Burnt Sugar & Cardamom Pot De Creme

(continued) Chapter 5: New York (2012 - 2018)

Sometimes, it’s hard to hit the brakes on your pace of life…

It was summer 2015, my business was at it’s peak, we were traveling a ton, we felt quite settled, and we were happy. Despite all this, NYC never really felt like home. People say NYC gives implants a 2 year grace period - once you’ve been there for 2 years, either you can never leave, or it was not meant to be. We had already been there close to 4 years, so we realised we somehow fell in the second category. We often contemplated moving, and discussed where we would go - would it be back to Hong Kong (as we very much loved it), or would we gamble with a new destination like London. But moving isn’t easy, and it almost always needs a catalyst. A catalyst were graciously given as I fell pregnant in late 2015.

We knew we always wanted kid(s), but having never grown up around many babies, I didn’t quite knew what it entailed. Plus, the thought of doing it without my mum was, to say the least, excruciating. But we were excited of welcoming a new family member - I hosted almost all the way through my pregnancy, and told my guests that I would be back to hosting 2-3 months postpartum. And as for being a parent, I was petrified of a lot of things but very confident that, if anything, I would nail the ability to feed my child.

Wrong on both counts.

Our daughter was born in June 2016. It was a lot of unknowns. A lot of trials and errors. And a lot of self revelations. The biggest being that I was not as patient a person as I had always thought of myself to be. And while I always knew I was a type A personality, I didn’t know the extent of it till after becoming a parent! Feeding a toddler has it’s challenges, and I suddenly found my culinary skills being tossed to the ground. It also took me 7 months to get back to hosting, and when I did, I burnt out in 3 months - hosting till late + barely sleeping to make it for the morning feed was a killer combination - not in a good way. It also suddenly became clear that we appreciated being around family, and wanted our daughter to grow up knowing her cousins and extended family - the push we needed to make our move a reality in the near future.

It was not all rosy, but it was eye opening.

I learnt that rejected food doesn’t make me a bad cook, or being able to finally get out for a ‘morning run’ at 2pm isn’t necessarily a downer. That date nights are so much more incredible when few and far apart, and planning a schedule only to have it out the window first thing in the morning is OK. That sometimes not having control is actually relaxing, and there is nothing perfect about any parent. That it is ok to slow down sometimes….

After summer 2017, I reduced the frequency of my supperclubs and vowed to balance work and parenting. I needed both to have their corners, but both to remain fun. The next year flew by, and by summer 2018, we were deep in discussions about moving. That was our last summer in NYC.

Closing this chapter of our life today with a dessert recipe that I often call bittersweet - quite literally as I discovered it accidentally when I burnt my caramel and it turned slightly bitter, and figuratively as I served it on my very first and last supperclub in NYC. And very much like parenting, it is the mistake and the measured in it, that make it just right.

And those tiny hands you see in the last pic, that are not so tiny anymore, are of that very baby girl who taught me to slow down…

Ingredients

1 cup heavy cream

1 1/2 cups whole milk + 2 tbsp

1 tbsp custard powder or corn starch

1/2 cup brown sugar to caramelise + 4-5 tbsp more

5-6 pods of cardamom, slightly crushed

4 egg yolks

1/2 tsp chai masala (optional)

Method

Grease a small non stick tray and keep aside. Add 1/2 cup sugar to a non stick pan and slowly heat so the sugar starts to melt. Do not stir it, and let it melt completely. Swirl it around once to see if all the crystals have melted. Increase the heat very slightly, and wait for the sugar to start caramelising (bubbling). Let it go for a few secs after the bubbles appear (this will burn the sugar just a little- you can smell the slightly burning smell!) and immediately turn off the heat. Pour it into the greased pan and let it cool completely (please be super careful pouring hot melted sugar out as it can cause major burns). Once cooled, break the crystals, with the back of spoon or a rolling pin, and store in an airtight container.

Dissolve the custard powder/corn starch in 2 tbsp milk & keep aside.

Beat the egg yolks with a pinch of salt in a large bowl, and keep aside.

In a deep bottomed pot, mix the milk, cream, cardamom, chai masala (if using) and the remaining sugar and bring to a simmer on medium heat. Don’t let it boil, and stir at regular intervals. Turn off heat and cool slightly. Once cooled, pour mixture slowly over the egg yolks, stirring constantly. Mix well, and return the mixture to the pot.

Now comes the laborious part, but trust me, it’s totally worth the effort! Heat the mixture on low heat, stirring constantly, till it begins to thicken. Do not increase the heat or stop stirring, otherwise the egg yolks can curdle, leaving you with a custard scramble. It should take about 10-12 minutes for the mixture to start thickening. Now slowly add the custard powder mixture, and continue to stir for another 2-3 minutes. The mixture will thicken even further and start to resemble a flowy custard. Do not overcook.

Transfer to small ramekins or dessert pots and chill overnight. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream, crushed biscuits or pomegranate seeds!

Polenta Upma with Chili Prawns

(continued) Chapter 5: New York (2012 - 2018)

Things always happen for a reason.

