Ilish Maacher Tauk -- heady memories

Ilish Tauk | Ilish Machher Tok/Ambol | Hilsa Fish Chutney

Chutney, Ambol and Tok are the three different varieties of sour dishes in Bengal, the difference being in the sourness and thickness of the gravy in the dish. While Chutneys are the sweetest with a thick, sticky base, the ambol and tauk/tok are more sour and have a thinner gravy. Of all this, the Tauk(or Tok) is supposed to be the most sour. Since fish is abundant in Bengal, fish often features in a Tok or Ambol. Usually it's the tiny Mourala  which goes in a Tok or the fish head and tail of Hilsa (Ilish Macher Tok).  This tangy stew kinda dish is had as a last course, mixed with rice and supposed to have cooling effects in the hot summer.

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Update: This post was originally done in2012. I am updating with new photos and more precise recipe in 2021.

Amidst the umpteen other things that my Dida(maternal grandmother) cooked, there was an Ilish Macchher Tauk. Heads of ambrosial Ilish suspended in a thick, brown, sweet and syrupy liquid that was sweetened with jaggery and soured by ripe tamarind. To call it a "Hilsa Head Chutney" would be plain blasphemy.

It was a backstage kinda dish. I mean while the choicest pieces of Ilish were fried and served as is in a bhaja, the beautiful steak pieces steamed as a bhapa in clinging mustard sauce with fluffed white rice, the fish roe were fried and served with the tel and fresh green chili, the head and the tail led a sad life in waiting.

"Too many bones. Can't eat it", said the young girls in the family with a toss of freshly washed step-cut hair.

"Not enough meat in these pieces", said the grown up men who thought it beneath themselves to be served a lyaja -- a fish tail.

"Rohu heads are better. This has a strong smell", said the younger men, their faces till gentle, their opinion yet not chauvinistic.

And so the matha and the lyaja -- the fish head and the fish tail -- waited in my Dida's kitchen till she was done with the bhaja, the jhaal, the jhol. By then the sun was high up, the crows sitting on the Neem tree outside the kitchen were tired of all the cawing, the neighborhood cat had a princely meal of Ilish fish scales and was patiently waiting by the kaltala for the remains from the men's lunch plates who could never chew on the fish bones. The kaajer mashi--the house help-- Minoti'r Ma was hovering around the back door waiting to see which piece she would be taking home.

Ilish Mach er Tok/Ambol

It was then that my Dida opened up a green lidded plastic jar where lay a block of tamarind, brown, ripe and sticky wrapped in a piece of Bartaman.
The matha and the lyaja heaved relief. They loved the tauk. They loved being in that tangy, sweet liquid where they were the stars of the dish.

Minoti'r Ma stopped fretting and came to sit by the stove. I kept telling Ma that I would have lunch later with Dida and the older women. Dida put the kadahi back on the unoon and poured some more Mustard Oil in it. Minoti'r Ma rubbed the tamarind in a bowl full of water to take out the seeds and make the "kaath". The water slowly turned a deep burnt sienna and the kadhai hissed with scarlet red chili and mustard seeds. The matha and lyaja nudged each other and smiled. Their moment had come. As they bubbled in the tamarind gravy of the tauk sweetened by jaggery I waited patiently for the last course of my meal. The Ilish maacher Matha'r tauk.

My Mother made this tauk way back in March when she was visiting. I merely hovered around in anticipation. She and I are the only ones in the family who will eat this dish nowadays. So I wait for her--to visit us---and amidst many other things to cook me a Ilish Maacher tauk.

Gondhoraj Bhetki| Gondhhoraj Fish-- Fish flavored with Lime leaves

Gondhoraj Fish

The first time I had Gondhoraj Bhetki was about seven or eight years back at Oh! Calcutta. Even at that time, Bengali restaurants serving Bengali food in a great ambience was rare and Oh!Calcutta was kind of a trail blazer. I had found the food good enough but the restaurant too expensive. Two things had caught my fancy. One was their Nolen Gur er Ice Cream, I had never had that one before. Second was their Gondhoraj Bhetki. 

Recently, my friend Nandini shared with me her version of Gondhoraj Fish, made with Basa and Kaffir Lime leaves. It was delicious. I took  her recipe from the eastern part of the world and married it with part of my friend Kaushik's recipe of  Fish with Garlic and Lime from the west. The result was so delicious that this has now become one of our favorite fish to cook.

But my question is can I still call this dish Gondhoraj Bhetki if I used neither Gondhoraj nor Bhetki ? The recipe is same and I am sure the flavors hit all the right lime-y notes. The thing is if I wait for the right ingredients I will never cook half of the dishes I have grown up eating!

Gondhoraj Lebu is a special variety of lime which Bengalis are very possessive about. Oblong in shape and a pretty, vibrant lime green in color, it is larger than your regular Indian lime but not very juicy. A wedge of Gondhoraj Lime will yield only a few drops of juice but it is their heady scent that they are most known for. The citrus fragrance of this lime is so potent that it lingers on for hours after you have had your meal.

Originating in Sylhet and the hilly tracts of Chittagong, the gondhoraj is actually a Rangpur lime — a cross between a lime and a mandarin orange. 

Now there is no way that I can get Gondhoraj Lebu here, and even if I do in the freezer of some Bangladeshi store, I do not know if they will still carry their fragrance from the soil of their homeland million miles away. So I settled for the leaves of its distant cousin, Kaffir Lime, which I get in abundance in the Asian stores here.

I could have searched for Baramundi fish(Bhetki Fish) but I didn't and instead settled for what I had in my freezer.

Gondhoraj Fish-- Fish flavored with Kaffir Lime leaves

Fish fillet - Basa or Bhetki or Tilapia

I have used 4 Tilapia Loins each cut in three 2" x 2" pieces (approx. 400 gm of fish)

Marinade 1

Ginger paste - 1&1/2 heaped tsp

Garlic paste - 1 heaped tsp

Lime Juice - 1 Tbsp

Salt - to taste

Marinade 2

Yogurt - 1/2 Cup

Milk - 1/2 Cup

Heavy Cream - 2 Tbsp (for more creamy gravy use 1/3 Cup))

Lime zest - zest from 1 medium lime or half of a big one

Green Chilies - 2 chopped fine or made into paste

For the Gravy

Garlic - 6-8 fat cloves minced

Green Chilies - 4 chopped fine

Kaffir Lime Leaves - 2-3

Sugar - 1 tsp

Salt - to taste

Oil - 3 Tbsp Mustard oil or Olive Oil

Wash the fish filet, cut in 2" x 2" pieces, pat dry.

