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Ragi malt

Across Karnataka, from Bengaluru flats to farmhouses round Mandya and Mysuru, a mug of ragi malt is how many mornings start, especially for schoolchildren, older relatives and anyone heading out to work in the fields. Finger millet powder is whisked into water and cooked until it thickens, then loosened with hot milk and sweetened with jaggery and cardamom; the savoury version, beaten into buttermilk with salt, is drunk cold at lunch in summer. The sweet version is smooth, malty and nutty, mauve-brown, thicker than milk but still drinkable. The commonest mistake is tipping ragi powder straight into hot liquid: it seizes into stubborn lumps. Always whisk it into cold water first. It is ready when the raw, grassy smell has gone, the mixture turns glossy and darker, and it coats the back of a spoon. Add jaggery only off the heat, or the milk can split. For babies, skip the jaggery and ask your health visitor about introducing ragi. Chef's tip: sprouted ragi powder (the true 'malt') tastes sweeter and cooks faster; look for it in Indian shops.

13 min

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Bekang

Bekang is the Mizo name for soybeans boiled and left to ferment in leaves until sticky and strongly savoury, and fried bekang is one of the most loved sides on the Aizawl table, spooned over plain rice. To ferment your own, keep the wrapped, drained beans at 30–40 °C for 2–3 days: they are ready when coated in sticky white threads and smell of ammonia and nuts. Throw them out if you see black, green or pink mould or they smell rotten. The common mistake is frying on high heat until the beans scorch and turn bitter. Chef's tip: bought kinema, axone or natto work in place of homemade bekang.

17 min

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Ragi ambali

Across rural Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, farm workers drink a big glass of ragi ambali in the early morning before the summer heat, and clay pots of it are sold at roadside stalls in April and May. Finger-millet flour is cooked into a thick paste, left overnight to ferment lightly, then thinned with buttermilk and stirred with raw onion, green chilli and curry leaves into a cool, tangy, savoury drink. It is suitable as part of a balanced diet. About 140 kcal and 22 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is pouring the ragi flour straight into boiling water, which makes lumps; mix it with cold water first. Chef's tip: cook the paste until it turns glossy and darker, about 8 minutes; undercooked ragi tastes raw and floury.

15 min

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Variyali sharbat (fennel cooler)

On May afternoons in Ahmedabad and Surat, when the loo wind blows and nobody wants a hot drink, Gujarati homes keep a bottle of variyali sharbat concentrate in the fridge. Fennel seeds are soaked, ground with rock sugar, strained and mixed with lemon and a little black pepper, then diluted with iced water for guests, after lunch, or to break a fast, since nothing in it is off-limits on upvas days if you use rock salt. It is pale green and cloudy, with a sweet aniseed taste, a sharp lemon finish and a faint peppery tingle. The common mistake is grinding dry fennel straight away: it stays gritty and the flavour is harsh. Soak the seeds for at least two hours so they swell and grind into a smooth paste. It is ready when the strained concentrate is silky, smells clearly of fennel and tastes very sweet, as it will be diluted three or four times. The concentrate keeps 5 days in the fridge in a clean bottle. Chef's tip: add a few mint leaves or a pinch of cardamom when grinding for a more rounded cooler.

23 min

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Lebu cha

Along College Street and around Esplanade, the tea sellers who pour lebu cha into little unglazed clay cups (bhaar) are the fuel of Kolkata's famous evening adda, the long arguments over books and football. It is weak black tea, sweetened, sharpened with fresh lime and finished with a pinch of sulphurous black salt and roasted cumin, so it tastes sweet, sour and faintly savoury. It is drunk hot in every season and the cup is thrown away. Chef's tip: steep the tea briefly; long-brewed tea plus lime turns harsh and astringent.

7 min

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Kumaoni kheere ka raita

This yellow raita is the famous one of Kumaon, made from the fat, pale hill cucumbers of late summer and served at every wedding and Holi gathering. It gets its nose-tingling kick from freshly ground raw mustard seed, which is left to mellow in the curd for an hour, and its sunny colour from turmeric. It is eaten with rice, puris and pakodas. The common mistake is not squeezing the grated cucumber, which floods the raita and dulls the mustard. Chef's tip: make it at least an hour ahead and chill it; the mustard grows sharper and rounder as it rests.

