How to make Thandai | Easy Thandai Recipe

Holi is just around the corner and I have been dreaming of all the lovely Indian sweets and treats I can make and bring over here to refresh this space. Holi, the Indian festival of colors, marks the end of winter and commencement of spring. No Holi is complete without bright and vibrant colors, balloons bursting with colored water, the lavish thandais, mouthful of gujiyas and some good lyrical Hindi Bollywood numbers to tap your feet to as you get soaked in a concoction of colours.

I stayed away from partaking in this festival for most part of my life. My earliest memories of Holi dates back to the early years spent in Mumbai where the morning of the festival saw friends and neighbors from the colony flocking in the common areas of the building, smeared in psychedelic colors, throwing water baloons and smudging gulal at everyone in sight. Spirits high, air misty and hued, voices high pitched in celebration, it was a frightening sight for an eight year old. As a kid I stayed holed up under my mom's old sewing machine for most part of the day, quite terrified at the sight and sounds of those faces smeared in boisterous colors. It wasn't my kind of celebration.

Years have passed since the little girl who was once petrified of Holi now enjoys the sight of colors. Over years, I've let go my inhibitions and participated in it's celebrations during to my stay here in the US. Miles away from home, the need to connect and bond with Indian community is strong and comforting. Indian festivals give that opportunity. People, food and celebrations bring joy and positivity.

Sumptuous food and drinks is an integral part of Holi celebrations. No Holi is complete without a tall glass of Thandai, the fragrant spiced milk drink, made with amalgamation of ingredients like milk, saffron, nuts and spices. Come on over and let's make some soul-satiating drink that is delicious, cooling and an excellent thirst-quencher.

Thandai

INGREDIENTS

1 tablespoon fennel seeds
1 tablespoon poppy seeds
1 tablespoon melon seeds (optional)
1 teaspoon peppercorns
Pods from 6 green cardamoms
10 almonds
10 cashews
1/2 teaspoon rose water
1 cup warm water
1 litre milk (replace by soy milk / oat milk / almond milk for vegan version)
Sugar (as per taste)

DIRECTIONS

Soak the fennel seeds, poppy seeds, melon seeds, peppercorns, cardamom pods, almonds and cashewnuts in a cup of warm water for 30 minutes. Then grind the soaked ingredients into a fine paste and keep aside.

In another small bowl, soak the saffron strands in warm milk and set it aside for 30 mins.

Next, in a pan bring milk to boil. Add sugar to your preference, stir well and simmer till the sugar melts in the milk. Add the ground thandai paste to the milk. Mix well and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. Turn off the heat, add the rose water and let it sit covered till it comes to room temperature. Then refrigerate it to chill for atleast 2 to 3 hours or preferably overnight. Garnish with some crushed rose petals, saffron strands and chopped almonds and pistachios. Serve chilled!

Note: I mention melon seeds as optional since they are not easily available where I stay. However traditionally Thandai uses melon seeds. Though it doesn't affect the flavor much incase you skip it.

How to make Aloo Poha | Batata Poha Recipe

Batata Poha is a very popular breakfast dish from Maharashtra made with onions, potatoes (batata) and beaten rice (poha). Poha is a common breakfast dish made across India, with each state having its own subtle variation and names. There are numerous recipes for making poha, the recipes varying from one family to another, each with their own way of preparing it.

Kanda Poha and Batata Poha were made regularly at home. Karnataka has it's own variation called Avalakkibath which is quite similar to Kanda Poha, but has the addition of urad dal and channa dal in it, with garnishes of fresh grated coconut. Batata Poha though was always called as Batata Poha, and never Avalakki. Mornings with plate full of Poha, tall glass of warm milk and off we went to school full and nourished till noon.

This was also a breakfast made when we had guests over, or on days when mom was running out of time to prepare breakfast. Potato, in general is a loved ingredient by many, so that meant less fuss. I now make this Maharashtrian-styled Aloo Poha / Batata Poha regularly at my home and my family enjoys it well as much as I do.

