Green Beans Sabji & Hummus Bruschetta [Vegan]

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

As you can tell, I am a storyteller.

And my cheffing business created endless stories. That of a couple who met over a dinner and later told me about their engagement, and that of the chef who hired me for an event but disappeared without paying me, or of the time a (jet lagged) dinner guest fell asleep on my couch…But the one that I love telling the most is about a challenge.

Around late 2014, during my 2nd year as a dining experience host, there was a particular lady guest who wrote to me continuously for a few weeks, saying she had heard a lot about my supperclubs, her friends had been and loved it, and she had been wanting to try. However, she had a problem- she hated Indian food, and wasn’t quite sure if she should book. Baffled me. But I admired her honesty and keenness to try something out of her comfort zone. I had advised her that whilst I couldn’t promise the meal won’t have predominant Indian flavours, I could guarantee that it would be nothing like a regular Indian restaurant meal. In fact, that it was a modern take on the cuisine in the form of a tasting menu, and was meant to appeal to those who were apprehensive. I also offered that I would give her a refund shall she absolutely hate it. And left it at that. Two weeks later, a lady turned up at one of my dinners, and said she had written to me a few times - oh gosh, HER! My nerves wavered a bit. If she was indeed coming, I would’ve liked a warning (most folks who booked were strangers and I rarely knew who would turn up at my table on a particular night) so I could customise the menu. The chef in me gave a cry, but the host in me stood strong. I ran my show as per normal, hoping she wouldn’t gag or run out. Instead, I was delighted that she actually enjoyed herself. She did, however, make a passing mention that she hated green beans, and glad the meal didn’t contain any. I was both relieved and proud after the dinner. It was a brimming clean up session after with a fair few glasses of wine! Those moments after a supperclub were always full of reflection, calm & gratification. I used to absolutely love that ‘dinner-after’ feeling.

A few months later, I got another message from the same lady. She wanted to come back. And this time bring along some friends including her new fiancee. She was a convert- hurrah! The accomplishment I felt cannot be expressed in words. But I had a challenge on hand - to bean or not to bean. I crafted up a menu, greeted her and her friends and set about plating. The night flew by as swiftly as the wine, and as my regular tradition, I spent the last course on the table with the guests, asking their favourite course from the menu. When it came to her, she said, “The last one! the flavour was something I’ve never eaten before and it worked so well with the sticky rice”. I laughed and stood up. I then revealed, “That was a green bean korma…..”. She bowed, as she had promised she would for anyone who could ever make her like green beans. It was a night that ended in many laughs.

I have told this story many a times during my dinners. I love it. Not because it makes me proud, but it re-asserts that what I tell everyone - don’t be afraid to try new things, because you won’t know when life and flavours surprise you.

And although I don’t have that korma recipe today, I do have another with green beans. I hope that lady, wherever she is, will come across this and give it a try. To everyone else, go try something out of your comfort zone today. And fingers crossed there won’t be a chef lurking around ready to fool your taste buds!

Ingredients

For the beans sabji

2 cups green beans, sliced thin

1 medium potato, peeled and diced (optional)

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 small tomato, finely chopped

1/2 tsp cumin seeds

1/2 tsp cumin powder

1/4 tsp turmeric powder

2 tbsp coriander powder

1/4 tsp red chili powder

4 tbsp olive oil

Salt to taste

For the Hummus

1 can of cannelloni beans, drained

2 cloves of garlic

1/2 tsp garam masala powder

1/2 tsp paprika

3 tbsp olive oil

Salt & pepper to taste

Others

Crostini or a good baguette, cut into thin slices

Method

Make the sabji

Heat oil in a non stick pan. Add cumin seeds and wait for them to splutter. Add onions + a little salt, and cook till they soften and start to look translucent. Add tomatoes + all remaining dry spices. Mix well and cook covered till tomatoes are tender and oil begins to separate from the edges. Now add the beans and potatoes, and cover and cook on low-medium heat. Let the beans get a little tender and the potatoes to cook through- will depend on the quality of your potatoes, but approx 10-12 minutes. Remove cover, turn heat to high, and dry any excess liquid. Remove from heat and keep aside.

Make the hummus
Heat oil in a pan. Add the garlic and cook till it browns. Now add the cannelloni beans + all spices and cook on high heat till the beans brown a bit. Cool and blend smooth in a blender. Add a little oil to make smooth if the hummus seems too dry.

