The sun will come out! Tomorrow!

And today, too. It was so beautiful today that I got in a good two or three hours of basking in the gorgeous sun. I made adai for my friend who's staying with me until Monday, and a very fast curry of yucca, green beans, and tomato. We all ate until we were filled, and then finished it off with a bit of green oolong tea, from Sullivan Street Tea & Spices. They sell loose tea by the ounce, which means that I can buy just a little bit at a time, and use it up, and then go back for more.

I got some lovely messages of encouragement and hope, which really did help my mood tremendously. Also, I cooked for my friends yesterday night, which made it even nicer. It's such a nice day that I don't even mind opening the window and letting a bit of fresh air in.

I could certainly get used to this!

One of the ladies who came over for lunch took a picture of her plate of food so you could all see it too: http://instagr.am/p/ISL5sOk6f9/

Pretty, isn't it? The white stuff is my own coconut & soy milk yoghurt that I make. Isn't it so nice and thick? We ate the adai with the curried veg, the yoghurt, and some lime pickle that I'd made earlier last year. It's gotten this lovely tartness, mellowed out by a mild bitterness. It came out better than I expected. Thanks for teaching me how to make pickles, Amma. It's come in handy big time.

Here's a picture of two very happy vegans after eating all that food:

Do you get thrown off balance by weather?

I know I do.

I remember going to these 3-day anti-bigotry camps (both as a participant and as a counsellor). The youths would arrive mostly with feelings of fear and mild annoyance at the lack of basic amenities (the water smelled horrific, the food was just passable, and we weren't allowed TV, radio, headphones, mobile phones, or any other electronic device), and would leave not wanting to go home. More times than I can count, the last day would be raining. It's almost like the overall sadness was bringing out the worst in the weather.

The obverse tends to happen to me, without my even realising it. If it's damp and drizzly, I tend to feel low and mopey as well. Today is one such day, and I'm fighting the urge to give in to the malaise. It's tough though.

When it's bright and the sun is out, I'm generally in a good mood, and filled with energy. Even on those days when it's hot and the sun is out, I can find deep stores of pep inside me, and keep going. Cold weather makes me want to hibernate. And overcast, slightly drizzly days make me feel dragged down, big time.

If it's a proper storm, however, like we used to get back in Florida, I don't seem to have that same problem. I love to throw open the windows, smell the fresh breezes coming in, and listen to the claps of thunder and watch the flashes of lighting. The sheer vigour with which a proper rainstorm plies its craft is energising.

But today is drizzly, and I shall try my best to stay positive. Somehow.

Let's Make Pesarattu

This is what it looks like when it's cooked:

This is what it looks like when you first put it on the skillet. Notice how there are peaks that are still uncooked, like there were in the adai. When almost all of the peaks are turned to the cooked colour, you're ready to flip.

So you've mastered the dosa. You've knocked out a few adai. Now it's time to go outside of Tamil Nadu, and head over to Andhra Pradesh, where you will find Pesarattu. The recipe I used was loosely based on the #Vachef one, as well as a couple of others I saw.

Andhra is a beautiful state with a long and colourful history, replete with opposites. It's the nest of orthodox Muslims. It's quite a common sight to see a man walking along with a couple of women in full black burqa. It's also the home to very devout Hindus, one of whom built a temple completely out of white marble. Meanwhile, you've got the Charminar less than 10 km away from the Birla Mandir.

The Andhra taste for hot spicy food is legendary. They adore hot chilies in everything, and will generously share their blisteringly hot food with all who visit. There's also a bit of a sweet tooth, with dishes like bobbatulu (a sort of sweet roti), and kajjikayalu (a sweet stuffed with coconut and cardamom; there is nothing about this that sounds bad).

I guess I've always had a soft spot for Hyderebad, because my aunts who live there have an extensive book collection, which they had no problems sharing with me while I was there. You see, I was never a huge fanatic for TV the way some folks are. I'll watch it if there's a cooking show on, or if there's a particularly nice documentary, but TV overall doesn't interest me. Books, on the other hand, are a different story.

