Friday, 8 July 2016

Fruits of labour

Fruits of labour

You shall eat the fruit of the labour of your hands; you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you. (Psalm 128:2)

I can never make a potful of varanphal without remembering this psalm. Not only does the idea of “fruit” echo with this Marathi dish with such a quaint name (varan as in a daal lentil soup and phal as in fruit), but it also resounds with the same feeling of blessedness.

The psalm describes the blessedness of the virtuous, who enjoy the fruit of their past labours in the present, and are also assured of their future welfare.

In the same vein, varanphal is made in my family usually when we are back after a long, hard day at work when we need a hearty and wholesome meal quickly.

The blessedness comes from the righteous feeling of having put in an honest day’s work. It comes from the pleasure of tucking into a bowlful of hot varanphal topped with some ghee toop or phodni when you are cold, hungry and tired.

The height of bliss is when you feel the warm, silky phals sliding effortlessly down your throat and into your gut and lasts their whole evening, fortifying you for the morrow when another hard day awaits you.

Varanphal (Dal Dhokli or Chakoli) 

This dish is comforting in more ways than one! It saves you the hassle of making a full meal by incorporating dal, roti and subzi -all in one.

You can even make this using pasta, as I have, with lasagne sheets or even short cut pastas like macaroni.

1 cup well cooked toor dal (or masoor)
A ball of firm dough, made with atta salt and a little ajwain/oregano – enough to make 7-8 rotis
1½ cups mixed vegetables evenly cut- carrots, beans, potatoes, pumpkin, eggplant, peas
1 medium onion, chopped
½ cup raw peanuts
¾ cup chopped tomatoes
1 tsp lemon juice or tamarind extract as per taste
1 tbsp sugar or gur or suitable amounts of sweetener
1 tsp Garam Masala, Goda Masala or Sambar masala
Red Chilly powder to taste
3 tbsp oil
1 tsp mustard seeds
A pinch of hing
7-8 curry leaves
2 tablespoons chopped coriander to garnish
1 tbsp grated coconut (fresh or desiccated)
Topping - extra oil for tadka or ghee


In a large thick bottomed pot, heat the oil and add the mustard seeds to splutter. Add the onions and curry leaves and cook for a minute or so, then add the vegetables and the tomatoes a minute later.

Let the vegetables sauté for a few minutes and add the garam masala/sambar masala/goda masala, hing, chilly powder. Mash the cooked dal and add it to this mixture and add about 4 cups water. Let the dal boil for some time and add the salt, lemon/tamarind juice and sugar/gur and let the dal simmer.

Roll out a large chapati and cut it into 2 inch squares (or any bite size shapes) with a knife or a fluted pastry cutter.

Drop these pieces into the boiling dal, making sure they don’t stick to each other. This daal needs to be fairly thin and watery, as the dough pieces are going to thicken it. The varanphal also thickens on keeping.

Mix once, making sure the pieces do not stick to the bottom, and let the dal simmer while you make the other chapattis in a similar manner and add the squares to the boiling dal. Make sure each time you add the pieces of a chapati, you stir the mixture to loosen any pieces sticking to the bottom.

Once all the dough is in, adjust the taste and water again. Let it simmer, covered if the pot is large enough, till all the dough pieces are cooked well and float onto the top.

Garnish with coriander and grated coconut.

Serve hot with ghee or some extra phodni, pickles and papad.

This also tastes great the day after.

Friday, 1 July 2016

The Magic of Seven

Seven-cup Burfi or Vadi

For long I have resisted the seven-cup vadis or burfis vadis for varying reasons. I have been put-off by the sheer quantities –imagine using up a whole cup of ghee and three whole cups of sugar.

Or I have thought them to be too commonplace - a food bloggers’ fad like the Tangzhong water roux that every blogger worth their salt seems to have mastered. 

Sometimes the vadis seemed gimmicky and less onerous - didn’t a classicist have to do it the right way, the hard way? 

