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 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.

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!

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)

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!