Showing posts with label Indian food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indian food. Show all posts

26 January 2014

Sooji for Upma in the Oven

Unroasted

Closeup of the grain

After 10 minutes, closeup. Notice the slightly darker colour of the individual grains.

Notice how the whole looks the same as the original. You have to look closely to see the subtle colour change. 

Stir to redistribute the darker browned bits around the edges with the paler bits on the insides. 

Notice the clumping? This is normal. It will go away with more roasting. 

Stir, stir, stir. Then, put back in oven for 5 more minutes. 

Tada! Roasted. 

Upma. Supposedly a simple, quick dish. Lies. It's not a simple dish if you have to stand there roasting sooji for the rest of your natural life. It is the task that I dislike the most when making Indian food: roasting endlessly. 

For sooji, put the stuff onto a cookie sheet in as thin a layer as possible. For a 4 lb bag, you should need about four home sized cookie trays (or two trays twice). Shake the pans gently to get the sooji in an even layer. 

Bake at 200ºC (around 390ºF) for 10 minutes. Stir well to redistribute the browner edge bits with the paler inside bits. Bake an additional 5 minutes.

Done.

10 July 2012

Adai

2 parts toor daal
1 part barley
1 part brown rice
1 part mung beans
1 part masoor daal
3 dried mulato chiles
3 dried ancho chiles
3 dried pasilla chiles
2 dried chile de arbol
1 TB fenugreek seed
1/3 part urad daal

Soak overnight. Using the soaking liquid, grind to an absolute paste along with 1 part grated ginger, a generous sprinkle of salt, and 1 part curry leaves loosely measured. Fry off in your favorite pancake skillet and eat with great gusto.

02 May 2012

Roti & subzi

I'm getting tired of this notion that breakfast food has to be some specific sort of thing. It doesn't. It can be leftovers from the previous day's lunch or dinner, remixed into something different.

This morning, I made 5 whole wheat roti, and reheated some daal and subzi from Monday night's dinner. It was quite filling and delicious.

Please don't let the big corporations dictate what you eat and when you eat it. If you have a hankering for oatmeal in the afternoon, go for it. If pasta in the morning sounds good, eat it! And in all seriousness, any time is a good time for adai or dosa.

The roti was 2/3 cup whole wheat flour, 1/3 cup all purpose flour, just about 1/2 cup~ish of water that I kneaded for a couple of minutes, rolled out, and cooked on my dosa pan.

30 April 2012

Chakli

 
Watch that video on Youtube, where the ladies explain how to make slightly healthier Chakli. If you've ever eaten this highly addicting Indian snack, you know that it can frequently call for obscene amounts of fat. 


Their version involves like a TB of fat to give it a bit of crunch, and then the rest of it is made up with daal! I didn't have moong daal, so I used some red lentils I had lying around. I'm fairly certain that the recipe will work quite well with even split yellow peas or something. The bottom line is that murukku and things like that don't require very expensive ingredients or a special trip to the Indian store. I was able to pick up rice flour from the Chinese store for around $1 for a 1-lb bag. I made a small~ish batch for a party that Steve was going to. It came to about 1/2 cup of uncooked red lentils that I pressure cooked, along with 2 cups of rice flour. The spices I had at home already. The only mandatory ones are the salt, asafoetida, and cumin. The rest are just bonus.


I didn't want the dough to fall out of the press in lumps, so I ground the spices in my mortar and pestle, so as to get them more incorporated into the dough. The ladies don't do this, so I guess that step is optional. Whenever my brother makes them, however, he grinds his, so I do the same. 


Here's to hoping that your snacks come out crunchy and tasty! 

15 February 2012

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.

11 February 2010

Lemon Rice Recipe

OK, so I checked the book, and couldn't find lemon rice in it to save my life! Noooooo! Sorry guys. Here's a guesstimation of the recipe. You may want to adjust it to your own needs. I'm giving it how I make it on a usual basis. There are many different ways to do it, so your mileage may vary.