Put it together

Spread a little hummus on each crostini or baguette (if serving immediately, toast the baguette a bit). Top with some green beans sabji, and garnish with crushed pistachios. A crowd pleasing vegan appetizer thats so creamy and flavourful!

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 Bunny Chow

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

No bunnies were hurt during the creation of this recipe. Only waistlines were expanded.

By now, you are half way through my life, and know a bit about my journey. You must have also realised that this Hong Kong chapter has little to do with local food or inspirations, and more about the adopted in-law country. In truth, I ate a ton of local food during this time, but experimented with little. Hong Kong was a mentally, professionally and personally heavy (yet lovable!) time, and I was focussed on re-creating myself after the biggest blow life had thrown me. In typical Hong Kong style, we worked late, ate out a lot, and explored the amazing hikes in and around the city. It helped me heal.

In 2011 we got married. We had - not 1, not 2, but 3 weddings. How did I survive it you ask? Well, our mantra was to worry less about the details (as the family would do that for us regardless) and more about who we surround ourselves with. We had a big fat Indian wedding, a big fat South African reception and a registration party in Hong Kong. With fewer formalities and more loved ones, they were all perfect and heaps of fun - at least for us. I told you I was the rebel in the family!

When we arrived in South Africa in March 2011 (my 2nd trip ever), I was determined to make this one a positively memorable one….and stay away from beer ;). My husbands’ cousin was taking us out for lunch the day before the reception, and he mentioned Bunny Chow. Bunny what! OMG I squealed, “I would NEVER eat a cute little bunny”. Laughter. So I learnt through my ignorance that Bunny Chow involves no bunnies, and in fact, originated as a vegetarian meal amongst the Indian community in Durban. After all the ‘shaadi ka khana (wedding cuisine) in India, I was so very happy to try something different for a change.

Back in the day, when land workers immigrated to South Africa, they needed an easy way to carry their lunch to the fields. Their wives wondered how to provide them a filling, nutritious meal that would consist of familiar Indian curry-based home food, but yet be easy to pack and eat in the open without utensils. Indians are known to be creative in times of need - ’jugaad’ as we call it - that loosely translates into ‘makeshift’. Thus came the idea to the wives club - they hollowed out big loaves of bread, and used that as a bowl to pack the curry in. When the farmers opened their lunch, not only did they not need additional bowls, but the curry soaked through the bread wonderfully and made for a delicious, satisfying lunch. Originally, this was done with vegetarian curries like beans and potatoes, but over time has been adapted to include the more of the favourites like chicken and mutton curries.

Durban definitely does Bunny Chow the best - thanks to the big Indian community. So the cousins and us headed towards a locally Indian market, made our way through the spice and fish shops, and landed up in a tiny hole in the wall that boasted the “Best Bunny in Town!”. I was skeptical at first - I mean how many eateries claim to do ‘the best’ of something worldwide! But, I was not disappointed. I ordered a chicken version and asked for it to be mild (given my experience of South African spice levels!) - it was still hot, but soooo delicious that I just couldn’t stop eating it. We laughed about having to alter my reception dress for the next day. That moment was life changing in many ways - I discovered that bread does go well with curry (something I always ridiculed the husband for!), that I could tolerate more spice in things that were too good to stop eating, and that there is yet another Indian South African foodie gem that I had to try making at home.

Several years after, I still continue to make mini versions of that Bunny Chow at home, with a variety of fillings. Our favourite veg version has been this one, with chickpeas, that I share with you today.

Also, true to its claim, that little stall in Durban’s Indian market is the best Bunny I’ve ever had… till today.

Ingredients

For the chickpeas

2 cups chickpeas, boiled

2 large plum tomatoes, finely chopped or blended to a paste

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 green chili, sliced lengthwise

2 tsp ginger garlic paste

1 medium courgette (zucchini), diced (optional)

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp cumin powder

½ tsp turmeric powder

2 tbsp coriander powder

1 tsp garam masala

1 tbsp South African Indian masala (optional). Can be replaced with 1 tsp red chili powder

6 tbsp light olive oil (or more, let’s not get skimpy here!)

