Suvir Saran

Anil, what is different in what Sandra Describes? That would make it easier for her to understand what she should experct in Rabri. Would you care to share? Would you agree though that Rabri is denser and richer than ice cream? I know there are those serving Rabri as fluis as kheer, but you would not stand for that. Anil where have you eaten your favorite Rabri?

Simon, There is a recipe from the Moslem community of what is now Pakistan. I will send it to you tomorrow. In that recipe, liver, kidney and brain are cooked togther. Will post it very soon.

Gosht Pasandas In this recipe lamb trotters are used to add flavor to the sauce. 3-pound leg of baby goat or spring lamb Marinade: 3 inch piece fresh ginger root, minced finely 6 cloves of garlic, minced finely 2 teaspoon garam masala 1/2 teaspoon red chili powder 3 tablespoons canola Trotter Stock: 8 baby goat/lamb trotters, cleaned and washed 2 carrots, peeled and diced 1 small onion, diced 10 green cardamoms 4 black peppercorns 6 cloves 1 inch cinnamon stick 2 bay leaves 1/8 teaspoon mace powder Masala: Canola for frying pasandas 1 large onion, finely diced 2 inch fresh ginger root, finely minced 1 jalapeno pepper, minced finely 1 teaspoon garam masala Juice of half a lemon, more to taste 1.4 cup freshly chopped cilantro leaves, washed and chopped finely Clean and debone the leg. Cut into 2 inch pieces and flatten these into 1/8 inch thick piccatas(pasandas). Set aside. Mix all ingredients for the marinade. Rub this onto the piccatas and leave to marinade at least 2 hours. Blanch the trotters and drain. Mix the trotters with the carrots and onions and the whole spices. Add 16 cups of water and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer for 2 hours. Discard the trotters, strain the stock, skim fat and continue simmering reducing to 1 1/2 cups. In a large skillet or, take some oil and sauté the lamb piccatas for close to 5 minutes. Remove the piccatas to the side of the pan. IN the same oil, fry the onions, ginger and chilies till they are wilted, no more than five minutes. Add the piccatas to this mix and sauté them with the onions for a couple of minutes. Add the 1 1/2 cups of trotter stock. Simmer until the piccatas are tender and most of the stock is reduced. Taste for seasoning and add the garam masala, lemon juice and half of the cilantro leaves. Arrange the pasandas (piccatas) on a platter overlapping on one another. Pour the gravy on top of these and then garnish with remaining freshly cut cilantro leaves.

Some thoughts on Indian desserts. Hindus believe that one can only achieve ultimate freedom from the vicious circle of life and death by achieving Nirvana. To get to that point, Hindus meditate and in their lifetime, try to achieve the wisdom of the sages. One part of that exercise is the Navaidyam, the offerings that are given to God. The offerings of sweet are given a very high stature. And in the Bhagwat Purana, Lord Krishna (also called Maakhan Chor or Butter Thief, since as a child he would break into homes of neighbors and eat butter), ascribes to sweets the association of being perfect for the Gods. Hindus believe that in the center of the deepest ocean, is the home of the divine nectar. In this sea of nectar, one should wish to find their post Moksha home. The celestial nectar that one finds there is prepared by the mixing of five essentials that together form Panchamrit (or t he 5 nectars). These are Honey, Desi Ghee (clarified butter made with the milk of cows), Milk, Sugar and Water. Thus many Indian desserts have each of these items. And for pujas (religious prayers) one adds to these 5 basil leaves and with that mix the idols are bathed and prepared for the special prayer. In India, desserts were prepared not just for consumption as a little treat to finish a meal with, but to also give the person eating them nourishment. In old days, Indians worked hard and in the heat of the tropical sun. These desserts were a great way of gaining some of the lost energy. Desserts were also a food you could take with you to those t hat you visited as a hostess gift.

Marina our dear friend from Pakistan always reminds me to make sure we only use Baby goat. We get these in Jackson Heights in New York. You could use lamb kidneys or even chicken. But baby goat is the best.