A motto I live & swear by. Every little incident in our life works itself up to a moment that’s just supposed to be.

In summer of 2014, we took a road trip on the western part of Canada. We had initially planned on going to South America or Japan, but visas and other complications had resulted in us looking at something closer to home, with easier logistics. Since Canada wasn’t out first choice of destination, we had been a little laid back in our research (which, for those who know us, is very unlike us!). We had seen a bit of the US and (ignorantly) felt it’ll be similar. But hey, the best experiences are the ones that are undesigned.

The trip did not disappoint, and every turn took us by surprise. From the scenery and hiking, to the people, and all the Airbnb’s we booked, everything was beyond expectation. Everyone was so helpful that at first we were anxious - I mean why did the young fella at the gas station offer to take our credit card in to the shop to try and swipe it, when it continuously refused to work at the pump. Turns out, he thought we could use a hand. We would never do that in NYC.

It was the first time we used Airbnb - little did I know then what a significant part of me it’ll become in the future. One such last minute reservation was at a quaint apartment in Canmore, near Banff. Since we hadn’t done much planning, we were booking as we traveled. Being summer, there was not much left near Banff, and we could only find a private room at this accommodation. Skeptical at first since there were few reviews, we decided to go ahead and book. The owner was meant to be there during our stay, but last minute he decided to go spend time with family, and wrote to us apologising that he won’t be there to greet us. We could have his entire place. Another surprise!

His place was beautiful. From thoughtful touches and a balcony that overlooked foxes and deer, to a running trail nearby which ran through fields (and we later found out, through an area of bears!), it was a relaxing last leg of our journey. One of the nights, we decided to stay in and cook. I messaged the owner asking if it was ok to use the kitchen, and if he had any basic spices/condiments I could use. He sent back just a smiley face. And followed a few minutes later with a note “Open the door next to the kitchen counter”. So I did. What lay beyond was a chef’s dream come true! A walk in wardrobe of spices, sauces, legumes and everything else you’d ever need under the sun to cook. I was a kid in a candy shop. How lucky did we get!

We cranked up the music, opened a few bottles of wine, and had the best meal + evening of our lives. My husband and I still think back on that evening with such fondness. A meal that was unplanned, but so memorable. A stay that was unplanned, but we wouldn’t trade it for any other. A trip that was so unplanned, but is on top of our adventures now.

Till date, we still refer to that meal as “Let’s cook the Canmore dinner!”

Today I share the no-recipe recipe of the dish I cooked that night - Polenta Upma with Chili Prawns - and remind you that one day you will look back at the most insignificant moments of your life, and be in awe of how clearly you remember them. Because, they were just meant to be.

(The dish itself is inspired by the famous “shrimp and grits” - a popular Southern American dish. As I love to do, I have added an Indian twist to it by cooking Polenta like ‘Upma’ which is a breakfast dish in Southern Indian usually made with Semolina, and served it up with some quick fiery prawns/shrimps)

Ingredients

For the Upma

1/2 cup Polenta

2 cups water

1/2 cup veggies of choice, finely chopped (I used carrots, red & green pepper and peas)

1/4 onion, finely chopped

1 tsp grated ginger

5-6 curry leaves

1/2 tsp mustard seeds

1/2 tsp cumin seeds

A pinch of hing or asafoetida

1/4 tsp paprika

1/4 tsp cumin powder

1/4 tsp turmeric powder

2 tbsp olive oil

Salt to taste

For the Prawns

200 g prawns, cleaned and de veined

2 tbsp butter

3-4 green chilies, finely chopped

1 small tomato, finely chopped

2 cloves of garlic, minced

2 tbsp fresh coriander, finely chopped

1/2 tsp paprika or red chili powder

Salt & pepper to taste

Others

Avocado, chopped in cubes

Sour cream

Method

Make the Upma

Heat oil in a non stick pan. Add the cumin and mustards seeds and let them pop. Once hot, add the ginger and curry leaves, and saute for a quick minute. Add the onions, with a little salt, and let them get translucent. Then add all the veggies + dry spices, mix well and cook for a 3-5 minutes. Add water, and bring to a boil. Once boiling, add a bit more salt (to salt the polenta properly) and then slowly add the polenta, stirring continuously so no lumps are formed. Continue stirring till the polenta stops sinking to the bottom. Reduce heat to low, and cook covered for approximately 20 minutes. Keep stirring the polenta every 6-8 minutes to avoid clumping. Add a bit more water if it looks too thick. Remove from heat once it looks creamy (a little lile porridge), but can still be poured out of the pan.

Grease a baking dish and pour the polenta out. Chill for 20-30 minutes. Cut into 2 “ discs or little squares and keep aside (You can skip this step and simply eat it warm with the prawns too. This step if more for plating, and works well when you are serving it as an appetizer)

Make the Prawns

Marinate the prawns for 10-15 minutes in all the ingredients, except the tomatoes and butter. Heat a non stick pan and add butter. Brown a little, and then add tomatoes. Let the tomatoes soften a bit, and then stir in the prawns. Cook on high heat, stirring constantly till the prawns turn pink and begin to brown a little.