Unfortunately, books in India are prohibitively expensive. People with large book collections are rare in the extreme. Comics, on the other hand, are prevalent and plentiful. I remember an aunt of mine in Chennai who had stacks upon stacks of Amar Chitra Katha comics, ranging from the Bhagavad Gita (it was a large multi issue hard bound version) to a bunch of other ones that I can't recall.

It was pleasurable, but nothing quite scratched that reading itch for me like reading actual books. In Hyderebad, I found my oasis. I had read and re-read the books I'd brought with me (something like half my suitcase was crammed with books), and I was going a little out of my mind. My aunt's book collection at that time in my life when I was so hungry for more was exactly what I needed to make that trip pleasant.

But I digress. Onwards to the food!

This recipe makes 4 1/2 10-inch crepes. You may increase or decrease as needed. I made this batch in this manner, because I ran out of rice. Again. Ugh. I made these plain, without onion, because I ran out of onions too. I really need to go shopping.

3/4 cup mung beans, with the skin and everything still on
1/4 cup brown rice
3 TB rice flour
3 green chilies
3 stalks curry leaf
3 inches ginger, chopped roughly
Salt, to taste
2 cups Water, for soaking
Oil

In a high-sided container, combine the brown rice and mung beans, and cover with 2 cups of water for soaking. Leave it that way overnight. The next morning, your beans and rice should have absorbed all but about 1 inch of water. This is fine, because you'll be adding some rice flour to thicken anyway.

Using a stick blender (or regular blender), grind the beans, chilies, curry leaf, and ginger together to make a thick batter. Stir through the salt and rice flour. If the batter becomes too thick, add a bit more water, and stir through. Because of the high content of beans, the crepes cohere quite nicely, so don't worry if your batter is thick or thin. It'll be fine.

Just as you do for adai or dosa, spread the batter onto a hot griddle, and sprinkle a few drops of oil on the perimeter of the crepe. Cook on both sides until browned and crispy. Delicious!

Steve took one bite (even though he'd already eaten oatmeal this morning) and moaned in delight. The best part of this for me is that it was all things I had around the house. If you don't have curry leaves or green chiles, just leave it out. The ginger is essential, as the masses of beans in the dish will leave you a bit gassy. The ginger tends to combat that rather well.

You too can make it!

My friend from an online cooking forum named Kenn decided to try eating all vegan for the month of March as a challenge to himself. He bought a copy of my cook book, and has given some of the recipes a try. He graciously allowed me to show a picture of his efforts here, so that you all can look and enjoy the food photo.

The recipe, if you're curious, is the Eggplant Planks. He explained his process for making them on his blog. If you enjoy my style of cooking with lots of produce and fresh ingredients, and avoiding premade faux meats and the rest, give his blog a look, because he's doing exactly that kind of food. He also takes beautiful pictures of the food.

I wanted to highlight his take on my recipe for a reason: he did exactly what I encourage people to do! He took the recipes as a starting point, then tweaked to his liking until it became something that he could call his own. I never would have thought to add tomato sauce to gravy, but it sounds absolutely delicious! It is by experimenting with what you like in particular and then sharing the results that we all learn about food from each other.

I love getting feedback from my readers who tweak the recipe, because then I learn something new too! Thanks, Kenn. Thanks for the very kind words, and for the beautiful food.

Adai

Adai is a newly discovered thing in my house. My mum used to make it for me when I was a kid, but I didn't appreciate it so much, because I preferred dosa, which really is more kid-friendly. However, as of late, I've been making Pa Jeon, or Besan ka Puda, or those little Paniyaram. All of which are delicious, and all of which challenge my conceptions of what a savoury crepe type dealie should be. I especially was moved to change my mind about adai after eating some of the Besan ka Puda, as it's essentially the same thing, but made from the raw ingredients, and with the chance to ferment a little.

Traditionally, you do not have to ferment an adai batter. That's the charm of it in the first place. You can set the beans and rice to soak, and slap that bad boy onto the griddle immediately. I prefer my crepes a little more fermented, because I like the flavour better, so I decided to ferment. You may choose not to. The choice is yours.

I personally prefer it with the mix that I've come up with. You can actually alter the mix to your own likes and dislikes. If you don't have toor daal, use moong daal. If you don't have either, use split peas, and it'll get you there. The essential part is that you make it with at least equal parts lentil to rice.

