Samosa / Singara / Spicy, deep fried and sinfully good, savoury pastry

 
Growing up in a huge joint family has taught me, among other things, the ability to accept everyone as they are, without questions. 

We lived together, in Dadu's house. With its orchards, ponds, four main gates and three smaller ones too. And a big open space where stood a magnificent  mango tree that was uprooted by one of the cyclonic storms that was so common during my childhood. 
And a big patch of garden that bore seasonal vegetables, lovingly tended by the gardener.
And, with uncles and aunts and house helps and cousins.
Yes, it was both a picnic as well as mayhem ... our family was.

And naturally, we always had a lot of relatives around. Every Kakima's paternal side of the family was our family too.
I still remember our excitement when any particular relative was to visit.
That Mama, who was popular with us because  he would actually enact out whatever story he was narrating. 
Or that Dida who did not know any language besides Bengali .... and who we loved to grill with new words, asking her the Bengali equivalent. She naturally came up with wrong words and how we would dissolve into peals of laughter.
Or that Didi, who sang like an angel, and we looked forward to learning a few new songs, whenever she visited, especially Adhunik / modern songs. And a few more gems of Tagore. 
Or that Mashi, who we stayed clear of, because of her quizzes on maths and chemistry. 

I can go on and on. 

The best part of these visits was we got to eat food from outside, .... sometimes .... that was otherwise prohibited for us. 

On any day, during the evening tea, someone would want some ' gorom gorom tele bhaja' / deep fried street food. And as hosts, one of the Kakus would comply. 
Or we would get one of our favourite Didas to ask for them .... and she would happily oblige.
Knowing very well that she would not eat any, at all. 
And we children would get to eat the small sized, crisp singaras, filled with a dry, spicy potato and peas masala that was so hot it burned our mouths when bitten into. 

Those were different from the regular samosas that we get in North India.
But then, the samosa is such a common street food that its filling varies in texture and taste in almost every state of the country. 
Making it create a different memory for every different person growing up eating their local samosa.  

I still remember the samosas we ate during our trip to Ranthambore, Rajasthan. Standing in the middle of the vast highway, in a small shed, stood a man frying hot samosas on a make shift kitchen with the barest of things. We waited till he got them out of the hot oil ..... smoking hot. 
And standing there on the empty highway side, biting into those crisp, spicy, hot little triangles of pure bliss, sipping on cardamom tea and watching the sun go down slowly in the horizon, I felt that was one of the best moments of my life. 

A few days back, once the rains started in earnest here, I was reminiscing about the monsoons back home and how the ponds overflowed and the fishes came up right to our doorsteps,
how we would sit near the bay windows and look out at the big droplets create beautiful patterns on the pond,
how Dadu or Jethu would ask us, one by one , to sing their favourite Rabindra sangeet on the rains, 
how we hurried to shut the wooden windows when sudden gusts of water laden breeze came in .... but would leave just a little gap to be still able to smell the wet air .
And that  was when I remembered this beautiful singara from my hometown. 

I wanted to make it. B was game.
He enjoys these stories and what better than crisp, hot singaras to go with them. 
To his credit and because he is from the kachori and namkeen city of Rajasthan, B is an expert when it comes to actually handling the singara. So I did the cooking and B did the maneuvering part. 
And we made some really good samosas that evening. 

They were so good and the cover was so perfectly crisp that I thought I will document it and  share here. 

So here is my recipe for the perfect Khasta Shingara / Khasta Samosa . 

Need : 

For the dough : 

Maida / Apf - 2 cups 
Cooking oil - ½ cup or more, if needed 
Baking soda - one small pinch
Kalonji / nigella seeds - ½ tsp 
Chilled water - enough to knead with 
Salt - to taste 

For the filling : 

Potatoes - 2, medium, chopped very small 
Green peas - ½ cup
Turmeric powder 
Red chilli powder 
Amchur / dry mango powder 
Chilli flakes 
Black pepper powder
Salt - to taste 
Cooking oil - 1 tsp 

Cooking oil - enough to deep fry 

 How to : 

To make the dough, knead the maida with the rest of the ingredients, except water for some time. 
When the oil has mixed in well, it should form a lump when held in the fist. 
Now add the chilled water, very little at a time, and knead into a tight dough. 
Do not over knead it.

For the masala, heat oil in a kadahi and let in the chopped potatoes and peas. 
Add the rest of the ingredients and cover and cook till done. 
Remove cover and dry it up completely. 
Remove to an open plate and cool. 

