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Murgh ki burfi, sweet lamb rice....


rajsuman
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In his book Prasad, Kalra gives recipes for murgh ki burfi and a sweet lamb rice (made with a sugar syrup) both of which are meant to be eaten like sweets.Ugh... I shudder at the mere thought. I've also heard of 'delicacies' such as cabbage ki kheer and pyaz ki kheer. Has anyone tried any of these and lived to tell the tale?

Just curious - wonder what they taste like.

Suman

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In his book Prasad, Kalra gives recipes for murgh ki burfi and a sweet lamb rice (made with a sugar syrup) both of which are meant to be eaten like sweets.Ugh... I shudder at the mere thought. I've also heard of 'delicacies' such as cabbage ki kheer and pyaz ki kheer. Has anyone tried any of these and lived to tell the tale?

Just curious - wonder what they taste like.

Suman

Shaheen makes a murg burfi that I see at my local grocery, but it contains no chicken. What could this mean? Is there another word similar to murgh that means something else.....

I have eaten lamb haleem with sugar and it was beautiful. I have also had aloo halva and it was very good.

How about maccher payesh(fish kheer)!!!!!!!!!!

Edited by Edward (log)

Edward Hamann

Cooking Teacher

Indian Cooking

edhamann@hotmail.com

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I've also heard of 'delicacies' such as cabbage ki kheer and pyaz ki kheer. Has anyone tried any of these and lived to tell the tale?

Just curious - wonder what they taste like.

Suman

Cabbage kheer ?? :unsure: What is pyaz ki kheer??

I have seen onion kheer. In India my Muslim neighbor used to make it for one of their holidays. I never liked it.

Ammini

Ammini Ramachandran

www.Peppertrail.com

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In his book Prasad, Kalra gives recipes for murgh ki burfi and a sweet lamb rice (made with a sugar syrup) both of which are meant to be eaten like sweets.Ugh... I shudder at the mere thought. I've also heard of 'delicacies' such as cabbage ki kheer and pyaz ki kheer. Has anyone tried any of these and lived to tell the tale?

Just curious - wonder what they taste like.

Suman

hmm..between jaded emperors and desperate cooks.. :smile: i have eaten a cauliflower kheer years ago.it was sprung on me by a lady with a glint in her eye -"canyoutellmewhatitis?"well i thought it was kheer made with suji/semolina-same sort of texture and not a whiff of cauliflower about it.in my defence i will say that the lady was an excellent cook.

lets see-carrots,beetroot,potato,pumpkin(does that count) quite a few more that lend themselves nicely to sweetmaking.curious about the onion though-is there some significance attached to it's use in a kheer or is it simply extreme cooking?

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potato halavah is really yummy. carrot too, I imagine beetroot makes at least pretty sweets. even cabbage kheer, although i cannot imagine why any one would make it, even if it really is onion.

But CHICKEN barfi ???? that sounds nasty and wrong in so many ways.

sorry eeeugh eeeugh gross.

Although, in European tradtions there are plenty of fruit/meat combos. Mince meat being a perfect example.

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I had a garlic payasam yesterday. It was very interesting. There were whole pieces of garlic in it and though the garlic flavour definitely came through it was not at all unpleasant. The funniest thing was that we had a dining companion who hates garlic and he'd been complaining about too much garlic in the main dishes. You should have seen his face when the waiter announced that the special sweet was garlic payasam! :laugh:

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  • 2 weeks later...

I love potato halwa. Recently, I've come across recipes for cabbage kheer and matar (peas) kheer. Garlic Payasam! I admire the bravery of people who not only try these recipes, but also see it fit to serve it to the others :laugh: . Although, come to think about it, the earliest mince pies had minced meat in it along with the usual dried fruits, spices and sweetener. So, maybe meat in a sweetemeat is a winning formula after all. So long as I don't have to make or eat them.... :raz:

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I had a garlic payasam yesterday. It was very interesting. There were whole pieces of garlic in it and though the garlic flavour definitely came through it was not at all unpleasant. The funniest thing was that we had a dining companion who hates garlic and he'd been complaining about too much garlic in the main dishes. You should have seen his face when the waiter announced that the special sweet was garlic payasam!  :laugh:

That restaurant should consider opening a booth at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Garlic Payasam would be a natural there. :laugh::raz: I don't think I'd like that, though.