Batata Poha | Aloo Poha

INGREDIENTS

2 medium sized potatoes, peeled, chopped and diced
2 cups poha/beaten rice (thick variety)
2 tbsp oil
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp mustard seeds
1 sprig curry leaves
2 green chillies, finely chopped
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 tbsp roasted peanuts
Salt to taste
1 tsp sugar
Juice squeezed from 1 lime
Fresh coriander leaves to garnish

DIRECTIONS

Wash the beaten rice thoroughly and drain the water. Add turmeric powder and salt, mix well and keep aside. While the poha blooms, proceed to prep the rest of the ingredients such a chopping potatoes and onions.

Heat oil in a fry pan, add in the mustard seed and let it splutter. Add the chopped onions and stir fry for 30 seconds till they are transclucent in color. Next add the diced potatoes, torn curry leaves and green chillies. Stir fry for a couple of minutes till the potatoes are cooked, yet have a bite. Add in the soaked poha/beaten rice. Turn heat to medium low and gently mix all the ingredients. Cover and cook for atleast 5 mins. Once cooked, remove from heat, add sugar and squeeze juice from 1 lime. Garnish with roasted peanuts and chopped coriander leaves.

You can cut down the cooking time by using boiled potatoes before hand. You can add the potatoes into the tempering oil, stir-fry well and allow it to cook. That way the potatoes get a slight crunch. This however takes a longer time and consumes more oil, hence I avoid this version. The one that I make is a quick, healthy and less time consuming since the potatoes are pre-boiled and need no further cooking. Addition of a teaspoon of sugar and lime is optional, but this really adds an edgy flavor, which is typical to Maharastrian cuisine.

An alternate version of this called Kanda Poha, where onions are used instead of potatoes is quite a common breakfast. This breakfast is not just simple and healthy, but also filling to keep you going for long.

*This post was updated and republished recently.*

How to make Mushroom Makhani | Easy Mushroom Makhani Recipe

It was in brief period of time, sometime in June last year when spring was fading out unhurriedly, giving itself into the summer warmth, and the temperatures were just about steadily poised in their pleasant 60s, that I felt a sudden urge, an unfounded obsession over mushrooms. I had no idea what triggered it. I must have been under the weather, or must be the sight of damp mulch springing off paunchy shoots while the mist shroud in, or may be the birthday party I attended late spring where stuffed baked mushroom caps was all I ate because it was beyond delicious and I could barely take it off my mind for several days after the party. I'd go out for walks and randomly sight odd pairs of mushrooms sprung on peat soil and tree trunks, watch them in awe, and strike a sudden temptation to cuddle my hands around a bowl of warm mushroom soup. In my strong desire to savor them, I toyed the idea of cooking them for all three meals a day, crooning over mushrooms on toast for breakfast, mushroom biryani for lunch and this mushroom makhani for dinner. I had the fortune of sparing my family to bear this marathon brunt of mine as they were summer vacationing back in India, visiting relatives and friends and enjoying the glorious ripe seasonal mangoes in kilos, while I boggled silly over these fungi. Insane you may have called me, had you sneaked into my lunch box, or my dinner plate that week, that, my meals were inadvertently smeared with mushrooms in their ensemble. I would visualize them in my shopping for groceries - the buttons, shiitakes, oysters, portobellos everywhere. Umbrella caps in supple tones of milk and tans - some pumped up, some stout, others squat, and shaggy, unkempt in their mannerisms, their piggy stems ballooned underneath, their tender skins crust with dirt and mire that needed gentle strokes in water bath to glisten their starkness, leaving their glamorous gills unhurt on the underside of their caps. None the less glorious in all forms.

After marking a day on calendar and striking it off with meals rigged with mushrooms, I was out and about that obsession for a while, staying away from aisles at grocery stores, thinking beyond its capacity. I relieved this obsession, so glad at it; its yearning so deep and willingly conspiring, much like echoing phrases from Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." I conspired it. I achieved it.

Much of this recipe I share today is a remake of my recipe for Paneer Makhani, so you make the makhani gravy ahead of time and prepare the actual curry just before serving. The makhani gravy is sinfully delicious on it own, but when you throw in mushrooms, they take on a new level of deliciousness. The meaty texture of mushrooms complement the creamy gravy, giving it depth of flavors. This rich dish is fit for parties and celebratory occasions, but if you want to give yourself a break from mundane home cooking and serve up some exoticism on weekends for your family, then this be it.

