Dal, sabzi, curries and rice dishes for a meat-free Indian dinner. (751 recipes)
Chaat masala is the tangy, salty, slightly sulphurous sprinkle that makes chaat taste like chaat. Dried mango (amchur) gives the sourness and black salt the distinctive savoury edge. Sprinkle it over fruit, salads, raita, chips and street-food snacks.
A Gujarati dal masala with whole spices roasted in a little oil, plus star anise, black cardamom and dagad phool (stone flower) for depth. A teaspoon gives dals, kadhi and khichdi a warm, rounded flavour. The recipe makes a big batch, so it's worth making once a season.
Sugar syrup (chashni) is the base of many Indian sweets, and recipes ask for it at different stages. A light syrup is for soaking sweets and sweetening drinks. One-thread and two-thread syrups are boiled longer so the sweet sets. You can make it with milk instead of water for some sweets.
Sprouting whole green grams makes them crunchier, quicker to cook and more nutritious. All you need is muslin, water and a warm spot, and they're ready in 3–4 days. Use them in salads, bhel, usal and stir-fries. Any other whole pulse sprouts the same way.
Corn palak grew out of North Indian restaurant menus, where palak paneer met the sweetcorn that is now in every Delhi and Chandigarh market, and it has become a weeknight favourite for families with children who like the little bursts of sweetness. Blanched spinach is blended smooth and cooked into a light masala with garlic and cumin, then sweetcorn is simmered in and a spoon of cream rounds it off. The most common mistake is boiling the spinach too long before blending, which turns the gravy khaki and bitter; one minute in boiling water and straight into cold keeps it emerald. Chef's tip: a pinch of kasuri methi crumbled in at the end makes it taste like the restaurant version.
Hakka noodles are the street and restaurant staple of Kolkata's Chinese community, now sold from carts in every Indian city for a cheap evening meal and loved by children everywhere. Thin noodles are boiled, cooled, then tossed over the highest heat with shredded cabbage, carrot, peppers and spring onion, seasoned with soy, vinegar and white pepper. The mistake that ruins them is a crowded, lukewarm pan: the vegetables sweat and the noodles clump into a damp heap, so cook in a very hot wok and do two batches if yours is small. Chef's tip: toss the boiled noodles with a teaspoon of oil as soon as they are drained; they won't stick while you chop. Check the noodle packet: many Hakka noodles contain egg, so buy egg-free ones for a vegan dish.
Dahi bhindi is how North Indian and Rajasthani cooks turn a plate of okra into a saucy curry for summer evenings, when the heat calls for something sour and cooling. The okra is fried first until it loses its stickiness, then folded into a thin yogurt gravy flavoured with fennel, cumin and a little chilli, good with rotis or plain rice. The usual mistake is pouring in the yogurt over a high flame, which curdles it; whisk it with the spices first, turn the heat right down, and stir until it simmers. Chef's tip: a pinch of crushed fennel seeds in the tempering brings out the sweetness of the okra.
Neychoru, or ghee rice, comes from the Malabar coast of Kerala and the coastal towns of Karnataka, where it is cooked for Friday lunches, weddings and Eid tables alongside chicken or vegetable curries. Short, fragrant kaima (jeerakasala) rice is fried in ghee with whole spices, cooked until each grain is separate, and topped with crisp fried onions, cashews and plump raisins. The mistake to avoid is stirring the rice once the water goes in, which breaks the delicate grains and makes it mushy; cover it and leave it alone. Chef's tip: if you can't find kaima rice, basmati works, but cut the water by a few spoonfuls. It is not a 30-minute dish once the rice has been rinsed, drained and rested, so start it before the curry.
In Punjabi homes from Amritsar to Ludhiana, lehsuni palak is the green dish that lands on the table in winter when spinach is cheap and sweet, eaten with hot phulkas and a bowl of dal. It is not a purée like palak paneer: the leaves are chopped and wilted so they keep some body, then a second round of garlic fried golden in oil is poured over at the end, nutty and fragrant. The usual mistake is burning the garlic; dark brown garlic turns bitter and spoils the whole pan, so pull it off the heat when it is the colour of light toast. Chef's tip: squeeze the washed spinach lightly before it goes in, or the pan floods and the leaves stew instead of sautéing.
Dahi tikhari is a fiery side from the farmhouses and highway dhabas of Kathiawad in Gujarat, where it is scooped up with thick bajra rotla, raw onion and jaggery at supper. Thick yogurt is seasoned with salt, then hot oil with crushed garlic, red chilli and cumin is poured over so it sizzles and streaks the bowl red. It takes ten minutes and cools down a spicy meal while adding its own heat. The common mistake is letting the garlic go dark brown, which makes the whole bowl bitter. Chef's tip: hang the yogurt in a sieve for a few minutes while you prepare the tempering; thicker yogurt holds the oil in pools instead of splitting.