Salt to taste

For the raita (yogurt dip)

1/2 cup full fat yogurt

1/4 cup sour cream (optional)

1 small carrot, grated

1 small green chili, finely chopped

Some fresh coriander, finely chopped

1/4 tsp cumin powder

Salt to taste

Others

8-10 buns or dinner rolls

Method

Make the chickpeas: Heat oil in a non-stick pan. Add green chili, cumin seeds and ginger garlic paste and cook for a few minutes till the seeds start to splutter. Add onions and sauté on medium flame till the onions turn brown. Now add the tomatoes, along with all the dry spices. Cover on medium flame and cook till tomatoes turn tender and can be crushed with the back of a spoon. If using blended tomatoes, the raw taste should disappear and oil should start to separate from the edges (around 8-10 minutes).

Stir in the chickpeas and courgette, and cover and cook on medium flame for 10-12 minutes so the chickpeas absorb the flavours and the courgette is tender. Open cover, mix well and let it simmer for a few minutes to dry any excess liquid. We want the gravy to be thick and not runny. Garnish with fresh coriander and keep aside.

(For non-veg version, replace with chicken/mutton – add instead of chickpeas and cook for a little longer)

Make the yogurt: Beat the yogurt till there are no lumps, Mix all the ingredients for the raita, and keep aside.

Put it all together: Cut the top off your bread rolls. Scoop out the centre, making sure it doesn’t become hollow at the bottom, and create a bread bowl. Add the chickpeas into the bread bowl, top with some carrot raita and serve immediately. As with most of my recipes, skip the cutlery, and simply dive in with your hands.

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!

Chocolate Cherry Brownie Pudding

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

[Trigger alert- heavy content]

Everything happens for a reason. Even though you don’t see it in that moment.

In Sep 2007, I switched jobs and moved briefly to Hong Kong to be closer to the boyfriend. It was one of the boldest things I’ve done, since I had no idea where that relationship was going yet. In Dec 2007, after fully recovering from the accident (yes, it took a while!), my mum visited Hong Kong. I couldn’t wait for her to meet the boy. I was nervous, but the meeting couldn’t have gone better. We picked a seaside restaurant, ordered loaded nachos, dug in with our hands, and laughed so much. I was overjoyed.

One evening I asked my mum, “How do you know if someone is the one”. And she replied. “You never do really. The only thing you can do is test them in good and bad times. Good times are a ton and easy to test. It’s the tough times that are harder to find.” Little did she know that in a few weeks, she would prove her own statement wrong.

Jan 12, 2008. I can never forget the day. We had our first big couple fight. There was anger on both sides, and we’d planned to meet at a cafe at 4pm to talk it out. In retrospect, it wasn’t a big deal at all. We also had a pizza dinner + movie booked with some friends after. We met, chatted, and life seemed normal again. Pizza was delicious, and with a full belly we got on to the famous Hong Kong city tram for a little ride before the movie. 7pm, my phone rang. I glanced at my phone - it was mum. It was noisy, but I excitedly picked up and said “Guess where I am mummy!”. Silence. Dad spoke. I sensed something wasn’t right the minute I heard his voice on mums mobile. “Oh hi” I’d said “kya ho raha hai “ (what’s happening?). His voice was broken and barely audible. I only heard words “Shuchi…….mummy……robbery……murder”.

I must’ve collapsed because I don’t remember the next few hours. Or the next few weeks or months after that phone call. In a single instant, my entire life - our entire lives- had been turned upside down. In an instant a lot had been taken away. In an instant, I was numb.

I rushed to India with my brother, wishing every minute I would wake up to a dream. I can’t sum up the days or weeks that followed in any number of sentences, but I only remember I tried very hard to make sense of it all. I simply couldn’t. This is stuff you read in the news, it’s not real. It doesn’t happen to real families. Ah, but it does. The rest of 2008 is a complete blur. And all I remember now of those days are the people who were by my side.

My mum was a good person, the glue of the family, a simple & kind heart, an artist, the best cook, the queen of rescue recipes. She could’ve done much more in life, but decided to put family first. I concluded (after many years of the incident) that perhaps this was the challenge, the tough times, she needed me to test, in order to create my own family. Cruel.

I don’t talk about this. Ever. So it has been tough to pen it down. And as I relive that pain, I couldn’t think of a better recipe to commemorate her than one that is something sweet, and born out of disaster. An ungreased brownie pan, several broken brownies, and an accidental custard led me to create this ‘rescue’ pudding.

