tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4468705069582270472011-12-05T22:26:13.105-05:00LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.comBlogger281100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-83727784822125248112011-11-23T22:08:00.001-05:002011-11-26T08:08:15.392-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2011/11/jelly-or-sauce-aka-thanksgiving-2011.html">Leave a comment</a> </div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />Let's just say my family is filled with A-1 micromanagers. And we take this talent to dizzying heights when we are entertaining. The boy micromanages my cooking oil usage (I always hold back, he says). I peer over his shoulder to micromanage the spice levels (that's a whole bottle of peppercorns, I whine). Tempers flare and we switch topics. Pan-fry or bake? Grill or stove top? Tandoori or <i>au poivre</i>?<br /><br />We are hosting Thanksgiving tomorrow, so you can imagine what the last week has been like.<br /><br />All was going swimmingly today actually, except for a little skirmish about the green beans (walnuts or almonds?). We both had the day off (a miracle in and of itself), prepped the food in the morning and had the afternoon free to go watch the inimitable Eddie Murphy at his hilarious best in "Tower Heist".<br /><br />Only while returning home we reignited the chutney-or-jelly debate.<br /><br />It is unclear if it was the fatigue or sheer madness that made me make both. And with that dear reader, I give you a sneak preview of my Thanksgiving menu.</span><br /><br /><a name='more'></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Thanksgiving 2011</strong></span> <br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;font-size: 11pt;"><br /><b>Cocktails</b><br />Mango Rose Water Vodka<br />Cranberry Lime Vodka<br /><br /><b>Appetizer</b><br />Pepper Bacon wrapped Tenderloin<br /><br /><b>Mains</b> <br />Tandoori Turkey with Roast Vegetables<br />Grilled Buttermilk-Pepper Jumbo Shrimp<br />Saffron Rice with Cranberries &amp; Pistachios<br /><br /><b>Sides</b><br />Masala Potatoes<br />Garlicky Green Beans<br /><a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/11/giving-thanks-native-cranberry-chutney.html">Native Cranberry Chutney</a><br />Cranberry Jelly<br /><br /><b>Desserts</b><br />Lattice Apple Pie<br />Vanilla Bean Ice Cream<br />Babycakes<br /><br /></span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-8372778482212524811?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-14643493873656988132011-10-26T06:30:00.000-04:002011-10-26T06:31:58.083-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2011/10/shubhkaamanayein-etc.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href> </a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">LikeItSpicy wishes all its readers a very happy festival of lights. My week thus far has been filled with divine food, many vodka shots, food stomping music, and a scandalous party to boot. And I managed to keep the sari on. Up next - illegal firecrackers. Together with bowls of <a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/10/breathing-easy-with-badaam-kheer.html">Badam Kheer</a>.<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-1464349387365698813?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-57408002441253124072011-10-20T17:21:00.001-04:002011-10-20T17:22:32.414-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.087in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2011/10/planning-plan-eggplant-bharth.html#comments">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=446870506958227047"></a></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qGIGAnT52N4/Tp-KYoGMYGI/AAAAAAAAAyM/0uM3py0yX3w/s1600/Eggplant_Bharth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qGIGAnT52N4/Tp-KYoGMYGI/AAAAAAAAAyM/0uM3py0yX3w/s320/Eggplant_Bharth.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">One of the things I struggle with is meal planning. I enjoy cooking, but not when I feel like someone is holding a gun to my head. My job requires me to be organized and to stay on top of it all. But let's just say it all falls apart when I get home.<br /><br />I fantasize about taking an evening a week to plan and sort out all my meals for the upcoming week. In this fantasy, I would scour the shelf for orphaned cooking supplies to put to good use, stumble upon an interesting recipe in one of our dozens of cookbooks or think of an old childhood mainstay. Then I would hit 2-3 grocery stores over the weekend to get the required ingredients and voila! Somehow all of this would translate to piping hot, fresh, and INNOVATIVE meals through the week.<br /><br />The reality is as follows: I stagger home on a weeknight, open the fridge and stare at nothing in particular for a whole five minutes. Then a flash of inspiration hits me before I realize that a key required ingredient is missing. My brain freezes and I frantically look for leftovers that can be refashioned into a respectable dinner. I crave a <a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/09/blues-breaker.html">Chettinad Chicken</a>, but what I see is stale rice and wilted broccoli. Then I morosely cobble something together, sometimes old, sometimes new. And resolve to plan better for next week. How do you all do it?<br /><br />In the meantime, here is the result of a rare instance of meal planning that happened this past weekend, allowing a pair of eggplants who had become best friends in my refridgerator to finally achieve <i>nirvana</i>.</span><a name='more'></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><br /><strong>Roasted Eggplant Bharth</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">This dish is the Mangalorean variant of Eggplant Bharta. Traditionally made using smoked eggplant which requires some time and patience, I instead broiled the babies in the oven with equally good results. Make sure you choose mid-sized longish eggplants to get your bang for the buck, since once peeled, you could be left with very little to eat!<br /><br />2-3 medium eggplants<br />1/2 cup grated coconut<br />6 dry red chillies<br />1 ball of tamarind<br />2 tsp oil<br />1 tsp mustard seeds<br />1/2 tsp asafoetida<br />Cilantro leaves<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Place eggplants on a baking tray and broil in oven for 15-20 minutes or until the skin starts to look a little charred and begins to crack. Set aside to cool.<br /><br />While the eggplant is broiling, dry roast red chillies gently in a small saucepan. Blend the coconut gratings, red chillies and tamarind ball into a smooth paste. Heat oil in a small saucepan or seasoning spoon and toss in the mustard seeds and asafoetida. When the mustard seeds start to crackle, remove from flame and add to the blended paste.<br /><br />Your eggplants should have cooled by now. Skin them, discard the skins and mash the pulp thoroughly with your hands or a flat spoon. Add salt and mix thoroughly before adding to the coconut paste. Garnish with chopped cilantro leaves.<br /><br />This dish is served at room temperature. It is a great side dish or can also be served as an appetizer, with pita chips or bread.<br /><br />Serves 4</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-5740800244125312407?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-78519145557016105652011-06-16T23:07:00.003-04:002011-06-16T23:11:38.667-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2011/06/fresh-start-batra-hospital-salad.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ne5HtqC_Ts/Tfq-vs9DIzI/AAAAAAAAAxc/v4M_UKxLP8c/s1600/Batra%2BSalad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: .5em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ne5HtqC_Ts/Tfq-vs9DIzI/AAAAAAAAAxc/v4M_UKxLP8c/s320/Batra%2BSalad.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">Summer is allegedly around the corner. This is what I told myself as I paired my cardigan with a THICK colorful scarf and contemplated wearing a hat on the way out earlier this week. Yes people, after a brief warm spell that had people scurrying into their respective gyms in a vain attempt to get bikini-ready, we are back to the usual.</span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Undaunted, I checked the liquor supplies to make sure we were stocked up on Pimms and furiously began to think salad. Tired of the arugulas and the overpriced spring mixes, I harkened back to the olden days, when my father was hospitalized and came home with a salad recipe. I kid you not. But then we are a family of foodies.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Said salad was apparently served when he was convalescing, and while he may have been depressed about being downgraded to a salad, the Batra Hospital Salad was here to stay.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Be well, and enjoy.</span></span></div><br /><a name='more'></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span> <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>The Batra Hospital Salad</strong></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><br />This salad is usually made with green cabbage as a base. I was fixating on red cabbage while grocery shopping, and I must say the colors were very pleasing. Make sure you shred the cabbage and into very thin slices, so it absorbs all the juices more effectively.</span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">1 small onion</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">8-10 cherry tomatoes (or 2 medium tomatoes)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">½ small cucumber</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">½ carrot</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">3 green chillies</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Spring of cilantro/coriander leaves</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Juice of one lime</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Salt to taste</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Slit&nbsp; green chillies vertically, sprinkle with salt and set aside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Shred or slice the cabbage into very thin slices, and chop onion into slightly thicker ones. Peel and cut the cucumber and carrot into thin sticks. Cut cherry tomatoes into halves if you are using them, if using regular tomatoes, cut into mid sized chunks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Finely chop the coriander leaves.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">Toss all the vegetables into a bowl with coriander leaves and the salt infused green chillies. Add the lime juice. Refridgerate for at least a half hour before serving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana;">I serve this with a <a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/11/rapid-recovery-with-tomato-dal.html">dal </a>and rice for a simple vegetarian weeknight dinner or as a side with a chicken dish like <a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/09/blues-breaker.html">Chettinad Chicken</a>.</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-7851914555701610565?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-20699881115706565452011-05-23T23:00:00.005-04:002011-05-24T22:55:21.625-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2011/05/decluttering.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=446870506958227047"> </a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">And yes, I am back like a bad penny. But not quite. Much decluttering needs to be done. Of the mind, the house and the kitchen. And there is a beach vacation in between. <br /><br />Be back soon. Assuming someone other than my mother even checks this blog anymore.&nbsp;</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-2069988111570656545?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-29384792825227970372010-09-02T22:26:00.002-04:002010-09-02T22:30:41.758-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/09/case-of-mobile-canteen.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/TIBaUBuwBcI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/xZobrtrogM0/s1600/Sniffer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/TIBaUBuwBcI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/xZobrtrogM0/s320/Sniffer.