Are you sweet for Mithai?

I have discovered the sugary world of Indian sweets (mithai). I must have bought about 4 or 5 boxes containing my own selection from the glittering, colourful counters, aiming to try all of them – for research of course. But by the time I have brought them home, tried each of the different ones and intensely discussed which ones were best, what they were called and re-told the comedy moment in the shop, as there is always one... they are gone.

My excuse is they have to be consumed within two days, being made from fresh and unadulterated ingredients. However, sneaky nibbles and midnight tastings at the fridge means they quickly eaten before I can take photos of the beauties, or even remember what they were.

So, I promise to delve into the seemingly polarised world of Indian mithai... if only for the chance to return for both the funny story of what happened when I bought them, and the intense milky fragrant sweets to devour alone.

Indian Cookery Classes

Indian food is an ancient and varied cuisine, totally dependent on the region, terrain, and weather from where it originates. Ingredients, cooking methods and accompaniments vary enormously as you travel from north to south, let alone east to west... So it was essential for me to enrol on some cookery classes on arrival in New Delhi, to try and begin my education of in Indian cookery.

Researching extensively before I left the UK, I found only a handful of classes in Northern India, and cruising the internet forums and foodie websites, I came across very few in Delhi. Most of the cooking schools featured foreign cuisine classes such as Italian, Lebanese, Spanish and Thai, or speciality skills such as cake baking and decorating – not what I was looking for.

However, further digging led me to Gourmet Desire in South Delhi, where I now live. Jyoti, a passionate home cook took two of us through some essential Indian ingredients, and then demonstrated northern Indian dishes on the free standing gas hob on her sheltered balcony. Armed with some very loose recipes – I think Indian women are born with the essential family recipes inscribed on their brain - I began my culinary adventure.

Indian women have always learnt to cook from their mothers and / or mother in laws, involved in food preparation for the family from an early age. Clearly there is no need for a cookery class if you are on a permanent food education at home. However, with modern times banging at the sub continents doors, fewer and fewer young women are learning to cook, choosing to study or work instead. When I was recently in my local market, searching for our favourite dosa mix, 2 Indian women asked me what I planned to do with it. “I’ll make Masala Dosa” I replied slightly amused by the question. “Whaaaat, you cook dooosaaa?” cooed the two ladies. “I don’t know how to make dosa” one laughed, “wow” said the other in admiration as I walked away with my new found foodie respect.

In the end, due to the lack of Indian courses available, I created my own schedule of “teach yourself Indian cookery”. Then, just in the nick of time, Amita called with a space on her last class before summer I had enquired about when I arrived. With my new found foodie guru I have learnt more than I could have wished for; rich Mughal influence north Indian dishes; lighter never tasted before southern ones; kashmiri home cooking; ingredients, names, cooking methods and history.

So if you are looking for Indian cooking classes in India, here is the benefit of my research. Whilst I haven’t tried all of them out, I was willing to part with cash if I had to... and they also had great reviews elsewhere. Make the decision for yourself, and if you try any, let me know what it’s like – there is always more to learn when it comes to Indian food.

Cooking with Amita - Delhi

Gourmet Desire - Delhi

India on the menu – Goa

Nimmy Paul – Kerala

Haritha Farms – Kerala

And just for the record, they will all happily take people with dietary requirements.

Old Delhi Spice Market

Even before I arrived in India, I had a longing to see and smell the Spice Market of Old Delhi. A thriving wholesale market at the heart of the North Indian spice trade, merchants come from all over the country to buy the sacks of chillies, turmeric, cloves and lentils for their own shops and restaurants. My Indian foodie guru whisked me from the relative peace and quiet of New Delhi into the choc-a-block heart of Old Delhi via the serene air conditioned metro which spat us out onto Chandi Chowk. Translated it means “Moonlit Square” and is the main street of Old Delhi built by Mughal King Shah Jahan’s favourite daughter as a prestigious thoroughfare from their palace (Red Fort) to their place of worship (Jama Masjid – India’s largest mosque). Lined with grand merchant residences and shops along the way it was grand and peaceful heart of the city.

Fast forward to what is now Old Delhi and the place retains that old world feel. I love the magic, energy, hustle and bustle of the real working market – there’s no show put on for tourists here. Millions go about their business amongst a tangle of electricity cables, chai wallahs, cycle rickshaws, mopeds, porters and of course the odd cow.

As our rickshaw weaved expertly through the assorted traffic, we passed tiny shops proudly stuffed full of Indian crafts – saris, spices, sliver, stainless steel, wedding utilities and fabric galore. Left over from the old days, this old walled city is divided into product related bazaars – Kinari Bazaar (Wedding Market), Nai Sarat (Books and Stationary market), Dariba Kalan (Jewellery Market), Katra Neel (cloth market) and my favourite Khari Baoli Asia’s biggest spice market, perched at the end of Chandi Chowk.

