Summer is Here: Mango and Rhubarb Lassis

Box of Alphonso Mangoes from IndiaRipe, deep orange Indian Alphonso MangoesTwo of my favourite fruits are currently in season albeit on different continents. In India, mangoes currently reign supreme, only rivalled by Bihari litchis at their peak. In Canada, glorious pink hued rhubarb is taking over neglected back corners of home gardens. I made my weekly visit to our neighbourhood Indian grocer to pick up a case of sweet Alphonso mangoes direct from Mumbai and to the Landsdowne Farmer’s Market in Ottawa for rhubarb and ripe ruby red Ottawa Valley strawberries. With the weather being hot and humid cooling afternoon drinks is a necessity. Here are two quick and easy lassi recipes; one sweet from the nectar of mangoes and the other shouting ‘summer is here’ with its refreshing sour and sweet flavour and gorgeous pink hue.

Mango Lassi
Serves: 2
 
Ingredients
  • 1 Alphonso mango *see note*
  • 1 cup plain yogurt
  • 1¼ cup milk or water
  • ½ cup ice
  • 1 tbsp sugar
Instructions
  1. Peel, pit and chop the mango. Place in blender with yogurt, milk or water, ice and sugar. Blend to a puree. Serve as is or over ice.
Notes
When I cannot get fresh Alphonso mangoes I often substitute canned Alphonso mango puree. I like to freeze the puree in smaller ½ cup or 1 cup quantities for easy access when needed.

Rhubarb Strawberry Lassi
Serves: 4
 
Ingredients
  • 1 cup rhubarb, chopped
  • 1 cup strawberries, washed, hulled and roughly chopped
  • 4 tbsp sugar
  • 2 cups plain yogurt
  • 2 cup milk or water
  • 1 cup ice
Instructions
  1. Place chopped rhubarb and sugar in a small saucepan over medium heat. As the rhubarb heats up some juice will be released. Cook for about five minutes, occasionally stirring. Add the strawberries and cook for another few minutes. Set aside and let cool. Place rhubarb/strawberry mixture in blender with yogurt, milk or water, ice and sugar. Blend to a puree. Serve as is or over ice.
Notes
Substitions: If strawberries are not available, raspberries, blackberries or blueberries can also be substituted. If using raspberries you may want to puree the fruit mix first then pass it through a fine mesh strainer to remove the seeds. If seeds do not bother you proceed as described above.

 

Fiddleheads: Himalayan Style

Fiddleheads cooked with Indian spices

For my first recipe post I want to offer a seasonal recipe using fiddleheads, a vegetable which has been instrumental in shaping what I view as local and seasonal food.  Ten years ago I participated in a Canadian Food promotion in Tokyo. While visiting the famous Tsukiji fish market I explored the nearby vegetable stalls and much to my surprise saw in-season fiddleheads.  The host Japanese chefs were shocked to learn that this, a Japanese vegetable to them, was also Canadian.  We incorporated them into an asparagus, fiddlehead, morel and wild rice pilaf.

Six years later while driving the winding roads away from the Himalayan village of McLeod Ganj, headquarters of the Dalai Lama, I again caught a glimpse of this familiar spring vegetable being sold along the roadside. Wanting to make sure I wasn’t suffering from altitude sickness, I recall asking my wife for reassurance that I had just seen a bunch of fiddleheads. Soon I was chatting with the vendor trying to explain in broken Hindi that we had the same seasonal delicacy in Canada.

These experiences, seeing the familiar in a foreign context, provided me with both comfort and intrigue. My definition of “local” and “seasonal” food began to shift and now I constantly find myself searching for more ‘local’ food as I travel.

In rural communitites, where vegetable cultivation is scarcely practiced, villagers often rely on nutritious wild vegetables. Such as fiddleheads which are high in omega-3, omega-6 essential fatty acids and rich in iron, potassium andother minerals and vitamins. From Shimla to Sikkim fiddlehead ferns, known as lingralingri or ningro, can be found in the remote forests of the Himalayas.  During the Monsoon, women often harvest the tightly coiled fronds, for personal consumption, or to sell along the roadside. Often, the fiddleheads are simply boiled and eaten on their own.  In Himachal pickled fiddleheads, lingri achaar, are a local delicacy while in Sikkim, they may be sautéed with chhurpi, a local cheese.  I have added some new potatoes to a recipe shared with me by the roadside vendor along the route to McLeod Ganj. The fiddleheads pictured below are sourced from the nearby Gatineau hills.