Serve hot atop the polenta cakes with some avocado and sour cream!

Spiced Double Chocolate Pudding [Eggless]

Chapter 5: New York (2012 - 2018)

Have you ever had a near death experience?

In summer of 2012, we relocated from Hong Kong to the city where dreams are made - New York. Even though we had always wanted to live and work in NYC, somehow when the opportunity arose, I was less than excited. Perhaps because it all happened so suddenly, or perhaps because I absolutely loved Hong Kong, and wasn’t quite ready to move on yet.

But move we did. New York, true to it’s name, was a strange experience - strangely maturing, strangely amazing, strangely lonely and strangely strange. It changed me in many ways. It was the city that made me courageous enough to pursue my passion of cooking, and open my own Private Chef & Dining Experience business. It was also the city that knocked me/us down several times, only to pick us up with a new lease on life.

In September 2012, right after we had moved into our own apartment and started settling into the NYC life, hurricane Sandy hit the city. It was a shocking welcome - seeing what a natural disaster can do, having zero family to rely on, and witnessing the most advanced city in the world coming to a standstill. We thought “is this a sign that NYC doesn’t welcome us?”. It wasn’t, it simply said, welcome to where you learn how to live - no matter what.

A year went by, and in July 2013, while I was slowly contemplating a leap into a food/catering business, my husband and I went for a run along the Hudson river in Battery park - downtown Manhattan. It was a lovely day, and we felt glad to be living in such a beautiful part of the city. We have a ritual to finish our runs at a coffee shop, so we decided to try one in the Meatpacking district we’d been hearing a lot about. It was amazing - and remains a favourite to the day. On our way back, we decided to take a detour, and walk through the scenic area of West Village - an area we hadn’t explored yet. As we walked by, chatting, we heard a loud bang. Another shock! Given we were in the US, the first thought that came to our minds was whether it was a gunshot. I fell to the floor, and my husband shrieked - blood. From my head. I held my head tight and screamed for help. Had someone hit me? Not really. We had been crossing a building site and a plank of wood had come loose and fallen from the 4th floor right on my head. I was sure this was it - NYC didn’t want us, want me. Panic ensued - my husband was telling me to stay awake, tearing his shirt to tie around my head tight, and asking some passersby to help call 911. The ambulance arrived, and we were whisked off to the nearest Emergency Room. It’s amazing I remember so much of the day - I think it was because I was constantly telling myself I am not ready to go yet.

At the hospital, we were told it’s a miracle I survived. A plank of that size, falling from that height, can most definitely kill in an instant. Strangely, 9 out of 11 of my head membranes had ruptured - one more and I would’ve had no chance. That day, the nurses joked, was my new birthday.

As I went back home, and started my recovery process, I felt mentally stronger than ever. Life had given me a blow before, but perhaps I was meant to be a survivor. I focussed on getting better, and there are 2 things (other than family and friends!) that I think truly saved me - exercise and food. I strongly believe in exercise to keep strong, and started at it as early as I was given clearance by the doctors. I also kept cooking. In fact, it was shortly after, in late August 2013 (less than 2 months after the accident) that I hosted my first supperclub. I recall hiding my scar & bruise with a new hairstyle, and feeling on top of the world as my first guests walked in. It was a positive road to recovery.

I ran my business and hosted supperclubs, dining experiences and private events for 5 fun years. It taught me so much about myself, about surviving. Looking back, I think the setbacks, however crazy, have led me to where I am today.

As I feel my scar, and think back on the day, I can only leave you with a recipe that resonates happiness. Chocolate. served them at one of my first supperclubs, and the taste reminds me of survival.

Ooey, gooey, rich & decadent, these are a cross between a custard & a mousse, where smoothness marries a hint of spice. They’re not only easy to make, but can also be made up to 2 days in advance. In fact, they taste better after 24-48 hours! I Give them a try, and leave a comment if you do.

Ingredients [makes 10-12 2oz pots]

1/2 cup pieces of Cadbury Dairy Milk, Dark (75-80%) Chocolate

1/2 cup pieces of Cadbury Dairy Milk, Milk Chocolate

2 tablespoon unsalted butter

3/4 cup heavy whipping or double cream

1/2 cup + 1/4 cup whole milk

2 green cardamom, crushed

2 cloves, crushed

1 cinnamon stick, broken in half

Pinch of salt

5 tbsp brown sugar (adjust to taste)

1 tbsp corn starch or 1 tbsp plain custard powder

1/4 tsp vanilla essence/extract

Method

Dissolve corn starch, salt, vanilla essence (or custard powder) in 1/4 cup milk and keep aside.

Keep the chocolate pieces and butter in a bowl. Bring the cream, remaining 1/2 cup milk, sugar, cardamom, cloves & cinnamon to a simmer. Remove from heat, cover and let the spices infuse for 3-5 minutes. Return to heat and bring to a second simmer. Once hot (but not boiling), pour through a strainer (to catch the whole spices) over the chocolate & butter. Mix well till all the chocolate pieces have melted and the mixture gets a smooth, glossy appearance - similar to that of ganache.