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">I was flying back from a business trip one sunny afternoon a few weeks ago, sandwiched between two glum seniors. About an hour before landing home the flight attendant cheerfully announced that we would be diverted to Syracuse because the airport in Boston was closed due to tornado warnings.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> <br />Senior 1 (who looked startlingly like Golum after a Juvederm treatment) gloomily remarked that there was probably some conspiracy afoot because you see, there ain’t no tornadoes in New England.<br /><br />Senior 2 meanwhile, was engrossed in an expose on Dignitas (an assisted death enterprise based out of Switzerland, if you care to know). And bored with my own book, I was busily peering over her shoulder.<br /><br />We stewed on the tarmac in Syracuse for an hour and a half. Senior 2 promptly slammed her magazine shut, much to my chagrin.<br /><br />And then I broke into a sweat thinking of the Dhansak in my suitcase.<br /><br />You see, business trip it was, but I had the good fortune of spending two nights with foodie friends who had packed me off with a Tupperware container filled with frozen <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dhansak">Dhansak</a>. I had lovingly wrapped it up in a pair of shorts and tossed it into my suitcase, the theory being that it would thaw during the four hour flight and voila! An out-of–the-box (sorry) dinner for me and the boy.<br /><br />I hadn’t accounted for steamy Syracuse.<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />I literally sprinted to baggage claim, and hurled myself into a taxi. I called the Boy enroute to throw some rice into the cooker, praying, praying that my cargo was intact.<br /><br />Fortunately the Dhansak gods smiled on me. And brought back fond memories of other incidents involving friends, family and edible cargo.<br /><br />Like my aunt who travelled to the US with curry leaves for her daughter's mid-western pantry, carefully stuffed into her travel pillow. A friend's mother who was caught smuggling in yams from Hawaii. The Boy bringing back a box of home-made biriyani all the way from India. My friend and I opening up the most delicious <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farsan_(Food)">farsaan</a> during a flight to Chicago, while everyone else dolefully munched on their pretzels. <br /><br />Asafoetida explosions in suitcases, the aftermath akin to a skunk attack at close quarters. A maggot-ridden forgotten bag of pears sneaked in by a doting Amma in the trunk of a car. Festive boxes of wedding sweets lovingly stowed away in the folds of saris, only to be consumed minutes after arrival.<br /><br />My personal favorite has to be the time I was transporting a box of fiery pickles from India for various aunties in the US, only to have it go AWOL in transit (which transported my extended family into a state of mourning until it appeared, bloody and bruised on my doorstep three days later, leading us to wonder if the customs folks thought I was transporting decapitated heads in jars.)<br /><br />Dear reader, do you have any war stories about traveling with food? Do share.</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-2938479282522797037?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-28555788546462278982010-07-20T22:17:00.011-04:002010-08-28T23:08:42.615-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/07/dog-day-gluttony-dahiwale-aloo.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/TEZV3kSOEoI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/dNCPYlTB-mU/s1600/Dahiwale+Aloo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/TEZV3kSOEoI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/dNCPYlTB-mU/s320/Dahiwale+Aloo.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">&nbsp;&nbsp;Summer is flying by it seems. A decadent little vaca to Bermuda to sun our buns. FootPaul. A heat wave that made my little patch of a front yard morph into the Gobi desert. The Wimbledon squeezed in just to make my days that much more unproductive. Tall glasses of Pimms with every imaginable fruit. Late nights and the resulting early morning scrambles. Soft serve ice-cream (I never stop thinking about food do I?)&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">&nbsp;<br />And of course, the annoying habit we have developed of late of pouncing on our food and working our way through a dish before I have a chance to reflect on it, write about it and take a picture.&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">&nbsp;I also forgot to mention that summer is also the time when I find very illogical items in my fridge and pantry and spend the greater part of the evening figuring out how to convert them into a cohesive meal.&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> <br />Like bologna and black beans. Or cauliflower and vanilla yogurt. Cooked pasta and leftover sambar.<br /><br />You get the drift.<br /><br />This time however, it was yogurt and baby potatoes. Suddenly the sky was the limit.<br /><br />But back to my annoying habit. Fellow food bloggers, how do you keep yourself from devouring a dish before taking that picture?</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span> <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Dahiwale Aloo</strong></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Always on the look out for short cuts, I have been known to use canned whole potatoes for this one. Just be sure to drain all the water and check when simmering to make sure they don't disintegrate. You can add a couple of green finger chillies with the asafoetida and cumin seeds if you want an extra kick.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />1 lb baby potatoes<br />4 large tomatoes<br />1 tsp ginger paste<br />1 tsp whole cumin<br />2 tsp coriander powder<br />1/2 tsp turmeric powder<br />1/2 tsp chilli powder<br />1/2 tsp garam masala<br />Pinch asafoetida<br />1/2 cup yogurt<br />1 tsp oil<br />Salt to taste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />Boil the potatoes until soft and chop the tomatoes.<br /><br />Heat the oil in a frying pan. Add the asafoetida and cumin. As they sizzle, stir in the ginger and a few seconds later mix in the tomatoes and turmeric, chilli and coriander powders.<br /><br />Stir for five minutes until the tomatoes are completely cooked and then add the potatoes with half a cup of water. Lower the flame to a simmer. Whisk the yogurt. Take the pan off the flame and stir in the yogurt. Simmer for five minutes, and add salt and garam masala.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Serves 4.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-2855578854646227898?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-7997353006872667752010-06-11T16:11:00.006-04:002010-06-12T07:53:43.213-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/06/coffee-tea-orchickpeas.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=446870506958227047"> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/TBKXt5lwySI/AAAAAAAAAtw/xA-1BOx6inI/s1600/Chickpea+Salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-right: 0.5em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/TBKXt5lwySI/AAAAAAAAAtw/xA-1BOx6inI/s320/Chickpea+Salad.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">The Boy sneakily hit the submit button on Amazon when I was attempting to educate the Youngling on the feasibility (or lack thereof) of procuring a hamster (or maybe it was a Guinea pig. Or both)</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> <br />You see, between adjusting to my new job and rescheduling my pedicure a half dozen times, I didn’t notice that the boy was silently obsessing about a convoluted piece of machinery that allegedly made a killer cappuccino. Until he stopped being silent, and every cup of coffee meted out in the house was greeted with a low level whine that escalated to a crescendo matched only by the Youngling when it was forbidden from watching unprecedented amounts of Tom &amp; Jerry. <br /><br />I love coffee. And it needs to be a good, strong cup of coffee. And I am a bear if I don’t get caffeinated first thing in the morning. But I was faced with mastering a control panel to get a cup with crema. <br /><br />You had to say a prayer first. Then flip a switch. Then pray again as you watched the thing hiss and spit. Then the lights would start blinking (or maybe they were in my head). Then you changed filters, thumped a tamper, steamed the milk, aligned the cups, made cure you picked the double shot option, balefully stared at the clock and prayed that the “Clean Me!” light wouldn’t light up because incidentally, it could happen whenever the machine felt like it and the resulting operation would casually add a half hour to my already insane morning.<br /><br />I suppose The Boy was terrified I would invoke the return policy, and so he dutifully made me a cappuccino every morning, which I grudgingly drank. All was going swimmingly until he left on a 10 day business trip shortly after. I swear I stayed up all night stressing about how to make my coffee the next morning.<br /><br />I said a prayer and flipped the switch. I trembled as it started the hissing, which to my horror quickly dissolved to a croak. I could have sworn it grunted before the “Clean Me” light cheerfully turned on.<br /><br />I slunk off to find the nearest Starbucks on my way to work, with my lunchbox filled with Chickpea Salad.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span> <br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Chickpea Salad</strong></span> <br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">This is a really simple and filling salad to lunch on and also works very well with a simple dinner of dal, rice and a spicy pickle. I added a dash of sumac, a tangy spice I picked up from a visit to Turkey, which gave it a nice zing. You can omit this or just as easily substitute with an extra dash of lime or chat masala. <br /><br />1 can chickpeas (garbanzos)<br />2 small tomatoes, chopped<br />1 small onion, chopped roughly<br />½ cucumber, chopped roughly<br />Juice of half a lime<br />3-4 green finger chillies<br />A handful of fresh coriander, chopped roughly<br />1 tsp sumac<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Rinse and drain the chickpeas. In a large mixing bowl, mix them together with all the other ingredients. Serve at room temperature. <br /><br /><br />Serves 4</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-799735300687266775?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-12558581712918012652010-04-15T22:52:00.009-04:002010-04-16T14:11:39.712-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/04/healthcare-reform-spinach-thambali.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S8fQoFUMPxI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/yqOAy71nzLU/s1600/Thambali.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S8fQoFUMPxI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/yqOAy71nzLU/s320/Thambali.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=446870506958227047"> </a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">So much water under the bridge since my last post.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> <br />My nose is resolutely telling me that spring has sprung. Obamacare morphed from a bill to a law. I have a new job on the horizon, ergo I am in the shiny happy no-mans land replete with fond farewells, exit interviews and the promise of a few days off before going back to the proverbial grind. The Grandparents are visiting, which means I return home everyday after a farewell lunch and two goodbye coffees to a dining table groaning with food.<br /><br />Now I should be alternating between twiddling my thumbs and watching copious amounts of IPL, yes? NO. I choose to inflict the worst kind of torture upon myself by enrolling in Pilates sessions.<br /><br />I have done Pilates before, I really have. OK, maybe like 4 times in the past 7 years. But Pilates seems to have had a face lift since, because a tour of the chi-chi studio before I took the plunge revealed not row upon row of yoga mats laid out in a squeaky clean room with mirrors (because that’s what it used to be, right? Like yoga – only a little on steroids). Instead I was told we would be working with “props” and a device ominously called a “Reformer”. I nervously took a peek into the studio and saw said Reformer - a leather contraption with springs and straps (and probably spikes and chains for all I know).