Mushroom Makhani

INGREDIENTS

1 cup of prepared Makhani Masala (refer here)
200 grams button mushrooms
1/4 cup cream (adjust to your taste)
1/2 tsp. of kasuri methi or dried fenugreek leaves
Fresh coriander, cream for garnish

DIRECTIONS

Prepare the Makhani masala as in recipe mentioned here. It should yield approximately about a cup of thick gravy.

In case you are using refrigerated or frozen gravy, remove from the fridge and allow it to come to room temperature. Add 1/2 cup water and bring it to a simmer.

If you have prepared the gravy masala fresh, then to the simmering gravy, add 1/2 cup of water and diced mushrooms and bring it to a boil. Stir and cook covered for 10 minutes. Once the mushrooms are cooked, add the cream and simmer for 2 minutes. Transfer the Mushroom Makhani to a serving bowl and garnish with more fresh cream, ginger juliannes and coriander leaves. Serve hot with rotis, naans or kulchas.

How to make Easy Carrot Saaru, Easy Carrot Soup

All through the fall, I stocked pumpkins at home in sheer keenness to make a good pumpkin soup that I could share with you all. I was amused, delighted beyond words to watch pumpkins everywhere, on market stands and home fronts, in malls and on window sills, on blog feeds and in ad mailers. Our favorite grocery stores smelled warm from pumpkin spices and its produce. Our office had spice infused fresheners in the lobby to welcome guests. The coffee was not spared either, flavored with pumpkin spice in it too! Tell me, who wouldn't be lured? So each time we stepped out grocery shopping, along came a pumpkin or its sibling in form a squash, that made its way into our shopping cart, judiciously sized to suit two meals for us as a family.

On a seasonal high note, I did make soups and stews, and plenty at that, laboriously skinning the peels, slicing and dicing them, and boiling them to pulp over pot of stock. I choose not to bake, rather simmer over a pot on stove, as that's a task I like to leave for days far less busier than weekdays, when I don't have the time to worry about our over-sensitive fire alarm screeching off at the slightest variation of warm air emanating from the oven. That's another story to say. The soups though did turn out creamy, and deliciously vegan, not necessarily warranting any fat or cream in regard to heighten the flavors or their sumptuousness. But they got gulped down faster than I expected, hot and steaming, ladles after ladles, cold fingers wrapped around the warm bowl for comfort, either dunked by toasted garlic bread or tossed along with piping hot rice, savored snugly in our warm dining area while the leaves were busy shedding under the seasonal transition.

It happened so, that each time I planned a soup, I was swooned by the dire beauty of the squash and pumpkins, that I shot several preps of them much ahead of sunset in the noon. By the time the squash was sliced and diced, cooked, pureed and boiled to perfection, finally seasoned to be served, it was time sun called his day and the darkness overcast the late noons in its thick black bile. I finally gave up on presenting my super-creamy-vegan-butternut-squash-soup here, instead, the year end holiday baking mania took over the house bringing more cheer to otherwise gloomy noons.

We've step foot into the new year, and I've welcomed it with my arms wide open. I have no resolutions that pound my mind hard, so there's none really to make. But I realize this blog is devoid of soups and I want to fill that space. I need to make a beginning, and here's one that fills the bill so well. Apt in time, a recipe for a good Indian soup in the beginning of a new year. It can't get better than this.

I pray this year croons high hopes, brings truck loads of good luck, fab health and immense happiness, and heaps of enthusiasm to live the year ahead positively. I should have been rolling in trays of sweets or brought a dessert along here, commemorating the new year and reminiscing 'oh whatta year 2016 was for me!', because it was gratifying in good sense, and worthily etched into our memory with a fair balance of highs and lows, but instead, I have come along with bowls of warm and comforting homemade carrot soup that clamors itself so South Indian. This is what makes me the happiest - simplicity in a bowl. It defines what I would love my year to look like - simple, clean, uncluttered and subtle in my living and approach.