Sauteed Fiddlehead Ferns with New Potatoes
Serves: 4
 
Ingredients
  • 3 cups or ½ lb fiddlehead ferns* (or substitute asparagus, okra or green beans)
  • 8 to 10 new potatoes
  • 2 tablespoons mustard or vegetable oil
  • ½ teaspoon cumin seeds
  • ½ teaspoon coriander seeds, lightly crushed
  • ¼ teaspoon turmeric
  • 2 dried red chiles, cut in half (or good pinch of cayenne powder)
  • salt, to taste
  • fresh coriander for garnish
Instructions
  1. Trim cut end of fiddleheads. Place fiddleheads in a large bowl with a lot of water and gently shake to remove any dirt or grit. Drain and repeat again. Drain the fiddleheads and set aside.
  2. Place new potatoes in a pot of water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 10-15 minutes or until potatoes are just cooked. Use a slotted spoon to remove potatoes to a plate to let cool. Cut into halves or quarters depending on size of potato.
  3. Bring the water back to the boil and add the fiddleheads and cook until just tender, about two to three minutes. Use the slotted spoon to transfer the fiddleheads to a bowl of iced water for 5 minutes. Drain and keep aside.
  4. Heat the oil in a karhai, wok or large saute pan over medium high heat. Add the cumin, coriander seeds and dried red chilies and cook for 30 seconds. Toss in potatoes, remaining spices and some salt. Reduce heat to medium and saute for 3-4 minutes until the potatoes are warm. Add fiddleheads and cook for another minute or so. Adjust seasoning and serve immediately garnished with some fresh coriander.
Notes
Fiddlehead ferns are like wild mushrooms in that some species are ok for human consumption while others are not. So, it's best to purchase them from a well known vendor. Fiddleheads should be boiled first in boiling water before proceeding with any recipe.

 

Amritsari Comfort Food at Kesar da Dhaba

My original intention of visiting Amritsar, like the millions of other annual visitors, was to see the principle pilgrimage site for followers of the Sikh religion, the Golden Temple. Specifically, I planned to spend a couple of days in the vast kitchen complex to find out how the temple managed to feed over 100,000 people each day.

phirni at kesar da dhaba amritsar, punjab

A young boy carries phirni, a creamy rice pudding served chilled in earthenware pots.

My flight was delayed in Delhi making my arrival in Amritsar closer to 8pm. I hadn’t eaten since noon and was famished. A friend, Mayur Sharma, who co-hosts a television show in India called Highway on My Plate, suggested if I had time to make a stop at a well-known dhaba nestled in the crowded alleyways of the older part of Amritsar. I exited the airport, found a taxi and surprised the driver by asking in Hindi to take me to the famous Kesar da Dhaba. He smiled, gave me an approving head tilt and whisked me towards Amritsar.
Dhabas are roadside eateries dotted along the national highways of India. I like to consider that they are similar in concept to the traditional French country bistro, where many of them offer, cheap, plentiful delicious meals yet in a more rustic setting. All of them started out as poorly built shacks specializing in one or two items. If they gained popularity with locals and travellers, and possessed business acumen, a purpose built restaurant would be set up to cater to their future needs. Nowadays, if you were to travel from New Delhi through the state of Punjab to the Pakistani border and ask any dhaba or restaurant that has been around since partition the story would be similar to Kesar da Dhaba’s.

Kesar Da Dhaba takeout vegetarian food.

Customers wait for their vegetarian takeout. For them it was stuffed potato and cauliflower parathas, raita, green mango pickles and mint chutney.

 

Tadka Dal in the kitchen of Kesar Da Dhaba, Amritsar, India

Preparing the tadka; the final seasoning of the dal where spices are tempered in pure desi ghee.

Ma ki dal cooked in a deg at Kesar da Dhaba.

A deg is used to cook the ma ki dal. A deg is a traditional cooking vessel made out of brass or copper whose shape and thick bottom are essential in allowing for even heat distribution during long cooking processes. Ma ki dal cooks for close to 14 hours at Kesar da Dhaba.

In 1916, in Sheikupura, Pakistan Mr. Lala Kesar Mal and his wife Parvati opened a small food stall serving basic dal and paratha. When Partition occurred in 1947 the recipes for these two dishes travelled with them and settled in Amritsar. And ever since visitors to Kesar da Dhaba are treated to homemade, simple vegetarian food.
Ramesh Mehra is now the fourth generation managing the restaurant. He explained that as time passed they added more dishes to the menu to offer greater options to customers but have not changed the recipes of their main dishes specifically the popular tadka dal, ma ki dal and phirni. Since they need to make over 4,000 parathas each day they once tried to use a machine to mix the dough but they received too many complaints so they switched back to all of the breads being hand mixed and rolled.

