Realisation of The Hyderabadi Biryani

Cradle babe got wed last week and I am a little disoriented since then. I'm happy for her, but you see, to me she's still the babe in the cradle, which is why, I must now talk about how the Hyderabadi Biryani was realised in my kitchen. For there is nothing quite like talk of good food to set your bearings straight!

So, the story goes back about 29 years. Ever since (and perhaps even before) I sprouted my first set of teeth, I have had dad cooking and feeding me what he calls "Hyderabadi Biryani". Legend also says that the first official sentence I lisped was, "First you must brown the onions". Intention here is not to brag, but to emphasize how deeply rooted in my upbringing the biryani always has been and hence was only a matter of time before I'd introduce it in my own kitchen.

I'm glad to report that this has been by far the most resounding success of the Sushi-Sashimi kitchen. When he first tasted it, Sushi, he was moved enough to...oh never mind, let's cut to the chase shall we.

First you must locate a goat with a hind leg, then have the butcher chop it(the hind leg) into medium sized pieces. You then get your prize home, wash the pieces thoroughly and tuck them away in the refrigerator. Next, we grab some glossy, green, firm, green chili - about 18 whole chillies for 1 kg of mutton. You need to then divide them in 3 groups and slice them three different ways. The first group simply has the heads chopped off, the 2nd is slit down the middle, the 3rd is slit down the middle too and de-seeded. Please excuse the brutality, but it really was necessary to the story. I'll even rate this offering PG.

We then mix some g-g paste in curd, add half of each kind of chili groups, salt, garam masala and half a cup of lemon juice. Then we go find the mutton tucked away in the refrigerator, add it to the above mixture. Let it sit nice and quiet for the next 3 hours.

In the mean time, any guesses? Well, as even a 4 year old would be able to tell - brown the onions! Set them aside. We progress now, to my favourite and the most aromatic and exotic part of the entire preparation - in a big pateela, set a large volume of water to boil. Drop in the remainder of the chilies, cloves, bay leaves, cardamom, cinnamon, and general things of that genre along with salt. When the water is boiling, in goes rice. It comes out in the next 10 minutes flat, because we don't want the rice to be more than 2/3rds cooked at this point. The way to check for 2/3rd cooked-ness is to bite through a grain of rice to make sure that your teeth sink in only up to 2/3rds of the thickness of the grain. It's a bit tricky at first, but when you get the knack for it, you wouldn't even need a ruler to test.

The last step is to assemble everything together. First the mental calorie calculator needs to be switched off. Then pour in ghee or oil to a depth of about 1 cm at the bottom of the pateela. Next the mutton pieces are arranged at the bottom. The remaining curd from the marinade is poured on top, rice (2/3rd cooked) goes next. Plenty of chopped coriander leaves are sprinkled on top of the rice for garnish (Cradle babe hates coriander). Your pateela would need to be sealed off with its lid. I even use dough to make sure the lid stays stuck in place.

The rice-ghee-mutton-coriander assembly should now be put on fire. Dad always uses real charcoal fire, but all that mess daunts me, so I go for the trusty gas stove. 10 minutes on high, the next 10 minutes on medium, and 10 minutes after that on indirect heating - you are now all set to tuck in!

You're welcome, it's totally been my pleasure.

The Austerity Drive

I haven't posted here in quite some time. Now, part of the reason for that is I was actually busy cooking. Let's see, there was the Hyderabadi mutton Biryani made authentic daddy style. Then, lasagna, which wasn't too bad I'm inclined to think, considering that I was improvising heavily, trying to leave the tomatoes out of the lasagna.

Then, one day realisation dawned that we seemed to be living only to eat. I for one think that's a perfectly sound principle to base your life on, but when the weighing machine starts to shudder every time you want to check in, you know it's time for some stringent measures.

Hence, we have started, what we call the "Austerity Drive". We cut down on everything, beverages, chapatis, and yes even meat :( My refrigerator is choc - a - bloc with healthy greens. It is slowly staring to look totally innocent of beer. The little steel drum that sits in my kitchen - what I call my "larder" now contains all above board items such as soya bean nuggets, and things that can be sprouted when you put them in water. (Sob!)

Now, it's important that we don't deny ourselves the occasional treat..which is why I'm googling "Prawn malai curry' even as I write this. Speaking of writing, I hope to be filling these - pages, so to say, with details of the biryani and the lasagna. If we can't eat 'em, we can at least talk of 'em!

Here's to the success of the Austerity drive.

Kanda Pohe - a metaphor for Blind Dates

The Maharashtrians among us wouldn't blink at that title, but for the "non", let me explain -

In an arranged marriage scenario, when the prospective bride and family visit the prospective groom's house to size him up (or vice versa), the hosts typically offer Kanda pohe to the guests, among other things. The match making proceedings happen over a plate of Kanda Pohe and hence the metaphor.

Back in the days when me and my girl buddies were on the marriage market, it was commonplace to compare notes on the out come of our respective Kanda Pohe at the end of the week/month/day. "But you don't really do Kanda Pohe, you go on dates" , they'd say. Well, admittedly my Kanda Pohe had the appearance of blind dates, because my action plan involved meeting the guy over coffee/lunch/dinner depending on how well things were going, rather than the entire clan getting involved from the word 'go'. All the same, these blind kanda pohe were really focused, serious stuff as opposed to 'date' dates. I had a mental list (presumably the guys had theirs too) of the must have, nice to have and must not have criteria against which I was sizing up prospectives for my arranged marriage.