Carrot Saaru | Carrot Rasam | Indian Carrot Soup

Prep Time: 15 mins | Cooking Time: 15 mins | Serves 4

INGREDIENTS

2 carrots, chopped
2 cups water
1 tbsp. tamarind paste
1 tsp. sambhar powder
1/2 tsp. turmeric powder
Salt to taste

For Tempering:

2 tsp. oil
1 tsp. mustard seeds
1/2 tsp. asafoetida powder
1 sprig of curry leaf
1-2 whole red chillies torn

DIRECTIONS

Boil the chopped carrots along with 2 cups of water and turmeric powder until they are fork tender. I pressure cook them on 2 whistles as its quicker to do so. You can pan boil it if you do not have a pressure cooker. Once done, allow it to cool and blend it to a puree in a mixer.

Transfer the carrot puree into a thick bottom pan. Stir in the tamarind paste, salt and sambhar powder. Add additional water to adjust the consistency of the saaru / soup. I like to have this saaru slightly thicker than our traditional rasams as it brings out the texture and flavor of carrots well. Bring the saaru to a rolling boil and then simmer for about 2-3 minutes. Turn off the flame and set aside to temper.

To temper, heat oil in a small pan. Add mustard seeds and allow it to splutter. Add the asafoetida powder, torn red chillies and curry leaves and fry briefly for few seconds. Turn off the flame and add this to the prepared saaru. Serve hot with steamed rice or drink them steaming hot right out of soup bowls.

How to make Cranberry Tokku, Easy Cranberry Pickle, Cranberry Relish

I started blogging in a time when the internet world had taken to blogs burgeoning everywhere like little mushrooms enticed by rains. There was an unfaltering gush of novel, unexplored cuisines, recipes, ingredients and more, all brimming on various sites with their evocative photographs and stories, each compelling and competing by themselves to make a mark on the space. I'd viciously eye those berries and stone fruits that would pop up randomly every now and then, in seasons and festivities, their crimson reds, navy blues and sunlit ambers marrying blissfully into butter, sugar and flour to settle into marvelous looking desserts - desserts that could trigger hunger at odd hours of the day and post hefty meals; leaving me much in envy of being unable to get my hands on them back in time, while the world around rejoiced in celebration with such food.

That said, what did not make much of an appearance on the web space were fresh, glossy, scarlet red cranberries. There were several recipes out there that had them in scones, breads and cakes, mostly used in dried form, the kind of ones that are drowned in sugar and shriveled to douse the tart flavor. For a while, now that these are easily accessible in India, I too made my convenience with using the dried varieties in our favorite mincemeat recipe that sat bathing, cramped up with other dry fruits and weighed down by nuts in a heady spiced rum concoction for months before being brought out to be baked into Christmas Fruit Cake.

I had never seen fresh cranberries in the past till I came to the US. With dried cranberries available on ease, it was what it was known to me. For several years till lately, I was tricked into assuming that cranberries were akin to karonda, or karvanda (as known in Kannada), the tart-sweet Indian berries commonly used erstwhile in Indian pickles. I was excited about cranberries being karvanda, for two reasons.

One, I had never seen a karvanda bush, nor tasted its fruit in ripe, however I grew up hearing my dad often commend his love for these extinct pickling fruits, reminiscing how he missed watching his mother and grandmother collect the tart green berries off the bushes that grew in their backyard while the summer set in, of how they let them mature in brine for weeks, hand pounded the fresh spices and amalgamated them for months in sun to be pickled. Those were his memories, far and few, raved and deemed. For me, in rare times that I met a marinated young karvanda berry eye to eye, it was always camouflaged, heavily absorbed in red spices, and tart from being infused with bite sized mangoes pieces, served as delicious pickles alongside other dishes in odd occasions of weddings or family gatherings. Hardly an acquaintance to delineate something about.

Yet, those who grew up in the North of India may spin you tales of their childhood spent twiddling around the karonda (as they call it) bushes in the backyard of their aunt's, grandma's or friend's home, plucking them and popping it to their mouths with puckered face; karonda being more popular in the North of India than in the South where I grew up.