The road which forms the spice market area is lined with narrow shops full of spices, tea, stainless steel cookware, nuts, dried fruits and rice available to buy in smaller quantities. Alongside these ingredients an eclectic mix of things are also for sale - pure almond oil used by Indian ladies as a moisturiser, natural loofa to scrub the city’s grime away, kitsch cloth bags to carry your shopping home, and gigantic terracotta pumice stones to smooth flip flopped feet.

After buying all of these for an insanely small amount of money, we darted into a dark archway and were slapped in the face by the intense aromas of chilli and cloves. This was the true wholesale market where merchants sell only one ingredient in various qualities by the sack load. Walking up some dark, grimy steps, we dodged the young boys lugging heaving sacks downstairs to arrive on a large veranda and a view of Indian spice wholesale in all its glory. Up here, amongst the old Havelis from hundreds of years ago, but now in tatters and wrapped in the workings of the spice centre, you could just see how grand this city and market once was.

All around us, sacks and sacks of spices were being stored, moved and sold. One merchant sold only cloves, and the variety in quality was incredible when inspected side by side. After much encouragement from my Indian Foodie Guru he agreed to sell me a small amount – perfect for my pilauo – a neat 500g!

Further along, chilli merchants sat alongside native dried mushroom sellers as sacks continued to be moved from storage along the narrow balcony to transport carts down stairs. The sight was incredible, some of the ingredients unrecognizable, and the smell got right in your eyes and up your nose.

Once I had drunk it all in, it was time to shop. The quality is second to none at this market and prices so cheap they seem unreal, so I made the most of the trip and my guide asking what every odd ingredient was and how to use it. Lotus seeds – which make a good fried snack like popcorn, sundried spiced lentil balls – used to bulk up pilau, dried mango slices to make amchoor, pickles made to ancient family recipes, and sela rice used for big suppers as it doesn’t stick...

Exhausted by the heat and thrum of the city, we were in need of refreshment so headed to the stainless steel merchant, as shopping in the Indian fashion guarantees a drink and a seat in the shade of the shop. I had a list of essential Indian equipment to buy, so as we rest our weary legs, my purse took a beating instead. Paneer press, double lidded masala tin, milk urn, karahai (similar to a wok), pestle and mortar, tiffin, and nimboo juicer... Before leaving I had to nip out to buy 2 canvas bags (decorated with kitsch Indian advertising) to have some chance of carrying all our goodies back home.

As the day heated up, and pedestrian traffic expanded, loaded with spices, stainless steel and all manner of strange ingredients, we joined the masses heading back to the metro and its air conditioning. Possibly my best day in India yet, I vowed a return to Khari Baoli Spice Market, if only to drink in the sights and smells all over again.

How to use a pressure cooker

Using a retro piece of kit like a pressure cooker may seem like a bit of a faff, but I have to admit that I am a complete convert (although this could be due to the luxury of not working here in India and “running the home”). However, particularly in these cost and environment conscious times, pressure cooking is a great way to cook cheap ingredients (dried beans, pulses, lentils, slow cooking meat cuts) using much less energy and water. And whilst I remain a little jumpy at the Indian pressure cooker whistle, I know I will continue to use it for all the authentic Indian recipes I have learnt here (rajma, channa pindi, channa dal, mossor dal to name a few).

I have an old fashioned model, the cheapest and most straight forward to use (if you don’t like the look or cost the new digital style ones). Using this type, as my mother did when I was a child also means you have people to ask when you get a little uncertain about its behaviour.

So here are some guidelines for how to use a pressure cooker, but please note: these are mere guidelines, and you should always refer to the manufacturer’s instructions. Living in India, where everyone uses one and knows the intricacies how they work, my instructions were a little basic ... so much of this is based on my own learning, mistakes and frantic google-ing.

