Lazy Fish
Or to be honest, lazy me.
There often comes a time when I want to cook something, but don’t want to get into elaborate prep nor waste hours to turn out a culinary masterpiece.
During these cooking-for-lazy-moments, short cuts and packaged sauces are extremely helpful, and they don’t necessarily put you in a compromising corner with taste.
Back to the fish.
The Rohu (a cousin of the Carp) sat there quietly, marinating for 2 hours
Bombay (unfortunately referred to as Mumbai these days) has an abundance of fresh seafood but on my last visit to the fish market, I steered towards the lone guy who sells river fish, or sweet water fish as it is referred to in these parts.
Pushing past a gaggle of Bengalis – they love their river fish with an unrivalled passion – I acquired a rather fine specimen of Rohu.
Rohu, a member of the Carp family, is a bony fish and as the old jungle saying goes (Bengali, actually), the more bones in a fish the tastier it is.
I love what the Bengalis do with Rohu but today is not their day. Today is lazy day.
So I pull out a few green chillies and pull out a bottle of teriyaki marinade infused with roasted garlic. Do I see the Bengalis amongst you turn your noses up in disgust?
I slice the chillies lengthwise and douse the Rohu with a generous pour of the teriyaki. I let it steep in the marinade for a good two hours. I contradict myself here about time, but I wasn’t labouring for two hours, the marinade was.
There it is - teriyaki Rohu with garlic and green chillies
A couple of minutes in the microwave and it’s done (notwithstanding more upturned noses from aforementioned Bengalis).
It goes deliciously well with rice, and a side of steamed broccoli.
Here’s to lazy days.
Chicken … Curry with a bite
Another Sunday, another experiment.
The guinea pig this time – chicken. Chicken that has been sitting in my freezer for two weeks.
I can see the purists, the kill now – consume now people, frown at the “two weeks” bit. But the circumstances were completely unavoidable.
So there it was, the two-week-old frozen chicken, defrosting on the counter quietly, as I began looking for culinary inspiration.
My current mood is violent. I’ve just finished writing a blood-filled war scene scattered with body parts for my screenplay, a flashback sequence that’s vital for my film.
So it wasn’t surprising then that I wanted to put all the ingredients into a blender, including the garnish, and watch them … become a green paste. Whirr. Shred. Whirr. Shred.
I scoop out some for a taste. The war theme continues.
It’s got the bite of a bazooka.
Curry with a bite.
Lucky chicken.
Chicken curry. With a sharp bite.
Ingredients:
2 large onions; 9 big cloves of garlic; 2 green chillies; 12 curry leaves; one small bunch fresh coriander; 2 inch piece of ginger; 10 peppercorns; 500g chicken, cubed; 2 potatoes, cubed; 1 tomato, diced; salt to taste; 2 table spoons of oil; 1 teaspoon turmeric; 100 gm fresh coconut, grated; 500 ml water
Method:
Apply salt to the chicken and keep for 15 minutes.
Grind to a paste – onions, garlic, green chillies, curry leaves, coriander, ginger, and peppercorns.
In a pot, heat oil and fry the paste with the turmeric for 3 minutes. Add the chicken and sauté for 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and potatoes and sauté for 2 minutes. Add the coconut and stir it in. Add water and bring to a boil. Simmer for 20 minutes.
Eat with chapattis or steamed rice.
“Poached Mackerel? Are you mad?”
Sigh.
That would be a natural reaction, unless you are a seafood lover who doesn’t mind a strong fishy flavour.
It’s no wonder then that restaurants in Mumbai limit themselves to mostly frying it, coated with a turmeric and red chilly powder marinade. The die-hard seafood restaurants, and I refer to the Gomantak and Malvan variety, offer a mackerel curry too. Unfortunately, it’s too lowbrow for some of the swishy high-end set and that’s a pity.
The Malvani curry is often enhanced with the fiery tirphal, the cousin of the Sichuan pepper, and hides any fishy-ness completely mostly because your tongue has gone numb.
I was surprised to see mackerel on the shelves in supermarkets in the UK. One such frozen delight from Sainsbury’s was drowned in butter and crushed pepper. On heating, oodles of butter unfroze and everything was soon swimming in it. Not complaining, it worked for me. Yumm.
My mom does a very simple crushed garlic and ginger broth, which she reduces before popping the mackerel in. After simmering for about ten minutes, she pops the pot into a hot oven for fifteen, turning often so that you get an even crust. It’s always a joy to cut through the crust and dig into the softness.