<br /><br />Three classes in, and I am convinced that every morning the lily-faced instructors don their $96 Lululemon yoga pants, snack on Kashi Twigs and pour their collective wisdom into a Daily Torture Plan. And wash it down with a tall-skinny-decaf-organic chai tea latte.<br /><br />But soldier on I must. If not for anything else, because I have resorted to amusing myself by surveying my fashion forward fellow warriors very closely to figure out their Botox situation.<br /><br />Some comic relief is essential, no?<br /><br />On the upside I am feeling rather virtuous, and it prompted me to make one of my all time favorites – Spinach Thambali – a refreshing blend of spinach, coconut and yogurt, with the spicy undertones of black pepper. Exactly like my mood these days.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Spinach Thambali</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">A thambali is a Konkani dish with a yogurt and/or buttermilk base which is served chilled. I love the vivid green color of this dish, which makes it look as refreshing as it tastes – especially during warm weather. I personally prefer to use yogurt in my version since it gives it an extra dose of richness. You could even make the base ahead of time and add in yogurt when it is time to serve.<br /><br />2 bunches spinach<br />4 tbsp unsweetened grated coconut<br />2 cups yogurt<br />2 green chillies<br />8-10 black peppercorns<br />1 tsp cumin seeds<br />1 tbsp oil<br />Salt to taste<br /><br /><br />Wash the spinach thoroughly. In a large saucepan, heat the oil and add cumin seeds. As soon as they start to sizzle, add the green chillies and peppercorns. Stir for a minute or so, and add the grated coconut. Fry until you get the aroma from the coconut – about 2-3 minutes on medium heat. Take care so as to not brown the coconut.<br /><br />Throw in the spinach, sauté for a minute, and add a cup of water. Cover and cook until the spinach is tender. Allow this mixture to cool.<br /><br />In the meantime, whisk the yogurt.<br /><br />Puree the spinach mixture in a blender until you get a smooth green paste. Pour this into a serving dish and add salt to taste – this is your base.<br /><br />Add the yogurt and stir well. Serve chilled.<br /><br /><br />Serves 4</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-1255858171291801265?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-23209731152784247272010-04-05T21:51:00.007-04:002010-04-06T09:31:10.562-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><div style="text-indent: 0px;"></div><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/04/cha-cha-challenge-green-chilli-pickle.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S7qO2nsz9oI/AAAAAAAAAsY/z93TrkMo2dA/s1600/ChilliPickle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S7qO2nsz9oI/AAAAAAAAAsY/z93TrkMo2dA/s320/ChilliPickle.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">“Make pickle?” I gulped, wondering if I had a hearing impairment. <br /><br />It was casually suggested one night last week while I was combing through our mail, making a mental note about a twice forgotten summer camp consent form and wondering if I could put off washing my hair for one more day.<br /><br />We are pickle fiends, we three. But pickle making has never, ever happened in chez LikeItSpicy.<br /><br />Indian pickle making (and eating for some) is not for the faint of heart. In fact I often wonder if anyone in our time-starved generation really bothers with it anymore, what with all the Priyas and Pataks lining the shelves of any self-respecting Indian grocery. Why marinate when you can multitask?<br /><br />Vivid memories of my (sometimes fierce) maternal grandmother and her pickle-making projects surfaced as I absent-mindedly watched a Sex and The City rerun. Recipes and samples were swapped with friends, neighbors, relatives (usually with a key ingredient or two missing.) Mangoes, lemons, gooseberries, green peppercorns, hog-plums and red chillies (I am sure I am missing at least a dozen more) had to be sourced, cleaned, cut, sun-dried and brined. A slew of oils had to be purchased. The correct spices had to be procured, measured, roasted and ground. <br /><br />As the days progressed, the household regressed. Tempers flew when unwanted visitors showed up while the pickling spices were being mixed with a chemist’s precision. Pandemonium ensued when an unexpected thundershower required us to drag platters of damp mango pieces back into the house (not an easy task, mind you). And once the pickles were at rest in large porcelain vats, and stowed away in cool closets toward the back of the house, we would be told that there would be hell to pay if we were caught sampling prematurely, especially with filthy fingers.<br /><br />Back to the present. I am always up for a cooking challenge. But I couldn’t help wonder which was worse, the child doing the cha cha on a bed of red chillies spread out on the deck, or the pooch relieving himself on a sea of cut raw mangoes drying in the back yard. <br /><br />And there ain’t no hog plums in New England.<br /><br />Thankfully the recipe in question involved neither the above ingredients, nor any sun drying. It took all of a half hour. Hopefully it will stay in the pantry for longer than that.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Green Chilli Pickle</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">It is important to choose the right kind of green chilli for this pickle, especially if you do not live in India. Jalapenos are a no-no. Do not pick green finger chillies, thai green chillies or serrano peppers (the smaller green chillies, basically). These are used to spice up dishes, and I wouldn't recommend them for pickle unless you like your insides seared. I used a no-name green chilli that I found at the Indian grocers (very helpful, huh?). These are long, slim and a pretty vivid green. They have a slight bite and lend themselves very nicely to pickle. And finally, you can get cracked yellow mustard seeds at most Indian grocery stores.<br /><br />1 lb green chillies<br />3/4 cup cracked yellow mustard<br />1 1/2 cups fresh squeezed lime juice<br />1 1/2 cups oil (I used regular cooking oil)<br />2 tbsp fenugreek seeds<br />1 tbsp black mustard seeds<br />1 tsp asafoetida<br />1 tsp turmeric powder<br />1/4 cup salt<br /><br />Heat the oil in a small saucepan. When hot add the black mustard seeds. Turn off the stove once they start crackling and leave the oil to cool.<br /><br />In a small skillet, roast the fenugreek seeds and asafoetida until you get a nice aroma. Turn off the stove, and immediately add the turmeric powder. Stir vigorously and allow to cool.<br /><br />Chop the green chillies into small rings. Toss into a bowl and add salt, lime juice and the cracked yellow mustard.<br /><br />Grind the fenugreek seed mixture into a smooth powder. Do not use water when doing so. Add the powder and the oil to the chilli mixture. Add more salt if necessary. Mix thoroughly and transfer into clean, dry bottles. Store in a cool, dark place.<br /><br />Superb with bread and rotis.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-2320973115278424727?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-52605701408708109962010-03-11T22:56:00.006-05:002010-03-12T09:33:22.374-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/03/third-time-lucky-kori-gashi.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S5muz6gyDZI/AAAAAAAAArQ/sCMVoehR5x0/s1600-h/Kori_Ghashi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S5muz6gyDZI/AAAAAAAAArQ/sCMVoehR5x0/s320/Kori_Ghashi.jpg" width="245" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Life has been filled with food-and-drink disappointments lately.<br /><br />Date night. Two weeks ago. We have dinner reservations at <a href="http://www.harvestcambridge.com/">an old favorite</a>, and arrive an astounding 45 minutes early in our zest to stuff our faces sans child. We gleefully run across the street to a watering hole, <a href="http://www.casablanca-restaurant.com/">another old haunt</a> and a Friday night staple before parenthood struck.<br /><br />I order a vodka martini. And the bartender asks me "if I want vermouth with that". I gape at him. I had no idea sir, I usually have mine with a spot of Ovaltine.<br /><br />Fast forward two weeks. Birthday dinner at allegedly one of Bostons "most beloved restaurants." I quickly scan the dessert menu before even ordering dinner. I spy sticky toffee pudding on the list and actually leave my entree half-eaten to save space. <br /><br />Imagine my horror when I am presented with a <i>muffin</i>, topped with a listless caramel sauce.<br /><br />I turned to my stack of cookbooks the following evening and pulled out Camellia Panjabi's 50 Great Curries of India - a wonderful collection of recipes coupled with even more stunning visuals. The pick for the evening was Kori Gashi - chicken (Kori) cooked in a spicy, grainy and flavorful coconut gravy (Gashi).<br /><br />Two favorites butchered in two weeks. It was time to turn to a third and this time, one that was fully under my control.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Kori Gashi</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">This dish hails from my neck of the woods - &nbsp;and requires fresh coconut and curry leaves for optimal flavor. I had only frozen versions of both. Camellia's recipe doesn't require this, but I also pre-fried the chicken in a tablespoon of ghee to give it a buttery aroma. The result was well worth the improvisations and the recipe below reflects them.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> <br />1 cup frozen grated coconut<br />1 can coconut milk<br />5 tablespoons oil<br />12 dried red chillies<br />4 tsp coriander seeds<br />1/4 tsp mustard seeds<br />1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds<br />2 inch stick of cinnamon<br />1 tsp cumin seeds<br />8-10 black peppercorns<br />4 cloves<br />1/2 tsp turmeric powder<br />2 tsp tamarind pulp<br />2 medium onions<br />2 tbsp ginger-garlic paste<br />2 1/2 lbs chicken thighs &amp; drumsticks<br />1 tbsp ghee<br />10-12 curry leaves<br /><br />Put one tablespoon of oil in a small saucepan or skillet. Saute grated coconut in it over low heat for about five minutes until slightly browned. Remove from pan and set aside.<br /><br />In the same skillet, add another tablespoon of oil and saute red chillies, coriander, mustard and fenugreek seeds, cinnamon, cumin seeds, peppercorns, cloves and turmeric powder. Stir continously for 3-4 minutes until you get the aroma of the spices, and remove from heat.<br /><br />Note: The original recipe calls for adding the above one by one into the skillet - but I didn't have the patience and the end product turned out fine despite my having tossed everything in at the same time.<br /><br />Chop the onions into small pieces.<br /><br />Once the spices have cooled, toss them into a blender and grind with grated coconut, tamarind pulp, half the chopped onion, ginger-garlic paste and salt to taste. Add in the can of coconut milk and blend until you get a smooth paste.<br /><br />Heat the remaining oil in a large wok. Add the ghee. Once hot, add the remaining onion and fry until translucent. Then add chicken pieces and coat with the ghee and onion mixture. Fry for about 5-8 minutes. Add the paste from the blender, stir thoroughly and toss in the curry leaves. Add half a cup of water, cover and cook over low heat until the chicken is done, adding a little more water and salt if necessary. Take care that the gravy doesn't get watery.<br /><br />Serve with steamed white rice and plain yogurt.<br /><br />Serves 4</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-5260570140870810996?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-66486615683988211112010-02-14T21:51:00.008-05:002010-02-18T09:54:26.217-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/02/kut-above-rest.html#comments" onclick=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Leave a comment</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S3ixmj9P2cI/AAAAAAAAArI/CDVHYkS9iHk/s1600-h/Tomato_Kut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S3ixmj9P2cI/AAAAAAAAArI/CDVHYkS9iHk/s320/Tomato_Kut.