Take a bite. Hope it helps you see reason during the trying times in your life.

Ingredients

For the brownies

180 g semisweet dark chocolate, broken into pieces

100 g milk chocolate, broken into pieces

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

110 g unsalted butter

3 eggs

3/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

Dash of vanilla essence

3/4 cup whole wheat flour (Indian atta)

1 cup fresh ripe cherries, pitted and cut into pieces

For the cardamom milk creme

1.5 cups + 2 tablespoons whole milk

2 tablespoons condensed milk

3 green cardamoms, crushed

1 tablespoon corn starch or plain custard powder

Sugar to taste

Method

Make the brownies

(This is my classic brownie recipe, with a few substitutions - fresh seasonal juicy cherries in place of nuts/chocolate chips and healthier wholewheat flour (commonly known as Atta in India) instead of all purpose white flour)

Sift together the flour and salt and keep aside.

Preheat the oven to 350F / 180 C, and grease a brownie pan or mini muffin pan and keep aside. 

Melt together both the chocolates and butter on a water bath (i.e. in a pot placed over another pot of simmering water) till smooth. Mix in the cocoa powder & sugar, and mix well. Let the mixture cool a bit. Once cooled, add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. The mixture will begin to thicken and start to come together. Stir in the vanilla essence and finally add the flour + salt mixture. Mix just enough to incorporate the flour into the batter. Finally add the cherries, reserving some to sprinkle on top. 

Bake the brownies for 20-25 minutes, till a toothpick comes out almost clean, with little bits of cooked batter sticking to it. Unlike cake, if you wait for the toothpick to come out completely clean, the centre will overcook and dry out. Also, if you are using a mini muffin pan, they'll bake much quicker (under 20 minutes), so keep an eye (and nose!) out for them. You definitely do not want to over bake these - a brownie is only as good as it's fudgy centre! However, if you do over bake them, rest assured that this pudding will cover that flaw.

Once baked, cool the brownies to room temperature. These can be stored in airtight container for a week in cool weather. In summer, I'd store them in the fridge after 1-2 days.

Make the cardamom milk creme

In a deep pot, bring 1.5 cups of milk + condensed milk + cardamom to a simmer. Mix the corn starch or custard powder in 2 tbsp milk, and slowly add to the simmering milk. The mixture will begin to thicken. Reduce the heat to a low simmer, and let the milk thicken to half its initial volume. Discard the cardamom skins, adjust sugar, and pour the syrup in mini dessert cups, filling about 1/3rd. Reserve some for the top of the puddings. Refrigerate the cups to chill - the creme will thicken further.

When ready to eat, warm the brownies a little and crush them on top of the cardamom creme. Add more syrup on top. Enjoy the hot and cold, cherry, chocolate and cardamom, do a wonderful dance in your mouth!

Curried Palak (Spinach) Pistachio Pasta

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

By now, you know that my life in Singapore was less about cooking, and more about eating. To be expected from young university students right? But cooking was always in my veins. As I explored the food, somewhere deep down it took flavour roots that I would harness later.

In 2004, after my parents’ accident, I started my first job - a Graduate Trainee at an Investment bank. That year was a formative years in many ways. I transitioned from a university student to an independent, paid, employee. I rented my first apartment. That year I also visited London for the first time - as part of our bank training program. All trainees, across the globe, were brought together in London for a fully paid trip for 4 weeks. Oh joy- it was the biggest factor for my 21 year self accepting the offer. As I recall it was way less training and more networking (aka partying), and a blast of a way to begin a career. That was also the year I met my husband, although neither of us knew it then, or even paid much attention to each other. We met as mere colleagues - he was a Hong Kong trainee, and I was based in Singapore.

As we returned from London, and settled into the daily humdrum of life, my husband and I got to meet often in regional Asia trainings. We were always positioned as opposites, took varying stands, and healthily argued over professional case studies. We were both also in relationships of our own. Now that I think of it, perhaps that’s the healthiest way to know someone, as neither of us were trying hard or had an agenda. We were simply being ourselves. He is of Indian heritage, born and brought up in South Africa, so a lot of our social conversations revolved around differences in community, what it means to be Indian growing abroad, and what India was really like. I was drawn to these conversations. They were refreshing. He was so different to me in many ways, and yet held the same beliefs. Before long we started dating, and between late 2005 and 2007, life became a series of a plane trips between Singapore and Hong Kong. It was as exciting as life could get!