In my pursuit of omega 3 rich oils that helps make one really clever, I consume it often enough to state that I’m a great fan. And I keep trying newer ways to indulge in this fetish. So here’s my latest, fresh-off-the-stove recipe for you to try:
poached mackerel fresh garlic teriyaki
Hmmm mackerel, high on my yumminess factor
Ingredients: 3 mackerels, cleaned; 50g fresh garlic with stems; 2” piece of ginger, crushed then finely chopped; 1 green chilly, finely chopped; teriyaki sauce; 500 ml water.
Method: Marinate the mackerels in the teriyaki sauce for about an hour. In the meanwhile, cut the garlic cloves from the stems and put them through a garlic press. Cut the garlic stems into 1 cm sized pieces. Put the crushed garlic, garlic stems, green chilly and the ginger in a pot with water and simmer till it gets reduced to half. Put the mackerels in, continue simmering for about 10 minutes.
Serve with steamed rice.
Queasy with Quails …
Quails and Humans avoiding eye contact. Do they know they're going to be dinner soon?
An existential question.
How queasy do you get if you have to sit at a table where you see your meal in front of you, knowing it’s going to be killed the minute you place your order?
Do you look at it merely as lunch or dinner and blank out the thought that it’s alive and in front of you?
Or do you think about it at all to begin with?
I had this dilemma when selecting, and eating, my first crab. It bothered me that the plump creature in front of me would be killed quite ruthlessly and then wickedly served up to me drowned in a delicious butter garlic sauce.
However I noticed that the minute I scooped out the sweet juicy meat and popped it in to my mouth, all such dilemmas vanished in the after glow of the taste sensations.
From that day on I concluded that as long as someone else does the killing, I’m ok with seeing my food alive in front of me.
I guess in the end, we’re all animals, albeit with a remote control.
Food pit stops – A Ramzan walk in Mumbai continues …
Mohammed Ali Road. Isn’t it a nice coincidence that you are walking down the very stretch that offers the best Ramzan food in Mumbai? Yes, a food stop is highly recommended. In fact let’s make it two food stops because the food at Bohri Mohalla is noticeably different from the fare at Minara Masjid.
A word of advice. As you walk down the food lanes, all the food stall owners will step into your path and try and lure you into their roadside digs. See, nod, smile, and move on. Walk down the stretch because there are many treats. You can sample many kinds of food or choose to sit somewhere.
At Minara Masjid, the signature dishes are the grilled and barbequed meats, skewers of gurda (kidney), kaleji (liver) and boti (succulent meat chunks), grilled batér (quail) and bheja (goat brain) fry. And do dig into the nalli nihari, which many stalls offer but Noor Mohammadi Restaurant is the place you should try it at. Don’t get carried away, keep your appetite for the second pit stop.
Marinating chicken legs, yellow roof - love the colours!
A fan gets the kebabs grilling
Rolls and what looks like a stack of omlettes
Gurda, kaleji and bheja sizzling on a tawa
A shawarma stall owner, bored and tired of the routine
Quail masala simmering on a tawa
The Bohris are known for their culinary skills and a subtle Guajarati influence creeps in to their cooking. So while you may find pav bhaji (surprise, surprise) next to grilling meat, make no mistake you are here for the meat. The must have in Bohri Mohalla is the “Bara handi”, twelve pots containing thick gravies of different hues which simmer for hours. Try the paya (trotters), nalli (marrow), pichda (ox tail), topa (ox hump) and boti. Surti Bara Handi and Valibhai Payawala are masterful in the art of the “Bara handi”.
End your feast with calorie-laden delights such as malpua (a rich pancake), firni (rice pudding) or hand churned sitaphal (custard apple) ice cream.
The malpua man strikes a regal pose
Malpua, the eggless variety and served without malai (cream)
And some more desserts ...
Suttar Feni, a sweet flaky dough that's served garnished with pistachios
Couldn't quite get the name but never mind, another colourful sweet to indulge in
Firni, soft gooey wickedness
However, if there is one food that you must try during Ramzan then it’s the Khichda. This 1000-year-old dish that has its origins in Arabian cuisine has equal parts of labor and love that go into its preparation. Made from meat, broken wheat, an array of lentils, milk, saffron and spices, all the ingredients are simmered slowly for as long as 12 hours over a wood fire until it becomes almost porridge like. It is served garnished with caramelized onions.