15 min

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Gobi matar (cauliflower and peas)

In Punjab and Uttar Pradesh, winter means cauliflower and fresh peas, and gobi matar is what fills countless school and office dabbas between November and February. It is cooked dry, so the florets brown a little at the edges, sweetened by the peas and sharpened by plenty of ginger. The mistake is cooking the cauliflower covered with water until it is soft and smells of cabbage; steam it briefly in its own moisture, then fry it uncovered. Chef's tip: cut the florets so they have one flat side; that face sits on the pan and browns while the rest steams tender.

30 min

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Neem begun

Neem begun opens a traditional Bengali lunch in spring, especially around Poila Baisakh, when the neem trees of West Bengal put out soft new leaves. A few tender leaves are fried crisp in mustard oil, then tossed with small cubes of fried aubergine so the bitterness is softened by the creamy brinjal. Eat a spoonful or two with the first mouthfuls of rice, before the dal. It is suitable as part of a balanced diet and is meant to be eaten in small amounts, as Bengali cooks always have. About 110 kcal and 7 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is frying the neem too long, which turns it black and acrid; it needs only seconds. Chef's tip: dry the leaves completely on a cloth before they go into the oil, or they spit and steam instead of crisping.

20 min

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Gondhoraj ghol

In Kolkata the gondhoraj lime arrives with the monsoon heat, a knobbly green fruit whose peel smells of flowers and pine more than of sour citrus. Bengali households use it to lift dal and fish, but in the sticky months from Boishakh into Srabon it goes into ghol: dahi churned with cold water until frothy, sweetened lightly and scented with the zest, a squeeze of juice and a torn leaf. Cafés along Gariahat and old sweet shops serve it in clay bhaar cups after lunch, and it is just as good mid-afternoon with a plate of muri. It drinks thin, cool and silky, with a soft tang and a perfume that hits the nose before the first sip. The usual mistake is grating too deep or leaving the zest to sit for an hour: the white pith and the oils turn bitter. Take only the green outer layer, add it just before serving, and stop when the ghol smells floral rather than sharp. It is ready when the top is covered in fine foam and a spoon comes out lightly coated. Chef's tip: for the salted version, swap the sugar for black salt and a pinch of roasted cumin, as many Kolkata homes do on the hottest days.

10 min

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Neer mor (spiced buttermilk)

From April to June, when Chennai and Madurai bake at forty degrees, temples, shops and political parties set up 'thaneer pandhal' sheds by the roadside, offering free neer mor to every passer-by from great clay pots. At home it comes after a rice meal of sambar and rasam, or in the middle of the afternoon. The curd is churned and thinned with water until barely white, then seasoned with green chilli, ginger, curry leaves, coriander and a pinch of asafoetida, sometimes finished with a tempering of mustard seeds. It should be very thin, salty, tangy and herby, with a little chilli heat and a lingering savoury scent. The common mistake is using too little water: it then drinks like a heavy lassi rather than a thirst-quencher. Aim for about one part curd to four parts water. It is ready when the buttermilk is smooth, cold and pale green-flecked, and smells of curry leaf. It keeps a day in the fridge. Chef's tip: crush the ginger, chilli and curry leaves rather than chopping them; bruising releases far more flavour into the thin liquid.

12 min

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Paneer soda (rose soda)

Every Tamil town once had a soda shop with crates of Codd-neck bottles sealed by a glass marble, and the pop of the marble being pushed down was the sound of a hot afternoon. Paneer here means rose water, not cheese, and paneer soda is rose syrup topped with that sharp local fizz, sold in Madurai, Tiruchi and Coimbatore by the bus stand and at temple festival stalls in Chithirai and Vaikasi, the hottest months. It is sweet and floral at first, then the bubbles and a touch of lime cut through and leave the mouth clean. The mistake most people make is boiling the rose water with the sugar: the scent cooks away and you are left with plain syrup. Make the syrup first, let it cool, and only then stir in the rose water. The syrup is ready when it is clear and slightly thickened, like thin honey, and the finished drink should be rosy pink and still foaming as you hand it over. Chef's tip: chill the syrup, the soda and the glasses well; warm soda loses its fizz the moment it meets the syrup.