• First of all don’t be scared of it. Know that it will make a racket and with all the safe guards on even the most basic models, it is extremely unlikely to explode!
• Ensure that the rim of the pan is free from dents as this will affect the seal
• Ensure the rubber seal is intact and dry
• Ensure the hole through which the steam comes is clean
• Ensure the weight is clean and its holes are clean
• Have a timer / phone / alarm to hand for accurate cooking times
• Ensure you have the right amount of water to solids so that the ingredient doesn’t dry out and there is enough steam to release the pressure. Use this site for guidance and the amounts I often work further on
• Make sure the handle of the pan is secure (mine comes undone every now and again) and affects the pressure
• When you are ready to pressure cook, secure the lid on the pan as instructed and put on a high heat to bring the liquid to a boil
• When there is a gentle jet of steam (not a gushing of lentil water, as in my first attempt) place the weight on top of the spout ensuring it is firmly in place with a click (or not so much of a click like my baby Indian version). Run you hand above the spout and you should feel a stream of air.
• Leave the pan on a high heat and in a few moments the weight will start to wobble and spurt. Leave it alone (this was the moment that I got really scared and chickened out). You must wait for the “whistle”.
• Only when you get a right old spurt of steam coming from underneath the weight or a “whistle” should you then turn the heat down to a low setting.
• My Indian pressure cooker makes no whistle at all, only a noisy spurt, but I believe others actually whistle.
• Leave the Pressure Cooker to cook as long as required.
• You may get water or cooking liquid coming out from the weight, but this is ok.
• Mine “whistles” every 30 seconds or so, but I believe (or rather hope) the bigger ones are slightly less often.
• When the time is up, turn off the heat and remove the pressure cooker from the hob.
• DO NOT TRY TO OPEN THE LID. Leave the pressure cooker to cool down and pressure release until no pressure is released.
• This should take about 20-30mins but you can check the by lifting the weight GENTLY with the tip of the knife. If it’s still spurting steam, leave it alone.
• Most recipes include the cooling down time as part of the cooking time, as the ingredients are still under pressure and therefore still cooking, so it’s best not to try and rush this phase as you may end up with half cooked beans.
• Once the pressure has all gone, undo the lid and check you ingredient is cooked. If not, you can replace the lid and repeat the whole process again until what you are cooking is complete.

Water measurements and pressure cooking time for 1 cup of ingredients:
Chickpeas : 3 ½ cups of water - cook for 30mintues
Rajma (kidney beans) : 3 ½ cups of water - cook for 30mintues
Channa dal (chickpea dal) : 3 cups of water - cook for 30minutes
Arhar dal (yellow dal) : 3 cups of water - cook for 10minutes
Urad dal (black lentil) : 2 ½ cups of water cook for 30minutes

Note: Using 1 litre of milk to make paneer gives you just over what you need to make dal with the whey using 1 cup of lentils.

Goan Holiday Food

I have just returned from a week’s holiday on the palm fringed beaches of Goa. To anyone planning to go at this time of year, a word of warning - May to October is low season. The ubiquitous beach hut restaurants pack up in June and their licences prevent a return until October. This is because the monsoon season is approaching, when the rain lashes the coconut trees, floods the paddy fields and keeps all but Indian tourists at bay. Thankfully we managed to get to Majorda Beach as the rains were approaching Kerala to the south, and the beach shacks celebrated their last week of the season.

Goa’s beaches are a different beast without their huts, and in Majorda, south of state capital of Panjim, we walked on wide expanses of clean, white sand dotted with three remaining places to eat. On our first day sheltering in the shade of the “Vodaphone hut” – a shack with oh so subtle advertising - we lingered over glass of the freshly made national soft drink nimboo pani. Made from the juice of fresh Indian lemons (which look like yellow limes) with water or soda, it is served sweet or salty depending on your tastes. Unable to face moving in the midday heat, our refreshments turned into lunch as we watched the local water buffalo cool off in the estuary, wishing we could do the same.

Lunch was Goan Chicken Xacuti – the only local dish on the menu, but this curry made with white poppy seeds and coconut gave us enough energy to eventually take a lazy walk back to our little guest house in the village. Being “off season” many of the local restaurants were firmly closed, so most evenings we ate at our residence. Settled on the veranda of the restored traditional Goan house, we often ate a menu of Western meals as was the taste of the British owners. Sitting in an evening of tropical humidity eating steak and mashed potato was a strange experience – especially as it was our first taste of beef in more than 3 months – and I was hoping to experience the local Goan food.

As a consequence of the long history of tourism, most of the restaurants we tried in Goa served every cuisine going except its own. Alongside the Chinese, North Indian, English and Mexican dishes, the most local thing available was the seafood. Anyone who has been to this tiny state, dreamily recalls the fresh prawns, king fish, pomfret and lobster they have eaten for just a few rupees. We devoured more than our fair share of king and tiger prawns simply served in butter and garlic, Portuguese Piri Piri sauce or Recheiado (a red masala spices including dried red chillies and black pepper in vinegar) but I continued my search for something even more authentic.

Keen to explore the region, we hired a driver for the day to visit the churches of Old Goa and the state capital Panjim (Panaji). After admiring the beautiful Churches and remains of the Portuguese reign we drove along the river to the capital for lunch.

Recommended by my Indian foodie Guru – we arrived at Mums Kitchen gasping for air conditioning and some authentic Goan Food. Their misson is “A move to save Goan Cuisine” and they are doing this through collecting Goan family recipes from mothers, no longer being handed down through the family, to create a true “Mums Kitchen”.