Toss the fish pieces with Marinade 1 as follows

1.5 heaped tsp Ginger paste

1 heaped tsp Garlic paste

1 Tbsp Lime Juice

Salt 

Let it rest for 15-20 mins

In another bowl add the ingredients in Marinade 2

1/2 Cup Yogurt 

1/4 Cup Milk 

2 Tbsp Heavy Cream

Lime zest from 1 small lime or half of a big one

2 Green Chilies chopped fine or made into paste

Take the fish pieces out of Marinade 1 and put in Marinade 2.  Toss it well and let it rest for next 20 minutes.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Warm 2 tablespoon of oil(I used Olive oil. You can use Mustard oil) .

Stir in the minced garlic and the green chilies. Sauté them until you get a beautiful aroma

Remove the fish pieces from the marinade and gently add to the skillet. Cook one side for 3 minutes and then gently flip the fish pieces.

Now pour the marinade into the pan. Cook at medium heat for about 10 minutes.

Add salt and a little sugar to taste and mix it in. Add few Kafir Lime leaves or Gondhoraj Lime leaves. Add couple more green chilies slit at the center. Taste and if you want more citrus flavor add 1 more tsp of Lime juice.

Switch off heat and keep covered for the next 10 minutes. Serve with steaming white rice.

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Tomato Kasundi -- adapted from Leela Majumdar

Tomato kasundi | Tomato Kashundi

This Kasundi is great as a dip for anything or a dressing for your cucumber-carrot salad. It has more of a tangy tomatoe-y taste than a mustard-y taste. Be generous with the mustard oil and you won't be disappointed.

Aam Kashundi

This Tomato Kasundi recipe is adapted from one of my favorite cookbook of all times. It's in Bengali by my favorite author Leela Majumdar. For those who don't know about her, she is a very famous author of Bengali literature and most loved for her writings for the young adults. Her books like "Podipishi'r Bormi Bakso" or "Monimala" are legends in their own times. Her memoir "Paakdondi" still remains in the list of my favorite books. She also happens to be Satyajit Ray's aunt.

I am not a big time cookbook reader. Never was. My recipes are mostly from friends, families and now blogs. My mother too never had a cookbook as far as I can remember. Cookbooks were not the "in thing" in those days. However she used to often copy recipes from magazines like Jugantor or Sananda and write them down in a diary. We both loved reading the recipes in colorful pages of Sananda or Femina those days. And of course the Personal columns :-p

The first cookbook I ever bought was just before I moved to US. It was a bengali cookbook by Bela De, very popular in those times. It had lots of recipes and was very cut and dry but useful. The recipes were written just like my Mother would say if you asked her how she made a particular dish -- a little of ginger and some cumin seeds. It gave you a basic framework and you took it from there.

Along with Bela De, I had bought another book, not because I wanted to learn the recipes (though they are excellent) but because I was a(still am) huge fan of the author Lila Majumdar. By then I had read all of her writings and when I landed one afternoon at the Dasgupta book stores in College Street asking if I had skipped reading any of Lila Majumdar's books, they gave me her "Ranna r Boi".

To be honest, I wasn't too enthusiastic. I had hoped for an unpublished manuscript maybe. But then I started reading it without the intention of cooking and started loving it. Her words in the introduction of that book became my mantra.  She wrote recipes in a conversational tone, again missing out on the measurements, but they were honest. They told you about substituting ingredients and things like "You can use this instead of this but it won't taste as good :-D". I read through that book often when I felt homesick in those early days in a foreign country. I cooked from it too but mostly I just read those recipes for pleasure.

"If you have to eat to survive then why not try to eat well. And eating well  means eating food that looks good, tastes good, is nutritious, inexpensive, easy and takes little time to cook "

I was craving for some Aam Kasundi or Mango kashundi  but did not have any mangoes. So I settled on Tomato Kasundi. I have adapted this Tomato Kasundi recipe from the book. The ingredients are as she suggested. It made for a very delicious dip. This Kasundi has more of a tangy tomatoe-y taste than a mustard-y taste. Be generous with the Mustard Oil and you will not be disappointed.

Bengali Rice Congee or Phenaa Bhaat

Phenaa Bhaat in all Bengali Homes == Bengali Rice Congee in a restaurant.

Few days back, I was talking to Pritha Di( the famous Pritha Sen) about typical Bengali breakfasts served in Bengali middle class homes until a few years back.

" Don't tell me about Luchi, Parotta, Kochuri. Tell me something else, " I said.

That is when memory of this ubiquitous dish, ever present in our childhood mornings, came back.

For the first ten years of my life, I remember rushing through the morning, sleepy eyed and grumpy to catch the school bus somewhere around 8 AM. What I cannot fathom is, how I managed to eat a hot breakfast of soft cooked rice, mashed potatoes and boiled eggs with a pat of melting Amul Butter, that early!! My daughters can barely finish a bowl of cereal in that time.

But it wasn't me alone. Millions of Bengali kids fortified themselves with a similar breakfast and probably still do. It is a healthy, one pot meal. easy for the mothers to cook and definitely good for the kids who swallow the soft morsels hurriedly in the morning.

In PrithaDi's home it was known as "Jau Bhaat". In mine "Phenaa Bhaat" and if the starch was drained then "Seddho bhaat" or "Bhaate Bhaat".

In those days, we had no idea that other Asian kids, strewn around China, Taiwan, Japan, Korea, Philippines, Myanmar are probably eating a similar gruel called Congee as their breakfast.

The key to the Bengali "Phenaa Bhaat" is the rice. It has to be a short grained rice and if a fragrant one, all the more better. So the natural choice is Gobindobhog rice. In its absence you can use Kalijeera or any other local short grained rice. The rice is to be cooked with lots of water and vegetables to a starchy gruel like texture. The vegetables vary with season and shouldn't overpower the dish. During summer it is usually potatoes, and then you pick couple of choices from okra, pumpkin, radish and green papaya. In the winter, there is carrots, sweet peas, cauliflower and of course potatoes.

Once cooked, the vegetables can be mashed separately and served with the dish. Some of the vegetables like pumpkin, potatoes and papaya can just be roughly mashed into the rice itself. My mother used to also serve fried fish with the seddho bhaat when she was pressed for time. All of this would be topped with Ghee or a pat of golden Amul butter.

I like it when the dish has a silky and smooth texture and served with eggs. I also like to dress it up with some green chili and ginger slices fried in mustard oil.

Daab Chingri -- Prawns in Tender Coconut Shell

Daab Chingri | Prawns cooked in tender coconut shell

Daab Chingri, or prawns cooked in tender coconut shell is more of an urban Bengali dish, made very popular by restaurants. The base recipe is very much like shorshe chingri bhaape, where prawns are mixed in a mustard-coconut paste and then steamed. Here the steaming or cooking happens in a tender green coconut shell, with the the tender coconut(daab) and its cream(daab er malai) elevating the flavor of the dish. 