This rich, one dish meal is usually eaten in the morning by the devout because it keeps them nourished through the day. Jaffer Bhai’s Delhi Darbar serves the best Khichda I’ve eaten on this trail.
Khichda, a variation of Haleem and a cousin of the Harisa
Check out a “Quick guide to Enjoying Ramzan in Mumbai” on CNNGo
Want to read more about kebabs and niharis and bheja fry? Click here:
The insulted nawab vs. the toothless nawab
A ramzan walk in Mumbai
During the day, it’s a mix of piety and business as usual. Come the evening, the streets in muslim localities quietly slip into a carnival-like atmosphere.
You could cruise past these areas in taxi or a car but it will only give you a quick look and a perfunctory, clinical feel. There’s nothing like a leisurely stroll to really plunge into the spirit of ramzan in Mumbai.
And the best place to free wheel is Mohammed Ali Road in south Mumbai, at night of course. It brings together people from all over the city and is the busiest and the buzziest. It’s got two distinct districts, Minara Masjid and Bohri Mohalla.
Let me say to you right now that it means jostling through exuberant crowds and if you are even a bit faint hearted or tend to get claustrophobic, it’s all the more reason to lose your phobias and just do it. You will be richly rewarded.
Bustling streets - food and shopping lure throngs right through the night
A dazzling array of ladies footwear shouts out from the blur of maddening scenes
Street side fashion anyone?
Smoke from grilling meat rises into the night sky, filling the air with intense aromas
Begin at the top of Mohammed Ali road near Crawford market. A few minutes in you sense a change, people and shops have begun to multiply. By the time Minara Masjid approaches it has become a churning sea. The air is thick. Glittering sandals and ladies bags compete with shiny clothes and sparkly toys. Step a little ahead and you notice smoke from barbecue fires rising in the night sky and the smell of grilling and frying meat is all you can breathe in. Somehow you know you’ve reached the epicenter.
Minara Masjid, epicentre of all the action on Mohammed Ali Road
Hey, it's carnival time!
An old man takes in a moment of quiet, difficult as it may seem
Further down the road on your left lies the Bohri Mohalla. The shops have thinned out and receded. There is a quieter, perhaps even a more elegant air here. Maybe it’s got to do with the way the Bohris dress (a predominantly white outfit). The chaos exists but it’s a very relaxed and easy vibe. And as you approach the Bohra Masjid, you get that sense of déjà vu as the place begins to fill out and the smell of food fills your lungs and tickles your taste buds on the way down.
Fancy a shiny handbag for your lady?
Neon inflatable guitars add to the colour and cacophony
A great big shoe showroom up in the sky
The shiny theme continues and these fake big-brand watches can be had dirt cheap
A fruit seller finds a novel way to attract crowds to his stall
Oh and let me assure you of a few things about your walk. The people are friendly and you’ll feel safe and welcome.
Check out a “Quick guide to Enjoying Ramzan in Mumbai” on CNNGo
Egg Drop Oat Porridge For A (Savoury) Change
Your doc says eat Oats. You say boring. Your doc says it’s good for you. You say not every day. Sigh.
You’re right, Oats with milk as a daily cycle can be a bit of a drag, even if you spruce it up with fruits and nuts. And in spite of what health and nutrition practitioners may espouse about the benefits of Oats and all the good it does for your innards, heart included, it’s quite natural for your taste buds to revolt the monotony.
One such taste uprising on a Sunday morning made me think of change. Change being in the air, what with other uprisings world over, I marched off to the refrigerator, pored inside and looked for all the things I liked that could possibly go with Oats.
Eggs. Tomatoes. Mushrooms. Onions. Butter. Should I make an omlette instead? Nah, it was about Oats. Can I combine them all? Never done that before. What do I have to lose? Nothing, and everything (read milk).
With that positive thought in mind, I got down to some cooking just as the growls from my stomach were reaching mass protest level.
“Great, now how do I do it?” is often where I’m stuck when trying something new. That’s when I figure what kind of taste I want and flashes of all that I’ve eaten zip past. Here’s what I ended up with. Egg, dropped in Chinese soup style. Fresh tomato garnishing, thinking Mediterranean here. And a sharp chilli bite, reflecting my roots.
Delicious goodness, I purr in satisfaction. Super healthy and nutritious too. Ok, cut out the butter if you’d like to feel less guilty. No, don’t. The butter makes it yumm.
Delicious goodness. Why be boring with Oats?