It was over one such metaphorical Kanda Pohe that I met Sushi, and here we are...married. I believe, the actual dish we ate ran more on the lines of butter chicken and daal tadka.

Back to the tangible Kanda Pohe though. I made this over breakfast one weekend. Simple really. You take about a cup of Pohe and soak it in water.(Pohe is beaten rice, beaten so that it absorbs cold water too. You can actually see it expanding visibly when u soak it in a cup of water for about 15 minutes). You then add some veggies in a kadahi (potatoes and peas will do) after chopping them fine. Don't forget the Kanda (onion) because that's the raison d'etre of the poha. Also don't forget to add oil in the kadahi before putting the veg in (almost forgot to mention that. Phew!)After the veggies are done, stir in the soaked (and bloated) pohe. Then add in turmeric and salt..and voila you are good to go.

Doesn't sound like much..but trust me, it makes a pretty neat meal. Perfect, now I see, for breaking the ice - "Er..nice pohe. So what are your hobbies?"

Post It Notes On My Refrigerator.

Yup..that's right..menu for week night dinner. We have turned over new leaves (that's the plan anyway) and are eating plenty of leafy greens. We are holding off all animals from the kitchen until the weekend at the very least.
And yes, Sushi has taken to reviewing, approving and signing off on the weekly menu.

The Strangest Dream I Ever Did Dream

It went like this. I was in one of those situations where I couldn't make myself heard. Like I am trying to scream and no sound would come out. I'm waving my arms about and kicking up quite a dust but no one seems to notice. Where do these situations happen? Mostly in dreams I suppose.
So, the reason for all that arm flailing, dust kicking and screaming was to get Sushi's attention (in the dream) as he was about to, get this, put 2 large tablespoons of white flour in his tea, thinking it was sugar. He had his first sip of the tea, and only then seemed to realise I had been frantically trying to get his attention all this while.
The invisibility cloak lifted, I tried to salvage the situation or rather the tea. I remember suggesting that we could add more flour to the tea, to get tea flavoured dough, which probably we could try and make some pancakes with.
Don't know how that would have tasted in after sleep reality, but I am willing enough to try that experiment with coffee liquor in place of tea.
The other thing is, I'm on the look out for a good dream interpreter these days.

Colourful Spirits

Guys, on a Friday night of merry making with buddies, go into a huddle, with a glass each of dubious murky brown substance. They probably have a bowl of peanuts by the side, and they talk "guy stuff".

Girls, when they make merry on a Friday night with buddies, like to dress things up. - Thus-


That's Pinacolada for you. Agreed, it needs pineapple not lemon to look pretty, but we had none on us then. What you do is, you start with some neutral coloured spirit. Then you choose a lot of juices in a wide array of colours and flavours to suit your mood. And then -- you dress things up. Like the pic above, it's Bacardi (or anything else, the neutrality of the colour matters - remember?) coupled with coconut cream and pineapple juice. Add the lemon to achieve a bit of contrast.

Here's another -
The same(or any other) neutral coloured base. To that, we added grape juice. So, I guess, this would be ..wine? What you are supposed to notice in the pic is the salt rimmed glasses(we stuck it on with lemon juice), the contrast the drinks make with the curtains, and the diamond rings on our fings.

The "Bloody Merry" below - that was crafted with a good deal of care out of pureed tomatoes, ground garlic and green chili (spicy was the mood), and, say it with me, a neutral coloured spirit.
Pretty neat huh?

Sushi, he invented an interesting cocktail too, because, I am after all his chief drinking buddy. O'course it's still murky brown coloured, but there's a legitimate reason for that. The cocktail in question is tea-based. We would have called it "Long Island Iced tea" had we not discovered just in time that Long Island Iced tea doesn't have ANY tea in it! Who'd have known.!! However, the neutral coloured spirit with iced tea tastes just fine - so we choose to call our little invention - "Iced tea punch".

Happy merry making and hope your spirits stay colourful.

The Mother of All Misunderstandings and Disaster Averted

So, there I was, googling along, like I usually do.
"Tiramisu" I typed into the search box. Click here, if you are hazy about what Tiramisu is because it is important that we have our basics clear in the first place.

Now, most of the recipes going around google say that if I am to make this the authentic Italian way, I should have at its base - Lady Finger. Lady Finger to me is "Bhindi". In Minnesota, or the whole of US for that matter, they like to call it "Okra", which is fine by me. Confusing, but just fine.

Tiramisu, I happen to have eaten at what I thought was a pretty authentic Italian place and some not so authentic Italian places too. It has always tasted delicious, but never like bhindi. Not that I don't like bhindi. In fact it's one of my favourite veggies.

I'm just getting around to wondering whether I should be using the over ripe bhindis or slightly new ones for my Tiramisu, when the recipe describes that I must dip my "bhindi" in a mixture of chocolate, coffee and brandy! Something felt terribly wrong! Very wrong! I googled again...

Care to know what "Lady Finger" is ? Here
Phew! That was close!