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Not all recipes start with a line like "And in my grandmother's kitchen..."

Neither do all recipes have a boat load of nostalgia tied to them.

But one thing is true, every delicious recipe is triggered by the memory of a meal.

I had never seen a Daab Chingri cooked in my grandmother's kitchen. Neither did my Mother ever make it. Daab aka Tender Young Coconut was very popular in India and we loved it as a drink. Bonus was the tender meat of the coconut -- the shaansh. But prawns cooked in the shell of a tender green coconut? It never featured in any of my childhood meals!

Now Shorshe Chingri Bhaape, where prawns were mixed with a mustard-coconut paste and steamed, was a very popular dish in my home. Only it was steamed in a sealed stainless steel container, that was put either in a pot of rice being cooked or in a pressure cooker. Sometimes, and only sometimes, in my Dida's kitchen, shrimp, coconut and mustard paste would be tossed together, put in a coconut shell and tucked into the dying embers of a unoon. But that was not Daab, that was the hard cooconut shell, it was more of a hasty practical dish and not fancy.

I started hearing about Daab Chingri only when finer Bengali food restaurants started sprouting around Kolkata metropolis. Unlike the paise hotels, which served everyday Bengali meals to the masses, these restaurants offered fine dining in a lovely ambiance and a menu that boasted of Bengali delicacies -- some known and some concocted. I have a hunch that "Daab Chingri" was a brilliant idea spawned by one of them. It tasted delicious like Chingri Bhaape and was very unique in its presentation style. No wonder the dish took off swiftly and spread like wild fire.

Soon, every other person started saying "The Bengali traditional Daab Chingri cooked by my grandmother....". Like really? Your grandmother in the 60s, 70s, 80s and even early 90s cooked Daab Chingri in her kitchen? Errr...think twice!

But to be honest, Daab Chingri is more of an urban Bengali dish and not one of those traditional ones with boatmen, Portuguese, Thakurbari and history written all over them.

Daab Chingri at 6 Ballygunge Place

So anyway, having heard so much about this dish, I wanted to desperately try it. Last time during my India trip, my parents took me to 6 Ballygunge Place. Beautiful decor, awesome table settings, very unique menu -- I was blown over! And they had Daab Chingri on the menu. I had to order it of course. It was a beautiful dish no doubt but I had a feeling that the prawns were cooked prior and then the dish finished off in the Daab. No harm done of course. Maybe this is how one makes Daab Chingri, I concluded.

Then last week, my very talented friend Moumita made Daab Chingri at home and shared with me. It was delicious. The Daab that we get here is not the green coconut served in Indian restaurants, but a slightly more mature version, stripped of the green exterior.

Today, I had a deep desire to cook Daab Chingri at home. Moumita was away from her phone. I started browsing recipes on the internet and each involved garlic, cream, paanchphoron and what not 😡😭. That's not how  I envisioned Daab Chingri. I knew my Daab Chingri would be the mustard-coconut one and not the garlic-cream one.

I then, texted another friend Baishali and she promptly shared two recipes with me. Both her recipes were exactly how I wanted them to be and here's what sealed the deal. Her recipes were very, very easy.

In fact one of them was done totally in the Microwave. As I was experimenting, I tried both the Oven and Microwave method. With lots of green Chili, the sharp mustard paste mellowed by the mildly sweet Coconut, golden Mustard Oil, and succulent prawns -- this was a beautiful dish. Triggered by the memory of a meal and aided by friends, it was dish I would always treasure.💓

To be honest, it is very much like the Shorshe Chingri Bhaape who has gone to a glamorous party. The Tender Coconut Shell definitely adds some panache to the presentation and lends a layer of coconut flavor to the dish.

Fuluri or Phuluri ~ on the trail of a fried snack

Let me jog your memory and remind you of the A-Z of Bengali Cuisine that I have been half-heartedly attempting since last year. I mean my heart is fully into it but I keep falling back in chronicling the recipes.

Anyway,let me remind you that around November last year, we were stuck at the Letter "F". Not the word, the letter. The reader's choice popular awards demanded "F for Fuchka", "F for Fish Orly" and "F for Fish Fry".

However what was stuck in the grooves of my brain was steeped in memory, nostalgia and zero real life experience. F for "Fuluri".

A few yards away from my maternal grandmother's home in northern parts of Kolkata, right behind a small temple that was built upon faith and an old banyan tree, there was a narrow lane. This narrow lane was one of the many, many narrow lanes that crisscrossed that part of the city.Those days cars and buses were few and they for the most part stuck to the main roads. Bicycles, rickshaws and mostly people on foot plied the narrow gallis. Even then the by-lanes were a quiet, peaceful haven where you could chalk the time of the day by observing the thoroughfare.

Early morning as the eastern sky turned pink, you could hear the trill of the bicycle bells of the doodhwallah, the thwack of the newspaper guy who brought news on his bicycle and the faint All India Radio signature tune of "Vande Mataram" from the houses along the lane who stirred and woke up from deep slumber. Little later the lane would resound with high pitched voices of kids in school uniform, the tiny ones with sleep in their eyes and their small fingers wrapped around their mother's, the older ones huddled close with their friends, walking towards the school bus stop. Almost the same time as the school crowd there would be the "bajaar goers", middle aged men, sometimes women, purposefully striding towards the morning market to get the best fish for the day. This was when the lane would get really busy and you would know the small hand of clock was somewhere around 8 and 9 in the morning.

By the time the sun had risen further and the shadows stretched long and thin from one end of the lane to the other, office goers with their briefcase, three tiered tiffin carrier and a small box of paan, marched along the lane, to wait for their crowded bus at the corner where the narrow lane met the main road.

Soon after, with the sun high up in the sky, the lane would turn hushed, sleepy, interrupted only by sounds of a pressure cooker whistle or the hiss and sputter of mustard oil. Elderly men would sit out on the porch and maids with slim waist bang doors as they rushed from one home to another.

Sometime around 5 in the evening, in this very ordinary lane, a small shop would open its shutters. The shop was nearer to the main road and closer to the temple. A very strategic location.

And in this shop, there would be an old woman, sitting behind a huge black kadhai that rested on a unoon, a coal fire stove. Great amount of oil sizzled in this Kadhai. The old woman swirled her bony wrists and poured dollops of chickpea and various other batter into the hot oil. The oil bubbled and sputtered angrily, magically turning the batter into golden balls, which she then took out with a slotted spoon, and served to her customers in paper cones made of day old newspaper. Her small store front would be so crowded with cries of "Chaar te Chingrir Chop", "Duto Beguni", "Dash ta Fuluri", that you had to stand sideways and push with your shoulder to get an entry. By mid evening pools of yellow light gathered under the street lamps and the lane was redolent with heavenly smell of deep fried food. This was "Buri'r telebhajar dokaan"(the old woman's fritter shop) from where my uncles got beguni, aloor chop and fuluri, wrapped in newspaper, on rare evenings.