So despite having had occasional debacles with vadis / burfis over the years, I have not succumbed to the seven-cup magic.  

Speaking of debacles - these have ranged from episodes when a prematurely poured vadi mixture has resolutely refused set, to occasions when a zealously stirred aggregate has overstayed in the pan and crossed the crystal boundaries into a state of crumbly no return. 

Not that the family ever complains, for irrespective of whether the vadi mixture cloys to the tray, crumbles hopelessly or cubes correctly, it is sure to be polished off – scraped off the tray by a spatula, popped into the mouth as a perfect plaque or eaten out of a bowl with a spoon.

For a while now, I have tried to rationalise my resistance – the vadi or burfi may not be extraordinarily rich – the cup measure is indicative. I can always use a very small cup. It’s also the usual ratio of 1: ¾ measure for a sweet to set.  

It’s not a gimmick – ultimately there is some skill involved in knowing just when to remove the mixture from the heat – and in the same token, if skill was involved then surely every blogger worth their salt must have been tempted to demonstrate their prowess. 

So convinced was I by my own reasoning, that I was just waiting for an opportunity to make these vadis, and this morning, an hour before we started for the airport to see off a “barat” or a groom’s party, I had this urge to make something sweet to mark the momentous occasion! 

The seven-cup magic made the joyous occasion even sweeter – and I have been charmed for life by the vadi. 

Seven-cup Vadi/Burfi 

This is a vegan version. The refined coconut oil I use works exactly like ghee, and is absolutely aroma or flavour free.


1 measure besan (chickpea flour)
1 measure loosely packed grated fresh or frozen coconut mixed with 2 tablespoons almond meal
1 measure coconut milk (you can use dairy milk)
1 measure refined coconut oil melted (you can use ghee) 
3 measures sugar
1 tsp crushed cardamom


Grease a thali or tray with some coconut oil.

Heat a heavy bottomed pan and add the besan and a tablespoon of coconut oil and roast for a few minutes. Once the raw smell disappears, add half of the coconut oil and roast a little more, but don’t let the besan brown. 
Next add the coconut milk, sugar and the grated coconut and almond meal. Keep the pan on low heat and mix well and stir well.

After a few minutes, the mixture starts to bubble and thicken. Add the remaining coconut oil and the crushed cardamom to the mixture. Mix well and continue to stir until the mixture starts to leave the sides of the pan. Switch off the heat and continue to stir for a minute and then gather everything into the centre of the pan and tip it into the greased thali or tray. 

This process should take about 25 minutes.

Spread the mixture in the thali or tray using a spatula. When cooled down sufficiently, score cuts into the mixture with a sharp knife. You can do squares or diamonds. When the mixture cools down completely, cut out the vadis or burfis. 

Store the vadis/ burfis in an airtight box.

Friday, 17 June 2016

Mindfulness and Bashi Bharun Sheera

Banana Sheera

Posting on the blog after a very long hiatus! Happy to be back here. 

My lunch today was this sheera with limbacha loncha, a childhood favourite of mine. 

I click this picture, cleverly dodging the dog who is going berserk sniffing and afterwards continue to sit alone at the table relishing the warm sheera. 

Recently my daughters and I have talked about mindfulness and I want to practice mindfulness while eating. 

We hardly eat at the table, and never when alone. Eating without talking, reading, watching TV a unique experience.

I pay full attention to the food, how it looks, how it smells, the muscles one uses to raise it to the mouth, the texture and taste of the food, the juxtaposition of the sweet and the sour, savoury pickle, the signals the brain sends to the stomach and vice versa.

It’s these very attributes of food that create memories and magic. 

I can’t stay in the present for long. 

Out of habit, I think of how blissful it was for kids to come home ravenous from school to the prospect of this kind of “madhlya velcha khaana”. 