Michael aka "Pan"

 

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Oh, my, don't let Heston Blumenthal or Ferran Adria see this thread!  :unsure:  They are already doing similar alchemy at their restaurants with Western dishes.  :wacko:

These guys are new, we've been at it for centuries. :laugh:

I quote from user Bhelpuri's post wherein he quotes( Q raised to the power of 2?) Gangadhar Gadgil the writer

The bhelpuri stall consists of a low wooden platform draped in red cloth on which are displayed in various pots, pans and jars the puris, sev, puffed rice and several other ingredients. The display not only makes the mouth water but is also aesthetically very satisfying. The piled-up sev has the lustre of broken pieces of gold thread, and the crisp, puffed puris look like exquisite golden brown balloons of edible delight waiting to float lightly out of the jars and into the expectant mouths of discriminating Bombayites.

The dahivadas that lie heavy and somnolent in jars filled with water have the shape, form and feel of primordial contentment which is experienced when teeth sink into them and they melt imperceptibly into nothingness. The ragda – peas cooked in spicy gravy – emits a heady aroma as it simmers gently on a charcoal stove, and the throbbing peas seem to be squealing with delight. Even the boiled potatoes invite admiration for the gold of their bodies, while the red, green and amber-coloured chutneys carry in them a hint of the morbid pleasures secretly enjoyed by the Emperors of Baghdad in the heyday of their medieval glory.

There is nothing mild and subdued about the taste of bhelpuri preparations. They are hot stuff – as hot as a raging prairie fire. Therefore people who are brought up on mashed potatoes (mashing a potato seems to me to be the worst insult to which it can be subjected!) and who have eaten nothing hotter than hot dogs, should not venture to taste them without expert guidance.

But once they learn to enjoy the ecstasy of setting their tongues on fire they will realize that bhelpuri preparations are not merely hot. They are also sour, pungent, peppery, salty, spicy, creamy, crisp, fluffy (and believe it or not) sweet. All these tastes annoy, tease, titillate and soothe the tongue while the fire continues to rage on.

Eating panipuri is an art, an achievement and heavenly bliss. It takes a lot of character, courage and training to eat it. It has to be performed in the company of friends, if for no other reason than to avoid choking oneself to death by eating panipuris in too quick a succession.

The panipuri eaters have to stand in a semi-circle near the stall and strike the proper stance. This means that everybody has to plant his legs wide apart, bend forward a full sixty degrees, raise his chin, half open his mouth and hold his hand ready to snatch the proffered panipuri and shove it into his mouth.

A stranger who happens to see the panipuri-eaters in such a stance may feel puzzled, but a true Bombayite would know how necessary it is to take such a stance and would even advise the persons concerned to roll up their sleeves, tuck up their trousers, unfasten their collar-buttons and bend several degrees more to avoid any mishap.

When the customers are thus ready, the assistant serving panipuris picks up a crisp, puffed puri about the size of a ‘B’ grade egg in a San Francisco supermarket, pokes a hole in it with his thumb, stuffs it with sprouted and cooked moongs, dips it in spiced water and offers it dripping to one of the customers standing in the semi-circle. He then offers the puris in quick succession to all the customers and by the time the first one has managed to swallow his first panipuri, he gets another.

Whatever the state of suffocation of the customer, he cannot afford to wait and waste even a second when the panipuri is offered to him. It must be shoved into the mouth before the precious spiced water oozes, drips or squirts out of it. At the same time care has to be taken to prevent the water from squirting on the shirt front, dripping on the trousers, running down the arm into the shirt sleeve or past the chin and down the throat into the collar.

Not everybody can handle the panipuri with such dexterity as to avoid these mishaps, and one sees at Chowpatty many a shirt and sari telling tales of eventful bouts of eating panipuri.

It is not easy to shove into the mouth a stuffed and dripping puri of the size of a ‘B’ grade American egg. The flexibility of the facial muscles is sorely tried in the process and at that time the parties concerned with their contorted faces look remarkably like characters in a Hitchcock film who are in the process of being murdered. Once the panipuri is securely wedged inside the mouth, there follows a moment of agonizing and tantalizing suspense. The jaw, which is on the verge of being dislocated, refuses to move. The muscles of the throat want to swallow but dare not, and for good reason. An invisible lid is securely fastened on the windpipe and lungs scream for fresh air. The eyes pop out. The temples are about to burst because of loud and incessant knocking from inside, and the spiced water acts on the tongue like vitriol. In other words, one goes through the thrilling experience of being about to be choked to death.

Just when it seems all is lost the puri is pushed into the correct position by automatic muscular movement and then the jaw sets working, the throat starts swallowing, air gushes through the windpipe, the charred tongue is bathed in saliva and happy tears trickle out of the eyes. But the ecstasy is shortlived. For one suddenly becomes aware of the protesting convulsions of shocked intestines, and at the same time one has on hand another dripping puri that brooks no delay.