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> I was catching up on my mindless magazine browsing at the doctors office – which is about the only place I get my ten minutes to catch up on Hollywood, self-help and good housekeeping (in no particular order). &nbsp;I happily started an article called “24 Ideas For Saving Money Using Leftovers”, when I chanced upon a very interesting looking blurb about the Healthiest. Chip. Ever. The edible kind, I mean.<br /><br />I was intrigued. I have suddenly developed an increased affinity for potato chips which is in direct conflict with my lifelong desire to trim the waistline. But the sad story of this addiction deserves a separate post.<br /><br />To make matters worse, it was Superbowl in our parts a week ago. A veritable excuse to throw caution to the winds on a Sunday night, gorge on junk food (read chips), chug beer after beer and engage in raucous behavior. And in my case, pretend to participate in the revelry despite not knowing the first thing about American football.<br /><br />OK, I digress. The healthiest chip ever. I squinted at the page – and couldn’t believe what I was reading.<br /><br />For the ingredients were as follows: Sesame seeds (fine), Corn bran (I can deal), Flax seeds (tricky), quinoa (you’ve got to be kidding), and Chia seeds. Chia seeds??<br /><br />I would have been green at the gills if I hadn’t quickly turned the page to an interesting article on canine acupuncture.<br /><br />Dear Editor – Don’t get me wrong – I am all for eating healthy, portion control, and exercise. I must admit I have a healthy disdain for “miracle foods”, but I have no issues with you promoting the green tea and pimping the Acai berries. But let’s not call this a chip? Please.<br /><br />I made Tomato Kut for dinner – a Hyderabadi dish with hard boiled eggs submerged in a subtly spiced tomato sauce. No wheat germ in this one, but served with rotis and a simple <i>raita,</i> it made for a very superior, very balanced meal.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Tomato Kut</strong></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />The original recipe calls for blanching and cooking the tomatoes and then passing the puree through a strainer. Since the only strainer I possess is used to strain my cup of tea, I quickly figured out that this had the makings of a multi-day exercise. I happily skipped steps 1 &amp; 3, and merely cooked the tomatoes and mashed them with a heavy ladle until they disintegrated to a fairly smooth sauce.<br /><br />10 large tomatoes<br />2 tbsp gram flour (besan)<br />One small onion<br />1 ½ tsp red chilli powder<br />1 tsp cumin powder<br />1 tsp coriander seed powder<br />3 tbsp oil<br />1 tsp cumin seeds<br />6-8 curry leaves<br />4 garlic pods<br />2 dried red chillies<br />5 hardboiled eggs<br />1 tbsp heavy cream (optional)<br />1 tbsp canned tomato paste (optional)<br />½ cup coriander leaves<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Cut the tomatoes into quarters and place in a large non-stick sauce pan on medium low heat. Add a cup of water to it, mix, and cover. Cook till tomatoes are mushy and soft, stirring and mashing with your ladle frequently. Let it cool. Once cooled, pour into a blender and add gram flour. Blend till pureed.<br /><br />Transfer back to the saucepan, add 2 tbsp water and let it cook on simmer. Add the cumin and coriander seed powder, red chilli powder and salt and mix well. Bring it to a boil, and let it cook at medium low heat until the raw aroma of gram flour is gone, adding more water if necessary.<br /><br />Slice the onion finely. Pour oil into a small frying pan at medium heat and throw in the cumin seeds, whole red chillies, garlic and curry leaves. As they start to splutter, add the onions, and sauté till they are translucent. Add this mixture to the tomato sauce being cooked in the saucepan.<br /><br />Cut the hardboiled eggs vertically into halves. Add these to the simmering tomato sauce.&nbsp;Add chopped cilantro and and heavy cream (optional) before serving.<br /><br />Note: I did not use tomato paste in my recipe, because I feel it sweetens the gravy a tad too much for my liking. But add a tablespoon or two if you prefer a rich red color.<br /><br />Serves 3-4.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-6648661568398821111?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-15671520958568837262010-01-22T16:10:00.011-05:002010-02-16T14:00:14.781-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2010/01/mice-that-loved-me-hara-bhara-chicken.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S1keqoTgCwI/AAAAAAAAArA/KrS8z5RMzhQ/s1600-h/Hara+Bhara+Chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/S1keqoTgCwI/AAAAAAAAArA/KrS8z5RMzhQ/s320/Hara+Bhara+Chicken.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I started the New Year by grumpily strolling into my kitchen at an ungodly hour. I stepped on a toy, stubbed my toe, balefully glared at three weeks of mail piled up on the counter and desultorily poured myself a cup of coffee. <br /><br />After my head cleared enough for me to survey the surroundings, my eyes took in a desolate loaf of multigrain bread, two rotting bananas, a bottle of gin and a mouse. <br /><br />I kid you not. <br /><br />I scurried away blaming it on jet lag, hunger, nerves, fatigue. You see, I was on vacation most of December. Which meant three course meals, shopping sprees, booze, friends, parties...you get the drift.<br /><br />And now I was reduced to foraging for my meals, stuffing scraps of stale bread into the toaster oven. Opening my mail. Doing the bills. Buying the groceries, running the errands. So why wouldn't I hallucinate about mice?<br /><br />I seriously considered checking myself into rehab when I returned to the kitchen and saw not one but two mice. And decided that this was as good a time as any to let out a blood curdling scream.<br /><br />This was war. The Boy was dispatched at sunrise to procure the most evil traps imaginable to mousekind. I set off grocery shopping and came back armed with gouda cheese, grapes, fresh bread (mice like multigrain, right?). I played Pavarotti and summoned a magic mouse catcher named Rafael. <br /><br />Needless to say, my forays into the kitchen have been few and far between, because I just couldn't handle the thought of watching Mickey and Minnie pirouetting while the pasta boiled.<br /><br />However last week gluttony got the better of me and I made The Boy stand guard while I made a speedy chicken curry, using some hara (green) masala I had the foresight to make and freeze beforehand.<br /><br />And very belated Happy 2010 to all! Consider yourselves lucky since at the rate I'm going my snail mail cards will probably get sent right around the spring solstice.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Hara Bhara Chicken </strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">You can make the masala for this well in advance and stick it in the freezer like I did. End result is minimal work for a zingy dish that goes very well with a raita and rice.<br /><br />For the masala<br />1 bunch fresh coriander leaves <br />½ bunch fresh mint leaves<br />4 green chillies<br />Juice of ½ a lime<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />For the chicken curry<br />4-5 bone in chicken thighs<br />1 large onion<br />2 tbsp ginger &amp; garlic paste<br />3 tbsp oil<br />1 tsp cumin powder<br />½ tsp turmeric<br />½ cup yogurt<br />Juice of ½ a lime<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Throw in all the ingredients for the masala into a blender, add water and blitz until you get a fine paste. Make sure you add the water a couple of tablespoons at a time – the resulting masala should be smooth but not runny. Set this aside.<br /><br />Clean and cut the chicken. Add salt, turmeric, ginger garlic paste and yogurt and set aside.<br />Finely chop the onion. In a kadhai or wok, heat oil and add in the onion. Fry gently until it becomes a nice golden brown. Add the chicken along with the marinade and continue frying for about 10 minutes.<br /><br />Now add in the masala. Continue cooking for 10 minutes, stirring often. Now add ½ cup of water, cover the wok and lower the flame. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the oil rises to the top.<br />Squeeze the juice from ½ a lime before serving.<br /><br />Serves 2-3.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-1567152095856883726?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-89080999245729459112009-11-25T22:43:00.003-05:002009-11-25T22:48:39.719-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/11/giving-thanks-native-cranberry-chutney.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Sw34-BlZMyI/AAAAAAAAAqU/5wTg_zKf_dM/s1600/Cranberry_Chutney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Sw34-BlZMyI/AAAAAAAAAqU/5wTg_zKf_dM/s320/Cranberry_Chutney.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Every magazine and catalog, every ad on the telly, every outdoor banner and every storefront follows the same old script at this time of the year.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Embrace the Warmth. Seek The Comfort, Behold The Joy.<br /><br />All I have to say is that it is that time of the year when I Suspend The Diet, Ignore The Exercise and start eating and drinking like a malnourished pig, promising myself to get back into the swing of things as soon as the last candied pecan disappears from my pantry.<br /><br />Most years we join the 38 million individuals who traipse across this country braving traffic snarls, cancelled flights and cranky relatives to consume 5000 calories in one sitting. This year we decided to stay home and….you got it, Savor the Season.<br /><br />As I write this, a big bird brines in the refrigerator. The Boy is buying out the local liquor store. I am finishing up a forgotten work assignment and have a sudden urge to eat an entire jar of fig preserves.<br /><br />And with that dear reader, I give you my heartfelt thanks. And a recipe for a delightful Native Cranberry Chutney.<br /><br />Traditional With A Twist.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Native Cranberry Chutney</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">The lemon zest in this chutney balances the tartness of the cranberries with a citrus flavor. The spices in the tempering, coupled with the chili powder give it a kick. It is a superb accompaniment to roast chicken, turkey or gamey meat like quail or venison. It also dresses up a boring deli sandwich with equal élan.<br /><br />1 12 oz pack of fresh cranberries<br />1 cup granulated sugar<br />½ cup water<br />½ cup orange juice<br />Zest of ½ a lemon<br />1 tsp chili powder<br />½ tsp cumin powder<br />1 tbsp oil<br />Pinch of asafoetida<br /><br />Wash cranberries thoroughly in cold water. Throw them in a saucepan along with the water, orange juice and sugar. Bring to a boil, lower the flame and cover. Cook for 15 minutes, until the berries begin to burst.<br /><br />Add the lemon zest and chili powder. Continue to cook, stirring often for about a half hour, until most of the berries have disintegrated and you get a thick sauce like consistency.<br /><br />Heat the oil in a small saucepan or tempering spoon. Add cumin powder. As soon as it starts to sizzle, throw in the asafoetida. Add the spice mixture to the sauce. <br /><br />Simmer for 10 more minutes. Allow to cool completely before refrigerating.<br /><br />Makes approximately two cups.<br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-8908099924572945911?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-35633658650330091372009-11-12T22:11:00.007-05:002009-11-13T11:18:24.722-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/11/moving-to-my-cheese-paneer-bhurji.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SvzIbFMfFbI/AAAAAAAAAps/lbo3t2gzjMY/s1600-h/Paneer+Bhurji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SvzIbFMfFbI/AAAAAAAAAps/lbo3t2gzjMY/s320/Paneer+Bhurji.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I made my quarterly visit to the gym for a <a href="http://www.zumba.com/us/about/">Zumba</a> class. Only to be informed that the instructor had changed.<br /><br />Now given that I had taken this class exactly three times before, it shouldn’t have made a darned difference. But never one for passing up on opportunities, I picked up my car keys, ready to dash back home. Only I couldn’t get past the door. <br /><br />For there she stood. Spiky, short, ash blond hair. Bright pink pants. Silver hoodie. And old enough to be my grandmother (ok, I exaggerate – perhaps an old auntie?). The All-New Zumba Queen. Mother.