Sukhi (dry) moong dal is made in Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh when there is no time for a soupy dal, or to roll into parathas and pack for journeys; Marwari families often serve it at weddings with kachoris. Soaked yellow moong is cooked with just enough water to soften it while keeping the grains whole, then lifted with amchur, ginger and a ghee tempering. The mistake to avoid is too much water or stirring hard, which turns it into a mushy khichdi; add water a little at a time and fold gently. Chef's tip: soak the dal for at least 30 minutes, which is why this dish takes longer than the cooking alone. It is one of the few dals that is just as good at room temperature.
Palak paneer is a Punjabi winter favourite, made when fresh spinach piles up in the markets of Amritsar and Ludhiana, and now cooked on weeknights all over India with makki di roti, naan or rice. The spinach is blanched for just a minute, blended smooth and cooked with fried garlic, onion, tomato and gentle spices, then soft cubes of paneer are folded in. Paneer is acid-set, so it contains no animal rennet. The usual mistake is overcooking the spinach, which turns the sauce khaki and bitter: blanch it briefly, cool it fast, and simmer the purée for only a few minutes. Chef's tip: fry a little extra sliced garlic in ghee and pour it over just before serving for the classic dhaba finish.
Across North India, from Delhi dhabas to Rajasthani wedding buffets, boondi raita is the cooling bowl that turns a plain weeknight dal and rice or a spicy pulao into a proper meal. Tiny fried gram-flour pearls (boondi) are softened briefly and folded into whisked yogurt seasoned with roasted cumin, black salt and red chilli, so each spoonful is creamy with soft little pops. Ready-made salted boondi is sold in Indian shops; check the packet says it is made only with gram flour if you need it gluten free. The common mistake is leaving the boondi to soak too long, which turns it to mush. Chef's tip: soak the boondi in warm water for just 2 minutes and squeeze it gently; this rinses off excess oil and salt and keeps the raita light.
Matar paneer is one of Punjab's most-cooked dinners, made in North Indian homes for a midweek meal or when guests drop in, and served with butter rotis, parathas or jeera rice. Soft cubes of paneer and sweet green peas simmer in a gravy of browned onion, tomato, ginger and garlic, finished with garam masala and a pinch of crushed fenugreek. Paneer is set with lemon juice or vinegar, not rennet, so it is a safe choice for vegetarians. The common mistake is boiling the paneer in the gravy for too long, which makes it rubbery and squeaky. Chef's tip: soak the paneer cubes in hot salted water for 10 minutes while the gravy cooks; they turn soft and spongy and soak up the sauce.
Anda curry is the North Indian weeknight curry that comes together when the fridge holds little more than eggs, onions and tomatoes, served across Punjab and Uttar Pradesh with rotis, jeera rice or paratha. Hard-boiled eggs are scored and fried with turmeric and chilli so they get a speckled, golden skin, then simmered in a gravy of browned onion, ginger, garlic, tomato and garam masala. The common mistake is under-browning the onions: pale onions give a thin, raw-tasting gravy, so cook them until they are deep golden. Chef's tip: make shallow cuts in the boiled eggs before frying, so the masala seeps into the whites.
Jeera rice is the plain-but-not-plain rice of North Indian restaurants and homes, cooked on weeknights from Delhi to Lucknow to go with dal makhani, rajma, chole or any gravy curry. Cumin seeds are fried in ghee with a bay leaf, cardamom and cloves until they crackle, then rinsed basmati is cooked in the same pot, so every long grain is scented and separate. The usual mistake is stirring the rice while it cooks, which breaks the grains and makes it sticky. Chef's tip: if you have 20 minutes to spare, soak the rinsed rice first; the grains cook up longer and even fluffier (that pushes it past 30 minutes).
Bhindi do pyaza is the summer okra dish of North Indian dhabas and home kitchens, made in the hot months when ladyfinger is tender and cheap. 'Do pyaza' means two lots of onion: one fried soft into the masala and one added in chunky petals near the end so it stays sweet and slightly crunchy against the okra. The classic mistake is washing the okra and cutting it while it is still wet, which turns the whole pan slimy; dry every pod completely before you slice it. Chef's tip: add the salt only once the okra is nearly cooked, because salt draws out moisture and makes it sticky.
In Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and across the North Indian plains, turai (ridge gourd) is the light monsoon vegetable that mothers cook for upset stomachs, hot evenings and anyone who wants a gentle dinner with roti and dal. Peeled and chopped, it releases its own water as it cooks, and with a little tomato and cumin it forms a soft, sweet, barely spicy gravy. The common mistake is adding water: the gourd is full of it, and extra water gives a bland, thin soup, so cover the pan and let it make its own. Chef's tip: taste a slice of raw gourd before cooking; very occasionally one is bitter, and a bitter gourd will spoil the whole pot.
Vagharela bhaat is how Gujarati cooks rescue yesterday's rice: a quick vaghar (tempering) of mustard and cumin seeds, curry leaves, onion and green chilli, then the rice tossed through with turmeric and a squeeze of lemon. It is a one-pan lunch or late dinner, eaten with plain yogurt, a pickle or a bowl of kadhi. The common mistake is using freshly cooked, warm rice, which breaks and goes sticky; cold, fridge-firm rice keeps every grain separate. Food safety: cool leftover rice quickly, keep it in the fridge and use it within a day, and reheat it until piping hot all the way through. Chef's tip: crumble the cold rice with your fingers before it goes in the pan, so you never have to mash clumps in the pan.
Guvar (cluster beans) is everyday Gujarati shaak, cooked in Kathiawad and Ahmedabad homes most weeks with bajra rotla or rotli and a bowl of khadhi. The flat, slightly bitter beans are steamed in their pan with ajwain and garlic, then balanced the Gujarati way with a little jaggery and a squeeze of lemon, so every mouthful is gently sweet, sour and spicy. The mistake to avoid is using old, thick guvar; the pods should snap cleanly, and tough ones stay stringy however long you cook them. Chef's tip: a pinch of bicarbonate of soda in the cooking water is an old trick for keeping guvar green, but it is not needed if you keep the lid off at the end. Most hing contains wheat, so buy a gluten-free one if needed.
Across North India, from Delhi flats to Lucknow kitchens, mushroom matar has become the weeknight cousin of matar paneer: quick to cook, meaty in texture without any meat, and good with rotis or jeera rice. Button mushrooms and sweet green peas sit in a medium-thick onion-tomato gravy warmed with ginger, garlic and garam masala. The common mistake is adding the mushrooms to a wet masala, where they boil and turn rubbery; sear them first in a hot pan until they brown, and their juices go into the sauce rather than drowning it. Chef's tip: frozen peas are perfect here and need only the last 4 minutes, so they stay bright green.
Aloo matar is the everyday potato and pea curry of North Indian homes, cooked through the winter when fresh peas fill the markets of Delhi and Punjab, and eaten with hot phulkas or rice on a weeknight. Small cubes of potato and sweet peas simmer in a thin, bright tomato gravy with cumin, turmeric and coriander, so it is comforting rather than rich. The common mistake is cutting the potatoes too big: they take forever, the peas turn grey waiting for them, and the gravy reduces to nothing. Chef's tip: mash two or three potato cubes against the side of the pot near the end; it thickens the gravy naturally without cream.
Dahi aloo is the light potato curry cooked in Rajasthan and across Uttar Pradesh when there are no fresh vegetables in the house, and on vrat (fasting) days, when families leave out onion and garlic and cook it with rock salt. Boiled potatoes are simmered in whisked yogurt thickened with a spoon of gram flour, tempered with cumin, hing and green chilli, giving a gently sour, soupy gravy to pour over puris or rice. The mistake nearly everyone makes once is adding cold yogurt straight to a hot pan, where it splits into curds; whisk the gram flour in well and keep stirring over a low heat until it bubbles. Chef's tip: for a fasting version, swap the gram flour for 1 tablespoon of water chestnut flour (singhara atta), leave out the hing and turmeric, and use rock salt. Most hing is cut with wheat flour, so buy a gluten-free one if that matters.
Chilli paneer was born in the Chinese restaurants of Kolkata's Tangra and Tiretta Bazaar, where Hakka cooks adapted their chilli chicken for vegetarian customers, and today it is the Friday-night order from Delhi to Bengaluru. Cubes of paneer are coated in cornflour and fried crisp, then tossed over a fierce flame with onion petals, green pepper, garlic, soy sauce and plenty of green chilli in a glossy sauce. Paneer is set with acid, not rennet, so it is fully vegetarian. The mistake to avoid is letting the paneer sit in the sauce, which makes the crust soggy; toss it in at the very end and serve. Chef's tip: soak the paneer in hot salted water for 5 minutes before coating; it stays soft inside even after frying. Soy sauce contains wheat; use tamari if you need it gluten-free.
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