For the samosas, 
cut out medium sized balls of the dough. 
Roll each one out . Do not roll it too thin. 
Cut in half. 
Pick one half, make a twist and seal the edges with water. 
Scoop in a spoonful of the stuffing mix and seal the ends. 
Set aside. 

Take a heavy kadahi or deep pan .... preferably an iron one. 
Fill it with oil. 
Set it on to heat. When the oil turns lukewarm, let in the samosas. 
Never heat the oil too much ... it will cause blisters on the samosa cover and will remain raw too. 
Do not over crowd the kadahi. 

The samosas will slowly float up to the top as they cook. 
Cook them on low heat. 

The perfect khasta samosas are always light in colour and yet perfectly cooked and the cases crisp. 
Dark coloured samosas mean over cooking or ... in the case of shops ... re frying. 

When done, remove with a slotted spoon and place on a paper towel. 

Our samosas turned out to be perfect. 
When I tapped the cover, it was perfectly crisp and tough. 
And when I broke it open, it showed the layers of the casing too! 
Just have a look. 😊

We munched on them, right there in the kitchen, while still frying. 
The rain sang on outside and it was cold and dark. 
But our kitchen was warm.  
And fragrant. 
With memories; and the hot samosas. 

Stay home everyone! 
And stay safe! 


Ps: photos clicked in the dark and low light. 

Pan fried Sabudana vada

" Koto deri hoye geyche! I need to make that sabu for b'fast! And it is already 9:30!", I exclaimed.

We were sitting ... no piling up on one another on the bed in the first guest room .... chatting and remicising, the cups of our morning tea and the biscuit jars still sitting on the tray.
I sat snuggled to Jethima. My cousin, her younger daughter, had already taken up my Ma's lap.
Another cousin stands near the bed, threatening and jostling with us for space.
Kakima sat in her usual pose with her legs straight in front of her, leaning on the head rest.
She was already onto her second paan.
Shejo kaku and Ranga kaku half sat, half laid at the other  end of the bed. Jethumoni was the only one who sat properly in a chair by the window.

Our talks were all about memories, of the long gone days at Dadu's house and our childhood stories. Small bits and pieces of memories came up spread a warm blanket all over us.
A lot of what we were talking of does not exist anymore. Neither Dadu, nor Thamma, the house and our recent loss of Bapi and then Didi.
All gone.
Leaving us with memories; just happy memories.

And then I realized how late it was and jumped up to go to the kitchen to make breakfast of the Sabudana Khichdi.
And hearing me exclaim, Ranga kaku jumped up too.

"Sabu?!!"
"Yes!"
"Kar jor holo abar? Boudi tomar? "

I laughed.
Sabu or tapioca pearls means two things to a Bengali ... illness or a fast.
If you have fever, you have sabu cooked in milk. If you have an upset tummy you have sabu cooked in water with a little salt and lemon juice.
Every Bengali's 'ugh' memories of childhood will definitely have this ghost of boiled sabu.
And if there was a puja in the house and the ladies are fasting, they would make a mash of soaked sabudana with fruits and milk or curd.

I assured kaku that nobody is ill and I was just going to cook sabudana for breakfast.
"Eyi na na, ami oi sabu tabu khabo na!" , Kaku was truly worried by now.

I had planned to make the Sabudana khichadi and prayed that he liked it.

While writing about this, I was wondering what recipe to publish as I have already posted the Sabudana khichadi.
And then  I came across a few photographs of the Sabudana vadas that I had made once.

These vadas are not deep fried, as the traditional ones are.
Instead I have brushed them with a little ghee and toasted them on a pan.
They are very crisp on the outside and very soft inside.
Perfect melt in the mouth texture.
And guilt free too.

Need :

Sabudana or Tapioca pearls - 1 cup, soaked overnight in enough water
Boiled potatoes - 1, medium
Roasted and crushed groundnuts - 5 to 6 tbsp
Fresh green chillies - chopped
Red chilli powder
Salt - to taste
Sugar - to taste
Ghee - to brush the vadas with

How to :

Mash everything, except the ghee, together.

Shape into small flat tikkis.
The traditional ones are shaped round because they are deep fried.
We need to shape these flat so that they cook well on a flat surface.

Heat a flat pan or a tawa .... ( they should be well seasoned ).
Brush it with a little ghee and place the vadas on it.
You can cover them for a while too.