Return the mixture to low heat. When the edges begin to slightly simmer, slowly pour in the cornstarch mix and stir constantly. The chocolate mixture will begin to thicken. Cook for a few more minutes, stirring continuously, and making sure the heat isn't high enough for the mixture to boil over - this is key otherwise your chocolate will seize and get lumpy. Slow and patient is key here. Remove from heat and pour immediately (fill 3/4) into your serving cups. Refrigerate till set (4-5 hours or overnight). Serve with a pinch of rock salt & pomegranate seeds for crunch.

Indian South African Green Biryani

(continued) Chapter 4: Hong Kong (2009-2012)

Some misconceptions are better off remaining so. They make for better stories.

In summer of 2009, I travelled to South Africa for the first time. It was a 5 of us, including the boyfriend and I, and the idea was to have an adventure, to see South African though a natives eye, and also for me to meet the extended in-law family. Gulp. And trust me, this is one big fat extended Indian family we are talking about.

The trip was one of the best I’ve ever had. And whilst it was an amazing holiday, I couldn’t shake off the nervousness of being alone in a foreign country, and meeting those who could possibly be my future extended in-laws. It wasn’t them, it was me. As days grew close to head to Durban, I wore a smile but deep inside twisted every piece of myself to find comfort. I’ll just pretend I like everything. Or seem excited about all their stories. I mean, how bad could it be?

So, we got to Durban, and much to my relief, they were all so lovely and welcoming. But I am an over analyser. And it’s not my thing to be the focal point of all conversations. As the questions grew, I could feel myself melting inwards - I was Indian, but why couldn’t I stomach the insane amount of spice they were used to? Why wasn’t I religious - aren’t all Indians super religious? Why did I not eat sausages for breakfast? …. I ate little, talked a lot, and wondered if I was answering things appropriately. And even though all questions were in good faith, when our friends decided to skip out for a cricket match, I was thrilled. Escape. Even though I didn’t know a thing about cricket (yes, I am not much of an Indian there as well!).

At the match, I revelled in my feeling of freedom and being away from questioning eyes, and enjoyed some well deserved beer. A tad too much i’m afraid. As we headed home, my future mum-in law insisted we ate a little before heading out for the night - Green Biryani she said. I had never heard of it, so I was curious. Plus, it would be rude to refuse. Too much beer (first) + spicy biryani (after) - not recommended. As we headed out for the evening with my boyfriends’ cousins, I couldn’t be more embarrassed of being sick multiple times. What a way to meet the cousins! So much for trying to be the fun, cool girlfriend. And while I think they all coyly knew, everyone, specially all the aunts, passed it off as a stomach bug I had picked up thanks to the excessive spicy food they’d been feeding me. I suppose no one wanted to believe this girl from India could drink. As for me, I chose not to correct them.

After we left Durban and South Africa, I decided to explore the origin of that very Green Biryani. I found out that it’s another much loved staple in the in-law household, and there are many versions of it in South Africa - differing from family to family. It has a strong similarity to the Indian Biryani, but is less laborious (one pot) and has lots of mint (hence the name) + local spices. All in all, I had to learn it.

Today I share that recipe with you. It’s comfort food in a bowl. The original is meant to be quite spicy, so feel free to tone up or down the chillies based on your taste buds. Hope you enjoy it - but please don’t eat it after too much beer! ;)

Ingredients

2 bunch mint leaves (approx 60gm)

1 bunch coriander leaves (approx 30gm)

6-8 green chilies (more if you want it even hotter!)

2 tbsp ginger garlic paste

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 tomato

1 tbsp cumin seeds

2 cloves

1 bay leaf

2 green cardamoms

1 cinnamon stick (if you don’t have these whole spices, replace with 1 heaped tbsp Indian biryani powder)

1 tsp garam masala

1 tsp red chili powder

1 tbsp coriander powder

2 cups quick cooking or par boiled rice

500 gm chicken breast, cut into small pieces

1/4 cup olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Method

Blend together the mint, coriander, green chilies and tomato with 1/2 cup water to make your ‘green paste’. Keep aside.

Wash and rinse the rice and keep aside.

Heat oil in a non-stick wok. Add all the whole dry spices - cumin seeds, cloves, cardamom, bay leaf and cardamom stick (note: if using biryani powder, just add the cumin seeds here, and add the powder with the spices later). Saute for a quick minute till they get fragrant, and then stir in the ginger garlic paste. Cook for another minute, and then add the onions along with a little salt. Sauté till slightly brown.

Now add the ‘green paste’ made earlier, along with all remaining dry spices (add biryani powder at this stage if using). Cook covered for a few minutes, and then add the chicken. Cook covered till the chicken is almost cooked through, and then stir in the rice. Mix well, and add 1 cup water.