Sat at the Portuguese style tiled table with an ice cold glass of Indian wine I spent a good while deciphering the menu of unfamiliar but local and traditional dishes. The use of chilli, pork and beef demonstrated the Portuguese influence on what was once a Hindu area. Whilst the use of coconut, beans, pulses and vegetable whispered of hearty peasant food – always a sign of good local food.

But I am a bad food blogger. I have lost the list of what we ate and the website only shows a portion of their menu. What I do recall was incredible fresh pineapple and coconut salad, moreish tiny fried milkfish, cauliflower in batter with onions (non gluten, but apparently AMAAZING!), followed by nutty unpolished rice, a dry black bean and coconut dish and something else that escapes me completely. It was one of those meals where we wanted to try everything on the menu and didn’t want the meal to end. It was truly delicious and different to anything else we have eaten in India.

Our day ended with a wander around the Portuguese quarter of Panjim, a snack of local baby bananas and a drive past the sea salt plains (also a dying breed). I have asked Mums Kitchen for a copy of their menu in a bid to learn about Goan food... but why not come to India, pass through Goa to taste local (and I must add Gluten Free) dishes and help Mums save the disappearing Cuisine.

Cooking Kidney Beans (rajma) in the pressure cooker

After a break from cooking, I have returned from holiday with renewed foodie vigour, determined to cook and learn as much as I can about Indian food whilst I am here. We have guests staying throughout the whole of June so this is the perfect excuse to get in the kitchen as I want to impress them by cooking up an Indian feast (and use them as my guinea pigs).

One of the dishes I have been served most often when eating in friends homes here is Rajma. The ultimate comfort food of spiced kidney beans in a tomato based chilli sauce infused with cinammon and black cardamom – like a Mexican dish with an India twist. The first time I cooked it using an unusual variety of kidney bean that was creamy white with little red splashes, which I ambitiously bought in a local organic shop on one of my food scouting trips. Three months later, I discover it cooks quicker than the common red kidney bean but is not traditional in this Kashmiri dish.

As I mentioned in previous posts, beans and pulses are sold here dried, so attempting this dish meant dragging out my favourite Indian cooking vessel – the pressure cooker. Kidney beans take about 30mins to cook so long as you have soaked them overnight in water. If you are in a rush, you can leave them for 2-3hours in boiling water (ie boiled water poured over the beans) and then cook for 50min in the pressure cooker. Luckily for me and my nerves (yes the spurting still makes me jump) I had remembers to soak my beans.

So, its a pretty simple dish, which I have cooked a couple of times but hasn’t once turned out like the home made versions I have tried so far. The women in my landlord’s family are having a Rajma battle, competing for his preferred dish ... I don’t think I will be entering my version yet, but at least I can now do 30minutes of pressure cooking feeling a little less rattled.

This recipe below comes from my honourable and knowledgeable teacher Amita Koshla (plus a few tweaks of my own) who has been teaching me everything I can absorb about Indian food. She runs fantastic cooking classes in Delhi through Domesteq and I would highly recommend a class if you are ever in Delhi.

RAJMA

Ingredients

1 cups of kidney beans

3 cups of water

2 tbsp cup oil

½ tsp cumin seeds

1” ginger ground to a paste

3 cloves of garlic crushed

1 large onion finely chopped

1 ½ cups tomato puree

Spices

2 bay leaves

4 black cardamom

2 sticks of cinnamon

2 tbsp coriander powder

½ tsp turmeric powder

½ tsp garam masala

½ tsp chilli powder (or to taste)

Fresh coriander to garnish

Method

Soak the beans overnight in a pan of water. Drain and pressure cook for 30minutes with salt and 3 cups of water.

Heat the oil in a large heavy based saucepan and fry the cumin seeds until they crackle.

Add the ginger and garlic and fry a little.

Add the onions and fry till they are light brown in colour.

Add the tomato puree with the whole spices (bay leaves, cardamom and cinnamon) and keep cooking till it starts leaving oil on the surface – about 15minutes on a high flame.

Stir in the turmeric, coriander, chilli powder and garam masala.

Add the boiled kidney beans and about two thirds of the cooking water to the masala and mix well.

Cook on a medium flame to simmer for about 20minutes until it thickens.

Garnish with fresh coriander and a sprinkle of garam masala

NOTES

For the tomato puree, you can use half fresh tomatoes, and half canned puree or all fresh if you have access to them.

If the beans are not sufficiently mushy, break some of them down with a masher or back or a spoon as this will help thicken the sauce.

For a speedy version, use tinned kidney beans.