When one side turns brown, turn them over and brush them with some more ghee.
Let them cook till the outside is crisp and brown.

Serve hot with tea.

These vadas are very high in calories and hence very filling too.
A couple of them will take you through a good part of the day or evening easily.

They go great with this beautiful Amti on the side. A complete meal when you are doing a vrat or fasting.

Enjoy!!

And oh, the family loved the Sabudana khichadi.
Which is why I am going to make these vadas for tea time next.

Take care all.
See you again soon.

Chilke ke pakode / Fritters made from vegetable peels

 "Munh ki baat sune har koi, dil ke dard ko jaane kaun,
Awaazon ke bazaaron mein, khamoshi pehchane kaun .... "

My favourite ghazal singer mourns soulfully as I sit at the window, watching the light rain outside.
The room fills with his deep, heavy voice and spreads a blanket of sighs all over.
The grey from outside seeps in through the large glass windows; doing little to add any brightness.
I wish I had changed the dark, heavy curtains of summer earlier ... I think.
Now I do not feel like. So they too do their bit to add to the sense of grey.

I sit there, snuggled into a warm comforter, a picture of laziness personified, and watch the rain dance on the branches and the leaves of trees.
And the birds too.
Soaked to their skin, a crow and two koyels sit in different branches of the coconut tree, fluffing up and shaking vigorously in an futile attempt to dry themselves.
A bulbul sits atop a heavy branch, right at the top. But not for long.
The rain is too heavy for it to bear.

I sit and soak in the quiet all around.
Of late, I do not feel like talking or writing much. Too much of noise all around.
Too many people talking; too many opinions.
Too much aggression and force to put points forth.
Too loud thoughts. Too few listeners.
Everybody talking at once.
Too tiring; too overbearing.
Too overwhelming.

So I go through the days saying nothing. Or hearing nothing.
I like this quiet in me and am going to savour it for as long as I like it.

I like the dark, rainy days.
There is a sense of soothing severity in them.
They push us to quieten down. And take in the beautiful transition that goes on in nature.
While the soul soothing and all nourishing rain dances outside, the mind is pushed into sitting back and rest.

"Kiran kiran alsaata sooraj, palak palak khulti needein,
Dheeme dheeme bikhar raha hai, zarra zarra jaane kaun ... "

Unnh huh.
No bikharna.
I am trying to get a grip on myself.
Pick up my cup of tea that is fast getting cold and take a sip.
And turn to my blog.

I often make these pakodas, especially when I am making the Chorchori or any other mixed vegetable curry. Using different kinds of vegetables allows me to have all kinds of peels and this is a good way to use them.
Just make sure the vegetables are fresh.

Need :

 Vegetable peels -
I used potato, ridge gourd (turai), pumpkin and pointed gourd (parwal / potol ), around 1 cup
Onion - 1 medium
Green chillies - 2 or more
Besan - 4 tbsp
Rice flour - 1 tbsp
Haldi powder - 1 pinch
Red chilli powder - 1 tsp
Baking soda - a little pinch
Fresh coriander leaves - chopped
A little water
Salt - to taste
Oil for deep frying

How to :

Wash the vegetables well.
Peel them with a knife ... keeping the skin slightly thicker than usual.
Soak them in salt water for a while.

Slice them into thin, long pieces.

Slice the onions.

Mix everything, except the oil, together with a little water to make a thick paste.

Heat enough oil in a deep, heavy kadahi.

Scoop out small balls and let into the oil carefully.

Fry on low heat till golden brown.

Drain and remove. Keep on paper napkins to drain extra oil.

 Serve hot with ketchup, any chutney or kasundi.
And of course, a cup of very hot drink.

Perfect for these rainy days when the heart longs for something hot, spicy and deep fried goodies.

"Aankhon se aansooon ka marasim purane hai,
Mehmaan yeh ghar mein aaye toh chubhta nahi dhuaan .... " Yes.
Tears will be treated as guests in our lives.
Will be welcomed with warm hearts.


Stay well friends.

Crispy fried Arbi / Kochu bhaja

It was just on the last post that I was complaining about the dull weather.
Someone up there was listening ... or so I'd like to believe.
For, the weather changed immediately the next day and the morning was chilly and cold.
The evenings already have that dry, wintery smell in the air. Coupled with the smoke of wood fire coming from the make shift chulhas the new workers for a construction have set up, winter seems to be already here. At least on my balcony, right now; these evenings.