Unlike dosa, Adai is not so popular for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it's more expensive by a long shot. Traditional dosa calls for a 4 parts rice to 1 part urad daal mixture. This means that if you buy the cheapest rice, and the urad daal on sale, you can generally knock out a batch for a family of six with very little money. Adai, on the other hand, calls for much higher quantities of lentils. In my version, there are even more lentils than rice!

For another thing, because of the heft and "stuff" found inside of adai, it's not as popular with the kids, who like the diaphanous and crispy dosa, because they don't have much chewing of little bits to get through, and they can easily eat a couple and feel comfortable. An adai, on the other hand, is filling. It tends to be one of those things that you can have one, maybe two of at the most. Because it's so nutritionally dense, you tend to feel full faster, and stay full much longer than if you were to eat a dosa.

Finally, it's not as amenable to being folded over. It's a hefty little crepe. You can't fold it easily like you can a dosa. It doesn't take to fillings so much as it takes to the stuff already folded into the batter.

All that being said, if you don't mind the extra expense of making adai, you will be greatly rewarded. For one thing, it's much easier to handle the batter grinding. Unlike dosa, you need not grind the rice and beans down to a fine puree. You can get away with a bit of grit in the batter. You can also add all kinds of different things to the batter, and still turn out OK. You can sub out part of the rice for oats, or buckwheat, or even millet and still turn out something that's very tasty. You can sub out the daal for actual whole beans, like mung beans or chickpeas, and it'll still be delicious.

You can also fold in an endless variety of add-ons into the batter. Adai batter is extremely forgiving. You have some leftover chopped onions from the main dish you were making? In it goes! You have some extra grated carrots from the salad? Throw it in! You like to boost up the nutrition value by adding ground flax seed (as I did in this recipe; flax seed isn't traditional, but it's most delicious)? The batter will be better! The sky's the limit with regards to the flavouring options.

Add to this the fact that you can serve it with any kind of sauce (mint, cilantro, tamarind-date), chatni (coconut, mango, tomato), or stew (sambhar, rasam, kootu)/vegetable (curry, poriyal) that your brain can think of, and you're talking about a very useful little dish to have on hand.

Bear in mind that I did this to suit my tastes, and you may want to leave out the optional ingredients. Don't worry. I won't be offended! I personally like the addition of the urad daal, because it helps to keep the batter stronger and more coherent. I like the flax seed, because it means that I can thicken the batter after grinding with plenty of water. My blender isn't very powerful, so I need to add extra water to get it all ground down to my liking.

For the batter:

1 1/2 cups brown rice
1 1/2 cups toor daal
1/2 cup urad daal (OPTIONAL)
1 TB fenugreek seed (OPTIONAL)
4 cups water

Soak the ingredients for the batter for 3 hours. If you're adding fenugreek seed, and using brown rice, like I am, soak it for 6 hours, and you'll end up with better results. If you're using urad daal, like I am, please only soak the urad daal for about an hour.

Then, after the soaking process is done, add the mixture into the blender, in 1 cup increments, with about 1 cup of soaking liquid at a time. The reason to go in small batches is so that you don't strain your blender. We're not in a rush here, and this recipe makes a large batch of batter.


At the end of the blending, you'll end up with a batter like the one pictured above.

At this point, if you're using the fenugreek seed, take the batter and set it into a container on your countertop to ferment overnight. If you're not bothering with the fenugreek, don't bother to ferment. The fermentation step is strictly because I like the taste of it, and because I wanted adai for breakfast the next day, and not dinner that night.

When you're ready to fry off the adai on your skillet, you can add in your additions.

Additions:

1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped ginger
1/4 cup chopped curry leaf
3 green chilies (OPTIONAL)
2 - 3 pinches of asafoetida (OPTIONAL, if not using onion)
1/4 cup flax seed (OPTIONAL)
Any other veg you'd like

Mix the additions into 4 cups of batter, and salt to taste. Grind the flax seeds in a coffee grinder until it's a powder. Stir it into your batter. You'll have a cup or two of leftover batter to use later. The batter will be very thick and should bubble a little bit if you fermented it overnight. If you need to, thin it out with a bit of water. You want it to resemble a thick and chunky pancake batter.