He was and never has been fond of cooking. But he sure likes good food. As our relationship grew, I realised the food he knows to be Indian was so different from mine. He didn’t understand or enjoy many vegetarian dishes I had grown up with, was never too big on experimenting with food, and claimed curry goes best with bread. Boy, did I have a challenge on hand! And I’ve always loved a challenge. So, for the first time in life, I started cooking properly. I cooked to show him the diversity of homemade Indian food and flavours, I cooked to show him that vegetables were much more than his boxed imagination, I cooked to expand his taste, I cooked to improve, and I cooked as it was simply fun to see his reactions.

One of the first things I discovered about him was his love for pasta. But it was always the same order -white or red sauce. So, in hope to explore more of the colour palette, one of the first meals I made when he visited me over a weekend in Singapore was Pesto Pasta. Green pasta?! I knew the raised eyebrows would be worth the effort. But I was also confident he would love it. Since I didn’t used to cook much back then, I wasn’t on point with quantities and measurements, and ended up making enough pasta to feed 20! That entire weekend we lived on pasta, and also took some for a friend’s BBQ. We laughed about it, he never complained and the rest is history.

It was the start of something memorable, but little did we know that a life altering challenge lay ahead of us. More of that in the next post…

Todays’ recipe is inspired by the copious amount of pasta I made for him that trip - it was a simple basil pesto + tons of cheese, copied out of a cookbook. But what’s the fun in sharing a recipe without a twist I say. So, today I give you my Indian-inspired version, with a creamy spinach and pistachio sauce and still….tons of cheese. Hope it brings you as much love and laughter as it did for us…

Ingredients

250 gm baby spinach, washed and drained

1 large tomato, diced

1 small red onion, diced

1/2 green pepper, diced

1 green chili, slit in half

1/4 cup shelled pistachios

1/2 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp ginger garlic paste

2 tbsp coriander powder

1 tsp cumin powder

1/2 tsp garam masala

1/4 tsp ground black pepper

1/4 tsp red chili flakes + more for sprinkling on top

3/4 cup sour cream

3/4 cup grated parmesan + 1/4 cup for sprinkling on top

4 tbsp light olive oil

3-4 stalks of coriander, finely chopped

1 packet pasta of choice, I used rigatoni

Method

Heat oil in a non stick pot. Add cumin seeds and green chili and cook till the seeds begin to splutter. Add the ginger garlic paste, and stir for another few seconds. Add onion + green peppers + some salt, and cook for a few minutes. Finally stir in the tomatoes + all the dry spices. Cook covered on medium heat till the tomatoes are tender and can be crushed from the back of a spoon.

Now add the spinach, coriander and pistachio, and cook just till the spinach wilts. Remove from heat and blend till smooth. Add a little water if needed. Although this mimics an Indian style palak curry, the key for adding it to pasta is not to cook the curry too much, as we will be baking it again later! Now mix in the sour cream & parmesan into the blended mixture, and mix well till the cheese is melted. Adjust salt, and keep aside.

Cook the paste in well salted water as per instructions on the packet, and drain. Stir in the sauce and transfer to an oven safe casserole. You can add veggies or sausage of choice on top here if you’d like. However, I kept it plain because it is already so tasty! Add parmesan on top, and bake at 200C for 15 minutes, till the edges of the pasta start to brown. Sprinkle with chili flakes on top, and enjoy steaming hot!

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)

Indian Street Food: Egg White Bun Omelette

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

You can take a child out of boarding school, but you cannot take the boarding out of a child.

In 1992, at the age of 9, I went to an all-girls boarding school in northern India. My brother was already in one for boys since 1990, and although they were different schools with little interaction, it was slightly relieving to know he was somewhere in the same town. Like all children, I had worked hard to get in and was excited that I was selected (mostly because it made my dad so happy!), although I don’t think I fully understood what was really happening. I just went with the flow - or rather didn’t have a choice. All I knew was that my parents were working very hard, saving and sacrificing, to be able to afford this for the both of us. And like all children, I was sad to go. I can only recall that the first few months (or perhaps years), were trying, to say the least.