And also when I went downstairs to go to the fishwala for my weekly stash of fish, I couldnt help but stop awhile and draw a deep breath. High up on the building, while I do get the best of sunlight and wind, I do not get the smell of the trees and the damp smell of water and earth mixed with the fresh smell of trodden grass.
To this mix the smell of woodfire and smoke and chilly air of an evening; I though I was in heaven.
No ... I thought I was home.

Back home, I used to love these smells that now have settled in my memories and help me describe home. So when I think of home, I do see the two huge ponds on the left and the right of the entrance with the walkway going through them. But I also think of the fishy smell of the water from the ponds, coupled with crisp, clean air and the smell of grass. Mixed with them the smell of the mango trees. And the smoke drifting from the chulhas that the helps used to cook.
And so many other smells mixed together ... I cannot put a finger on each one.

But it is the winter mornings that I love best. The smell of, that is.
That clean smell in the crisp and biting cold air. Coupled with the smell of toasted bread and eggs poached in butter, sunny side up with a dash of salt and pepper. With that would be the wonderful smell of hot milk. The breakfast that we had most days, sitting out in the lawn under the sun ,in  huge cane chairs; with Dadu. We would surely be holding a notebook and a pencil each ... the brood was supposed to be doing their studies in the sun ... but studying was the last thing we would be doing at the time. Not when Dadu was with us. :-)

Those are the best memories of my childhood winters.
Later I would grow up and associate winter with many other foods, but winter mornings will always
stay in my memory as a mix of biting cold, fuzzy warmth, breakfasts smelling like heaven and a lot of laughter.

It is difficult to change tracks right away ; I feel like writing on and on. But I have to get to today's recipe. And get this post over with.
The madness of Diwali has passed by. And I have just got hold of a very good book.
Need to get back to it as soon as possible. :-)

This recipe is again belongs to the Mother in law. As most Rajasthani recipes on my blog do.
Growing up, I had never eaten Arbi or Kochu, as it called in Bengali.
I am not counting if it has been smuggled into me in the form of a ghonto (a mixed vegetables dish) or a chanchra ( again a mixed vegetable dish ... that often had fish head too).
As far as I remember, I had never even seen a kochu or arbi till I grew up and got married.

B had very enthusiastically got a lot once when he had gone green grocery shopping.
And had excitedly announced it. I failed to return the enthusiasm with proper intensity as I was too busy studying a piece of vegetable that looked pitifully deformed to me.
Worse, every piece was different from the other. I was worried he had got something abnormal.
I mean there is so much of playing around with genes etc. of stuff going on.

Not to give up, B did what he does best. Call Mom.
She, on her part, very happily rattled off at least three or four dishes ... after all it was her son's favourite vegetable. And I , on my part, was still coming to terms with hing. And now this deformed vegetable. I was in a daze.
But then I went ahead and made that first dish that I had named as Creamy Arbi. And had the audacity to post it, in all innocence.
Btw ... it is a hot favourite with the man and his family .. heaven's grace. :-)

Today, I do cook Arbi in many avatars. Ok ... just five or six kinds ... but that is many to me.
And if you ask me, I'll say the truth.
I do not eat Arbi. Or Kochu. Still.

Ma in law has this way of dumping all the masalas together and adding to a dish.
Bengalis would add a dash of water to that and koshao  or bhuno it.
Not she.
If you see my Kundru ki sabzi and Gawar ki sabzi, you will know of this way.
So that is how I fry the boiled Arbi too ... dunk it in a mix of masalas and fry till crisp.
Now, when I get Arbi, I divide the lot into two; I make this,  along with  a sabzi.

I usually make it for dinner as B likes to much on these with some salad and chutney. But I finally made these during the day to be able to click photographs and make a post.

You may call this a Kochur cutlet in Bengali, if you want to. But the flavours will still stay Rajasthani. 
To get the Bengali flavours, you can make a mix of the Bhaja moshla + rice flour ( chaler guro ) + amchur powder + salt + red chilli powder ( lonka guro ) + salt + a pinch of kalo jeere / kalonji / nigella seeds .... and fry it in mustard oil. 

So here goes the recipe for this quick snack or starter.