There is also this memory of Aai sitting by my side during childhood illnesses, and her soothing singing -

पडु आजारी, मौज हीच वाटे भारी

I was especially fond of the lines – 

मिळेल सांजा, साबुदाणा
खडिसाखर, मनुका, बेदाणा
संत्री, साखर, लिंबू आणा…

Another image that flashes in the eye of mind, is one perpetuated in popular Marathi literature– of a wife dutifully starting a cup of tea for her weary husband just before he came in from work – and, after taking away his “coat, topi and chatri”, proffering a steel tatlee or bashi of sheera served with a limb-lonancha to him. 

There is a brief moment of sheepishness on remembering that I used to be fascinated by this image of the wife, before I actually became one.

Back to the present, the sheera – the taste, texture, aroma, flavours…. the dog (and me) so covetous, the flashing images, the sweet memories, the entire experience seems so corpulent. 

I am confused. This is not mindfulness - my mind harks back to the past.

But I contain myself. 

If focusing on one's awareness of the present moment while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations is not mindfulness, what is! 

Banana Sheera

The vegan version made with refined coconut oil and ripe banana was practically indistinguishable from its non-vegan counterpart, the Satyanarayanachya prasadacha sheera. 


2 cups coarse rava or semolina
A pinch of salt
About 3 tbsps organic and refined coconut oil 
A handful of cashews, raisins and almonds 
One large or two small ripe bananas, peeled and roughly chopped
1 ½ cups sugar (you could take more, but I like the sheera less sweet)
2 – 3 tbsp coconut cream (I used canned coconut cream)
About 2 cups boiling water
1 tsp crushed cardamom 


In a thick bottom pan melt some of the coconut oil and lightly fry the dry fruit and nuts. Remove onto a plate. Then add the rest of the oil and roast the rava or semolina till golden brown. Add a pinch of salt. When the roasting rava lets out a nice aroma, add the chopped bananas and roast well. Then add the coconut cream and roast for a few more seconds until it is absorbed into the rava. 

At this stage the rava becomes very light and crumbly. 

Then add the boiling water and mix well. Add a little more water if you want the sheera to be soft. Cover and cook for a few minutes. Then add the sugar and mix well. Add the fried dry fruit and nuts and the crushed cardamom. Cover again and let the mixture cook well. 

Serve hot or warm. And don't forget that lemon pickle or limbacha loncha. 

Sunday, 22 November 2015

Kees Krazy Kin

Batatyacha Kees

My mother-in-law who is visiting, is very particular about observing a fast on the occasion of Kartiki Ekadashi, which marks the end of the four-month period of Chaturmaas.

While planning the day’s menu, she casually mentioned that she loved Batatyacha Kees and had craved for kees when she had had her three kids.

That suddenly solved a thirty-year-old mystery for me – of why my husband loves this kees so! He can eat a whole large bowlful of this kees…

And is it any surprise that my younger daughter also is mad about kees…

So here’s to the three generations of kees-krazy kin!

Batatyacha Kees (Potato Kees)


5-6 washed white Nadines or Colibans potatoes (I don’t peel these as they have clean skins)
2-3 green chillies, chopped
4 tablespoons roasted crushed peanuts
2 -3 teaspoon/s oil ghee
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
½ teaspoon sugar/sweetener (not required if the potatoes are sweet in taste)
A squirt of lemon juice
Salt to taste
2 tablespoon chopped coriander to garnish (not shown in the photo)


Grate the potatoes using a large-holed grater. I use my food processor. Place the grates in water soon after, to stop discolouration.

Heat oil/ghee in a wide and shallow non-stick pan and add the cumin seeds to splutter. Add the green chillies and then add the grated potato after squeezing out the water.

Mix thoroughly and cook covered on medium heat for a just a few minutes. Then add the crushed peanuts, sugar/sweetener, lemon juice, salt and toss thoroughly using a small fork and with a light touch, so as not to mash the gratings.

Cook for just a few minutes further, stirring minimally to avoid burning from the bottom. The grates get cooked and look translucent very quickly, within minutes.

Remove from heat immediately to arrest further cooking which will make the kees soggy. 

