikari still retains its crown of glory.

The first picture and maybe also the 3rd goes to Susan's Black and White Wednesday hosted by a favorite blogger Sra.