For 1 serving:
Ingredients: 35 g Quaker Oats; 1 egg, beaten; 1 small onion, finely chopped; ½ a tomato, finely chopped; 2 large button mushrooms, sliced; 1 small green chilly, sliced (optional); 15 g butter; 450 ml water; salt to taste.
Method: Melt the butter in a pot and add the chopped onions and green chillies, sauté until the onions become translucent. Add the mushrooms and sauté for two minutes. Add water and stir in the Oats to avoid forming lumps. Add salt. Bring to a boil. Add the egg slowly, stirring all the time so you get wispy strands. Simmer on low for three minutes, stirring occasionally, until the Oats are cooked. Turn gas off and sprinkle the chopped tomato, fold into the porridge.
Serve hot. Banish boredom.
The last place to eat Japanese food in Mumbai, and the first
What a pity there are so few places that offer Japanese food in this city. Besides a take-away (Sushi and More, Tel: 66157285) and a home delivery service (Sushi Spice), none of which I have tried for fear of freshness of the fish, the only options available are in the 5 star hotels.
Wasabi by Morimoto at the Taj Mahal is your best bet.
I’ve been there several times and they are consistently good. Their prices are outrageous but the food and the service atone for it. At least that’s what I’d like to believe at the end of the repast, almost as a sort of justification to mask the guilt of dropping 5 figure sums for a meal made up of, hmmm, mostly raw fish. Somehow you’d think that raw fish would be cheap. Haha.
There are a few other 5 star hotels that offer Japanese food as a selection on their menus but you couldn’t call them Japanese restaurants.
The pretender, amongst the 5 star ‘restaurant’ lot, would clearly be San-Qi at the Four Seasons. And this post is primarily dedicated to them.
I went there a few days ago with a bunch of friends, felt cheated, and left bitterly disappointed. The food is BAD. When I say bad, I refer to both the skill of the chef in crafting the dishes as well as the quality and freshness of the food.
You couldn’t even lift up the nigiri without the rice disintegrating. The prawns were slimy and beginning to rot. And I can get better wasabi from a tube for heaven’s sake. To top it all off, the portions ranged from small to miniscule and they only had two middling sake’s on offer.
After running up a hefty 5 figure bill, the chef refused to come and meet us and listen to our complaints, and the captain didn’t even apologise, insisting everything’s flown in from Japan and is super fresh and they have the best sushi chefs in town. All this when I almost puked on tasting the prawn.
Yeah right I believe you Four Seasons, like I’m ever going to go back to the dump called San-Qi again.
If I were called the sushi chef there, the honourable thing to do would be to commit harakiri.
On second thoughts, I think the food in general at the Four Seasons has been seeing a consistent downward trend. I say this after eating there quite a few times.
Maybe it’s time for a few more chefs to go down the harakiri route.
Sayonara, Four Seasons.
A Hearty Pork Broth, With An Eastern Twist
Outside my window, the monsoon was announcing its arrival by throwing around vicious bolts of lightning and thunder was growling loudly. Inside my stomach, hunger was sending its pangs out equally noisily.
The dark Sunday afternoon seemed perfect for a hot, soupy kind of meal, something warm and comforting, something like a mother’s hug on a cold, wet rainy day.
Oooh scary
A rich hearty broth was what I had in mind when I strode into the kitchen and whipped open my refrigerator. I had already ticked up pork, potatoes and onions when I spotted some carrots, and rummaging further, discovered a cabbage. Carrots in a broth? Yes of course. But cabbage? Not usual but not unusual too, it gets my nod.
And then my eyes spot the bottle of Teriyaki marinade tucked away neatly in a corner of the refrigerator and several light bulbs go off simultaneously in my brain. Whoa! Go easy light bulbs, I get the idea.
The sweet, earthy note of the Teriyaki would add the perfect twist to the tangy, smoky flavour of the Worcestershire sauce that I always add to stews and broths, a perfect balance to round out the taste. Am I a genius or what!
Excited, I get down to cooking.
Certainly brightens up the day doesn't it?
Ingredients:
500g pork, cubed; 2 potatoes, cubed; 2 onions, quartered; 10 cloves of garlic, crushed then finely chopped; 2 carrots, cut into 2” pieces and then halved; ¼ small cabbage, roughly cut; 2 x 1” pieces of cinnamon; 1 star anise; 1 tbsp peppercorns, whole; 3 tbsp Teriyaki marinade; 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce; 2 cups water; 1 tbsp vegetable oil; salt to taste; 1 tsp corn flour for thickening, if required.