After partaking of panipuri, there is an instinctive urge to quench the fire in the mouth with several glasses of water. But to do this is really to miss the point. The fire must be kept burning, and in fact must be stoked judiciously by eating other bhelpuri preparations. What should be changed is the intensity of the fire. The initial blaze should be subdued by eating dahivadas or other preparations where dahi (yoghurt) is used; and then in the subdued fire must be released multicoloured flares of varied flavours of the chutneys and other ingredients of bhelpuri. Once this principle is understood, everyone can fix for himself the order in which he would like to eat the varied preparations.

Finally, when the whole spectrum of flavours has been sampled, the bhelpuri addict drinks a glass or two of water. That, however, is not the finale but the prelude to the grand finale that soothes the tongue and lubricates and quietens the exacerbated intestines. The grand finale comes in the form of kulfi,which is, or at least ought to be, creamier than cream itself and cool as cool can be. Two fat luscious cones of this kulfi, allowed slowly to melt in the mouth in all their rich creaminess are just the things to end the orgy of eating fire. As they melt in the mouth the temples stop throbbing, the taut nerves relax, contentment seeps into the intestines and a reflective somnolence spreads over the mental faculties. One enters into a state of beatitude and comes as close to nirvana as is possible in Bombay.

In that state of beatitude, the Maharashtrians stop being surly, the Marwaris look at the millions of stars without being reminded of their own millions, the Sindhis admire the horizon without any intention of selling it, the Gujaratis speculate on the moon instead of the scrips they should have sold, the North Indians dream of things other than Hindi as the official language of the United Nations, and even the Parsi ladies stop nagging their husbands.

Is this is not alchemy and a 360 degree experience?

I fry by the heat of my pans. ~ Suresh Hinduja

http://www.gourmetindia.com

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Please pardon one quick question from a newish fan of Indian cuisine who is living in the South - you all sound quite advanced - any chance you know of a credible spot in the Southeastern US to seek out Indian cuisine? I'm trying to convert someone and need the best example I can find before he rejects the whole category.

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Is this is not alchemy and a 360 degree experience?

i was waxing rhapsodic on the wonders of jhal muri to a friend the other day.

"what's in that?" he asked.

i went through the rundown of the recipe i used, puffed rice, jaggery, tamarind, crispy noodles, potatoes, chilis, mustard oil etc.

"it's so good," i said.

"doesn't sound good," he said. "mixing all that together."

guess i'll have to whip up a batch and show him the magic.

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http://www.hinduonnet.com/thehindu/mp/2003...02900680400.htm

IF BIRYANI is the staple of a die-hard Hyderabadi, another delicacy that is relished is the haleem. This traditional wheat porridge has its roots in the Arab Kingdom. Even today mitthi (sweet) and khari (salted) haleem variants are served for breakfast in the homes of the Arabs living in the Barkas area of the twin cities. But in the major city , the salted option is popularly seen during the month of Ramzan--the high-calorie (it contains wheat, various lentils, meat, and ghee) content makes this porridge an ideal meal to break the fast . In the spirit of ganga-jamuni tehzeeb or brotherhood as they say, the entire city also waits for the haleem season, the growing popularity of the dish has roped in postal and now courier services to reach out to the homes of the foodies.
The vegetarian haleem will be available in options starting from 300 gms (Rs. 35) onwards at Yousufain's Pista House, Shah Ali Banda Road, Charminar, Pista House Invitation 365, opposite Ravindra Bharati and Hang-Out, MPM Mall, Abids, from 4.30 p.m. onwards for takeaways and a la carte for dinner as well. Alternatively, you can avail the courier option. For details contact Tel: 31002718/55107686/87.

hi Edward-hope you're having a great time!how about some long distance take out?! :rolleyes:

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:angry: Sunny side up.. eggs :hmmm:  gooey :huh: never understood how to eat it up ever

Sunny side up is my favorite way to eat eggs..

Instead of breaking the yolk and then sopping it up with toast, or whatever, I carefully remove all the white surrounding the yolk then lift the entire yolk into my mouth with my fork.

Most of time this procedure works just fine, but sometimes the yolk slips off the fork enroute to my mouth usually breaking all over my long beard... :sad:

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No never I won't try it out.. its too gross to me..

I hope not to offend others it is just out of my respect zone for some reason from a looooong time I don't know ..why

I sound like a vegT speaking of those nonVT dishes to others.. I've been told the yolk tastes sweet still I'm not over my reservation to it...

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