15 min

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Kadha (spiced herbal decoction)

When the fog settles over Delhi, Lucknow and the plains of Uttar Pradesh in December, or whenever the monsoon brings coughs round the house, someone puts a pan of kadha on the stove. Tulsi leaves, ginger, black pepper, cinnamon, cloves and sometimes a little ajwain are boiled hard until the water reduces by half, then sweetened with jaggery and sipped in small cups, morning or night. It is not a gentle tea: it is hot, peppery, clove-numbing and earthy, with a dark amber colour and a sweet edge. It is traditionally drunk for coughs and colds; it does not replace medical care, and anyone who is pregnant, on medication or giving it to small children should keep it mild and check with a doctor. The common mistake is simmering it gently like tea: kadha needs a steady boil so the spices give up their strength and the liquid reduces. It is ready when the volume has halved and the brew is deep amber and pungent. Chef's tip: crush the pepper and cloves just before they go in; whole spices hardly flavour the water in this short time.

20 min

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Vazhakkai podimas (raw banana podimas)

Podimas comes from Tamil Brahmin kitchens in Thanjavur and Chennai, where green plantain is boiled whole, grated into soft crumbs and tossed with a tempering of mustard, dal, ginger, green chilli and coconut, then sharpened with lemon. It is light and fluffy, and it sits happily next to sambar rice or rasam rice in a tiffin. The mistake is overboiling the plantain: it turns sticky and will not grate into crumbs. Pull it out as soon as a knife slides in with a little resistance. Chef's tip: grate it on the large holes of a box grater while still warm, then let it cool before tossing, so the shreds stay separate.

28 min

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Shepu bhaji (dill and moong dal)

In Pune and the villages of western Maharashtra, bunches of shepu (dill) come to market in winter, and this dry bhaji of dill and soaked yellow moong dal is packed with bhakri or chapati in the lunch dabba. The dill wilts down to a soft, aromatic tangle, and the moong dal gives it body and a little protein. The mistake is adding water: the leaves release plenty of their own, and extra liquid makes the bhaji stew and lose its fresh, sharp smell. Chef's tip: soak the moong dal for at least 30 minutes beforehand, so it cooks through in the dill's own steam without turning mushy.

25 min

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Lal mathachi bhaji (red amaranth stir-fry)

In Mumbai and the Konkan, bunches of red math (amaranth) with their magenta stems come in during the monsoon, and this quick garlicky bhaji turns the dabba's chapatis pink at the edges. It is cooked fast in a hot pan so the leaves stay bright, then finished with a little fresh coconut, the coastal touch that sets it apart from the Bengali way with the same leaf. The mistake is cooking it covered for a long time, which turns it grey and watery. Chef's tip: chop the tender stems finely and cook them for a minute before the leaves go in, so everything is done at the same moment.

18 min

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Methi besan bhaji

Farmers in Vidarbha and households in Jodhpur both make a version of this: chopped methi leaves cooked down and then dusted with roasted besan until the whole pan turns into dry, savoury crumbs that cling to a chapati. Because it has almost no moisture, it is one of the best sabzis for a long journey or a hot day's dabba. The mistake is adding raw gram flour straight to the leaves, which leaves a pasty, raw taste. Roast the besan dry until it smells like biscuits first. Chef's tip: sprinkle a few drops of water over the crumbs and cover for a minute at the end, so they soften just enough without turning into a paste.

25 min

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Ajwaini arbi

Across Delhi, Punjab and Uttar Pradesh, arbi is the vegetable that goes into a dabba with ajwain rotis or plain phulkas: the small colocasia roots are boiled, flattened slightly and pan-fried with carom seeds, red chilli and dried mango powder until crisp outside and creamy inside. Ajwain is there for its flavour and because it is said to help digest the starchy root. The mistake is boiling the arbi too long: it turns slimy and falls apart in the pan. Cook it until just tender, then cool fully before peeling. Chef's tip: press each piece gently with your palm to crack it before frying; the cracks catch the spices and crisp up.

40 min

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Urulaikizhangu roast (Tamil potato roast)

In Tamil lunch boxes, curd rice almost always comes with this: small cubes of boiled potato roasted slowly in a cast-iron pan with sambar powder, chilli and curry leaves until they are dark, crusty and chewy at the edges. It is a dry side, so it does not leak into the rice, and it tastes as good cold as hot. The mistake is stirring all the time; the potatoes need to sit undisturbed against the hot pan for a few minutes at a time to build the crust. Chef's tip: a teaspoon of rice flour scattered over in the last few minutes makes the coating even crisper.