Yes, it does freeze wonderfully. To thaw it out, take it from the freezer, give it a good sprinkling of water, and nuke it till it's thawed and hot through and through. This works best with long grain rice that is NOT hot. What my mother (and I) do is to cook the rice in the rice cooker, then spread it out onto a surface to cool off. It doesn't need to get cold, but it needs to be cooled down so that you can easily mix it with your hands.

Do not skip that step. If you mix the rice when the rice is piping hot, you'll end up with mashed rice, and that's not pleasant for anyone. The ideal consistency of the rice is a little on the soft side, but still separate. To do this in a rice cooker, add in slightly more water than the amount of rice you're using calls for. It's just a scootch more than usual (maybe a 1/4 cup of total extra water for four cups of rice). It'll get your rice to that slightly chewy consistency, but the rice won't be mushy.

Finally, the best way to mix it all together is with your hands. Any stirring or serving utensil will mush the rice too much. With your hands, you can gently break up large clumps of rice into individual grains. To do this correctly, pick up the large clump of rice, and place it between your two palms. Gently make a rubbing motion, as if you were trying to warm up your hands slowly. Rub back and forth over the surface of the rice clump, and watch the grains magically separate without getting mushy! No fork or spoon would do that.

The substitutions I'm making here are in concession to the fact that most people aren't using the same brand of sesame oil that I'd be able to get in Chennai (Idhayam, for those who are curious). Instead, I use the hulled sesame seeds to approximate the flavour. Hulled sesame seeds are the typical ones you'll find in the store. They have a shiny smooth surface. Unhulled sesame is fine, if that's what you have. They come in black or light brown, and have a coarse outside. If you're using unhulled sesame seeds (light brown) or unhulled black sesame seeds, add them in with the cumin.

Yes, you can use brown rice, but I feel like it's never as separate as white rice. This isn't an every day food. Splurge and have the white rice. Brown rice with mixed spiced rice dishes (coconut rice, tomato rice, lemon rice, tamarind rice, etc.) is pretty nasty, but I'm not going to stop you if you absolutely insist on having it with brown rice.

4 cups of long grain white rice, cooked and cooled on a plate or cookie sheet
2 tablespoons peanut, canola, or corn oil (NOT sesame oil)
1/2 teaspoon black or yellow mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon hulled sesame seeds
2 stalks curry leaves (optional; do not ask what to substitute. If you don't have them, don't use them, full stop.)
1 handful of peanuts, cashews, or slivered almonds (optional)
1 piece of ginger, about the length of your thumb, grated (NOT peeled)
1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
Juice of 1 lemon + zest
Salt, to taste (I usually end up sprinkling on a generous bit with the cooking rice, but the final dish often has so much flavour that I don't even miss it when I forget to add salt)

Traditional Method:
Cook the rice using your favourite method. I trust my rice cooker, and will default to that.

When the rice is down to room temperature, start making the spice blend.

In a deep pot, heat up the oil. It won't hurt anything if you add a bit of extra fat, because it'll just give the rice a nicer flavour. You want the oil to get very hot, to the point of smoking. Not smoking hard, but when a small wisp of smoke escapes the surface of the fat, you know you're golden.

Add the mustard seeds, and STOP. They will begin to heat up, and pop and crackle like mad. This is very good. If the mustard seeds do not pop, they will taste just awful. Wait for the mustard seeds to pop well before adding anything else, as they take the longest to cook. If you don't hear popping, the oil is not hot enough. Wait until you hear a wild, crazy popping crescendo, and then subside a bit. Then you know the fat is ready for the next step.

Add the cumin seeds, and wait for them to pop as did the mustard seeds.

Here is where the roads will diverge. If you have hulled sesame seeds, wait for the cumin seeds to subside in their popping before adding the sesame seeds, then add the sesame seeds, and allow them to pop. If you do not have hulled sesame seeds, and are using unhulled brown or black sesame seeds, add the sesame seeds at the same time as the cumin. If you have hulled split urad daal, this would be the time to add it. Most people don't have it, so I haven't included it in the list. However, if you do have the stuff, bonus!