For second, Karavanda wasn't popular in generation of our times by any means; at least, it wasn't regarded high as the imported peers were. No one told us how good they were, no magazines or food channels professed it high, nor did our Sunday markets run its produce, probably because a lot of our Indian population was either disinterested to honor it or the ones like me, had hardly known it by trait. For a long time I did not know what it was called in English, or if it did exist in the lexicons of English circles. On the other hand, we had newspapers and magazines that constantly spoke of how fab cranberries were in beating the beast out of cancers and UTIs, tipping off cranberries to be our very Indian karavanda, and how our long forgotten fruit had captured attention in the West and that it may be touted as a superfood, pronto. Internet added to that fad with burst of knowledge.

My assumptions may have been misleading me, but thankfully I know today that karonda is karonda and cranberry is cranberry. Both live in separate worlds, with different identities, in their own identities that can't be swapped. It took me a trip to Nantucket in summer to realize this. That's where I saw the process of cranberries being grown and harvested, much unlike the trees that my grandmother harvested from, but bog flooded and cragged from vines. I came back home with a bag full of organic cranberries to turn them into a desi relish!

That brings me to this interesting recipe I have to share with you today. A mod-western ingredient with a traditional twist. The east meets west kinds. An old wine in a new bottle. This cranberry chutney, a dip, or more traditionally a thokku. Its very Indian at heart, its spices and the flavor - piquant, tart and delicious in a tiny blob on the side to any dish. You drag a lump of it with your fingers and mix along with steaming hot rice or simply scoop a small portion with your roti or dosa and relish it. Its makes a kicking dip to tortilla chips or even khakras, and that's exactly how I've zinged up over the past couple of evenings alongside my tea.

Cranberry Tokku

INGREDIENTS

2 cups fresh cranberries
5 tbsp. vegetable oil
2 tsp. red chilli powder
1 tsp. fenugreek seeds powder
1 tsp. asafoetida (hing)
1 sprig curry leaves
Salt to taste

DIRECTIONS

Heat vegetable oil in a kadai/ wok. Add mustard seeds and fry till it begins to splutter.

Next add the red chilli powder, fenugreek powder and the asafoetida into the oil and fry for 5 seconds. Do not allow spices to burn.

Add the torn curry leaves and fry for few seconds till they turn crisp.

Reduce the flame and add the fresh cranberries. Stir them in to coat all the spices. Cook till they pop and begin to reduce in volume. Using the back of spatula, gently mash them. Add in salt to taste and stir continuously until the cranberries soften, reduce in volume, and begin to lump, and the oil begins to separate.

Remove from heat and allow to cool completely. Store in air tight ceramic or glass containers.

Notes:

* You can add a tablespoon of jaggery to balance the tart incase you do not like the sour taste of the thokku.
* Fenugreek powder is bitter on its own, however when fried in oil it imparts a lovely flavor to the dish. It's the heart of this thokku and hence do not skip this ingredient.
* If you plan to store this over the counter for couple of days, its important you do not skip the amount of oil suggested. However, incase you plan to make a smaller quantity that will be consumed in a day or two, you can reduce the oil content. Oil helps in longer shelf life of any pickle.
* If you don't like heat, reduce the amount of chilli powder. We love our pickles spicy, so you may find the red chilli powder on slightly higher side. The heat of the chillies is also dependent on the kind of chilli powder you use. Hence use it judiciously.

How to make Kodubale | Easy Kodubale Recipe

It's eve of Diwali today, that time of the year I look forward to the most with great yearning and excitement. Its around this time I hit my best stride. I'm the happiest, consumed by thoughts only positive, blurring out all negativity and pessimism, guzzled with happiness, reflection, joy and celebration, irrespective of how high or low the year may have been. I hope yours was a fantastic one and continues to be so in the year ahead. I wish you a wonderful Diwali, and a year filled with good luck, health and prosperity. Wish you all a Happy Diwali and a prosperous New Year!