Simon my grandmother tells me that in Calcutta and also in Darjeeling and Assam, the Clubs would serve Kidneys on Toast. The kidneys are marinated in milk for hours. Dried, tossed in seasoned flour and then seared. Set on paper towles to drain. In some butter, onions are browned with ginger and garlic. The traditional masalas are added (coriander, cumin, turmeric, red chile, and garam masala). Tomatoes are added once the onions are wilted. A little tomato puree and some water are added after the chopped tomatoes begin to wilt and. Bring the contents of the pan to a boil. Add the drained kidneys to the sauce and cook covered over a very low flame for 20 minutes or until the sauce is thick and coating the Kidney pieces. Toast trimmed bread slices. Finish the kidney by tasting for spicing. Add salt to taste and more garam masala if needed. Freshly chopped cilantro is excellent folded into the kidney masala. Arrange the toasts on a serving platter. Ladle the kidney masala over the toasts and serve hot.

Yes Sandra, the milky substance is much denser and richer than any ice cream you could ever eat. And often in India, we eat them with dense and syrupy thick pancake like flat sweet breads called Malpuas. That is a match made in heavens. I would go across continents if my father would tell me he was having them for a party and brought in from these two special cities in Haryana. Nowhere in India can they make better Rabri or Malpuas. The cities are 2-3 hours away from each other. And for some special parties in Delhi, my father would organize for the driver to go fetch these. Those dinners were my most favorite.

They are made the same way... to make rabri, you would cook the milk for several hours more. Till it is almost, not completely dry with just milk solids remaning. It is delicious. I will write more in a while. I am cooking dinner now. Could not have you wait for an answer too long.

Lady T, thanks for sharing your memory of your father and those early AM meals. They are beautiful memories to have. And I am so happy I was at the site to read them. Very moving. Bring one to understand the gilded edge of everything we can easily take for granted. You also shared it most beautifully. And Liza, thanks for sharing the gist of the recipe. I would use paper towels.

Blue Heron, I do have a good memory. But when it comes to names? I cannot remember them even the next hour. Shame on me! I love most all of Boylans Sodas. We get them near the apartment in nice tiny store called Taylors. They have great muffins, cookies, sandwiches and other goodies and of course Boylans. I like their orange soda, the black cherry and also the cream soda.

Thanks Sandra!

Jaybee, what is H&H or shall I ask where is it? And where does one find Nehi Orange Soda? I love that too. Thoug nothing like a good Cream Soda. Cream Sodas are my favorite. They do not taste the same as those made at the soda fountain at Delhi Gymkhana. The soda fountain closed and with that my memories are all I have of that experience.

Thanks Blue Heron! Cinnamon donuts sound wonderful. I love donuts made at home. But I can eat all kinds. Even Krispy Creme. Grandmas roasted potato salad sounds yummy. And best yet.. Addy Vallens Hot Fudge Sundae with real whipped cream... magic for my sweet tooth.

Foods of India 121 Lexington Avenue New York City, NY Tel: (212) 683 4419 To my understanding, they are the best Indian grocery store in NYC. Cleanest and freshest spices can be found here. They may charge a few pennies a pound extra for not throwing in stems and other stuff into spice packages.

Foods Of India. You can go to the spice page on my website. Suvir This machine I am working on today does not have enough memory to let me open it for you. or else I would have posted just the address. Sorry Cabrales. I know we have mentioned the store on another thread. Maybe the curry leaf one. I will check there to see if I can find the number for you.

Bheja or Magaz Curry is the same thing. Brain Curry. Kaleji and Kalaji are liver curry. Anil, you are soooooo Good. You are the US counterpart of God=Tonyfinch=Anil=Legend.

Liza, Would you have a recipe for that amazing sounding potato chip chicken? It sounds amazing. Where would you eat it? Care to elaborate? Thanks!