And this is the only place where I ever had "Fuluri". Rest were all Pakori.

Now, I always assumed "Fuluri" was same as "Pakora or Pakori". Whenever chickpea batter fritters were made at home, my Mother used the term "Pakora" and never "fuluri", but I though they both were basically the same. The husband-man who has stronger memories of Fuluri claimed that "Fuluri" has to be bigger, rounder and more air filled than Pakori. It doesn't have vegetable or onions which we tend to put in a pakori batter. He also insisted that in addition to besan(chickpea flour), "Fuluri" has to have some dal paste in the batter.

After all even "The word pakoṛā is derived from Sanskrit पक्ववट pakvavaṭa a compound of pakva 'cooked' and vaṭa 'a small lump' or its derivative vaṭaka 'a round cake made of pulse fried in ghee" -- source Wiki.

So what was after all Fuluri?

To verify the husband-man's claim, I scoured the internet for "Fuluri" and got pages and pages of Trinidad Pholouries. In Trinidad homes, pholourie is fried balls of a thick batter made from flour, yellow split-pea flour, turmeric and cumin (and other seasonings like garlic as well, depending on the cook).Clearly the Bangali Fuluri and Trinidad Phulourie were first cousins. It was more natural that it emigrated to Trinidad from Bihar where such fritters go by the name of "phulourie".

Next I turned to Progyasundari Devi's book, treasures gifted by my friend A. In there she has recipes of Fuluri which is made of only Besan just like pakori and she calls them "Besan er Fuluri". She also has recipes of Oriya Fuluri which uses dal paste in the batter.

To come to a conclusion, I then asked my trusted Encyclopedia Britannica of food, Pritha Sen. We debated a bit over whether dal paste should or should not go in a fuluri batter until she threw open the debate on her Facebook timeline. Somnath, another ardent food enthusiast got to work.This is what happened after that.

Straight from Pritha Di's Facebook post:

"Somnath Roychoudhury took matters into his own hands and went on a street food jaunt, talking to three Phuluri makers. Somnath said it was the fluffiness that led to the name -- Phuley otha besan bhaja (Fluffed up fried besan). He said that he doubted if any cook book writer ever mastered real streetfood. He said that there is a variety of besan you get in the market for commercial use. It's not as fine as the branded besan and that besan is a must for a good fuluri which tastes best if you eat it super hot. Somnath went across to Tyangra and two places in Behala, acorss the city and has this to say:

"According to the vendors I spoke to, there are two kinds of Phuluris -- one is hard and crusty with a soft fluffy inside, which is probably made from grainy and coarse besan mixed with different flavourings and fried the size of Rajbhog. The second has a softer outer layer with super fluffy inside made from fine powdered besan. No no daal paste business. Dalpaste is used in daal pokora or mixed with besan to make Daal bora."

His findings corroborated what some others had been saying. That a Phuluri is besan batter, beaten well with chopped green chillies and chilli powder and salt and bicarbonate of soda and deep fried into round fluffy balls and served with spiced salt sprinkled over it. To further prove his point he has pictures and a video of the Phuluri maker whipping the batter.

So Sandeepa, the conclusion was that when affluent Bengali homes recreated the Phuluri in their own kitchens, they did so with the ingredients they were used to making boras from, not having had the privilege to talk to the actual street food makers about how it was done. So a Phuluri is plain batter fried into fluffy balls and never has any vegetable in it."

Isn't it interesting how a simple thing like Fuluri can set you on a long trail ?

I decided to merge the recipe of Oriya Fuluri and the Besan Fuluri to make my own.  We liked the result. The inside was soft fluffy and the outside was more crunchy. Mine were almost like a pakori and didn't really look like round balls of Trinidad Pholourie. As Somnath said, you need some amount of street food expertise to make the perfect round balls.
*You can skip the chana dal paste and use only chickpea flour or besan to make your Fuluri.

Fuluri or Phuluri

Soak 1/2 Cup of Split Pea/Chana Dal for an hour.

With little water, grind this dal to a paste.

Now in a wide mouthed bowl pour the dal paste.
To it add
1/2 cp of Besan/Chickpea Flour
Salt to taste
1/2 tsp of baking soda
2 green chilli finely chopped

Adding little water, whip up the batter to make a thick smooth paste. Don't pour water all at once. Add water gradually until you get a smooth batter without any lumps.

Now heat enough oil for deep frying. Take a tsp of hot oil and mix it with the batter.

Now test if the oil is ready for frying. Put a drop of the batter in the oil. If it sinks, oil is not ready yet. If the drop of batter bubbles and floats back then oil is just right.

Drop in spoonfuls of batter in the hot oil and watch it swell and turn golden. With a slotted spoon gently move them around until the ball is golden brown.

Take the crispy golden brown balls out and let it drain on a paper towel. Sprinkle some rock salt/pink salt and serve.

Great with a cup of hot chai.

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Fish Batter Fry or Fish Orly -- Bengali Style

I think I have said a million times on my blog, that I have spent a big chunk of my growing up years outside Kolkata. And by outside, I do not mean merely the suburbs, the once quiet localities where now the city has encroached with malls et al. But I talk about  places still further, where if you boarded the express train at night after dinner, you would wake up just outside Kolkata with the morning sounds of "Cha-Gorom Cha-Cha Gorom" from the chaiwallahs. This is just to make clear that even though I have lived later in Calcutta later, I am not as familiar with the so-called institutions of Kolkata as many of you are.

For a large part of my childhood, Kolkata, remained the city of winter vacations,wrapped in embroidered Kashmiri shawls and smelling of rich brown fruit cakes. December was the only time of the year when we would be spending one whole month at my Dida's home, eating, lazing and generally having the kind of time which memories are made of. Somewhere nestled among the sun soaked winter afternoons in Alipore zoo, escalator rides at RBI and the Birla museum, there were also "biyebaris",  weddings of several removed cousins of my Mother's and the wedding feast catered during the occasion.

The menu at these biyebaris scored high above those in our mofussil towns and the one thing I liked most about them was the "fish fry" served with slivers of purple onion and mustard at the start of the meal. Fillet of fish, usually Bhetki, was rolled in a coating of eggs and breadcrumb and then deep fried, to make the brown, crunchy fish fry. This technique, I later learned, is called "breading". One bite in the the crunchy outer layer, revealed the sweet fish inside, taking you straight to food heaven.