Need :

Arbi / Colocassia / Kochu - amount as per your wish
Haldi / Turmeric powder
Red chilli powder
Dhania powder
Rice flour - 1 tbsp
Besan - just a little ... around a ¼ tsp 
Amchur powder - to taste
Salt - to taste
Cooking oil to lightly fry - around 1 tbsp

How to :

Soak the arbi in enough water. Scrub it clean.
Boil in a pressure cooker with a little salt for two whistles on low flame.
Remove lid and drain immediately.
Spread on a plate and let it dry well.

( I keep it overnight in the fridge, uncovered. And suggest you do the same, if possible.
This dries the arbi completely and there is no slime on it and makes it easier to peel.
If not overnight, at least for half an hour. )

Peel it.

Cut into small flat pieces. This will be difficult due to its uneven shapes.
You can halve them too and press with your hands to flatten them.

Make a mix of all the dry ingredients.

Dunk in the arbi pieces and press gently for the masalas to coat the pieces properly.

Heat oil in a shallow, open faced pan.

Arrange the arbi pieces and fry till golden brown on one side.

Turn them over and fry the other side too.

Serve hot with chutneys or ketchup and salad, as a snack.
Can be enjoyed on the side with a main meal too.

This is one recipe that has helped me to convert. Yes, I do enjoy the kochu in this version.

Enjoy!!



Other low oil crispies on Kichu Khon -

Aloo Narkel Tikki

Crispy Fried Kumro / Pumpkin

Crispy Fried Parwal / Potol / Pointed gourd

Bengali Vegetable Chop

 

 While my last post was a little heavy, this post will be dedicated to all of you who have been such wonderful friends, readers and bloggers. And also to all those who wrote in here and on FB to show solidarity against plagiarism. All of you, who do not raise your voice only when a 'friend' gets struck by plagiarism. All of you for being such wonderful human beings. I am proud to have you all in my life, blogging and real, both.

While I did not have much exposure to deep fried street food when growing up, the vegetable chop and shingara/samosa did make their appearence on the dining table once in a while, especially when we had guests in the evening. The drawing room would suddenly be off limits for us children. But we loved it. Because when we had guests, all the lights in the drawing room would be lit, including the jhaar lantern in the center of the ceiling ... making the huge room turn almost magical.
Dadu and Jethu and Kakus would  sit with the guests and their loud voices and laughter would reach all the way ... crossing the uthon / courtyard  and the long verandah along it , to the kitchen and dining room. There Jethima and other Kakimas, supervised by Thamma,  would be busy preparing tea and arranging plates with the savouries brought in hot and  fresh by one of the helping hands.

We kids would hover around, eyeing the oil soaked packets made of old newspapers, trying to stand steady with their contents bulging out of them.We knew we would get a piece each of our favourite ... either a singara or a chop ... but only after the guests are served. And maybe ... if all the elders left the kitchen together ... bully the cook to allow us a sip of that extra tea in the bottom of the pan. 

I got a request  on my page on FB, by a reader, for the Bengali Vegetable chop. And that was really long back. Numerous reasons kept me from making them, and posting them. While some were as simple as the lack of beet root in the market on the day of my grocery shopping to some good ones like me down with throat infection for more than a month ... and so on.
In between, there were guests. There were weekends, when we are invariably out for the whole day.
And work, which naturally takes up all the weekdays. Even the absence of bread to make bread crumbs came up on my list of excuses.
So, while I did go about cooking regular food everyday, I never got around to even start prepping for this deep fried delicacy.

 But all the while it kept nagging me from the back of my head. I had even tried keeping the beetroot and potatoes boiled and stored in the fridge. But most of the time, I'd be free by late evening. While I could have easily made them then, I wanted good photographs to make a post too ... so a no go there.
The beets shriveled up in disgust. The aloos were more forgiving and  made their way  to the aloo paratha.

But enough of excuses. Let us move on ... now that I have the chops ready and served.
Do not be fooled by these simple looking things ... they do require some planning and prep work. Only then will you be able to sit back and enjoy them hot off the kadahi.
This time, I went about diligently planning the whole thing from the beginning of the week.
One day, I boiled the potatoes and beets and kept them in the fridge.
On another day, I made the bread crumbs. Made sure there was cornflour in the pantry.
One day was dedicated to the peanuts ... dry roasted them, peeled them, halved them. If you keep this part for later, you will be in trouble ... unless you get to buy roasted, peeled and halved peanuts.
Finally, made the pur or the mix yesterday. And fried them today.

I have followed Bong Mom's recipe but some ingredients are different.