Because I didn't go shopping this week, I didn't have much in the way of additions. I wish I had some coconut to fold in. That would have been lovely. I just added the ginger, onion, and curry leaf.


Using a 1-cup ladle, pour the batter onto a hot skillet (heated over medium high heat), and spread the batter around in concentric circles until it's about 1/4 inch thick. Don't worry about getting it crepe thin. It's never going to be super thin, because of the add-ins. This is OK. I'm using a nonstick skillet, so that I don't have to add very much fat.

Using a squeeze bottle, or a small spoon, put a few drops onto the perimeter of your adai.

When to Flip?

Look at the picture of the adai after it's sat on the skillet for about 30 seconds (click the image if you want a larger version). Notice how most of the surface looks mostly translucent? Notice how some of the "peaks" look a much more opaque white colour? The opaque bits (that I've circled in the image) are still not cooked all the way through. You want the bottom of the adai to be browned, and the top to be almost completely cooked before turning. At this point, I've still got too many uncooked bits, so I'm not going to turn it over yet.

Finally, once the adai is mostly cooked on the side you can see, flip it over, and look at the other side:


Isn't that beautiful? Flip it over a couple of more times until it's browned to your liking, then serve.

Please, come out.

Steve!
I wanted to tell you (and Dino)...
A debate started up in my classroom today about gay rights. One of my students took a strong stand against it. I won't repeat what he said, because we've all heard it, and I was thoroughly disgusted. BUT, as I listened, and responded with the 'other side' in as calm a manner as I could manage, it dawned on me...
The most beautiful example of HUMANS I have is you two. So, I told him about two wonderful friends of mine who managed to make me cry for the first time after 13 years. At their wedding. In a church. (Gauntlet thrown, said I. ha.)

Know what he said when I was done? "Ms G, I think you just changed my mind. Because that's awesome."

I just wanted to share how you helped me open at least one very closed mind today.

to you and Dino!
xo
Kate

Just got an email from Steve, who saw this on his Facebook wall. I don't have a Facebook, so he forwarded me the message.

I don't know if I've shared this with too many of my readers before, so if it's new, welcome. If it's not, then settle in, because it's something that is important that people know. When you're young and gay, you think you're the only one. Nobody else could possibly understand you, because you don't know any other gay people in your life. Because of the disgusting things that hatemongering people have done over the years to make us feel unwanted, and like there's something wrong with us, we remain silent, and hope that nobody else can tell.

And when injustice happens, we fear to speak out about it, because standing up for gay people would make the nasty people assume that you're gay. So you quietly watch it happening, and say nothing, in the hope that they don't find out about this horrible secret that you are hiding.

It feels so good to be out to the world, and not make any apologies for who I am. Maybe it's not your cup of tea, but I'm not asking you to join in, am I? Katie's letter reminded me one of the reasons that it's so important for me to be out: because if I'm closeted, then I'm invisible, and some other person out there will likely feel invisible too. Some other person who doesn't have my family, or my friends, or my wonderful and loving husband to support and care for and love me. Someone whose family asks him, either explicitly or not, to push that part of himself or herself down. Whose religious leaders ask the same. Whose school administrators wish for the same, so that they don't have to deal with the asshole parents who seem to think that wanting protection for all kinds is some kind of insidious agenda out to corrupt their rotten little spawn.

Maybe some other Indian kid out there, reading things on the Internet, sees that he's not the only one out there. Maybe some other immigrant kid, hoping against hope that he's not alone, can find a bit of solace in knowing that some day, he too can have such wonderful friends, who stand up and interrupt hatred when they see it.

If I weren't out, Katie wouldn't have had the opportunity to have been part of my life, because I'd be so scared of making even so innocuous a thing as a friend that I'd keep myself locked away.

Please, for your sake and the sake of others after you, be out. Be proud of who you are, and what you stand for.

It's late, and I'm mentally clumsy, but I felt like I had to get that little bit of encouragement out there for anyone who can read this.

Joy is a joy to read!

I just finished (re)reading Joy Tienzo's book, Cook, Eat, Thrive: Vegan Recipes from Everyday to Exotic, and I must say that I'm suitably impressed. Her ever-present kindness and thoughtfulness come through very strongly in her writing. Reading her book is like having a long chat with her, and enjoying her company.