35 min

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Bathua raita

Bathua (chenopodium or lamb's quarters) grows wild in the wheat fields of western Uttar Pradesh and Haryana in winter, and from December to February families blanch it and stir it into yogurt as a cooling raita beside paratha, dal or bajra roti. The leaves are boiled briefly, chopped and folded into whisked yogurt with roasted cumin, black salt and a little green chilli, so it tastes earthy, tangy and fresh. It is suitable as part of a balanced diet. About 90 kcal and 7 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is adding the greens while they are still hot or wet, which makes the yogurt thin and grainy; squeeze them dry and cool them first. Chef's tip: grind half the blanched leaves to a paste so the raita turns an even pale green.

15 min

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Vellarikka pachadi

Vellarikka pachadi is one of the cooling yogurt dishes on the Kerala sadya, the banana-leaf feast served at Onam and weddings, and it turns up at everyday lunches across Thrissur and Kottayam too. Diced cucumber is softened briefly, then folded into thick yogurt with a paste of coconut, green chilli and crushed mustard seed, and finished with mustard seeds and curry leaves crackled in coconut oil. Coconut and curd carry the flavour, so it needs only a pinch of salt: about 0.25 g salt per portion. The usual mistake is adding the yogurt to hot cucumber, which splits it; let the cucumber cool first. Serve with rice and a dry vegetable thoran. Chef's tip: grind the coconut paste with a few raw mustard seeds; their gentle pungency is what makes a pachadi taste of Kerala.

20 min

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Sem ki sabzi (flat beans with potato)

When flat green sem pods fill the sabzi carts in Lucknow and Jaipur in winter, they go into this dry stir-fry with potato and a crackle of ajwain, the classic partner for paratha in an office dabba. The beans stay a little firm and sweet, the potato soaks up the spices, and nothing drips into the roti. The mistake is leaving the stringy edges on the pods; they never soften. Snap the tip and pull the string down each side before chopping. Chef's tip: cook covered for the first half to steam the beans tender, then uncover and turn up the heat so the potatoes catch and brown.

32 min

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Aloo bhindi

Aloo bhindi is the sabzi that Delhi children are happiest to find in their dabba with soft phulkas: okra fried until its edges crisp, potato cubes browned alongside, and sliced onion cooked sweet, all dusted with amchur and cumin. The single big mistake is washing the okra and cutting it wet, which releases slime that never cooks off. Wash it, dry every pod with a cloth and wait half an hour before slicing. Chef's tip: add the salt only at the very end; salt draws moisture out of the okra and makes it sticky.

35 min

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Haldi doodh (turmeric milk)

In homes from Punjab to Kerala, a mother or grandmother hands round haldi doodh on cold winter nights, after a fall in the playground or whenever someone starts sniffling; it is drunk at bedtime, steaming, in a steel tumbler. Milk is simmered with turmeric, a few grinds of black pepper and sometimes ginger or cinnamon, then sweetened with jaggery. It is golden, warming and gently earthy, with a soft peppery heat and a slightly grainy feel if the turmeric is fresh-ground. It is traditionally drunk for colds and aches, as a comfort rather than a cure. The common mistake is adding raw turmeric powder to hot milk at the end: it tastes chalky and bitter. Simmer it in the milk for a few minutes so the raw edge cooks out. It is ready when the milk turns an even deep yellow, smells mellow and has a thin skin forming on top. Add jaggery off the heat, as it can curdle boiling milk. Turmeric stains, so use a steel pan. Chef's tip: a teaspoon of ghee stirred in at the end makes it rounder and is how many families make it.

10 min

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Aloo pitika

Aloo pitika is the first thing on many Assamese lunch plates, a rough mash of boiled potato sharpened with raw mustard oil, onion, green chilli and coriander, eaten with the first mouthfuls of rice and dal. Guwahati families make it daily, and in winter it may be mixed with roasted aubergine or a boiled egg. The usual mistake is making it smooth like a Western purée; it should be coarse and hand-mashed so the onion and chilli stay crunchy. Chef's tip: use pungent kachi ghani mustard oil and rub it in last, so its heat hits the nose.

25 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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