Need :

For the bhaja moshla / roasted masala ( I used Bong Mom's recipe, it is awesome )

Cumin seeds -  ½ tsp
Coriander seeds - ½ tsp
Fennel / mouri seeds -  ½  tsp
Cloves - 6 pieces
Green cardamom / choti elaichi - 3
Cinnamon/ dalchini - I used 3 medium sized, thin pieces
Black pepper / kali mirch - around 4 to 5 ( I kept them less as B doesn't like them )
Whole red chillies - 2
Bay leaf/Tej patta - 1 small

Roast everything together on a heavy bottomed flat pan.
Grind coarsely.

For the chops :

Boiled potatoes - 2 medium
Boiled beet root - 1 big sized
Grated ginger - 1 tbsp
Peanuts - 3 tbsp
Bread crumbs - enough for all the chops
(I make them at home by toasting bread in the ove nand then running them in a mixer,
you can use store bought ones too)
Corn flour - around 4 tbsp, and 1 tbsp for the cooked mix
Red chilli powder - a pinch
Salt - to taste
Sugar - to taste
Maida/ APF - 2 tsp
Mustard oil - 2 tbsp ... to cook the the mix
Mustard + white oil - enough to deep fry the chops

How to :

Boil the potatoes and the beetroot ( I boiled them separately ).
Cool, peel and mash them.

Heat oil ( I used mustard oil for that old, familiar taste).

Fry the peanuts. Keep aside.
(I fried the whole peanuts and then had a difficult as well as messy time trying to peel and halve them.
Hence suggest that you dry roast them first, peel and halve them.)

In the same oil add grated ginger.
I added a little red chilli powder too, at this stage.
Fry just for a little while and add the mashed potatoes and beet.
Fry well.
Add salt and sugar ... this chop should stay sweetish ... so add salt accordingly.
Fry well till all moisture is gone.
Add the fried peanuts.
Add the bhaja masala.
Sprinkle the corn flour all over and stir well.
When completely dry and turns into a lump, remove and cool.

You can store this mix in the fridge and use later too.


To fry the chops :

Make a batter of the cornflour + maida + water. It should be be slightly thick ... enough to coat your finger but not too thick ... and not too runny also.

Take some mixture in your hand and press well to fill all the gaps and then give an oblong shape.

Take a chop, dip it in the batter, roll it well on the bread crumbs and keep aside. Repeat with all the chops. 

Heat oil in a deep, heavy bottomed kadahi.
When it is ready, take a chop, dip it in the batter again, roll it on the bread crumbs ... again ... pressing it lightly but firmly to pick up as much crumbs on it as possible.
Now slowly let it into the hot oil.

Fry all the chops this way ... but in small batches ... not more than 3 at a time.

This coating of batter and crumbs twice give a good crisp outside to the chops.

Remove with a slotted spoon and place them on paper napkins.
I love some chopped coconut in the vegetable chop ... but did not have any at home.
You can try if you like it.

A closer look.

Serve hot, with tomato ketchup or kasundi.
I had both, so ... :-)

Great as a snack.

I had woken with a splitting headache today and was not at all in the mood for the same old cereals for b'fast. And since I was looking for a chance to fry these and get some clicks, it was the good old vegetable chop and tea for me this Friday morning.
The sun stayed away ... as usual. But the clouds were friendly and let in some light for my snaps. :-)

So make some ginger tea, quick, and dig in to the Bengali's all time favourite Vegetable chop.
A perfect deep fried indulgence to go with the rains.

Enjoy!!

Mangshor chop / Mutton chop

The 'chop' here does not mean a particular cut of meat.
In Bengal and Odisha / Orissa, it refers to a deep fried snack ... usually with a spicy filling encased in a potato or any such binder casing, dipped in gram flour batter and deep fried.

Growing up in my little hilly town in Odisha, and still at school level, eating out was almost a non existent term. Once in a while, we would get a samosa or shingara ... that too, when we had guests at home. Otherwise outside food was a huge no no.

After school, when I started junior college, I insisted on walking to college with the rest of my friends ... most of them from around our home. Given that the college was very near, too near to my home, I did not get to explore too much. But getting that break from the school bus was indeed a huge relief to me.
A quiet girl always, I wouldn't step out of the house unless entirely needed. Not to shop, not to anybody's house to visit. The very thought of meeting people and holding a conversation was unthinkable for me.

