Matar ke Kachori

My sasural city is known for Kachoris. The best kachoris in the whole of Rajasthan are made in Kota. 

They say there is something in the water and the soil of Kota. 

I did not know the meaning of it until much later, when I became involved with food more as a passion and then later as a profession. 

Whenever we visit home, B and I have a favourite jaunt .... we go out very early in the wee hours of the mornings to our favourite kachori centers. 
And gorge on the super hot, freshly fried kachoris .... just out of the hot oil and resting in huge jhuris.  
One day it would be the moong ke kachoris, pyaz kachoris on the next.
And then it will be the matar kachoris winters. 

Super hot, beautifully fragrant with the best hing and spices and very very crisp. 
They serve it with two chutneys splashed all over it ... one made with tamarind and the other with green leaves like coriander and pudina. 

I refuse both. For various reasons. 
I love to bite into the crisp outer case and draw back immediately as a burst of steam releases and hits the nose with the most tempting of aromas ever. 

By then the mouth is already filled with the taste of spices, tartness mixed with salt and chilli. 
And no other chilli than the real Mathaniya chillies that not only have the required zing but also are fragrant too. 

Almost all the spices that I use in my cooking is from Rajasthan ... even Posto. 
And I grind my own garam masalas. 
They make a huge difference to the food I am making ...either for ourselves or for my clients. 

I made these Matar kachoris a few days ago and many people asked for the recipe in dms. 
So I decided to make this post quickly so you can enjoy them before the green peas disappear from markets. 

Need : 

For the casing : 

Maida  / APF - 1 cup
Salt - to taste 
Oil - 1 tbsp 

Water - to knead 

How to : 

Knead the maida with the rest of the ingredients , using just enough water. 
The dough should not be too tough and not too loose also. 
Keep it covered for 30 minutes. 

For the stuffing : 

Green peas - 2 cups 
Green chillies - to taste 

Ginger paste / grated - 1 tsp 

Hing / asafeotida - a pinch and  a little more

Red chilli powder 
Amchur powder 
Dhania seeds - ground coarsely
Black pepper powder
Ajwain 
Salt
Oil to cook 

How to : 

Grind the green peas with the green chillies into a coarse paste. 

Heat oil in an open pan . 

Add hing and grated ginger. 

Add the peas paste and stir well. 

Add all the powder masalas and cook on low heat, stirring occasionally. 

When it starts to dry up, add salt and cook till it is dryish. 

Remove and cool. 

How to make the Matar Kachoris : 

Heat enough oil in a deep kadahi to fry. 

Make small balls out of the kneaded dough. 

Stuff a little of the stuffing and flatten with your hands. 

When oil is medium hot, let in them gently. 

Cook on low heat till they slowly puff up.
Wait for a little while and then gently turn them over and cook till they are brown on both sides. 

Do not hurry to flip or raise heat. 
They need slow cooking to be crisp. 

Enjoy!! 

I served them with a ghugni and gajar ka halwa only because I had them already prepared. 
You may serve with  achars , chutneys or aloo ki sabzi. 

I love to munch on them  as is , with a cup of ginger tea. 

You may want to look up the Bengali favourite Koraishutir Kochuri too, while on the topic of Kochuris. ☺

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. 

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.

Quick Pakodas with Leftovers

The rains have finally arrived. Finally! Well ... the sky has been overcast for two whole days at a stretch .... it has been windy ... there has been a light spray of water the whole of yesterday ... and it actually drizzled today. So hopefully I can say .... finally the monsoon has arrived.

Unlike the rains that I am used to on the coast back home .... heavy and relentless, pelting down ever so heavily ... with thunder , lightning and a wild wind as a bonus ... this hilly little city gets a very calm and quiet monsoon. The whole day there will be a quiet rain ... you won't hear anything and will realise it's raining only when you look out.

The hilltops are already covered with clouds .... and the hills have turned a bluish green ... well ... or a greenish blue ... whatever .... but they look beautiful after looking so drab and brown the whole year through.

And it turns cold in the monsoons here .... no siree ... not the damp, heavy and humid monsoons here. It turns cool and then cold ... enough to get out light woollens and blankets. I soooo loooove this weather. :-)


So this evening I felt like having something spicy,hot and quick to celebrate the monsoons... I love watching the rains on the hill and trees from the wide bay windows. The husband called to say he would be home early .... declined his offer to get something to eat .... and set off to make some bhajjis.

Then seeing a lot of stuff in the fridge ... thought of making something different .... not to mention I really did not feel like spending a lot of part of the beautiful evening standing in the kitchen and shedding tears on onions.

I found some leftover dal and bread .... you can use any leftover curries too ... chopped up some onions and green chillies and mashed them all together. I had some sweet corn kernels ... so threw in some ... and am glad I did. And oh yes .... had some leftover fried rice ... so threw in a fistful of that too ... the beans and carrots in the snaps are from that.

The best part with leftovers is you need not add any masala or spice ... they have their own. Just adjust the salt .... due to the bread.
And deep fry them .... that's all. C'mon .... don't give me that look ...

.... you enjoy the begining of monsoon only once ... or twice ... or thrice. ;-) Am sure in a few weeks we will be complaining about the dull weather and rain and water logging etc. etc. So enjoy some fried stuff while you can.

Need : Whatever leftover dry sabzi / curry you have in the fridge, some leftover dal ( better than plain bland water ), chopped onions, chopped green chillies, some cornflour, salt to taste and oil for deep frying.

How to : Mash everything together. Shape into small balls . Heat oil and deep fry them till golden brown.
Done! :-)
This turned out to be the quickest thing I have ever cooked. :-)


Want a bite? Dig in. :-)
Great with some ketchup and steaming hot tea !