The title says it all: everyday to exotic. She doesn't dumb down the flavours to appeal to boring people. Instead, she dares you to try stuff that you hadn't considered before, in new and exciting ways. With Joy, cooking is an adventure. As soon as I got it (even though I was at work), I started flipping through the pages of the book, and exclaiming in excitement at the delicious food that my boss and I could create.

White beans in mashed potatoes! How brilliant! Samosa soup! Yes yes yes! I'm totally there! Edamame pesto! Why hand't I thought of that before? I keep flipping pages, and exclaiming in surprise and delight, over and over again.

I remember when I first saw Joy posting on the vegan forums that I used to frequent. I saw all the mouth-watering food she'd post, and I'd go and make it, to see that it really does work. Her recipe for Hatian Fried Plantains was a staple in my house when Steve and I were newly married, because it was so tasty and easy to knock up in no time at all. Her ranch dressing has saved countless cows, because I know a couple of folk whom she generously shared the recipe with who were pushed over the vegan edge once they saw they could really make it work. I made her almond crepes (yes, they finally did work, even though my first attempt failed because I misread the recipe), and they're absolutely lovely. Her Moroccan Preserved Lemons are absolutely divine.

Thanks, Joy. Thanks for creating a work of love, and compassion, and beauty. Thanks for continuing to be an inspiration for people to strive for (and achieve) the best that they can. Thanks for being a wonderful, kind, and loving person.

Oven Uppuma Rava

Anyone who's made uppuma (and you should; it's very tasty) can tell you that one of the things that discourages one from making it is the roasting of the rava (semolina). Rava is this coarse ground semolina flour that's used in various Indian mains and sweets. In the South, we tend to use it in a savoury dish called uppuma, which is a mixture of a tarka of mustard seed, cumin seed (depending on whether the house is fond of cumin seed, like mine is), urad daal, dried or fresh chilies, curry leaves (if you have them), along with onion, and in some cases, turmeric (depending on whether or not the house is fond of that vibrant, yellow colour, as mine is), and water, along with the roasted semolina flour, to make a thick polenta-like main dish.

It's absolutely delicious, and very easy to make, once the initial roasting step is finished. Unfortunately, for most people (including myself), roasting is a huge pain. You have to dry roast it over medium low heat (low heat if you're not lightning quick on your feet) in a wok. It takes quite a while, and you must stir it constantly. As you're standing there and stirring that thing endlessly, there's other steps to preparing to make the uppuma that you're delaying, such as chopping the onions, or getting the rest of your counter space cleaned off, so that when everything is done, you don't end up frantically searching for a space to put the freshly roasted semolina flour, which then burns. Why didn't you think of this before? That would have only made sense, seeing as how you've just spent the better part of a half hour roasting this thing.

And now you're doubly irritated, because that was the last of your semolina, and you do have rice, but that involves even more time (an hour, to be precise, if you're talking brown rice), and you're hungry right now, so you angrily throw the pot, semolina and all, into the sink, scream and cry for a good solid 20 minutes, and then run down to the bodega downstairs, and anger-buy a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, which you proceed to eat between sobs.

Totally not speaking from experience.

All this can be prevented, if you will use your oven to roast the semolina. I discovered this trick on accident when I was at my brother's house in VA. His wife was making up a batch of uppuma as a lunch thing, and had asked me to roast the semolina for her. I asked her why she didn't just use her oven for it. She mentioned that the oven was being used as storage at that moment, and would I give her a sec to clean it out.

With rare exceptions, Indians who were raised in the South Indian tradition tend not to trust ovens terribly well. When coming to the USA, and making the odd bake sale dish, or birthday thing for the kid's school thing, they'll tend to use the oven to store pots and pans, and promptly ignore its other function: perfect roasting thing.

You see, when you roast anything on the stove, you're dealing with the vagaries of your cooking vessel. For one thing, not all the food is going to be in contact with the heat, which is coming from below, heating your cooking vessel, then heating your food. In an oven, the cooking vessel does get hot and help your food to heat, but the ambient temperature is hot as well, making the food heat evenly. Furthermore, because air is not as good a conductor of heat as water is, you're going to get a more steady and gradual roasting.