But those walks to the college along with a bunch of restless girls did a whole lot of good to me. While they were busy talking and giggling, I would quietly soak in the sight and sounds of the road and its side. So many small shops, selling all kinds of eatables. Some of them would have a huge iron wok or kadahi, black with smoke, oil and usage, sitting in the front, on a mud stove or chulha.
Sometimes a man would be frying some snacks in them, hot oil filled to the brim ... almost ... wielding an equally black and greasy, huge slotted ladle, giving the frying samosas or chops a gentle stir now and then.

And the aroma .... wafting all around ... was enough to pull anyone passing by to stop and buy a few.
Early mornings and the smell of fried snacks ... especially chops and samosas ... will always remain connected in my memories. 

There was one shop that had this as a speciality ... the mutton chop or the mangshor chop.
And I had got to taste it once ... just once. My friends would stop at almost any eatery and try out new things everyday. While I wasn't too interested in eating at the time, I would give a skip to many such adventures. But they were successful in making me try out that Mutton chop.
And the taste would haunt me for the rest of my days.

I never got to eat another mutton chop there again. Why ... I don't know. But no chance came along. And after I left home, I would dream of that mutton chop on days when the dabba food was so bad our Aunty's dog would refuse it too. And of course, on ok days too.
It wasn't until recently that I got a chance to recreate that long remembered and much missed taste and flavour in my kitchen. Even since I have been getting to buy mutton, am on a roll.

And so found a hot, humid forenoon me ... sweating it out in the kitchen ... making that mutton chop ... trying to recreate a piece of my childhood.

Today I am posting the Odia Mutton chop.
I will post the Bengali version of the mutton chop sometime in the future.

I had made the filling of the mutton kheema a day before ...  to shorten preparation time.

Originally, the chop would have very small pieces of mutton and not the mince.
And the encasing would be of soaked Cholar dal / Bengal gram lentils. Very htick and very crisp on the outside .... fluffy and honey combed inside.
And the flavours would be dominated by ginger and garlic more and less of garam masala .... as Odia mutton dishes are wont to be.
Fiery, earthy, full bodied flavours.

To make the kheema :

Need :

Mutton kheema / minced mutton
Ginger + garlic paste
Turmeric / Haldi powder
Red chilli powder
Salt to taste
Oil to fry
Onions - chopped
Garlic - chopped
Ginger - grated
Garam masala powder
Lemon juice
Roasted jeera powder
Dhania powder

Yoiu may use a pinch of cooking soda too … I did not.
How to :   

Cook the kheema in a pressure cooker with a little haldi powder, ginger + garlic paste and salt and a little water ( not too much ... the kheema will release water too).
Around 4 whistles on low heat is good enough ... but of course, will depend on the quality of the mutton.
Cool.

Heat oil. Add chopped onion, garlic and grated ginger. Fry well.
Add the cooked kheema. Add red chilli powder, dhania powder, roasted jeera powder, garam masala, lemon juice and salt .... one by one.
Keep stirring. Cook till all water dries up ... there should not be any moisture left.
Remove and cool.

This will be the filling for the chops and can be prepared a day or 2 in advance and stored in the fridge.

To make the casings :

The Potato casing :
Boil potatoes, drain, cool and mash into a smooth pulp with some salt and red chilli powder.
Or use the easy way like I did ... add some water to potato flakes and make a mash.
Do add a little corn flour if using the flakes.

The Gram flour batter : 
Make a thick batter of besan/ gram flour + rice flour (ratio is around 5 tbsp besan to 1 tbsp rice flour), salt, a pinch of haldi powder and a little red chilli powder.

To make the chops :

Shape the chops like so .... take some of the mashed potato and make a small case and stuff it with a little of the filling. Now carefully cover it to make a smooth ball.
Be careful not to have any cracks on it ... use a finger dipped in water to smoothen out, if any.

Heat enough oil to deep fry ( I used mustard oil).
Take a chop, dip it into the besan batter ... make sure the whole things is covered well ... and carefully let it into the hot oil.
Fry on low heat till golden brown in colour.
Remove with a slotted spoon or ladle and lay it on a paper napkin to drain any excess oil.

Here's a closer look, after frying. See all the three layers?

Serve hot ... I mean real hot.
The smoke coming out when you bite into one, the spices and the heat searing your mouth ... that's what a hot mutton chop should be like.

 The perfect snack on a rainy evening, shared with lots of friends or just the family, gathered together over a hot plateful and some ginger tea and laughter and adda on the side.

Enjoy, dear friends!!