Laccha parathas being shaped in Amrtitsar

The parathawallah who shapes flaky laccha parathas.

laccha paratha making at Kesar da Dhaba

Flattening some dough to ready for the coil like shaping.

shaping paratha dough

The paratha being coiled which helps give the flaky layers.

coiled laccha parathas

Flaky layers in waiting.

laccha parathas

Laccha parathas waiting for the warmth of the tandoor.

plain parathas as dough in Kesar da Dhaba

Dough being pressed and hand patted into plain parathas before heading into the tandoor.

plain paratha tandoor oven kesar da dhaba

Pillowed dough moments away from kissing the hot tandoor wall.

paratha tandoor oven

Plain parathas briefly nestled in the tandoor oven.

breads in tandoor oven at kesar da dhaba

baked parathas

Removing baked parathas using long skewers from the tandoor.

baked flaky laccha parathas

Flaky laccha parathas checking the Champion’s league results.

plain parathas baked at Kesar Da Dhaba Amritsar

Stacked plain parathas prior to their lather of melted butter.

The dining areas felt tired and tattered. A fresh coat of paint and some changes in lighting could help improve the setting. Whatever was lacking in décor was made up in the flakiness of the laccha paratha, the rich softness of the spicy tadka dal, the tanginess of a cooling lassi and the welcoming Punjabi hospitality.

Note: I took this trip to Amritsar in April 2010.

phirni in earthen ware bowls

Small earthen bowls being filled with Kesar da Dhaba’s popular phirni.

 

gulab jamun and phirni at kesar da dhaba

Desserts at Kesar da Dhaba: sugar soaked gulab jamun and rosewater sprinkled phirni

phirni at kesar da dhaba

Yes. There is someone under the phirni.

 

Makaibari Tea Estate

Tea Flushes for Tasting

Some tastes stay with you forever. The moment the warm amber liquid slid from the edge of a hand shaped teacup, onto my lips, and slowly swished around in my mouth, I knew I had tasted something special. I put the teacup down, picked up the small gold sticker and read ‘First Flush 2005 Makaibari Tea Estates, Darjeeling’. The loose-leaf tea, picked several months earlier, was a gift from a dinner guest the night before. I had drunk loose-leaf tea before but it was generally an herbal mixture. My go to comfort tea, and still is, was Twining’s Earl Grey. But there was something unique with this liquid brew. All at once, there was delicacy and depth; a natural sweetness with a touch of bitterness; an earthiness that reminded me of walking over a bed of fallen leaves during mid autumn in Gatineau park. I had not tasted a tea whose flavour was as well rounded as this one.
The Makaibari First Flush instantly became my special afternoon pick me up tea. A year later I also started using Makaibari’s Apoorva tips when making chai. I learned that Makaibari followed biodynamic and permaculture principles. I was intrigued and wanted to learn more by visiting the tea estate. This was finally possible in March 2010 when I made the journey through the winding roads of the Himalayas eventually reaching Kurseong, just south of the hill station of Darjeeling.

Entry Sign to Makaibari

 

Rajah Checks the tea buds

 

438

 

Makaibari is believed to be the oldest tea estate in Darjeeling having been established in 1859. Four successive generations of the Banerjee family have run the estate with its current owner, the eccentric and entertaining Rajah, having become a pioneer and champion in the cultivation of organic tea in Darjeeling. Even during the late 1970s Rajah started to see the effects that soil erosion was having on his own and other various tea estates that dot the hills of Darjeeling. He slowly started to implement permaculture practices and over the following decade slowly adopted organic agriculture towards the management of the tea gardens becoming the first organic tea plantation in India in 1986 (and later on the first to have their teas certified Fair Trade). During the 1980s he saw how these changes were producing beneficial effects on the taste of the tea and the health of his plants. But he wanted push things even further and by 1991 had transformed the estate into a fully biodynamic system, where the soil fertility, plant growth, and livestock are all interrelated.