Cover and let the rice cook for at least 15-20 minutes on low heat. Feel free to adjust the water (adding a little at a time) if the rice hasn’t cooked and the biryani looks dry.

Once the rice is tender, open cover to remove any excess liquid (if any). Turn off heat, sprinkle some fresh coriander on top and leave covered for another 10 minutes.

Fluff with a spoon, and serve hot. Goes well with a yogurt dip and poppadams!

Masala Vadai (South Indian Lentil Fritters) - Vegan / Glutenfree

(continued) Chapter 3: Singapore (2000-2007 / 2008 - 2009)

I was hurting.

This was the darkest period of my life. After the incident, I moved back to Singapore to be with family, working a 9-6 banking job, trying to keep it all together for my brother and my father. But still hurting. I honestly don’t think I remember many thoughts or stories from these few years, and yet, it is so critical to think back and share some of it with you.

I was a project manager at a reputable bank - something I should’ve been proud of at 25. However, instead, every day I itched to leave and clear my mind, itched to heal, itched that it would all go away and be a bad dream, and itched to head back to Hong Kong - where my comfort blanket and then boy friend/now husband, lived. Every day I hoped the next day would feel better - mentally and physically, hoped my father and brother were coping, hoped I was being supportive enough, hoped that I would see the point of all this pain finally.

My father had moved temporarily to Singapore to be with my brother and I for a year. But although we lived together, we rarely talked as a family. My mother was the talker, the glue. Without her, everything just fell silent. Family felt like a duty, I felt we didn’t connect, and I didn’t know how to help myself or them grieve meaningfully. Through this, I tried to instil some feelings of ‘normality’ by cooking dinner each day. I felt that perhaps eating a warm, fond dish together would bring down some bridges. But I was too wrapped up in my emotions to understand that I wasn’t the only one facing monumental changes that no one dares to dream of - I see this clearer now. My father had been dealt the worst hand of it all - loss of life & words.

Through this there were two people in my life that literally kept me together. First - my boyfriend/husband, who despite knowing that he wasn’t accepted much by my father (more on that later), always had my side. And second, my university friend, G.

G used to work just around the corner at another bank, and was always there when I needed her. Like anyone else, she didn’t know what exactly to say or do to help, but she always tried. One of the things that became an almost daily ritual for us at work, was to step out for a late morning coffee + snack at a nearby kopitiam (coffee shop). It was the same - she would message saying “kopi & vadai time?” (coffee & fritter time), and I would say, “don’t feel like eating, but I’ll meet you for company”. We then met at the kopitiam few steps from my office thay was run by an Indian uncle, and he served the best South Indian snacks during the day - masala vadai, medhu vadai, sweet roti, curry puff, puttu and always a great kopi c (strong black coffee with evaporated milk). And almost every time, I would give in and eat. Talking to her, sitting there whiling away time, skipping work responsibilities, eating Indian snacks from a greasy plate made of newspaper, somehow made things feel normal. Unworried. Like nothing had changed. If only for a few minutes. Maybe because the flavours reminded me of happier times in Bangalore.

So, between G and my boyfriend, between the long and short distance, they looked out for me.

And I tried to look out for my dad and brother.

This Masala Vadai recipe is a thank you to all those who supported me when I was at my lowest. And the coffee shop uncle who I never knew, but fed my sanity and helped me slowly creep out of the darkness…

Ingredients
1/2 cup chana dal (split bengal gram) - approx 125 grams, soaked in water overnight

1/2 tsp coriander powder

1/4 tsp ground black pepper

1/2 tsp red chili powder

1 small onion, finely chopped

2-3 green chilies, finely chopped

1 tsp grated fresh ginger

10-12 fresh curry leaves, finely chopped

2-3 stalks of fresh coriander, finely chopped

Salt to taste

Oil for deep frying

Method

Drain all the water from the soaked chana dal, and grind it coarsely in a blender along with the dry spices - black pepper, coriander powder, chili powder and salt. It doesn’t have to be smooth, and some big chunks of dal that remain are ok. Do not add any water at all to grind, or it’ll break when frying.

Transfer to a bowl, and add all the remaining ingredients. Mix well with your hands till all the ingredients are well combined with the dal.

Use your hands to roughly shape into 1.5 inch discs. Do this with all the mixture and keep aside.

Heat oil in a deep pan. Once hot, slowly drop your vadai from the side into the oil. Fry till crispy and golden brown on both sides, and drain on a paper towel.

Serve hot with coriander chutney or chili mayo. These taste good hot or cold!

Red Korma with Sticky Rice (Vegan/Glutenfree)

(continued) Chapter 3: Singapore (2000-2007 / 2008 - 2009)

Life sometimes takes a full circle, and puts you right back where you started.

When I was really little - think 2 or so - we used to live in the eastern part of Indian - Assam. It is customary in that part of India to eat slightly overcooked / sticky rice. The rice is rolled up in little balls by hand, and then used to scoop up fish curry. During those days, my parents had a ‘didi’ (a young girl who works as a house help and nanny) for me and my brother - Leela. I am told that I used to refuse food unless I got to eat with Leela exactly what and how she ate. She sat on the floor, cross legged, and with unique swiftness rolled her rice and curry. A bite for her, and a tinier bite for me. I can’t quite remember those days much, but I must have loved it, as my preference for sticky rice stays till date.