<br /><br />I turned around nonchalantly, feeling pretty smug. She was one of Those Types. She would ask us to march in place for 30 minutes and gently sashay around for another 30. I could totally handle this.<br /><br />Off came the hoodie. My heart sank. There was only lean muscle underneath that tank top. Thankfully the pants stayed.<br /><br />The routine started. I had barely made it through the warm up when she cranked up the volume and started to bounce around like a vintage pogo stick. I slowly started to feel like a bunch of wilted spinach in an outdoor vegetable market on a hot summer day (yes, I always think of food).<br /><br />As the hour drew to a close, I was praying for a tranquil cool down. As if she read my mind, she folded her hands in prayer.<br /><br /><i>Were we doing a quick yoga routine? Yay!</i><br /><br />I recognized strains of the Oscar-winning Jai Ho! from the soundtrack of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1010048/">Slumdog Millionaire</a>.<br /><br /><i>This was not yogi-music. </i><br /><br />She began to grin. Not a “thanks for coming to my class” grin. But one that bordered on euphoric hysteria. Or was it hysterical euphoria? <br /><br /><i>This was not looking good.</i><br /><br />She started doing squats to the riff. Moved on to a manic mambo. And then lunged across the room at the first Jai Ho!, still grinning and praying.<br /><br />I made for the door. And once home, fell upon a plateful of paneer bhurji that I had the foresight to make earlier. This is also my entry for my very first blog event <a href="http://thespicewholovedme.blogspot.com/2009/11/announcing-jfi-paneer-november-2009.html">JFI – Paneer</a>, &nbsp;hosted by <a href="http://thespicewholovedme.blogspot.com/">Cardamom.</a></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a href="http://thespicewholovedme.blogspot.com/"></a><br />What next, salsa to Sonu?</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Paneer Bhurji</strong></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />I never EVER make my own paneer. Apart from the usual block I also keep a packet of cubed paneer handy in my freezer to use when strapped for time.<br /><br />½ lb paneer<br />2 small tomatoes<br />1 small onion<br />½ cup shelled peas (frozen is fine)<br />½ tsp ginger-garlic paste<br />1 tsp whole cumin<br />¼ tsp turmeric powder<br />½ tsp chilli powder<br />Pinch of garam masala<br />Fresh coriander<br />2 tbsp oil<br />Salt to taste<br /><br /><br />Chop the onion, tomatoes and paneer (if using a block) into little pieces.<br /><br />Heat the oil in a small skillet. When it is hot, add the cumin seeds. As they sizzle up, stir in the ginger-garlic paste. Saute for a minute and add onions and tomatoes.<br /><br />Fry, stirring well for about five minutes. Add the peas and fry until they are soft.<br /><br />Now mix in the turmeric and chilli powders and fry for another two minutes until the raw smell of the spices go.<br /><br />Finally, stir in the paneer and mix thoroughly smashing it up with your spoon as you do to get a crumbly mixture. Sprinkle the garam masala and add salt to taste. Garnish with fresh coriander.<br /><br />Goes best with rotis, or serve for brunch with hot buttered toast.<br /><br /><br />Serves 2</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-3563365865033009137?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-2290098790032224042009-11-06T16:11:00.004-05:002009-11-06T16:20:05.557-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/11/rapid-recovery-with-tomato-dal.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SvSQXZ9l1OI/AAAAAAAAApk/_w_QWSS3V0o/s1600-h/DSCN1727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SvSQXZ9l1OI/AAAAAAAAApk/_w_QWSS3V0o/s320/DSCN1727.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 15px;">‘Twas the weekend for the meatarian in me.<br /><br />We set off to spend Halloween at a friend’s, armed with a tray of spicy chicken wings and a stuffed tiger (a plush toy, lest you think I was experimenting with Asian twists for my upcoming Thanksgiving dinner.)<br /><br />Nervous about the possibility of being stuck in Friday evening traffic for the next three days, The Boy insisted that we pick up a snack on our way out. The snack being a rather substantial order of Mesquite BBQ ribs. This was followed by a dinner that included a sumptuous shepherd’s pie with minced lamb and the aforementioned spicy chicken wings. <br /><br />The following afternoon we ate gourmet beef burgers. More ribs. And sausage. In the evening it was a Cuban themed Halloween party at another friend’s place (read pork and more sausage).<br /><br />And as if our arteries weren’t clogged enough, I made beef chili to round off the weekend, still reeling from the many <a href="http://www.tasteofcuba.com/mojito.html">Mojitos.</a><br /><br />I am sure I have left out a species or two.<br /><br />Needless to say by the middle of the week I was craving Simple. Vegetarian.<br /><br />I chewed on asparagus spears. Drank a large bowl of tomato soup. Ate a garden salad. No dice.<br /><br />And then as I surveyed my pantry in despair, I struck gold. Simply simple dal. I ate it with steamed rice, a dot of mango pickle and a bowl of yogurt.<br /><br />A couple more meals like this and I will be ready for the Filet Mignon this weekend.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Tomato Dal</strong></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />1 cup toor dal<br />2 medium tomatoes<br />¼ tsp turmeric powder<br />1 tsp sugar<br />½ tsp cumin seeds<br />½ tsp chilli powder<br />1 tsp ghee<br />½ a lime<br />Salt to taste<br /><br /><br />Wash the dal thoroughly. Coarsely chop the tomatoes. Add the tomatoes to the dal along with the turmeric powder. Add two cups of water and pressure cook for 10 minutes or until mushy.<br /><br />Transfer the dal and tomato mixture to a saucepan. Add about half a cup of water and bring to a boil on the stovetop, adding small amounts of water if necessary. The end result should be runny, but not soupy. Add sugar, salt and the lime juice. Lower the heat and shut off in a couple of minutes.<br /><br />In a small saucepan or tempering spoon, heat the ghee. Add the cumin seeds. When they start sizzling, throw in the chilli powder. Give it a stir and add to the dal.<br /><br />You can have it the way I did. For a more complete meal, try with <a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/09/blues-breaker.html">Chettinad Pepper Chicken</a> or <a href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/08/food-for-thought.html">Hyderabadi Kheema</a>.<br /><br /><br />Serves 4</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-229009879003222404?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-73747354316102794472009-10-30T15:14:00.010-04:002009-11-05T15:40:27.367-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/10/breathing-easy-with-badaam-kheer.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Sus6xznNmcI/AAAAAAAAAoE/MRNtvNaCkgA/s1600-h/DSCN1720edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Sus6xznNmcI/AAAAAAAAAoE/MRNtvNaCkgA/s320/DSCN1720edited.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I am an animal lover, I am. <br /><br />And a food lover. But being a food lover doesn’t equate to savoring rice gruel. And so, loving animals doesn’t mean I have to be a cat person.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> <br />Now interesting things happen to both The Boy and I when we encounter feline fiends. It all starts with teary eyes and delicate coughs, punctuated by the occasional sniff. It almost always ends with beet red runny noses, thunderous sneezes and trilling wheezes. And as an added bonus, we breath like Darth Vader for the next two days.<br /><br />It was Diwali two weekends ago. One of my most favorite festivals that involves much eating, drinking and gambling. And instead of lighting lamps and stuffing my face, I found myself face to face with:<br /><br />Five aunties<br />One cat<br />Zero inhalers<br /><br />The Boy blamed it all on the overdose of vegetarian food he had been having. We sneezed and wheezed through the weekend, and the cat insisted on stalking us, sharing our couch, sleeping on our bed, all the while looking at us reproachfully.<br /><br />We fled post haste, only to be struck by a bizarre snowstorm all the way back home. Halloween came two weeks early this year I suppose.<br /><br />Back home and happy to be breathing again, I felt I had to do something special, even though Diwali was far gone. I decided to whip up one of my favorite desserts. With all the milk that goes into this beauty, maybe Fuzzles will forgive me for the cold shoulder.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Badam Kheer</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I usually make this dessert every Diwali, and serve it in silver bowls and glasses. I am pleased to note that over the years this has become a little tradition in the LikeItSpicy household. I have tried it both with and without the cardamom seeds. I personally prefer the version WITHOUT the cardamom, but have included it in this recipe as an optional ingredient.<br /><br />½ gallon whole milk<br />½ lb raw unsalted almonds (peeled if you find them)<br />1¼ cups sugar<br />2 green cardamoms (optional)<br />Pinch of saffron<br /><br />Submerge almonds in water and soak for at least 6-8 hours or overnight. If your almonds have their skins on, you need to peel them. Soak them for an additional 15 minutes in piping hot water before peeling. The hot water makes the peels pop right off when you gently press one end of the almond between your thumb and forefinger. (It took me all of 20 minutes to get through the lot.)<br /><br />Drain all the water. Reserve 10-12 almonds, and blend the remaining with a cup of milk into a smooth paste, adding more milk as you blend if necessary. <br /><br />Pour the rest of the milk into a heavy bottomed pan and bring to a slow boil. Pound the cardamoms, remove the black seeds and crush them lightly (I just use the back of a ladle). Sliver the reserved almonds.<br /><br />Add the almond paste, sugar, cardamom seeds and saffron to the milk, lower the flame and continue to heat gently, stirring frequently to prevent the kheer from sticking to the bottom of the pan and burning.<br /><br />In about a half hour the kheer will reduce and become slightly thicker. Throw in the slivered almonds. Lower the flame further and continue to cook for about 20 minutes. Turn off the flame, let it come to room temperature and then stick it in the fridge. <br /><br />Serve chilled. Garnish individual bowls with a pinch of saffron for a festive look.<br /><br />Makes 8-10 servings.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-7374735431610279447?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-9320451992241713272009-10-15T15:52:00.003-04:002009-10-15T15:58:35.465-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/10/whats-in-a-name.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Std5ev_wQOI/AAAAAAAAAmI/18lOpowWZR8/s1600-h/chillies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Std5ev_wQOI/AAAAAAAAAmI/18lOpowWZR8/s320/chillies.JPG" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Many of you have asked me why I called this blog what I did. The Boy gleefully warned me that it would be misconstrued for a website advertising erotic services.<br /><br />Not too long ago when I was a graduate student in the American heartland, my friends and I would do a bi-weekly pub and grub trawl whenever we got paid our pittance. We were a motley crew of various nationalities, yours truly being one of two individuals representing the Indian sub-continent. <br /><br />The first time we did this we happened upon a Chinese restaurant, where the hapless waiter, after refusing to split a Kung Pao chicken six ways, singled me out and said, “youlikeitspicy”? <br /><br />All eyes were on me.<br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br />“Yes”, I remember squeaking, feeling special.<br /><br />My entrée came hand in hand with a small bowl of fresh red chillies. Go figure.<br /><br />Over the next several months we visited several other eateries. And whether I ordered the Pad Thai or the pasta, I would be singled out and asked variants of “likeitspicy?”. I was handed bottles of Tabasco, chopped jalapenos, bowls of Sriracha hot sauce, green finger chillies, crushed chilli flakes...you get the drift.