"Fish Fry" was a rage in the late 70's and early eighties in Kolkata and a wedding feast was not complete without them. Other than the weddings, fish fry was also sold at some restaurants and my uncles would often bring them home, packed in a paper bag with tell tale signs of oil spots and an aura of fried food around them. This delicacy was not available in the town we lived and so after a year's wait, the breaded fish fry in Calcutta seemed as magical as a snowflake to the child in the tropics.

When I asked my readers on Facebook, to nominate a Bengali dish to represent "F" in "A-Z of Bengali cuisine", a huge number said Fish Fry. Totally after my heart. This delightful and delicious example of the Anglo-Indian influence on Bengali cooking definitely deserves to be featured in "F".

The Anglo-Bangla Fish Fry

However I noticed that a substantial number of votes in the same thread went for "Fish Orly" Some were more specific and said "Bijoli Grill's Fish Orly". Now Fish Orly, is a batter fried fish preparation which I had never been particularly fond of. I am not a Kolkata veteran and the few times I have tried the "Bijoli Grill Fish Orly" at Nandan, I have not been blown off my feet. Maybe it is just me but I found "fish orly" greasy and not a match to the crunchy breaded "fish fry".I am sure, I ate fish orly at the wrong places all the time, and that is the reason never really appreciated this masterpiece.

At that time I had no idea what an "orly" was supposed to be, but cooking makes you learn a lot of things and only last week I learned that -- "À l'Orly is a French cooking term used to describe a preparation method usually used with fish fillets. The fish is usually a white fish such as sole, perch or cod.The fillets are skinned, battered and deep fried."

By the early 90's "fish orly" and "fish butter fry" (probably a mispronounced "fish batter fry") had shoved "fish fry" off the Bengali wedding menus. Bijoli Grill caterers were primarily responsible for introducing Fish Orly to the Bengali palate and most people loved it . They raved about it. The only thing I liked was the rolling of the french sounding name on my tongue. It made me feel oddly Parisian without an ounce of idea that "orly" was a French cooking term. I was clearly the square peg.

After the Facebook comments however, I decided to look up the hoo-haa over "Fish Orly". The technique sounded pretty simple. I had some swai filet in the freezer waiting to go in the oven. All else looked good, so instead of the oven, the fish's fate were decided in the orly. "If the Universe conspires and so forth..." .

I marinated the fish almost same as in a Fish Fry, a tad simpler actually. Then for the batter, I used an amalgamation of recipes on the internet for "batter fried fish". Some suggested corn flour but I skipped it. Flour, eggs, water, baking soda was it. Maybe a little more of the baking soda would have made the coating more airy but I decided to stick to a pinch. On a cold winter evening, the hot fried fish tasted pretty good. The girls loved it to the hilt. I still found it oily and realized that it tastes best when had right off the fryer.

Maybe that is why I never liked it in all those years ?

Fish Batter Fry or Fish Orly

I had fillets of Swai cut in 10 pieces. Each piece was about a 3"x 2" piece or smaller. You can use fillet of fish like Bhetki if in India or Cod, Tilapia when Bhetki is not available.

Make a paste of
2-3 fat cloves of garlic,
1 tbsp of peeled & chopped ginger,
2 green chili
with little vinegar. This is the paste that will be used to marinate the fish.

Alternately marinate with
1 tbsp of ginger paste(homemade)
1 tbsp garlic paste

Put the fish pieces in one single layer in a shallow bowl. Sprinkle salt and pepper to taste on them.

Marinade the fish pieces with
the paste from step 2,
1 tbsp of vinegar, 
squeeze of a quarter of lime
Make sure that all of the fish pieces are nicely coated with the marinade

Cover & refrigerate overnight. If in a hurry, half an hour to an hour is fine.

For the batter

In a bowl sift
1 Cup of All-Purpose Flour/Maida
a pinch of baking soda(approx. 1/4 tsp)
salt to taste
pepper powder to taste

To it add
1 egg beaten
1 Cup of  Water
1 tsp of vegetable oil

Whisk to make a smooth batter like you would for pancakes. Keep the batter aside for 10 minutes

Now heat enough oil for deep frying

Dip each piece of fish in the batter to coat and then deep fry in hot oil. Keep the heat to medium-high during frying. Fry each side for about 3 minutes each until the fish gets a golden coat.

Eat 'em hot.



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Bengali Mutton Stew -- and a song for Saraswati

Bengali Mutton Stew adapted from Lila Majumdar's Brown Stew

When I was a small child, I did not sing. Rather I assumed that "I cannot sing". It must have been a true assumption since years later when I tried to sing lullaby to my daughters, they protested and later told me to not sing when they are trying to sleep!

However my father, like all fathers, did not believe in my lack of singing talent as a 5 year old. He was a connoisseur of Rabindra Sangeet and though he himself could not sing a single note in key, he made it up by being an ardent listener. Rabindra Sangeet was the only music that played in our house in those days. The few Hindi songs that I heard were either over the neighborhood loudspeaker or on Binaca Geetmala on Bibidh Bharati. The only voices that boomed through our tape recorder was that of Debobroto Biswas, Suchitra Mitra and Kanika.

This overdose of Rabindra Sangeet at home, made me kind of detest Tagore's Songs. Yes, a blasphemy, but honestly I did not get most of the Tagore songs as a child. There were few like "Purano sei diner kotha" and "Aakash bhora surjo tara" which I really liked but most others, played day in and day out sounded monotonic to my ignorant ears.

As a result when my Father wanted me to learn Rabindra Sangeet, as most Bengali Fathers would, I protested. I said "I cannot sing", which might have been true but not something that could not have been worked on with some training. But I steadfastly refused any training and even with an opportunity to learn at Tagore's ChitraBhanu, I did not succumb to the pleasures of learning music. Even at the compulsory music class in school, I mouthed words, keeping my voice low, assuming that I cannot really sing.

Many, many years later, I kind of started appreciating Tagore's songs. I partly understood the words, the poetry and the music or at least I thought I did. My understanding was not even close to my Father's love for Tagore's songs but at least I realized why he might have wanted me to learn Rabindra Sangeet.

So, as most Bengali Mothers are wont to do, I enrolled my daughters in a Bengali music class.

I have always heard that most parents want to fulfill their wishes through their children. I thought it was a selfish thing to want. Now, I know, it is not always so. With their years of trudging through the swirling waters of life, when parents eventually realize what happiness those wishes and trainings could bring, they want to plant a love for that wish in their child's heart. So a parent who dropped out of school makes sure that the offspring gets to finish academics, the one who hardly practiced the piano and wishes she could play music for her own solace persuades her child to practice piano every day and the one who never learned to sing wants her daughters to sing.

It is not that we parents want our children to become like us, we think it will do them good to be what we aren't.