There's a reason why you should do your roasting in the oven: the margins aren't quite so razor-sharp as they are on the stove. If you miscalculate by a few mere seconds while roasting on the stove, you risk burning the whole thing, and making a mess. If you misjudge the oven, you still have some wiggle room to fix your mistakes.

Mind you, there are a couple of caveats before we venture into the oven's door:

1) Always double and triple check the temperature of the oven before putting anything in. If your recipe calls for 350°F, and your oven is set at 375°F, you're going to be in a world of pain when the food gets finished so much faster.

2) When roasting something like semolina, which is a flour, don't ever fill your baking sheet completely full. For one thing, the thicker your stack of food, the longer it will take to get everything roasted. For another, you have a much more likely chance of spilling a fair bit onto your floor on your way to and from your oven, and then your sister-in-law grumbles and mutters as she has to clean up yet another mess. Again, totally not speaking from experience.

3) USE. A. TIMER. I cannot stress this enough. With the oven, you don't have those visual cues to keep you going. It's a self-contained environment, where you'll likely miss something if you're not timing yourself. Initially, set the timer for a lower setting, and check frequently. Don't set it for longer until you're confident that it will all work out.

For me, the whole roasting process took a total of 45 minutes. Mind you, this is because I had set the initial times for 7 minutes, and then finally for like 12 minutes. For the first 21 minutes (in 7 minute increments), I baked the semolina in baking sheets, at 350°F (180°C). I then baked it for 2 increments of 12 minutes (24 minutes). Between increments, I gently stirred the rava with a slotted spoon.

A couple of obvious changes happened. Firstly, the rava smelled wonderful and roasted as time went on. For another, in the initial stages, the rava tended to clump a bit. This is normal. There's a bit of residual moisture in the rava from the surrounding air. When the whole thing is roasted to perfection, the moisture is driven out, and the rava becomes free flowing again. Initially, just stir through the lumps. It'll all work out. Finally, the rava became a light golden brown. Don't take it much further than that. That's about where you want it to be.

The best part of this method is that at the end of the first 21 minutes, I was able to prep my ingredients for the actual uppuma, and get them on the stove. This meant that I was using my time efficiently.

All said and done, yesterday's project took about an hour from start to finish. However, I now have a jar of pre roasted rava, with which to cook future meals very quickly. Once the rava is roasted, the actual uppuma itself takes about 10 minutes.

Why not cook the uppuma without roasting the semolina? Because then the uppuma will be a big gross clump of disgusting, and not be fluffy and delicious.

Once more, totally not speaking from experience.

Set up big pressure cooker for small cooking.

In the body of the pressure cooker is lentils with enough water to cover them. The first bowl in the stack has barley, and its cooking liquid. Atop that, I set the little trivet that came with the pressure cooker. Atop /that/ are some red potatoes, with a scant 2 cm of water in. There'll be plenty of steam in the cooker, so I need not even bother with it, but I don't want the potatoes sticking to my bowl. I then put the lid and weight on the whole mess, set it over high heat, and set my timer for 40 minutes. (Next time, I'll go with shorter time, because the potatoes got overcooked). Then I walked away, and heard the pressure cooker get to full pressure at like 6 minutes or so. Then, I dropped down the heat to low, and let the timer run out. I did a quick release. Honestly, if I just did like 20 minutes, I could have still done a quick release with no problems. I was just stupidly nervous. Boo.

My friend Christy Morgan, of Blissful Chef fame, is maintaining an ongoing pressure cooker party on her blog. Please check out this link for more info on cooking other stuff in pressure cookers! She's got lots of creative ideas for cooking in my style: whole ingredients, lots of produce, and minimising premade stuff. Check it out!

Christy Interview

Christy Morgan, the author of The Blissful Chef, did an interview with me a few months back. Unfortunately, I was stupid, and uploaded it to my website holder. Which I lost access to. Which I then had no backup of, because I'm dumb.

Then, she graciously agreed to do a do-over. This is the do-over. However, after editing it, and fixing it, the program crashed, and I lost my work.

Rather than shoot something, and delay this any further, I decided to just upload the raw files, and the hell with editing, because this interview seems to be cursed or something. Either way, enjoy the interview! You can find Christy on Twitter and Facebook and G+.

Download the interview here, or download it on iTunes.