At that age, there was nothing worse than seeing your parents walk away, and wave you a goodbye from outside the gates. I used to tiptoe as high as I could, and peek through the iron bars till I saw the last of my mums fluttering ‘dupatta’ (Indian clothing) walk away. I held back my tears every.single.time, because no parent wants to leave their child crying. It would just be easier for them. So I swallowed my feelings, and then let them all go on my dormitory bed.

My first bed was close to a window, and that gave me some comfort. There were girls’ who came from far, and those who lived nearby. Those who were unhinged that they were all alone in new surroundings, and others, like me, who let their feelings overwhelm them in the calm of the night. There were girls who broke rules, and those who drowned themselves in their studies. There were girls who were kinder than others, and those who had no visitors for months. As such, boarding school was my introduction to life.

In the years that I grew up, the one thing that I always felt grateful for was how connected my parents tried to remain with us while away. My mother wrote to me once a week (yes, this was way before internet and emails!) and made me promise that I would too. Sometimes a tear would drop on my letter, causing a smudge, and her next letter would have a long excerpt about how much fun we’d have when they visit - which would be very soon. How did she know?! They also always kept their promise to visit us once a month and, while I was only permitted to see them for a day, I took salvage in the realisation that many children never saw their loved ones at all through the term- so in a sense I was lucky. I felt loved and missed.

On such ‘outings’ (as they were called), my brother and I were forever starved. All we wanted to do was eat all of our favourite foods, snuggle with them and as for me, tell them a pile of stories that I had been saving for the day. On one such outing, while smacking our lips over a warm, oozy, slightly spicy bun omelette from a street side vendor, I started crying. When nudged for the reason, I revealed that I hated the eggs in school (reminded me of stale rubber), and had been going hungry most breakfasts. My dad was concerned. They had selected a “non-vegetarian” meals for me in school, but that meant meat & eggs. You could select being vegetarian with egg, but strangely there was no option to be non-vegetarian without egg. So after a bit of back and forth with my school matron, it was agreed I would simply switch to be vegetarian. I could stay without meat, but anything to not eat those eggs again.

This story is central to my dislike for eggs, which remained deeply engrained in me for many many many years. In fact, I truly only re-discovered them again when pregnant in 2015. And when you discover (good) eggs, there is no turning back.

Looking out on a grey rainy day, reminds me of that very school outing, and the day I officially broke up with eggs. It was a strange milestone, but a milestone nonetheless.

Bun Omelette, true to it's name, is a soft bread roll smothered in butter and stuffed with the most delicious, spicy, veg-filled omelette ever. It's a common street food in Northern India (although not the most hygienic!) and provides a great, cheap snack for many on the move.

Years later, when I started eating eggs again, I tried and tested many versions that wouldn’t make me gag. This egg-white bun omelette is surely one of them.

Ingredients

For the Omelette

3-4 egg whites (also delicious with whole eggs if you prefer. Use 2 eggs if using whole)

4 cherry tomatoes, halved

1/4 small onion, finely chopped

1 green chili, chopped

½ cup baby spinach leaves, roughly torn

Some fresh cilantro, finely chopped

½ teaspoon chaat masala (optional-available at most Indian grocery stores)

A pinch of turmeric

A pinch of garam masala (available at most Indian grocery stores)

2 tablespoons light olive oil

2 tablespoons aged cheddar or gouda cheese, grated

Salt & pepper to taste

Others

1 Bread Roll (I used Challah, but you could any soft buns or rolls of choice)

Butter to toast

If you have, cilantro chutney, sriracha mayo or your favourite hot sauce

Method

Beat the egg whites lightly with a pinch of salt and pepper. Keep aside.

Heat oil in a non-stick frying pan. Once hot, add the chilies, tomatoes & onions, with a pinch of salt. Cook till the onions are translucent and the tomatoes are soft enough to crush. Stir in all the dry spices, and cook for a quick few seconds. Add the spinach & cilantro, and cook till the leaves wilt. Add the beaten egg white, stir a little and then let it set. Once set, flip it over, and sprinkle with grated cheese and fold in half. Let the egg cook completely on both sides on medium-low heat. And it really doesn't matter if the omelette looks imperfect or breaks! The flavour will all itself in the mountain of veggies and spices we added.

Put it together

Cut the buns in half. Butter them (generously!) and put face down on the same pan you cooked the egg. Lightly toast each half, and then remove from heat. Add a teaspoon of cilantro chutney/hot sauce/sriracha mayo on one half, followed by the omelette, and close with the other half. Cut into half and enjoy warm with your hands - please no forks and knives here! A cup of masala chai on the side never hurts.