With that wish in my heart, I suggested gaaner school aka music school to my daughters. Of course my father has been subtly suggesting the same all along.I must say that I was lucky enough to find a music teacher in my neighborhood, who is not only fantastic but also knows how to work with kids very well. So once a week, after school, in the evening, she fills my daughter's life with music they don't hear everyday.She teaches them children's songs along with Vedic songs often interspersed with Rabindra Sangeet. The result is that both LS and BS look forward to their Friday Bangla Gaaner school where they go along with little friends they have known since birth.

For this Saraswati pujo, their music teacher has taught them Tagore's "Modhuro Dhwoni Baaje". And when these little kids sing this difficult Bengali song, pronouncing the words just right, my heart is filled with an unknown happiness.

My Dad was in tears hearing their rendition which I had sent him over e-mail.After all they are little kids, growing up far from Tagore's land and probably do not understand meaning of half of the words of this song. Their singing is not perfect but it is beautiful.

For my father, it is probably a wish come true.

Modhuro Dhwoni Baaje by Little Sis

Now back to this very Bengali Mutton Stew which LS loves. BS too loves the stew as long as she does not have to eat the mutton. She is turning into a vegetarian these days. In winter vegetables like carrots and beet makes this the perfect winter stew.

Usually I make the stew this way. But this time I followed the recipe for Leela Majumdar's "Brown Stew" narrated in her inimitable style, from her cookbook which I read more for the comfort it brings than recipes. This is truly the most heart warming soup you can make, with minimal effort on your part. It tastes best with mutton but is good enough with chicken too.

Bengali Mutton Stew

Prep

Though the recipe does not suggest, I always marinate my meat. Marinate Mutton/Goat meat in ginger paste, garlic paste, salt and a pinch of turmeric powder. I usually marinate all the mutton I get and then freeze in portions. For this stew I used about 10 piece of that marinated mutton (about 1 lb)

Wash and chop the following vegetables for stew
1 carrot
half of a large beet
2 small red potatoes in halves
about 8-10 string beans
a small portion of green papaya
half of a red onion
As the author says, do not overload this stew with vegetables. The vegetables should be in proportion with the meat you use.

Cook

Heat about 1 Tbsp of Vegetable oil in a pressure cooker

Temper the oil with
2 small Tej Patta
2 clove
2 green cradamom
a small stick of cinnamon
10 whole black peppercorns

When the whole spices sputter, add the mutton pieces. The  pieces should be in a single layer and not crowd the pan.
Saute at high heat until the mutton pieces are browned. If the mutton releases water, cook until the water is dried off and the mutton has lost its raw coloring. Take out the mutton and keep aside.

To the same oil, add the onion and fry for 2-3 minutes until onion softens a little.

Add all the other chopped vegetables, sprinkle salt and let the vegetables brown a little. It is not really necessary to fry the vegetables, just gently saute for a few minutes.

Next make a roux by mixing about 1/4th cup of flour mixed in 1/4 Cup Milk + 1/4 Cup Water(whole wheat atta or maida). Pour this and toss the vegetables around. The original recipe had suggested adding the flour along with the mutton but I add it with the vegetables

Now add the browned mutton pieces.

Add about 3-4 cups of water, salt to taste and mix everything with a ladle.

At this point add 2 fat clove of garlic chopped in slices and an inch of ginger grated. Add a tomato if you wish. Let the stew come to a simmer.

Close the pressure cooker. After the first whistle or once the pressure is built up, lower the heat and let the stew cook at low medium heat for about 10 minutes. After that raise the heat and cook for 5-6 more minutes. Switch off and let the pressure cooker release steam naturally.

Once the pressure cooker lid can be opened, carefully open the lid and check if meat is done. If not, you have to close the lid and cook for another 6-8 minutes.

If the meat is done, taste the stew and add freshly cracked black pepper and salt to taste. If the stew looks a bit runny, open the lid and put it on heat again to cook off some of the excess water.

Serve with a dollop of butter and with a piece of crusty bread or rice on the side..

Similar Soups and Stews from my blog:

One more Mutton Stew

Chicken Stew for the Kids -- Chotoder Chicken Stew

Kerala Style Chicken Stew

Bhoger Khichuri and Anarosher Chutney

Bhog er Khichuri is the Khichuri, a Bengali will offer to the the Goddess on Durga Pujo, Lokkhi Pujo or Saraswati Pujo. If done on any other day it will just be the Bhaja Moog Dal er Khichuri or a Khichdi made with Roasted Moong dal or a Rice and Lentil dish akin to Risotto if I try going international.. The same Khichdi when mixed with devotion, faith, respect and fragrance of incense, is lifted to the sublime and is called Bhog er Khichuri.

Along with a mixed vegetable dish of Labra, different kinds of  fries called bhaja and Tomato Chaatni, this Khichuri was offered during Pujo, in heavy plates with raised edges made of kansa (bell metal) or brass. Water was served in similar glasses. Sweets and several fruits cut and cubed made up the other edible arrangements. Fresh flowers, heavy fragrance from incense sticks and dhuno made up the complete atmosphere.

In addition to all this there was something offered called noibiddyo, small mounds of small grained raw rice that had been soaked, raw yellow moong soaked, some sweet sondesh, pieces of ripe banana were arranged in portions in a separate plate. Though Noibiddyo or Naivedhya means "offering made to the Gods" and so everything offered should actually have fallen under this category, we specifically labelled this offering of raw rice et al as Noibiddyo. You will get a clearer image of this from this pic I found in Flickr.

After the pujo was over, these small mounds of rice, sondesh and bananas were mixed together in a kind of mash. The raw rice due to the overnight soaking was soft but had a bite and the sondesh and banana sweetened the whole deal. More than the khichuri, it is this thing called chaal-kola makha, distributed with prasad at the end of  pujo, is what I waited for.

Saraswati Pujo is on Friday. My parents are going to have an elaborate pujo back home as usual. Friday being a working day, I will have a small pujo at home in the evening where I will do almost nothing according to tradition except offer sweets and books, pray and ask her for knowledge and wisdom.

On Saturday, we will have a pujo at a larger scale in a friends' basement. There we will have Khichuri and labra and also much fun. I am trying to teach the girls to sing a Saraswati Vandana for the pujo there and given that I cannot sing a single note in tune, I have roped in help from YouTube. So every night for ten whole minutes I play a simple Saraswati bhajan on my laptop and the girls' join in singing at the top of their voice. It does not sound very musical and the little one keeps saying "Naamo Sharada Maatha" instead of "Maata", which is kind of funny given that "Maatha" in Bengali means "head". The ensuing cacophony is enough to drive any Saraswati up the wall but we are hoping that the Goddess and audience has more patience.