<br /><br />My initial euphoria morphed to doubt. Was this treatment meted out to every student of Indian origin? Sometimes I would wonder if I smelled of curry. Maybe I had a spot of dal on my shirt…<br /><br />But as time went by this became a little inside joke. I would pre-empt the question (and sometimes still do) by placing my order, smirking and saying yesilikeitspicythankyouverymuch while my friends stifled their giggles.<br /><br />Fast forward, and I decided to start a blog when I found I was spending way too much time reading (and drooling over) blogs written by others.<br /><br />It wasn’t going to be collection of grandmum’s recipes. Or a repository of restaurant reviews. Or my musings about life as a busy working mother in The Hub. Or the magic bullet that would teach readers how to <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/goodthings/leaf-placecards?">create the perfect dried leaf place card</a> for their dinner guests.<br /><br />I simply wanted find a way to combine my love for eating, laughing and writing. And give it a name that captured my sentiment. <br /><br />For what’s life without a little spice?<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-932045199224171327?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-71081857035724962022009-10-10T12:44:00.002-04:002009-10-10T12:54:35.324-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/10/of-marsupials-and-men-dahiwalla-murgh.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Ss-wTHQ73OI/AAAAAAAAAmA/jYIkd97gifQ/s1600-h/Dahiwalla+Murgh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Ss-wTHQ73OI/AAAAAAAAAmA/jYIkd97gifQ/s320/Dahiwalla+Murgh.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">The Boy is as obsessed about food as I am. But with a difference.<br /><br />In his opinion, the more complicated and elaborate a recipe is, the more points it gets. So much so that whipping up mundane, simple, everyday fare in our house is considering the equivalent of ordering bad pizza. <br /><br />Much as I love cooking, eating and feeding, I tend to be more of a realist, and will pick the massage over the masala.<br /><br />I made this chicken curry with an hour to spare before his grand entry from a business trip to the Outback. Where I am sure copious quantities of marsupial meat (which I am told tastes like chicken, incidentally) were consumed between business meetings.<br /><br />I was convinced that he would sniff disdainfully at the simplicity of it all, and chew on his boarding pass instead.<br /><br />Surprise… curry was devoured, fingers were licked and the plate was spotless.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Dahiwalla Murgh</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">The flavor in this curry comes predominantly from the tanginess of the yogurt that beautifully balances the spiciness of the peppercorns. You can use full or low fat yogurt depending on how virtuous you feel. As far as the chicken goes, I always recommend using cut up whole chicken or a mix of bone-in thighs and drumsticks.<br /><br />2 lbs chicken <br />1.5 cups plain yogurt<br />2 tbsp ginger paste<br />2 tbsp garlic paste<br />½ tsp turmeric powder<br />1.5 tbsp coriander powder<br />1 tsp chilli powder<br />1 tbsp oil<br />4 fresh green chillies<br />8 black peppercorns<br />10 curry leaves<br />½ cup of chopped fresh coriander leaves<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Mix together the yogurt, ginger, garlic, turmeric, and chilli powder. Skin/clean the chicken, chop the thighs into smaller pieces if you wish and make a few small slits in each drumstick. Rub with salt.<br /><br />Toss the chicken into the yogurt marinade and let it stay there for at least 30 minutes. The longer the better, but 30 minutes will do just fine.<br /><br />Heat the oil in a large pan or wok. Slit and throw in the fresh green chillies, peppercorns and curry leaves. When they start sizzling, add the coriander powder, followed by the chicken pieces. Try to reserve as much marinade as you can in the bowl. Fry the chicken gently for about 10 minutes. <br /><br />Add the reserved marinade, half a cup of water and lower the flame. Cover and cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, adding more salt if necessary.<br /><br />Garnish with coriander leaves and serve with naan, roti or plain white rice. <br /><br />Serves 4</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-7108185703572496202?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-30820621730166919982009-10-05T13:32:00.012-04:002009-11-03T10:06:15.835-05:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/10/time-to-recharge-tamarind-shrimp.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Sslg0R-ft3I/AAAAAAAAAl4/TQ4B1orLIq4/s1600-h/shrimp+phanna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Sslg0R-ft3I/AAAAAAAAAl4/TQ4B1orLIq4/s320/shrimp+phanna.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> I should have known Friday would be a disaster.<br /><br />A 9 am presentation, a 5 pm deadline. The promise of a rain-filled weekend. A carbohydrate-infused dinner the previous night that had turned my mind (and body) into sludge. The extra glass of wine.<br /><br />Still, I was miraculously rocking and rolling at 7:59 am, ready to take on the day. Feeling smug and all. And then the unthinkable happened.<br /><br />Car wouldn’t start. Dead battery. And no jumper cables in sight.<br /><br />I did what a quintessential chick would do. Wailed, threw a hissy fit, yelled at The Boy, sulked. And asked if we should consider getting me a new car.<br /><br />After some damage control, The Boy and the <a href="http://www.aaa.com">AAA</a> man were deemed worthy of a Nobel. I made it to my presentation with seconds to spare. <br /><br />Precisely five minutes later, some idiot burns popcorn (yes, popcorn) in the kitchen on my floor, setting off the mother of all fire alarms. And we shuffle down six floors, laptops and frappucinos in tow.<br /><br />I ended the day with leftover steamed rice, a bowl of yogurt, and a spicy shrimp curry made with a dot of tamarind. Perfect for those days when ze battery conks out.<br /></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Tamarind Shrimp</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I normally buy shrimp from the frozen foods section of my grocery. I couldn't be bothered with all the labor that goes into prepping it even BEFORE cooking it. If you don't have access to good quality frozen shrimp, or prefer to buy it fresh, make sure it is peeled, deveined and tail-on before using it in this recipe (I know, I know, but trust me, the results will be worth it). You can use any size. I personally prefer my shrimp small-medium size for Indian cooking, and save the jumbo variety for grilling.<br /><br />1 lb shrimp<br />2 medium onions<br />1.5" piece ginger<br />5 green chillies<br />1 tsp coriander powder<br />1 tsp red chilli powder<br />Fresh tamarind, golf ball size<br />4 tbsp oil<br />Salt to taste<br /><br />Chop the onions and grate ginger. Prepare tamarind water by submerging the tamarind ball in a small bowl of hot water for 10 minutes, and then squeezing it into the water (discard the remnants after the squeezing operation). Slit green chillies.<br /><br />Heat oil in a large skillet. Add chopped onion, fry until golden brown.<br /><br />Add ginger, green chillies, coriander and red chilli powder. Fry this mixture for 2-3 minutes. Add tamarind water. Increase flame. After two minutes, add the shrimp. Add salt and give the skillet a few shakes to mix everything. Cover and cook for about 5-6 minutes or until the shrimp is done (take care not to overcook the shrimp since it becomes very rubbery when overdone).<br /><br />Serves 2-3.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-3082062173016691998?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-80457459829714277552009-09-30T15:17:00.015-04:002009-10-05T09:57:32.250-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-indent: -0.0870in;"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/09/land-of-bland.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SsOsf3aJJQI/AAAAAAAAAlw/ajdYAFiDT6g/s1600-h/fastfood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SsOsf3aJJQI/AAAAAAAAAlw/ajdYAFiDT6g/s320/fastfood.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Pick up a children’s menu. Any children’s menu. I speak for the country I live in, but chances are it will contain any or all of the following items, served of course with the ubiquitous fistful of French fries.<br /><br />Chicken (tenders/fingers/nuggets)<br />Hot dog<br />Grilled cheese sandwich<br />Cheeseburger<br />Cheese pizza<br /><br />And let’s not forget the Mac-N-Cheese, shall we? <br /><br />As an added bonus, some kid’s menus in our parts occasionally include Fish-N-Chips. It is unclear if this inclusion is somewhat of a warped tribute to the English antecedents of this region, a reminder of our proximity to the Atlantic Ocean, or simply a desire to throw in an Omega-3 (or 2) in keeping with the general nutritional theme.<br /><br />The children’s menu seemed like such a wonderful concept when I encountered it for the first time as a parent. The Youngling got her own special menu! And her own special entrée! With crayons! Which meant we adults could get down to the serious business of paying attention to our carpaccios and cocktails.</span> <br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />Now I grew up largely eating what my parents ate. Once we were out of toddler-zone, there was no “custom” food made for us at home. We simply ate what was served. Or not. <br /><br />There were some bummer meals for sure (bell pepper curry ranks up there.) But there were also the revelatory experiences – both at home and when my parents took us out to eat, with strict instructions to refrain from giggling or playing with our forks. Mealtimes in general, and dining out in particular became events to look forward to, mostly because I was never relegated to a predictable list of flavorless, fat-laden, “kid-friendly” food which ensured that my eating experience was completely delineated from that of my adult fellow-diners.<br /><br />I began to worry when we recently ordered a grilled cheese sandwich (or was it chicken tenders?) for probably the 40th time, and noticed The Youngling's eyes glazing over. Much like my parents, I put an end to “custom” food at home as soon as she turned two. <i>Why couldn’t she do the same outside?</i><br /><br />We obsess so much about doing the Right Things for our offspring. We are supposed to read to them 20 minutes a day, limit screen time, slather the sunscreen on, take them for outdoor activities like we are going into battle, replete with helmets, shin guards and elbow pads. Yet as a society we have seriously fallen short on tickling their taste buds by falling prey to the chicken finger pandemic that has gripped eating establishments.<br /><br />At a recent trip to Rhode Island, we all dined <i>al fresco</i> at <a href="http://www.mooringrestaurant.com/">a lovely dockside restaurant</a>, quietly put away the kids menu and asked for an extra plate. The Youngling ate a hot roll fresh from the oven with olive oil, minced garlic, parmesan cheese, and chili flakes, 2 oysters with horseradish, half of a lobster tail and three pieces of broccoli, after which she imperiously declared the end of her meal.<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-8045745982971427755?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-80906238537979697122009-09-21T22:24:00.105-04:002009-09-29T21:58:33.559-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/09/goodness-in-pot.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SrgwpW2RUCI/AAAAAAAAAlg/L6Lr97UN1Qo/s1600-h/rajma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: .1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SrgwpW2RUCI/AAAAAAAAAlg/L6Lr97UN1Qo/s320/rajma.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Last week was a tough week.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">A nail-biter of a deadline at work left me with little to no time to brood about mother’s departure. I obsessed about the <a href="http://marquee.blogs.cnn.com/2009/09/03/the-summer-of-death/">Summer of Death</a>. And tried hard not to think of The Boy happily squandering our life savings at <a href="http://www.bellagio.com/">The Bellagio</a>, egged on by a bevy of well-endowed airheads.