Method:
Marinate the pork in the Teriyaki sauce for 2 hours. Cook in a pressure cooker till done. Heat a large pot and add oil. Add the garlic and stir fry until the aroma of garlic is released. Add all the other vegetables and stir fry for 2-3 minutes to seal their juices. Add the pork, Worcestershire sauce, peppercorns, water and salt and bring to a boil. Turn heat down and simmer for 10 minutes or until the potatoes are done. Add corn flour to thicken if you so desire.
Eat with country bread, brun pao or steamed rice. Purr in satisfaction.
What the Adai is that?
What the Adai is that?
Hint. Think Dosa.
What the Dosa is that?
Think south Indian food, think savoury crepes.
Wtf?
But without any flour, eggs, milk and butter.
You call that a crepe? Ha! What kind of a crepe is that?
A vegan crepe.
Boinggg.
Round 1 to the Adai.
People of the world, meet the Adai dosa – a raw rice and multi-lentil crepe that packs a low calorie, nutritious punch that can tackle anytime-hunger pangs without the guilt. Am I sounding like an advertisement here?
Traditionally eaten as ‘tiffin’ – the word the British used during the days of the Raj to describe a mini-meal/snack had between meals – it was born directly as a result of boredom.
Eating the “same-old, same-old” plain dosa every second tiffin time had become de rigueur for more than a millennium (the first documented reference to the dosa goes back to the 6th century AD in Tamil literature).
And the few variations that were offered didn’t stop anyone from complaining.
A statistical aside. Mothers should note that children have been fussy eaters since the dawn of mankind, and because of that, they have been driven up the tree/cave/wall since then. Obviously, the occasional urge to smother the little cretins is not new.
Then about a quarter into the next millennium, one such anguished mother became inventive somewhere in Tanjore, Tamil Nadu, India.
She mixed a few lentils with rice and chillies and ground it into a batter and slapped it down on a hot griddle or tawa. No fermenting overnight, no fuss, no waiting. Instant dosa, instant nirvana. Voila, a new taste. Family likes. Problem solved. Tiffin time stays happy time. She exclaims ‘Adai!’ in joy. I jest here when I refer to how it got its name.
Besides its anti-oxidant and nutritive values, the Adai contains lots of protein, and that too ‘vegetarian’ protein. Do I hear meat eaters scoffing? It’s sadly true.
So how exactly is this protein-filled, low-calorie vegan delight made? Here’s the recipe.
Ingredients:
¾ cup raw rice; ½ cup chana dal (yellow gram); ½ cup urad dal (black gram); ½ cup toor dal (red gram); 1 ½ tbsp dry red chili flakes; ¾ cup red onion, chopped; ½ cup curry leaves, chopped; ¼ tsp asafetida (hing); 1 ½ cup water; salt to taste.
This is what the batter looks like after grinding all the rice and dals
Method:
Soak rice and dals for 45 minutes, then grind them to a coarse mixture. Add chili flakes, onions, curry leaves, asafetida and salt. Then slowly add in the water and mix to make a batter.
Heat a griddle/tawa and baste with a little oil. Rub half a sliced onion all over the surface of the tawa. This is important because it prevents the Adai dosa from burning so remember to do this for the next Adai too. Ladle out a measure and smoothen the batter to a circular shape and let it brown for a few minutes. Flip over and brown the other side too. Fold and top with a dollop of white butter. Watch as the butter melts, watch the drool too.
Spread like a dosa, it might take some practice to get a perfect round but it's not rocket science
Flip over and brown other side, yup it's got to be slightly crisp
It’s traditionally served with three accompaniments: a spicy powder – fondly referred to as gunpowder – doused with sesame (gingelly/til) oil, tomato chutney, and crushed jaggery.
The protein rich, full of anti oxidants delectable Adai dosa ready to be ravished
The sweet, sour and spicy accompaniments go brilliantly with the Adai dosa and one is incomplete without the other.
Enjoy.
For the lazy amongst you who don’t want to try this at home, or if you are culinarily challenged, step out and head to Matunga (in Mumbai) and try the Adai dosa here:
Mani’s Lunch Home, Tel: +91 (22) 24127188/24021112 . Café Madras, Tel: +91 (22) 24014419
It is served only on Sundays though.
Sanjiv Khamgaonkar
Foodie, Photographer, Digital Artist, Doodler, Writer & Film Director. Currently working towards getting my first 'Bollywood' movie on a roll. In the meanwhile, here's some food. Keep hungry!