Serve garnished with coriander.

Sunday, 8 November 2015

Diwali Stories - 1, Shakun Unde

Shakun Unde

Along with the faral and fatake and the killa and kandil, Diwali for Marathi people was also about reading the Diwali Ank - the festival special editions of reputed magazines as well as those of the publications that mushroomed only at Diwali.

Nothing gave us more pleasure than to relax after the early morning faral - the heavy meal coming straight after a pampering oil bath, and browsing through the Diwali magazines.

The little nip in the air, the lingering heady perfume of that lovely utane, the jasmine oil and the beautiful gulab or chandan Moti soap on our bodies, the strong scent of burnt firecrackers, the mixed aromas of frying from homes around us, the balmy fragrance from the jhendu flowers adorning our homes – if this wasn’t how heaven smelled, I wonder how else!

Other kids around me would run out to burst more crackers or collect unspent ones and try and explode them or collect the "stuff" from inside of them to make their own indigenous fatake.

But a nerdy yours truly would be happier with the magazines - looking at the glossy ads for jewelry, reading recipes and kids' special sections.

My aunt Anuradha Vaidya’s stories, long and short used to be published in several magazines. Once a whole novel had been published and I used to read her works, more out of pride that it was her work, than a real understanding or appreciation of the largely grown up themes.

With Aai busy in the kitchen, this quiet time allowed some indulgent foray into the world of grown ups. I also remember reading a story about divorce, and being terrorised by the word “ghatasphot” and spent many nights worrying if Aai-Baba would ever go down that path.

Once I even attempted reading a short story by G.A. Kulkarni, but beat a hasty retreat – why would anyone write/ publish/ read horror stories during Diwali?

Occasionally, when Aai wasn't looking, a sneak a peek into the double entendre, chavat window cutouts in Jatraa or Awaaz magazine was well worth the risk taken. Also intriguing, especially since it was forbidden, was celebrity gossip from Devyani Chaubal’s Chanderi Chewing Gum.

“ Babi SSSSS! Aey Babi SSSS! Aai’s ‘haak’ would interrupt my postprandial reverie.  

“Shejaari ha faral deun ye!” she would remind me of my annual errand taking steel plates full of sweets and savouries, covered by doilies to our neighbours.

Sigh… time to go… but I would remember this was equally exciting, so I really didn’t mind it … for another adventure in terms of neighbours faral awaited.

And didn’t I lap up all the praise the neighbours would heap on Aai’s innovative faral each year.

 “ What new things has your sugran Aai made this year?” was a question most anticipated; answered by me with equal excitement – for almost every Diwali Aai would make something unusual, rare or different!

Like these Shakun Undas that I made for Shishir’s birthday this week – reconstructed from memory of the one time Aai had made them and a bit of help from the Internet.

Shakun Unde
½ cup chana dal
½ cup gur, grated or brown sugar
½ tsp cardamom powder
½ tsp grated nutmeg
1 tsp lightly toasted poppy seeds
½ cup fresh coconut, grated
½ cup plain flour
½ cup rice flour
A pinch of baking powder
A pinch salt
Oil to deep fry

Pressure cook the chana dal until well done, but not too soft. Drain the water – you use this for “katachi amti”.
Mix the gur or sugar with the boiled chana dal. Add the cardamom and nutmeg.  Process the mixture in a food processor or a kitchen mill (puran yantra). If the mixture is too loose, you may need to microwave it for a couple of minutes to make it firm. Add the poppy seeds and coconut and mix well. Allow the mixture (puran) to cool and shape into small balls.
Heat oil in a kadhai.
In another bowl, mix the plain flour and the rice flour with some water and make a thick smooth batter. Add the salt and the baking powder. Dip the puran balls into the batter and drop into the hot oil.  Batch fry a few balls at a time. The balls will take some time to turn golden brown, due to the rice flour. But once well fried, the balls turn a nice colour.
Drain on kitchen paper and serve warm.