My earliest memory of growing up is of resting in my mothers lap, as she tried to nurse my fever. My grandmother, father, sister, brother and all the help at home had the same viral. She had finished administering medication to each of them, and now it was my turn. I could not have been more than 2 years old I am told. It was this incident, of seeing my mother, probably running a fever herself and still nursing all around her, that made me realize how much a mother does for the family. I write about this image as it also had made me always think of others before self. At least, I hope I am able to do that. Another thing I remember from growing up is waking up each morning, washing my face, brushing my teeth and then running into my grandfathers room where he would be sitting on a white cane chair, reading the newspaper. I would touch his feet. A gesture showing my respect for his place as the elder of the family I was the youngest member of. This was a daily ritual and after which I was given a fruit or some sweet offering. On some days even cookies. These were always shortbread cookies, and to this day, as I see shortbread cookies in a store, I think of my grandfather, and immediately look to see if I can see the stars. As a young boy, these little nothings seemed like jewels from the famous Peacock throne. But, this ritual was not meant to last too long. My grandfather died when I was very young. I remember a long slumber party that lasted several weeks ending with everyone leaving all of a sudden and my grandmother moving into my grandfather’s room. My grandfather had not moved to her room either. He was gone. I wondered where. In India, in yesteryears, couples often had separate rooms. As I longed for him to come back, I would visit again and again images from the days past, of a body that had his face lying still in our home. People had come touched it, looked at it, bowed to it and then the body was gone and was replaced by a large photograph of my grandfather, which had been decorated, with a garland of rose petals and sandalwood. Family members would sing late into night, visitors would not seem to stop coming. Relatives I had hardly known were making appearances. All of this to pay respects to a much loved, respected and familial soul. Grandmother had seemed distant and sad through all of this. Father had cried long hours so that his eyes were puffy and red. Mother as usual was being strong and playing the role of that general that commands strength from a force of soldiers that have embraced defeat and then with the generals own leadership see victory that seemed distant. After a long period of much activity, mourning, familial bonding and emotional exchanges between relatives and friends, the day had come to move from a phase of mourning for the departed soul and to move on with our lives. As a child, I did not understand why this had to happen so suddenly. I wanted all those people back. I wanted them to be in our home forever. Singing songs of prayer, eating meals together and to stay up late at night. But, I could not stop that from happening and now, no matter what I tried, Grandfather was not coming back home from his walk. I asked mother what had happened to grandfather. And she thought a minute and then took me out to see the night sky. Asked for me to point to that star which I found most brilliant and compelling. After I had chosen that which spoke with me most, she addressed it as grandfather. I was told that grandfather had moved onto his next walk. And that from now on, he would watch us from this heavenly perch and when I missed him, I could come look at him and tell him those thoughts I most wanted to share with him. I was told how he would know all that we are going through as he watched all that we did, and yet, I could have my private time with him through my conversations with that brilliant star. So now, I would spend evening doing things in our terrace. It made me feel closer to him. And I felt, I was the only one that knew that grandfather was up there watching me play. I thought I was alone in having intimate conversations with him. I was a child happy even after losing one important part of my daily routine. In some ways, I felt celestial powerful and hoping that with time, I too would find a star that would let me call it my home. As I became accustomed to the new routine of not running into my grandfather’s room, I also began watching keenly what my grandmother was doing at that same hour each day. She would wake up very early in the morning. While it was still dark outside, she would cleanse her body and then get ready to worship the gods in that hour which Hindus believe to be most auspicious and divine. She would take a beautiful dark mulberry basket in which she would collect different kinds of jasmine blossoms that would be offered by her to the Gods to enliven their senses. It was most beautiful to see her gently pluck only those blossoms that would have fallen onto the ground otherwise. She would pluck them ever so gently so as to not disturb the peace of stems and make no sound at all. It is believed that if you are rough with these gentle souls, flowers, they will never ever see spring again and will wilt just as quickly as their souls would from the abuse. After finishing a long prayer, she would eat a simple breakfast of melons and cantaloupes in the summer and papaya in the winter. She drank a strong dark brew of tea, different from that my parents had. She would always leave a little food on her plate. This would be offered to the birds. I was told that birds work very hard for living. They fly all day, and often get very little food, but they never tire as if they stop flying, they would be easy prey for larger creatures. And so, tired or not, they continue flying in the hope that they will find the sustenance they need in due time. This was remarkable and inspiring to all, and thus, any little treat one could give birds, would be a treat well spent. To my young mind, this was a rather caring act, and it was what made me love my grandmother instantly. Unknown to her, perhaps, this was what has made me love all animals and birds especially. In the kitchen, a sanctum sanctorum in our home, Panditji would be peeling, chopping, mincing, frying, steaming, macerating, crushing or grinding. All done by hand, machinery was non-existent till much later, into my teens. It was amazing that we had a refrigerator, since that was the only appliance we had for a long time. Panditji was territorial and also a Brahman that was puritan about certain things. Keeping the kitchen sacred, clean and pure was his pet peeve. As a child, he had trained my siblings and I to come inside it only after having had a bath and without any leather. We could ask him to give us that, which we wanted, look around, but not touch. The food was all prepared firstly to serve as an offering to the Gods and then it was taken to the dining table to serve the family and friends. It was this offering for the gods that made it important for the food to remain pure. He would cook without tasting the food. After it had been cooked, he would serve a plate for the gods and then say a little prayer, add some of each dish back into the larger vessel, and leave some in the plate of offering to be later given to the birds. The tiny amount of each dish that would be put back from the offering plate into the cooking dish, would give the food blessings from the gods and signify the purpose of the vegetables and grains we were eating as sustenance. This was meant to teach us the sanctity of all things. All life is sacred. And again, even though little was given to the birds, it would feed several dozens of them and would encourage us to share. I often wonder if these little things my grandmother, mother and panditji did so effortlessly, have made it easy for me to face challenges with relative dignity. PS: My maternal grandmother, who lives in San Francisco, used to make the best Cauliflower, Turnip and Potato Stuffed Parathas (flat breads). It was also in her house that we would eat most any vegetable. Not because they were better than Panditjis, but for fear of facing my grandfather wrath. In some ways I owe it to him to be able to eat more veggies today than most of my other cousins. I love bitter melons, lotus roots, zimikand (yam), kathal ( jackfruit) and other more exotic fruits and veggies that many younger Indians would not eat on a routine basis.