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">What I needed was some comfort. Preferably on my dinner plate. And what better dish than the heartwarming <i>rajma</i>, a hearty preparation of red kidney beans stewed in a mouthwatering masala of tomatoes, onions, ginger, garlic and a mix of spices.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>Rajma</i> has been one of my favorites since childhood, where the sight and smell of it was known to send my sister and I into feeding frenzies – be it morning or midnight. A very moreish dish, it can be made as mild or spicy as you would like, and tastes even better the day after it is made. Kidney beans come in two colors, reddish and pinkish. I tend to use the former and my sister swears by the latter, but they both taste equally good.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I also add a dash of <i>rajma</i> <i>masala</i> to give this dish an authentic touch. This is optional, since the other spices do most of the work for you, but <i>rajma</i> <i>masala</i> is easily available in any Indian grocery should you need it.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Rajma</strong></span><br /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 1/2 cups or 2 small cans red kidney beans (<i>rajma</i>)</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 large onion</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">4 tomatoes</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp ginger paste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp garlic paste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 1/2 tsp chilli powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tbsp coriander powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 1/2 tsp cumin powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tsp <i>garam masala</i></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 1/2 tbsp <i>rajma masala</i></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">5 tbsp oil</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Fistful of fresh coriander leaves</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Salt to taste</span><br /></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Soak the <i>rajma</i> overnight in 4 cups of water. Pressure cook for 15 minutes until soft, but not mushy. If using cooked canned beans, make sure to wash them thoroughly in a colander.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Coarsely chop onions and tomatoes. Puree separately in a blender.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Heat 2 tbsp of oil in a large pot. Add ginger and garlic pastes. Fry gently for about 5 minutes, and add onion puree. Continue frying until you get an aroma, and the onion doesn’t smell raw anymore (about 10 minutes). Add the tomato puree. Stir vigorously. After five minutes, add cooked <i>rajma</i>, salt and a cup of water. Cover and cook for 20 minutes. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Heat the remaining oil in a seasoning spoon or a small saucepan. Once hot, add all the spice powders. Let the mixture sizzle for 30 seconds, stirring continuously so the spices don’t blacken and burn. Add this masala to the pot and stir to incorporate all the spices into the stew. Let it simmer for five minutes.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Garnish with fresh, chopped coriander leaves and serve.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Goes best with steamed white rice or <i>rotis</i> and coarsely chopped red onions and cucumbers dusted with salt and lime juice.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Serves 4.</span><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-8090623853797969712?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-1267868171861962432009-09-10T11:59:00.131-04:002009-09-29T21:57:59.518-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/09/blues-breaker.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SrGhVQavpcI/AAAAAAAAAlY/4Mn6XdqyP6A/s1600-h/Chettinad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: .2em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SrGhVQavpcI/AAAAAAAAAlY/4Mn6XdqyP6A/s320/Chettinad.jpg" width="250" height="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">It is back-to-school week in our parts this week.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Just another ho-hum week for people&nbsp;<i>sans&nbsp;</i>children. A sense of relief for weary parents of older children suffering through the summer slide.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />A feeling of dread for me, thinking of The Youngling’s preschooler lunchbox lovingly packed at sunrise, coming back largely intact. Morning drills that would stop short of throwing a jug of iced water at The Boy. And last but not the least, the inevitable wail thanks to a forgotten stuffed friend as we pull out of the driveway, scrambling as always.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />Add to that –<br /><br />Mother leaves (me in the lurch) this weekend.<br />The Boy is off to Las Vegas hot on her heels, presumably to celebrate.<br />It is getting Darker. And Colder.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Meanwhile, people around me sound like a Visit New England infomercial, droning on and on about the glorious fall foliage that is to come, cooing over loathsome Halloween lawn ornaments and waxing eloquent about The Perfect Crisp Vermont Apple.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">To make matters worse, we did a little day trip this weekend to see&nbsp;<a href="http://www.scalamandre.com/tour/breaker/breaker.htm"><span style="color: #4a2385; text-decoration: none;">how the other half lives.</span></a>&nbsp;And I came back feeling even more depressed. No governesses for The Youngling or dumb-waiters for me...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I was getting into a funk and it was time to banish the blues with peppery Chettinad Chicken. I originally got this recipe from my dearest friend L, superwoman par excellence, who inspires me to be the Energizer Bunny I will be. Starting next week.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Chettinad Pepper Chicken</strong></span><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 lbs chicken (preferably a mix of bone-in thighs and drumsticks)</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 medium onions</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp ginger paste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp garlic paste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tomatoes</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp black peppercorns</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp coriander seeds</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tbsp fennel seeds</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tbsp cumin seeds</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">5 red chillies</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp oil</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">½ cup of chopped fresh coriander leaves</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Salt to taste</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Skin/clean the chicken, chop the thighs into smaller pieces if you wish and make a few small slits in each drumstick. Chop onions and tomatoes finely.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Roast the peppercorns, coriander, cumin and fennel seeds and the red chillies in a small saucepan or skillet on medium heat. Turn off the flame when the spices turn aromatic and the dry red chillies darken just a little. You need to be very careful to not overdo it (if the spices start smoking and darken, it is time to start over). Leave the spice mixture to cool for 5-10 minutes.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Heat the oil in a large skillet or wok. Add onions and fry for 5-7 minutes until they are translucent. Add the ginger and garlic pastes and fry for five more minutes. Then add tomatoes and continue to cook the mixture until they soften.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">In the meantime, transfer your spice mixture into a spice grinder or coffee grinder (I use the latter) and DRY grind to a coarse powder. Then toss the chicken into the wok along with the spice mixture and salt. Fry for five more minutes and add a cup of water. Stir, cover and cook on a medium flame for 15-20 minutes or until the chicken is cooked.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I like to serve this with hot steamed rice and a simple salad.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Serves 4.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-126786817186196243?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-84131293539177551082009-08-26T16:47:00.040-04:002009-09-29T21:40:50.866-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/08/man-in-malviya-nagar.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SqW3uAd4s4I/AAAAAAAAAkw/HAXgIlddPlk/s1600-h/chaat.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378907330991141762" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/SqW3uAd4s4I/AAAAAAAAAkw/HAXgIlddPlk/s320/chaat.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: .2em; margin-right: 1em;"/></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I simply ADORE <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>paapdi-chaat.</i></span> When presented with a plate, I refuse to share. Selfishly surrendering myself to the sweet-sour-spicy explosion in my mouth. I eat this snack-meal with a mixture of gluttony, excitement and reverence, marveling at the <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chaat</i></span> gods who came up with this absolute delight. A mainstay of Indian street food, it never fails to please the senses.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">My earliest recollection of <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>paapdi-chaat </i>(we also called it <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>dahi-paapdi)</i></span> is eating at a street vendor in Malviya Nagar, New Delhi, when I was but a girl. The <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chaat</i></span> stand was manned by a fairly toothless man with wizened hands (I should know, because I remember standing on my toes, constantly checking to make sure he added enough chutney). He sold an array of street food – including explosive <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>gol gappas </i></span>fiery <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>aloo tikkis </i></span>(I’ll wax eloquent on these in another post), crammed into a little open air stall, strategically located opposite a large store that sold delectable sweets. And the place was so crowded, it always seemed to me like all of Malviya Nagar, if not most of Delhi would choose to converge here, just when I Needed a Paapdi-Chaat, much to my chagrin.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br />And this man would be there, come rain or shine, serving up plate after plate of <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chaat</i>. To families, shoppers, commuters, errant school children playing truant, hawkers, fellow tradesmen and the ubiquitous hangers-on. Aided by a couple of younglings, masters of order forecasting and fulfillment with no software to aid them. I distinctly remember seeing the man’s hands trembling in the winter from standing outside for hours with chilled vats of yogurt and chutney in front of him, nestled in blocks of ice. For we would be there come summer or winter, and like most (insensitive) children my age, I would be singularly focused on the plate that came my way, not caring if the man was on the verge of a heat stroke or hypothermia.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">He would start with the <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>paapdis,</i></span> arranging them in a circle on the plate. Top it with pieces of boiled potato and black <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chana</i></span>. Drizzle it with two chutneys, spicy and sweet. Bury them under spoonfuls of cold yogurt. Toss in a chopped green chilli (or two). Dust it with an array of spices – chilli powder, cumin powder, <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>amchur</i></span>, salt, pepper. Top it with chopped coriander leaves and crispy <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>sev</i></span>. And we would wait for him to hand the plate over, tongues hanging out.