Basmati (long, fluffy grain) is the more common rice in northern India, so growing up I never did enjoy rice as much, unless it was overcooked by mistake! Moving to Singapore was my full circle - Asian rice is cooked just the way I like it. When I first relocated, as any university going teenager, I relied on junk food. But, as days passed, and living there felt less exotic and more like home, I started to explore the local cuisine at the numerous canteens across campus. Boys came into the picture, and many a ‘study date’ involved a canteen meal.

My first date was in what was known as Canteen B. It was in the business wing of the school, and since both of us were engineering students, it felt right to do this away from suspecting eyes of Canteen A - the engineering common. I grew up in an all girls’ boarding school, and although I was excited, I had no idea what a date meant. As I nervously walked in holding my neatly filed book folders, looking around for the boy in question, I was hit by a smell. Not a pleasant one. Now, I love everything about Singaporean food food, but I have to admit, some of the smells took me a while to get over. I had walked past either a Fish Ball Soup or Char Siew (Bbq pork) stall, but suddenly my stomach felt more than just nerves. What a way to start a date! I swallowed in defiance, and walked towards the table he sat at. He was a second year student, also Indian, but was probably accustomed to all that the local stalls had to offer- he also loved experimenting with local food. He sensed my discomfort (perhaps it was a common element of 1st year Indians or perhaps he had just been on many dates;)), and offered to go for a walk instead. But hey, I have always been a rebel. I couldn’t ruin this, and claimed that I was fine and loved trying new things. So we began our date. I opted for some steamed chicken and rice (it was delish and a favourite till date!), and he got….well…Fish Ball Soup. Hilarious when I think about it now. Hilarious to think how naive I was with boys. And hilarious that he was my boyfriend for majority of the university days!

After that episode, rice was a staple go to meal for me in 4 years of university life. In my opinion, stickier rice absorbs flavours much better, and although I didn’t know it then, I do know now that it also tastes amazing with Indian curries. Todays’ recipe is that of a healthy, vegan Red Dal (Lentil) Korma, subtly spiced with Indian spices and vegetables, and served up with balls of sticky rice. Scoop up each bite of goodness and enjoy!

Ingredients

For the Red Korma

1/2 red pepper, diced

1 small carrot, diced

1 small beetroot, peeled and diced

1 small onion, finely chopped

2 plum tomatoes, diced (or 1/2 can of tinned tomatoes)

2 tsp ginger garlic paste

1 bay leaf

1/2 cup red lentils, washed and drained

1 tsp cumin seeds

2 tbsp coriander powder

1 tsp cumin powder

1/2 tsp red chili powder

1/2 tsp garam masala

1/2 tsp crushed black pepper

1 red chili, seeds removed and diced (leave the seeds in if you want the heat)

4-5 tbsp light olive oil

Salt to taste

Others

1 cup Thai or Asian sticky rice

2 tsp olive oil

Method

Make the rice

Wash and rinse the rice well. Add 2 1/2 cups water, a little salt and oil and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover and cook till all the water has been absorbed, and the rice is tender (approx 10-12 minutes). Leave covered for another 5-6 mins. Open cover, mix the rice well with a spoon, and leave aside to cool.

Make the dal korma

Heat oil in a non stick pan. Once hot, add the red chili, bay leaf, cumin seeds and wait for them to splutter. Then add the ginger garlic paste and cook for another minute. Add in the onions + some salt, and cook till the onions turn translucent. Add all the dry spices, mix well, and then add the tomato, carrot, red pepper and beets. Cover and cook till the tomatoes are tender, can be crushed with the back of a spoon, and oil begins to separate from the sides (approx 6-8 minutes, but depends on the ripeness of your tomatoes). Now stir in the lentils, along with 1 cup water. Bring to a boil, and cook till the lentils, carrots and beets are tender and fully cooked. Turn off heat, discard the bay leaf, and blend the korma till smooth. You can eat it chunkier without blending as well, but I like blending so that the flavours really fuse with each other.

To serve, take 1/2 cup of the cooked rice in your hands, and firmly roll into a ball. Continue to roll it till it holds its shape. Serve on top of the delicious Red Korma with some yogurt and crisps of choice!

Masala Bhindi (Okra)

continued Chapter 2: School - Home - School (1993-2000)

I had a love and hate relationship with boarding school.

I love the friends, confidence, education, memories, ambition, independence, strength and outlook it gave me. I hate that it took away irreplaceable precious time with family.

For 7 years of my young life, I spent only 4 months of holidays each year at home. And while the remaining 8 months were full of learnings and adventures, they couldn’t compensate for things I missed out as a child who is home. I missed learning about the frenzy of festivals and weddings, many of my mothers’ dinner parties, the importance of extended family, getting up to mischief with cousins, being shuttled back and forth from sport or dance classes after school, packed lunches, and many many other such moments of childhood pleasure, that probably seem insignificant at the time, but do create a lasting impression on life.