Smoked Aubergine (Bharta) Wontons

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

Why do we have selective memories?

It’s somewhere between 1986 - 1992. I wish I could remember every moment, but alas, I don’t. I do however, remember the many food gatherings and parties my mother hosted, mostly because she was so damn good at them. She was definitely the socialite of the family! And I recall the menus she put together, the dishes everyone raved about and were repeated for most get togethers, and oh…her table settings. Not your usual sit-down table, because in those days in India, men and women usually ate at separate times (men first of course!). And the easiest way to enable this was to put the food out as a buffet. Her buffet came complete with vegetable ornaments, dressed dishes, fancy napkins and flowers. I sometimes laugh when I think back now, because surely the men who hit the food first didn’t notice most of it!

She was a stay-at home mum all her life, but had spent much time with courses such as flower decoration, vegetable carving, painting and baking. She was an artist at heart. I sometimes helped her with flowers cut from vegetables (radish and cucumber roses were my favourite), and loved dunking them in iced water so they would “bloom” and stay fresh ahead of the party. Little did I know back then that these tasks were slowly embedding themselves in my mind, as the foundation to good plating and hosting.

While she got dressed to showcase her hard work to the guests, I hovered over the table, peek inside lids and covers, and work up my appetite. There was always a chicken dish, and a fancy salad or raita (yogurt dip) and several vegetables. But the smell I miss most, the one I adored, was the burnt smoky smell of a good ‘baingan bharta’.

Baingan bharta or smoked curried Aubergine/Eggplant (called Brinjal in India) was not an everyday dish in our home. Mainly, as it takes a few steps to prepare. It has to be smoked on an open flame till the skin falls off. Then cooled, mashed, and slow cooked with indian spices for a deep earthen and spicy-smoky flavour. It needs patience [and a good scrub of the stove after!]. So she saved these for ‘special occasions’. I can still hear her coy giggles when everyone complimented the food.

I miss those days…

People say you cook to feed. I say you cook to feel. Years later, while living in Hong Kong, I dug up that smoked memory and started experimenting with this dish just to be transported back to those simpler times. And my now mature tastebuds surprisingly found the flavours to be quite versatile - going beyond the regular Indian rice and bread pairing.

This recipe is a re-incarnation of those happy days and my mum’s dinner tables, albeit in a new form. I have taken inspiration from my days in Asia, and paired the baingan bharta with wonton wrappers for a little crunch. However, you can most definitely enjoy it traditionally with rice or flatbread as well. It also tastes delicious on toasted bread.

Ingredients

1 large aubergine

1/2 onion, diced

1 tomato, finely chopped

1 green chili, slit lengthwise

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 tsp grated ginger

1/4 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp cumin powder

1 tbsp coriander powder

1/4 tsp garam masala

5-6 wonton wrappers (store bought)

3-4 tbsp sour cream to serve

3 tbsp light olive oil + more for frying the wrappers

Salt to taste

Fresh chopped coriander to garnish

Method

Fry the wonton wrappers and keep aside.

Cook the aubergine on an open flame, turning it every few seconds, till it collapses, the skin chars, starts to fall off, and you see the juices being released and drip all over your clean stove top. As you keep turning it, it should take 8-10 minutes for all sides to be cooked through. Keep aside in a bowl to cool.

Once cooled, peel off and remove the burnt skin and mash the remaining aubergine with a fork.

Heat oil in a non stick pan. Add cumin seeds and cook for a quick minute. Add ginger, garlic and green chili. Add the chopped onions, a little salt, and cook till they turn translucent. Now add tomatoes, and all the dry spices and mix well.

Cover and cook on medium flame till the tomatoes are cooked through, and oil begins to separate from the sides. Now stir in the mashed aubergine.

Cover and cook for a few minutes for the flavours to merge (remember the aubergine is already cooked so doesn’t need much time). Remove cover, turn flame to high, and saute till any excess liquid is dried off. I always saute a bit extra as I love my dishes as braised possible. Adjust seasoning, and turn off the heat. Garnish with chopped coriander.

When ready to serve, layer the wonton wrappers with a little aubergine, and top with a dollop of sour cream. Forget the cutlery and devour this with your bare hands. I promise it will not disappoint!