Yes it is worth the subscription. No website yet. It is being worked on. You can also find it at certian Barnes and Noble locations around the country. Or you can call 212-684-4224 and ask for Food Arts and see where they may be selling them near you.

I certainly am biased into loving Food Arts, which I enjoyed way before I got onto the masthead. I also enjoy reading Cooks Illustrated. Which made it to the NY Times business section today. As an insider at Food Arts and one that has written more than a handful articles for them in the last 2 years, I can vouch for their wanting complete testing of recipes, checking of facts and to include all they can on any topic they touch. With Steve Klc's presence they have a great set of eyes and a sound mind sifting through their desks when the need be.

Miss J, I do not drink alcoholic drinks for the most part. Maybe a dozen or at the most 20 times a year I will sip something. Bellinis, are on that very short list. I love them.

One can do a lot with Lotus Roots Miss J. Rachel, I cannot wait to see that recipe. It sound amazing. In fact I have eaten something similar at a chefs tasting menu in Singapore. They were great.

I concur with Simon on this Tony!

Miss J, In India we use these a lot in the north. I make lotus root chips every time I am able to find these. I slice them very fine and then let them dry on a paper towel for an hour, not necessary, for some reason I grew up seeing Panditji (our home chef) do it, and then deep fry as you would French fries. I then sprinkle some chaat masala and salt. They are great. We call them Kachri. They taste great by themselves or even with biryaani. Three years ago on our annual Holiday Open House, I served in huge Indian urlis (metal bowls) a mélange of root vegetables. I fried over 3 nights, more than 30 pounds of assorted roots and the guests seemed to have enjoyed these chips by themselves. Unlike Okra that can be messy to fry, lotus roots are quite easy and lend themselves well to this technique. I am sure Mr. Bourdain will have a great restaurant tip that would be perfect for you to know.. I spotted even cilantro growing, that most difficult PS: Chaat Masala can be found in most all Indian stores or you can order at at Namaste.com

Simon, I may be losing you here... what is your question? Moslems eat trotters. Not pig trotters. They eat baby goat trotters. I am sure that may be the wrong word for them, but in Pakistan that is how they are called. The thought of eating Pig is repugnant to Moslems just as it would be to Jew or Beef to a Hindu. There are many that do not care. And just as many that are fundamentally repulsed by breaking the norm.