In prospect of this wonderful future (ahem!), I made a Bhaaja Moog Dal er Khichuri today. Since I did not offer it to the divine, I cannot say it was bhog er khichuri yet. Instead of Tomato Chaatni, I made Anarosher Chaatni or Pineapple Chutney. The Begun Bhaja or fried eggplants I baked in the oven taking cue from a reader who had suggested this method. I lighted up some incense sticks and then deliberated on eating it, since Khichuri does not feature in the top 20 things I want to eat stranded in a desert island. Furthermore Khichuri without an omlette holds very little charm for me. So I made an omlette, something which would have been impossible on the actual day of Pujo and then ate it all up myself. I mean I also fed it to the rest of the family.

You don't have to wait for any divine intervention, any day you want a one pot meal, make this and offer yourself.



Some of my previous posts on Saraswati Pujo are here and here. Here is my Labra, Begun Bhaja and Anarosher Chaatni recipe to complete the meal. There is another version of Khichuri I make called Bhuni Khichuri which is a spicier and richer version of this.

The very nice people from masalamommas had asked me a few questions and that article up on their site. Go check if you want. Thanks Salima, the lovely lady who did the piece. And btw that picture is of Salima's. 

Bhog er Khichuri 

 

A liitle prep

Chop 1 medium potato in quarters.
Chop half of a small cauliflower in about 6-8 large-ish florets
Defrost about 1/4 cup of frozen peas (or use same amount of fresh green peas)

Wash 1 cup of rice(short grained rice like gobindobhog, kalijeera etc. preferred, I used sona masoori) and soak in water

Roast 1 cup of Yellow Moong Dal till you get a nice nutty aroma. About 50% of the dals should be a light brown on roasting. Rinse the dal lightly in water and keep aside. Approx. 4 minutes.

In a separate frying pan, fry the potatoes and cauliflower with sprinkle of turmeric powder till they are a shade of light gold and the cauliflower florets have some brown spots.Throw in the green peas and saute them too.

After we are done with the prep part we will start on the actual khichuri

Heat Vegetable Oil + 1 tsp Ghee in a deep and heavy bottomed pot.

Temper the oil with
4 green cardamom
4 clove/laung
1 thin stick of cinnamom
1 Bay Leaf/tejpata
2 Dry red chilli
1 tsp of whole cumin seeds/jeera

When the spices pop to the oil add
1-2 tbsp mince or grated ginger 

Add 1 medium tomato

Add
1 tsp Cumin powder
1 tsp Garam Masala 1/2 tsp Red chilli powder(or Kashmiri Mirch)
1/2 tsp turmeric powder
all made into a paste with water Saute for 2-3 minutes

Next add the roasted moong dal and mix with the masala. Saute the dal along with the masalas for couple of minutes.

Add 1 cup of pre-washed ned rice now

Now add about 8 cups of warm water to the pot. Add little salt. Cover the pot and let the water simmer to a boil.

2-3 minutes after the boiling starts add the potatoes, cauliflower and peas. Add 1-2 Cup more water if needed.

Once you see the water boil, lower the heat, cover and let the rice and lentils cook. In between, remove the cover, gently give a stir and check if they are done or if more water is needed.

Once the rice, lentils and vegetables are cooked, sprinkle about 1 tsp of sugar and a pinch of Garam Masala. Mix gently. Drizzle a tbsp or more of ghee . Serve hot.

Pressure Cooker Method:
To cook in pressure cooker, after you have added the vegetables, do not add any more water. Close the Pressure cooker lid and cook for 2 whistles or 3 minutes if in Futura pressure cooker.

Once the pressure has released naturally, open the lid and check the consistency of  Khichuri. Add little more water if needed and adjust for salt and seasoning. Add Garam masala if needed.

At the very end, heat 1 Tbsp ghee in a small frying pan and roast some cashews and raisins until golden. Add them along with the ghee to the Khichuri. Serve hot.

Fourteen Lights and Begun diye Palong Shak

Earnestly working on painting clay lamps

Bhoot Chaturdashi, the day before Kali Pujo, Bengalis have a tradition to light fourteen lamps and place them in fourteen dark corners of their home.Choddo Prodeep we call it.

The lamps that were painted and decorated by BS and LS

I remember rolling cotton wicks in the palm of my hand and helping my Ma light the fourteen clay prodeep which had been washed and dried in the sun all morning and were waiting ready, filled to the brim with golden Mustard oil. After the lamps were lit, came the next step, the most interesting one in this process. We had to find the darkest corners of the home to place the lamps, corners where darkness was thick and black like a blueberry jello and a flickering lamp could merely make a feeble statement .

There would be one placed near the tulsi plant, one on the outside window sill of the bathroom, a third by the choubachcha -- the water tank in the backyard, and then the rest by the doorstep of each rooms. This day was all about darkness and flickering clay lamps unlike the day of Deepavali when rows of slender wax candles would be stuck around the front verandah and lighted up to dispel any essence of darkness.

Bengalis also have a tradition to cook and eat fourteen different kind of greens on this day. Choddo -Shaak it is called.

Now I can understand the logic of fourteen lamps to dispel the darkness and bring light or to pay homage to fourteen ancestors, whichever theory you live your life by. But I have never understood the worthiness of fourteen greens. I mean you buy fourteen different kind of greens, which itself is a daunting task, then you chop them up, scary prospect and then cook fourteen different kind of dishes with these greens. Why ? Really why ? Am I consuming the year's worth of Vitamin A on this single day ?

So anyway the choddo shak never excites me, too much work.I would rather light lovely lamps, have a nice cup of hot tea and take pictures of both lamp and tea instead. Most that i try to do is, to cook one or two leafy greens and maintain traces of a ritual that has it origins. This year it was the simple Begun diye Palong Shaak, a classic Bengali recipe where Spinach greens are cooked with cubed pieces of eggplant in mustard oil and a Pui Shaak cooked with pumkin, eggplant and potatoes.

The star of the night however were the lamps, four of which were painted and decorated by Big Sis and Little Sis. They had much fun painting them and sticking them up with jewels. It is really an easy craft project for small kids and requires plain clay diyas,some paint and self stick rhinestones. The girls do not care for the fourteen, and we rarely light oil lamps, so this involvement in the whole prodeep thing charged them up and they waited and waited till evening fell and we lighted fourteen lamps.

Begun Diye Palong Shaak

Wash the spinach greens well and chop fine

Next chop an eggplant in small cubes. The idea is to have about 2 cups of cubed eggplant for a bunch of spinach

Heat mustard oil to smoking. Temper the oil with Kalonji, Dry Red Chili and a clove of garlic minced

Add the eggplant and saute till eggplant is soft.

Now add the spinach mixing it with the eggplant. Add little salt to taste, a few green chili slit and let the spinach cook. The greens will release a lot of water. Stir intermittently and let all the water dry up. Once the spinach is cooked and the dish looks dry add a little kashundi if you have some. If not finish off with a little mustard oil.