Two Tea Pickers

 

steep slopes at MakaibariTea pickers on estate

These holistic and alternative practices are also carried over to the 7 village communities, whose many habitants work for Makaibari, spread around the plantation. A joint body of elected members, primarily women, have bi-monthly meetings to cover development issues and how funds for the community should be spent. Improved sanitation, retirement stipends and life long health care became immediate priorities. There are 3 small nurseries and 3 primary schools for 3-10 year olds on the estate. Teenagers go to other nearby villages for high school. I spent several days at the plantation and stayed in the home of a family living in one of the villages. Only the husband worked in the main factory building. His parents had both worked in the tea estate – his father in the factory and mother as a picker. He made enough money now, through his work and the homestay program, that his wife did not need to take on a job outside the home. His two children were in college and had no intentions of working for Makaibari. They did however, intend to return to the area and look for more professional office jobs.

School at Makaibari

 

Tea Picker PortraitHaving Lunch at Makaibari

Harvesting and packaging tea requires about ninety percent manual labour. I spent several days following the tea pickers, predominantly women of Gurkha or Nepali background, up and down the steep slopes of the tea garden. They are strong women doing very laborious, back break work. It is no wonder that their children do not want to follow in their footsteps. The social and educational investments Makaibari has contributed to the communities have been successful in each successive generation getting better jobs on or off the estate.

Picking Tea LeavesSmile at MakaibariTaking A BreakRajah inspecting tea leavesDrying Tea LeavesSorting Tea Leaves

 

Rajah Explains Teas

My store of Makaibari tea is currently limited making each brew that more special. When I do get the chance to savour the delicious nectar I am reminded of the special people and communities responsible for nurturing the tea estate’s ecosystem.

Kollam and Coconuts

So this is it, the end of the trip. Cameron is on the long flight back to Canada and -36 and we are left in Trivandrum in 36 degrees. Almost three weeks of non stop travel and good food, beautiful people and places.

After going to sunday church we waited to meet some members of the fishing community in Kollam, a medium size fishing town. It had had lots of money spent on it, three story flats and concrete, bars on windows and locks on doors. Its strange how money and so called progress makes such fundamental changes to the community. We managed to track down a local activist Andrews Ambrose who we hoped would open all kinds of doors for us but he didn’t, he just closed his and said he would need to discuss our work with the committee, so we got in a car and found the local fish market just north of Kollam.

Sardines, millions of them, boat after boat, crate after crate, noise, smell and movement. It was amazing to see just how much in one small port, by just a few fishing boats could be landed. On an average day about 5,000 baskets each weighing around 30-40 kg are bought in, on a good day 10,000. These are big commercial boats that trawl the seas all night, from the beach after the sun has set it looks like a far off city of twinkling lights.

In the morning on Kovalam beach, I sat and watched around thirty local fishermen land their beach nets, from sunrise to about 9am they move across the beach with their ropes, singing rhythmically as they draw in the nets. The whole community working together then sharing what they bring in. This time as is now more the case, their nets were empty. Just a couple of crab, an eel and some small and terrified mackerel. There is such a disconnect with the business man who owns the boat and the people who work it to the resource they are harvesting. It merely becomes a financial transaction and is bereft of emotion, culture and respect. But hey, the fishermen have those wonderful tourists to fall back on!

On our way to Trivandrum, stopping at one of the wonderful Indian Coffee Houses. Puri bhaji and sweet milky coffee pulled us all together and we ended up in the kitchen to see what they were putting in the rather strange colored bhaji… it was all a bit suspect but turned out to be beetroot.

Then again to the amazing Laurie Baker designed Indian Coffee House in front of the train station. This circular building has a spiral dinning hall and over thirty tables, cool air and natural light, a far cry from the normal “hotel” eating joints we end up in.. blacked out glass a squeaky old fan blowing hot smoke and chillie filled air around the room while eliminated by the wonders of strip lighting. How simple it could all be if we though about more than just how to make a bit of money.

Coconuts seemed to be a good start so we headed off the main roads and stopped at coir villages. The book we will put together will be a combination of recipes and stories on food, the people the culture and the environment and how they are part of a whole. What has taken us ten thousands years of toil, understanding and respect is true sustainability, what we are being sold as food security and sustainability is little more than a resource grab. Its only when you travel deep into the villages that you begin to understand how it all works and how it needs to work.

So coconuts would be a perfect story for the book. From its religious, cultural significance, its water and milk, its flesh and its shell, for oil to cook and oil to burn, wood and leaves for building, fiber for materials and so we could go on. One tree with endless possibilities. So this is very much were we need to go with the project the connection to the source of our food and our cultures. Thank you Cameron for starting this up. And thank you Chintan, you’ve been amazing.  Its going to work!

http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/the-coconut-revolution/

NOTE: This was originally posted on my blog India On My Plate on January 27, 2011