While this mad popping is going down, feel free to stir the pot with a wooden spoon, or lift it up from the flame, and swirl it about gently.

This first step takes about a minute in total, once the fat gets hot. It happens extremely fast. If it's not happening quite so fast, your fat is not hot enough. Traditionally, you would add the asafoetida to the mix once the last spice has begun to subside, but in this case, I'm leaving it out, because most people can't even pronounce it, much less stock it in their spice cabinet. Just know that if you have the stuff, now's the time to whip it out.

Once the sesame seeds pop (they really don't need to pop completely, as the cumin and mustard seeds did), add your curry leaves if you have them. If you don't have them, just skip this step. In all honesty, the bulk of the flavour is coming from the lemon and the other spices anyway.

If you have nuts, add them after the curry leaves. Again, this is a purely optional (although deeply delicious) step. Don't fret if you don't have them around, as there have been times when the only thing separating my lemon rice from regular rice is the hint of sourness that I got in there somehow (more on that later).

Once the nuts are toasted (if you added them, otherwise, pretend you're doing this right after the sesame seeds), add the turmeric. Stir it through well, and make sure that the turmeric cooks for about 30 - 45 seconds over the heat. If it doesn't cook well, turmeric has a horrible taste. Finally, add the grated ginger, and turn off the heat. Ginger cooks extremely quickly, and does not require the flame to be on. Slam on the lid, and walk away from the stove. The ginger will cook in the residual heat.

While you wait for the ginger to "cook", zest and juice your lemon. Feel comfortable in knowing that your ginger and spices won't burn, because the stove is off. Life is good.

Open the lid of the spice pot, and pour in the lemon juice and lemon zest. The heat from the pot and spices will give it just enough to bring out the maximum lemon flavour. Stir the spices and juice together. Evenly sprinkle the spice/oil/juice mixture over the cooling rice. Take some rice up into the spice pot, and swirl it around to get out every last bit of that spice blend that you worked so quickly to make. Before tossing everything, give the rice a gentle sprinkling of salt.

Now, with your hands (wear gloves if you've got a recent manicure, as the turmeric will stain) toss the rice gently with the spice blend. You will know that the salt is evenly mixed through when all of the rice is evenly coloured yellow by the turmeric. Neat trick, right?




Variations There are many times when the situation is less than ideal. I may have forgotten to buy the lemons, or the lemon juice, and I've got all of a teaspoon of the stuff lying around. I can't find my ginger, because I used it in something else in a fit of inspiration. I used up the last of the nuts the night before while sitting on my duff, and watching Golden Girls. Either way, life can sometimes end up in ways you don't want for it to end up.

1) If I'm running extremely low on lemon juice, I sprinkle in a small dab of citric acid (which can be found in bulk in most Indian stores) to amp up the lemony taste. Citrc acid keeps forever, and is good for when I've not got the time to make lemons happen.

2) I was once at my friend Mikeypod's house. We wanted lemon rice, but he didn't have time to cook rice ahead of time. Instead of panicking, I used the pilaf method. After cooking the ginger (on high heat), I added in the rice, and gently tossed it through till it was transluscent. This took the better part of two or three minutes, but it was worth it, as it smelled of gently spiced nuts. Once the rice was tossed through, I added the amount of water that the rice needed, and let the water come to a full rolling boil. I slammed on the lid, and turned down the heat to as low as the stove would go, and let it cook through for about 25 minutes. It was done to perfection.

3) When I run out of ginger, I don't panic at all. That's when I slide in a few cloves of smashed garlic, or a bit of chopped onion. As I come from a Brahmin house, this is strictly Not Done, but seeing as how my family does eat garlic and onion, many of those recipes are done from tradition or not having garlic or onion lying around. These days, however, I find that it's easier to keep garlic or onion in stock than ginger, which tends to turn on me rather quickly.