Right now as I write this, I sit on my dining table overlooking our balcony lit with tiny serial bulbs, running end to end, hung over the balcony parapet like wet jeans on cloth liners, its warm LEDs creating a bokeh effect on the hindsight in a very soothing way. Our little girl has been running around the home in sheer excitement of the festive hoopla. I miss the sounds of zameen chakras, rockets and phooljhadi (flower-pots) bursting in the vicinity, that reminds me of home back in India; but in a few minutes from now we'll head out to the local temple about 5 miles from home, where sounds of bursting crackers and rings of temple bells will chime alongside families wishing each other Happy Diwali. There's community get together - with prayer, celebrations, food and musicals to round off the night. Also, with parents around, our home is smelling of kodubales and shankarpalis and that's nothing short of what Diwali has been for us - food and celebration, both in plenty.

Before I head out, I'll leave you with this recipe for Kodubale, a traditional Indian savory snack that we grew up eating way too often, that there came a point when I hated it by heart. After I moved to Bangalore, I did not eat them for years. And then slowly, there came a time when I went back to eating them on my occasional trips to Mangalore, where they are made in plenty. It wasn't with much fervor though, but I know why so. Kodubales are made plenty in Mangalore - every bakery stocks them, every house stocks them, they are gifted too. They stay fresh for long, so most homes will serve you with a plate of these alongside tea. Women in most households have a recipe of their own, so they either whip up batches and stock by larders or they rush out to the nearest bakery to buy them the moment they hear a guest is about to arrive. My relatives even brought them along to gift whenever they visited us. Eventually it was overdosed and I saw aversion to it.

Of what I remember, these require no occasion to treat upon really. You make them on whim, serve your guests, feast them on festivals, snack on them in evenings with your tea, or simply carry them on your bus rides to munch on when odd hunger pangs strike. They are fried ofcourse, but they won't do much harm as a lot of the rice flour in the recipe is immune to absorbing oil. So you'll have a delicious savory that you can eat guilt free. I highly advise not experimenting these with baking, as they can obviously end disastrous. But if you have courageous nerves that I don't have, and you are successful at baking these, please share your tips with me. I will be overwhelmed to hear from you. On another note, you can control the amount of heat to your liking. I love these spicy, but if you like them low on spice, use a milder chilli powder for the heat. They are delicious I bet!

Kodubale

Prep: 30 mins | Cook: 20 min | Makes: 3 dozens

INGREDIENTS

Dry Ingredients:

2 cup rice flour
3/4 cup roasted split bengal gram (huri kadale)
1/2 cup desiccated dry coconut (powdered copra)
1/4 cup maida / plain flour
1 sprig finely chopped curry leaves
1 tsp. red chilli powder (I use a spicier one, such as Guntur chilli powder)
2 tbsp. sesame seeds
1/2 tsp. good quality asafeotida
Salt to taste

Other Ingredients:

2 tbsp. hot ghee
Oil for deep frying

DIRECTIONS

In a mixie, pulse the roasted gram into fine powder and keep it aside. Mix all ingredients mentioned under dry ingredients list along with roasted gram flour and make a well in the center. Add hot ghee and mix into the flour. Add just enough water to knead it into a firm dough.

Pinch out lemon sized balls of the dough and roll them using your palms into a long, 1 cm thick rope. Cut the rope into 7-8 cms long strips. Bring the 2 ends of the strip together and pinch its ends to form a tear drop shape. Alternatively, you can bring the either ends together and pinch them to seal, thus forming a round bangle shaped ring. Prep all of the dough and keep it ready for frying.

Meanwhile, as you prep the dough, heat up oil in a kadhai / wok to medium low heat. Test by dropping a small ball of dough. It should sink first and raise up to the surface. Once heated to this stage, drop the prepared kodubales into the hot oil and fry them in batches on medium low heat till they are golden brown in color. Do not clutter many in each batch as they need to be cooked through well. The temperature of the oil is key in making good kodubales as hotter oil will tend to crisp the kodubales faster, while the centers may still be uncooked. Remove from oil and drain on a kitchen paper. Allow them to cool completely and store them in dry airtight containers. They can be stored and stay fresh for about 2 weeks.