Serve with white rice.

Wishing you all a Happy Deepavali. Stay tuned for there is a giveaway coming up.

Ma-in-law's Robibarer Mangshor Jhol -- Bengali Mutton Curry

Robibarer Pathar Mangshor Jhol - Bengali Mutton Curry

Sunday Bengali Mutton Curry | Robibar er Mangshor Jhol

This quintessential Bengali Mutton Curry is synonymous to Sunday lunch. This recipe of mutton curry or panthar manghso is from my Mother-in-law and has a thinner curry or jhol than my Mother's. Mixed with rice and some salad it is a very flavorful meal

Bengali Mutton Curry (Panthar Mangshor Jhol)

Goat Meat Curry in the Oven

This post is not about clouds.

It is about Manghsor Jhol -- Mutton Curry. The Sunday one. The Bengali home staple that has reached a mythical proportion simply by virtue of us bragging about it. And Robibarer Manghsor Jhol does give us bragging rights, the whole gamut of it. We have nostalgia woven with it.

Bengali Mutton Curry

But I have written paeans about it in my earlier posts so today I will talk about clouds instead.

Not that I know much about them. The only times I actually watch clouds is when I am stuck in traffic or more specifically when I am stuck in traffic with two kids in the back seat. Also when there is no traffic but a never ending road and two kids in the back seat, I often suggest that they watch clouds. Somehow it makes me feel like a very free spirited kind of Mother, the one who makes blueberry jam and then spreads it thick on coarse rye bread handing them over to her children who play in the meadows by brambles and thistles.

Sadly I am not that kind. I have never made blueberry jam and my kids refuse rye bread. And we will not even discuss brambles. But I digress.

So anyway this random "cloud watching" thing inspired a desire in Little Sis to spend an entire afternoon watching clouds and nothing but clouds. And she wanted it to be done in a proper setting. Not from cars. Lying down on a sleeping bag(no grass mind you)  set out in the deck on some balmy summer afternoon, LS wanted to watch them clouds.

Amazingly two summer months almost passed us by and we never got a chance to do that! So when summer was drawing to a close, I grabbed a late afternoon with a good measure of clouds and we watched. No proper setting, no sleeping bag, not even grass. While BigSis was attending one of her classes we sat on the ledge by the sidewalk outside her class and watched.

"Wow. Doesn't that one look like a teddy bear?", I said trying to be at my excited best.

"No. It looks like a monster", said LS.

"Now that one is like a cute little doggy", I said all cloying and sweet.

LS who was now more interested in the rocks on the sidewalk than any cloud, glanced and said  "Nope. It looks like a big dragon".

"Come on. This one surely is like a magic fairy's hair", I blurted out trying to salvage a sweet cloud watch moment.

"Oita dushtu lok er moton lagche (That one looks like a mean person)", concluded LS.

And with that we closed our "cloud watch' chapter and concentrated on rock tricks,

*********

Okay and before I go onto the mutton curry, I have to tell you this. Soon after turning four, LS seems to have discovered the words "girlish" and "boyish". I have no clue where she got them from but she has been scattering her conversations with those words.

Today hearing her Dad's voice over the phone, she declared "Baba sounded very girl-ish on the phone. Maybe he drank too much pink lemonade"

*********

Back to the mutton curry now which is my Ma-in-law's recipe this time. Her Sunday Mutton curry recipe is different from my Mother's Sunday mutton curry recipe and yet they largely taste the same with finer points to be debated on. The mother-in-law's recipe involves marinating the mutton with  mustard oil, all the spices, tomato, onion, garlic and ginger that makes the curry. If you can manage to do this single step of detailed marination, the night before, the actual cooking happens very fast the next day.

Now on days when you are rushing and a simple mutton curry will do you can side-step the "kashano" or "bhuno" part of this recipe and directly make the jhol in the Pressure cooker. That jhol is a bit runny and akin to something that the famous author Syed Mujtaba Ali would refer to as "Bangali'r Mangshor Maacher Jhol" which means a Mutton Curry which is as runny as plain as an everyday fish curry.

If you spend 30 mins of your time in "kashano",then the same mutton curry becomes richer and more regal looking. Take your pick and have a lovely Sunday lunch of Mutton curry and rice. Oh yes, do cook the rice in the same pressure cooker with remnants of the mutton gravy to flavor it and little ghee. My daughters love that rice as much as the curry.

Ma-in-Law's Sunday Mutton Curry

Wash and clean 2lb of goat meat.

Make a paste of following
2 cups of chopped red onion
6 fat clove of garlic(12 regular)
2" of ginger peeled and chopped

Roughly pound 5-6 hot Indin green chili.

Chop 1 medium sized tomato. If the tomatoes are the tough. commercial kind just puree them or get a better tomato.

Chop 3 potatoes in half

In a bowl marinate the meat with
onion+garlic+ginger  paste
the tomato
1 tbsp Cumin Powder (sometimes I replace this with Meat Masala for a richer taste)
1 tsp Red Chili Powder or Kashmiri Mirch
1 tsp Turmeric powder
2 tsp Mustard Oil
1-2 tbsp yogurt
salt to taste
Ideally overnight marination is good but even 3-4 hours works well.

Half an hour before cooking toss the pottaoes along with the meat in the marinade.

When you are ready to cook, get your pressure cooker. If you don't have one, do not panic, we can also do it in a regular heavy bottomed pan, only it will take longer.

Heat about 2tbsp Mustard Oil in the cooker. Add a tsp of sugar and caramelize it.

Next temper the oil with
4 Green Cardamom/Elaichi
4 Clove/Laung
1 Bay leaf/TejPatta
a 2" stick of cinnamon

Once the oil is flavored add the marinated mutton and the potatoes. Add the pounded green chilies.

Mix everything well together and let it cook for some time. Stir intermittently so that the meat does not stick to the bottom of the cooker. The meat will also release some water. Wait for the water to almost dry up and for the meat to change color.

For a richer version of this curry, the meat is kasha-oed for about 25-20 minutes till you see the oil surfacing. But in my Ma-in-law's everyday version, we do not wait for the oil to surface. Once the meat has changed color and no longer looks raw, we give a good stir, and add enough water so that the meat pieces are submerged. Then I adjust for salt and spices and close the Pressure Cooker lid.

Once the Cooker starts going "Phissssssshhh", I wait for about 8 minutes or so and then switch off. I have a Futura cooker and it does not whistle so I am not sure of the number of whistles.

Make a wet paste of
2 green cardamom
2 clove
small stick of cinnamon
in a mortar-pestle
Once the pressure has been released, open lid and add this fresh garam masala paste(kaaNcha garam mashla bata) along with little ghee. Close the lid again and open only at time of serving. Thanks UshnishDa for this tip.