However, life at school was anything but uneventful. There are countless stories and incidents from 7 years in school that if I sat to relate, the blogosphere would run out of virtual paper. From being ice cream ready at 7 am during our Annual Founders’ Day (School Annual Function) to learning how to manage a (fake) bank account to make canteen purchases, even back then many notable memories revolved around food. And although I didn’t cook at the time, I sure had happy and sad taste buds, and took mental notes of items I would ask my mum to replicate after my days in school were over.

Aloo bhindi (Potato & Okra curry) was one such dish.

In 1995, I fell ill at school. Not the first time, but usually I persevered and told my parents I would get better soon and they needn’t worry. This time, perhaps I was incredibly homesick, but I gave in and begged them to pay me a visit. I just needed a familiar hug I suppose. Not knowing whether they would come, I was resting in my dormitory one morning, while the girls’ around me were busy getting ready for the morning drill - PT (physical training), breakfast, assembly, morning classes. I must’ve drifted off to sleep, and was woken up by my very animated next bed neighbour’s voice loudly relating a story about her dream to someone. Someone who felt and smelt very familiar. I jumped up only to notice my mum, impeccably dressed, sitting by my bedside. Oh joy! I can still see the scene when I close my eyes. I must’ve felt better immediately, because I only remember that day as a day off from classes, and her spending most of the day by my side.

At lunchtime, my lunch was brought up from the mess (as it did for all girls sick in bed). I had no appetite, but decided to take a peek anyway. Aloo bhindi! “This”, I said, “this is the bhindi I was talking about mummy” - I told my mum excitedly. “Taste karo and dekho kaise banaate hai” (Taste and see how they make it). I had mentioned that I loved this dish in school many a times, but couldn’t explain how it might have been cooked. Our family recipe of okra was very different, and as any mum, she had taken it as a challenge to try and make it as they made in school. This was her chance to taste that very dish. She took a bite - “Isn’t it yummy?!”. I asked. She didn’t seem overly impressed, and said “Oh so easy, is mein kuch nahin hai” (there is nothing to this). I grinned, she would never admit defeat.

Years later, I asked her the recipe over the phone to try and cook it. She never understood why I loved it so much (or perhaps why I loved it over her okra recipe!), but the thing is, food is a habit. A habit that takes various shapes and forms in different people. Today I share with you that original Okra & Potato recipe that managed to wipe off much of my memory of being very ill. Such is the magic of food.

Ingredients

175gm okra / ladysfinger / bhindi, chopped

1 potato, cut lengthwise

1/2 onion, finely chopped

1 plum tomato, diced

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp ginger garlic paste

Spice mix (mix and keep aside) : 1 tsp cumin powder, 2 tbsp coriander powder, 1/2 tsp red chili powder, 1/4 tsp turmeric powder, 1/2 tsp garam masala and 1/4 tsp dry mango powder (amchoor).

Fresh coriander to garnish, finely chopped

Salt to taste

6 tbsp light olive oil or sunflower oil

Method

Heat oil in a non stick pan. Add cumin seeds and cook till they begin to splutter. Next add the ginger garlic paste, and let it brown for a few seconds. Then add the onions, with a little salt, and cook till they turn translucent, and begin to brown. Next add the tomatoes, along with the dry spice mix. Mix well and cover and cook on low-medium heat till the tomatoes are fully cooked (5-8 mins). You should be able to easily mash them with a spatula, and the oil should begin to separate from the edges. Make sure this base paste is well cooked and don’t rush this step.

Add the potatoes, along with a little more salt. Mix well and cover and cook for 3-5 minutes, till the edges of the potatoes are browned. Finally add the okra, mix well. Cover and cook for 8-10 minutes or till the okra is tender and the potatoes are full cooked.

Remove cover, turn heat to high and saute for a few minutes till all the spices have coated the vegetables. Garnish with coriander and enjoy hot with steamed rice or rotis (indian flatbread)

Chicken Keema on Lettuce (Glutenfree)

[Continued] Chapter 1: Food As I Knew It (1982-2008)

By now, you may have grasped that I basically cook because of my mum.

But I also cook for her. In her memory. And to make her proud.

Every family has their happy and sad moments. And I believe every family also has a pick-me-up dish.

In the last post I mentioned, my parents departure from Bangalore (back to Delhi) wasn’t exactly a happy one. This story will shed some light on that.

Let me take you back to May 2004. The time that I feel was the silent end to some of the calm in our simple lives. Can’t quite forget the time. I had my university final exams, and I used to speak to my parents, or mother, at least once a day. If not speak then chat. That day I was in my university library, doing something mathematical, trying to get hold of my parents. A day went by, and then two. I started to worry, and told my friend that I sensed something was wrong. She told me to not overthink. I was famous for overthinking. My brother was at the same university, and he kept nudging me off as well.