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I don’t remember if this place even had a name, or if it even exists anymore. With its origins in North India <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>paapdi-chat</i></span> has since migrated across the country as well as the globe. And I have relentlessly hunted it down, searching for the perfect plate whether in Boston or Bangalore. I can also put together a mean plate in the comfort of my home these days. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Tastes nothing like what the Man in Malviya Nagar made, though.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-8413129353917755108?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-38751220778458631342009-08-20T14:17:00.102-04:002009-09-30T10:02:54.294-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/08/food-for-thought.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Srvix0lGQfI/AAAAAAAAAlo/JTOxtaLPNiA/s1600-h/DSCN1501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0.11em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" width="250" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/Srvix0lGQfI/AAAAAAAAAlo/JTOxtaLPNiA/s320/DSCN1501.JPG" /></a></div><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 11pt;">The other day a colleague remarked that she knows her body needs protein when she starts losing focus, makes silly mistakes and feels edgy and irritable.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Now this sounded alarmingly like my permanent state of mind. Perhaps I was not ingesting enough protein? I mulled this over as I drove home. I needed to eat protein quickly, and then take an IQ test before I turned in for the night.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">The problem is, you won’t catch me chewing on tuna straight out<br />of a can or salivating over chicken nuggets from a box, just to get a protein fix. I didn’t feel like slaving over the stove for the greater part of what was a wonderful summer evening. And our BBQ grill was out of gas.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I opened my almost-empty freezer with trepidation and gave a whoop of delight as I saw a pound of minced turkey juxtaposed between a packet of green beans and a few whole grain waffles (no protein here).</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I felt focused and intelligent already.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Hyderabadi Kheema</strong></span><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Minced meat or&nbsp;<i>kheema</i>&nbsp;is a staple in my freezer and invariably a part of my weekly grocery list. It is quick to cook, delicious and very versatile. I alternate between minced chicken, turkey, goat and lamb depending on the recipe and my prevailing mood. I have fashioned my&nbsp;<i>kheema</i>&nbsp;into succulent meatballs, stir-fried it with spices, baked it into pastas and rolled it into fiery&nbsp;<i>seekh</i>&nbsp;kebabs. I usually use turkey or chicken mince for this recipe, though goat tastes the best.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 lb minced meat</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">3 tbsp oil</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">3-4 cloves</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2-3 green cardamoms</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 inch piece cinnamon</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">4 fresh green chillies</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 medium onion</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp ginger paste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp garlic paste</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">½ tsp turmeric powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tsp red chilli powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tsp coriander powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 large tomato</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">½ tsp garam masala</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">¼ cup chopped coriander leaves</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">½ a lime</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Salt to taste</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Chop the onion and tomato finely. Slit the green chillies vertically.<br />Heat the oil in a large pan or wok. Throw in the cloves, cardamoms and<br />cinnamon. Sizzle for a minute until the oil becomes aromatic. Add green<br />chillies, stir for a few seconds, and toss in the chopped onion.&nbsp;Fry<br />gently until the onions become translucent, bordering on golden. (Important: Do not brown the onions).</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Add the ginger and garlic pastes and fry for five minutes. Then add turmeric, red chilli and coriander powder. Fry for two more minutes, stirring continuously so as not to burn the spices.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Now add the <i>kheema</i>. Increase heat a little bit and stir to break up and blend in with the spice mixture. Add the salt. Once the <i>kheema</i> <br />is browned (about 10 minutes), toss in the chopped tomato and stir. Sprinkle with a little water to moisten, cover and cook for about 10-15 minutes. Add the garam masala just a minute or two before turning off the stove and stir. Garnish with coriander leaves and lime juice before serving.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Best with rice,&nbsp;<i>rotis</i>&nbsp;or stuffed into pita bread. I sometimes throw in half a cup of frozen peas or edamame when adding the tomato if I am feeling virtuous.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Serves 2.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-3875122077845863134?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-63776911857686517482009-08-12T15:44:00.072-04:002009-10-02T12:05:35.089-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-lease-of-life.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/So4K6NPCSMI/AAAAAAAAAkg/VyEXUKJtVrk/s1600-h/DSCN1492.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: .2em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" width="250"; height="320" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372243400600996034" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hu2pxtje2Zc/So4K6NPCSMI/AAAAAAAAAkg/VyEXUKJtVrk/s320/DSCN1492.jpg"/></a><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">My mother is visiting for the summer.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">And that of course, translates to the three Cs that come with parental visits – cooking, conversation and childcare. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">In my house, it also means that half-finished items languishing dismally in my pantry, (presumably after being purchased because they were required in miniscule quantities for an obscure recipe), are given a second chance. </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Like last week.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Mum: What’s in that jar?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Me: Don’t know. Haven’t opened it in some time.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Mum (<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>opens jar, with an expression Ali Baba would have had when he shouted Open Sesame!</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">: Black <em>chana!</em></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Me: Really?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Mum (</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">inspects contents of said jar suspiciously):</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">How old is this?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Me: Pretty old.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Mum: Did we buy this during my last visit…?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">The lonely cup of black chickpeas or <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chana</i></span>- transmogrified into a nutritious, simple snack. Perfect when you feel peckish early in the evening like I do.</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Black Chana Sundal</strong></span><br /></span><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 cup black <i>chana</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> (black chickpeas)</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 tbsp oil</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">2 dried whole red chillies</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">3 fresh green chillies</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">6 curry leaves</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 tsp black mustard seeds</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">1 pinch asafoetida powder</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">4 tbsp coconut gratings</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Salt to taste</span><br /></div><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Submerge the black </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chana</i></span> <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> in 2 cups water and soak for at least 8 hours. You can dunk these babies either before you go to bed (if you want to make it for lunch) or first thing in the morning for a dinner dish.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Drain and replace with fresh water enough to submerge fully, add salt and cook. I use a pressure cooker and cook it in 20 minutes flat. Once cooked, transfer to a stove-top dish, water and all, and bring to a slow boil.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">If you are using dry coconut gratings, now would be a good time to soak it in 4 tbsp water. If using frozen, just thaw and bring to room temperature. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">In a small saucepan or a seasoning spoon, heat the oil. Add mustard seeds, red and green chillies. When the mustard starts to crackle, toss in the curry leaves and the asafoetida. Give it a swirl and empty all of this over the </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"><i>chana</i></span>.<br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Continue boiling for a few minutes until all the liquid evaporates. Add more salt if needed, and garnish with coconut gratings before serving.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Serves 4.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-6377691185768651748?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-88947510169760153972009-08-10T15:58:00.035-04:002009-09-29T15:59:14.553-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/08/for-asafoetida.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;"> A friend and I were recently discussing spices, marveling at how many started with the letter ‘C’. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Cardamom, Caraway, Celery seeds, Chillies, Chipotle pepper, Cinnamon, Cloves, Coriander seeds, Cumin...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Don't get me started on “curry powder” though - a highly dubious amalgamation of spices that in my opinion is best ignored. A cop-out. The non-spice. I’ll save my ranting on curry powder for a later post.</span> <br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Have I missed any?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-8894751016976015397?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-446870506958227047.post-61989488981930072072009-07-10T16:06:00.007-04:002009-09-29T15:59:31.549-04:00<div style="float: left; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;text-indent: -0.0870in"><a class="comment-link" href="http://likeitspicy.blogspot.com/2009/08/for-asafoetida.html#comments" onclick="">Leave a comment</a><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Anyone out there?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/446870506958227047-6198948898193007207?l=likeitspicy.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>LikeItSpicyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00605171082817851727noreply@blogger.com0