Last day of exams. All done, we were going to graduate soon! I had a fancy investment banking job lined up - wasn’t interested much in the job honestly, but was definitely looking forward to the pay. My brother sat me down on the steps to our amphitheatre and asked me to cancel my flights to India (I was heading home in a week for the holidays). “But why, what are you hiding!”. My brother is a bad liar, I can see through him even when he doesn’t know it. He had known it all along, but my dad didn’t want the news to interrupt my exams. How very Indian of them! Made me so mad. Did then, and does now.

Car crash. I knew there was a reason my mother wasn’t responding! They were on their way for a holiday, and a drunken wedding party van forced them off a culvert. Saving the rest of the details, what followed was a traumatic and life shattering experience for them. Although I think they never did admit it. From being air lifted into a hospital, to several months in rehab/recovery, it changed their life (and ours) in a flash of second. Only then, I didn’t know the extent of the damage it will cause in years to come. If only I could be mature at 22 and drop everything to give them what they needed the most at that time. Family.

Don’t get me wrong. I did go home. Nobody could stop me from doing that. I did nurse them for a few months, saw them in and out of hospital. Once my mother even returned to the ICU and I kept thinking, “This cannot be it, can it?”. Thankfully it wasn’t. But it was shocking and confusing to me as well. I didn’t know how exactly to support them, and I wasn’t ready to switch roles and be the parent yet. My dad kept a brave face of course, but I had never seen my mum so weak and mentally broken before.

So I did what I knew best. I cooked for them.

Our family had a pick-me-up-dish which my dad lovingly called the “zindagi banaane waala chicken” - “life making chicken”. It was a dish my mum created by mistake. I can’t quite recall the first time we had it, but it was a school holiday weekend, and weekends meant non-veg. She must have been trying to make chicken curry, a staple, and realised she wasn’t stocked on some ingredients. Lo and behold came a dish on the table we had never set eyes on before. It was spicy, tangy, with thick gravy that hugged every chicken morsel - oh a delicious mistake! We all loved it and licked up every last morsel with rice. Since that day, it was a ritual to have “Zindagi banaane waala chicken” on happy and not-so-happy occasions alike. We had it in school holidays, or when we had something to celebrate. We had it on days we did something fun together as a family. And mum sometimes made it when she knew dad was upset, as it brought a smile to our faces, and made us forget any lingering worries. I just had to cook this for them in Bangalore. I was sure it would create a tiny streak of normality in those stressful days of healing and shock.

My mother didn’t quite have a recipe for it, but somehow manage to get it right every time. She claimed it was too easy to pen down. How I wish she had! I couldn’t quite get the full recipe from her after the accident, and I wasn’t much of a cook back then, so I just made them a version of it that I thought was right. They said it was perfect - but of course, I beg to differ.

Life moved on. I returned to start my job in Singapore, and a year later my dad decided to quit his job, leave Bangalore and return to Delhi. A plan in the making for a while, but the accident and injuries accelerated it all. Once back in Delhi, this chicken looked over many decisions, and served them several stressful nights.

Saddest part - I never did ever find out the recipe. It’s still a mystery. And now there is no one to ask.

This recipe is a take on that very chicken. It doesn’t do it justice, but I hope somewhere she is watching, chuckling and correcting my version of her mistake…

Ingredients

250 gm minced or finely chopped chicken breast

2 large plum tomatoes, diced

2 tsp ginger garlic paste (or 4 cloves of garlic, crushed + 2 tsp grated ginger)

2 green chilies (more if you want to turn up the heat!), finely chopped

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1/2 green pepper, cut into small cubes

1/2 red pepper, cut into small cubes

1 bay leaf

1/2 tsp cumin seeds

1/4 tsp turmeric powder

1 tsp cumin powder

2 tbsp coriander powder

1/2 tsp garam masala

6 tablespoons olive oil (more the better!)

Salt to taste

Lettuce leaves to serve, washed and soaked in cold water (to retain their crisp)

Optional toppings: Sour cream, freshly chopped coriander, lemon juice

Method

Heat oil in a non stick pan. Add the cumin seeds, bay leaf, chilies, ginger and garlic and cook for a few minutes till the seeds begin to splutter.

Add the onion, along with a little salt (to help them sweat), and cook till the onions start to brown. Add the red & green peppers, tomatoes and all the dry spices. Mix well, let it simmer covered on medium-low flame for around 10-12 minutes, till the tomatoes are soft (crush them with the back of your spatula), fully cooked and oil begins to separate from the sides. Once the raw taste of tomatoes has disappeared, add the chicken, cover and cook on medium heat for another 10-15 minutes, or till the chicken is cooked through. Remove cover, turn up heat and saute till all excess liquid is absorbed. You want the spices and gravy to coat every piece of chicken. Adjust salt, and garnish with some fresh coriander.

When ready to serve, pat dry the lettuce leaves and add 2 generous spoonfuls of chicken keema on each leaf. Top with fresh coriander, sour cream and a dash of lemon.

For a traditional version, serve over rice. Sticky rice is my favourite!