The Cuminist

aloo bengan (a.k.a. potatoes and eggplant)

I was at the farmer’s market at Grand Army Plaza last weekend, on a mission for peaches (peaches are almost done for the season, and I remembered them late, and I was having an existential meltdown because once they’re gone, they’re gone until next summer.  It’s a long time until next summer – who knows how I or the world or peaches could change by then?), when I was accosted by these baby eggplants.  They looked like little purple-striped schmoos, like the perfect food source, sitting there in a cute little heap.  So I brought them home and plotted their use in aloo-bengan.

I cut off the green cap, left on the skins, and sliced each one in half.  If you’re using a large eggplant, the amount of skin is entirely up to you.  Leaving some on will help the eggplant hold together a bit as it cooks.  You can peel it entirely if you’re skin-averse.  I like to peel longitudinal stripes down the sides, so that I’m getting rid of about half.

recipe: aloo bengan

1 big onion, chopped
3 T veg oil
1 good-sized eggplant, cut into chunks or slices (about 3/4 to 1 inch at the thinnest)
2-3 red potatoes, peeled, cut into long pieces (like wedges for roasting)
1 plum tomato, chopped
1 tsp salt
1 light tsp cayenne
a pinch of turmeric
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1 jalapeño or other green chile, sliced
2-3 scallions, chopped

Brown the onion in the oil over med-hi heat.  Add the eggplant, potato, tomato, salt, cayenne, and turmeric.  Give it a stir to distribute everything, cover the pot, and turn the heat down low.  Stir occasionally and gently.  A bit of sticking to the bottom of the pot is normal.  If it’s sticking enough to concern you, add a tablespoon or two of water.  Cook, covered, until the potatoes are tender.  In the last few minutes of cooking, add the jalapeño, scallions, cumin and coriander. 

egg salad with leeks

 

This egg salad isn’t desi.  It’s not even strictly an egg salad – there’s no mayo.  Instead, the role of fat is filled by olive oil.  It’s more like eggs dressed with a leek vinaigrette.  Whatever you call it, it’s tasty!

I boil eggs by the Best Recipe method: cover the eggs with cold water in a saucepan; cover, put on high heat, and bring the pan to a good boil.  Turn off heat, leave covered, and let sit for 7 minutes.  Transfer eggs to a cold water bath to stop them cooking.

recipe: egg salad with leeks

2 leeks, white and light green parts, sliced thin
1 shallot, minced
3 T good olive oil
6 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
a pinch each of cayenne and cumin
1-2 T lemon juice
salt and pepper to taste

Lightly brown the minced shallot in the olive oil over med-low heat.  When the pieces are starting to tan (it won’t take long), add the leeks and cook over until they’re soft and just starting to brown (turn the heat down if they’re crisping too fast, as the sweetness of the softened leeks is what makes this recipe).  Pour the sauté and olive oil over the eggs; add the spices and 1 T of the lemon juice, salt, and pepper.  Combine gently to keep the eggs pretty.  Taste and adjust seasonings – more olive oil may be warranted if the whole looks dry, or more lemon juice or salt if it’s missing that je ne sais qua.  Serve with crusty bread. 

maash daal (a.k.a. urad daal, ivory lentils, hulled and split black gram)

That’s a lot of names.  I think it’s worth listing them all – for the longest time, I couldn’t make myself remember that maash and urad were the same thing at the desi grocery.  I had to call home and get the names translated.  So there you go.  There are other preparations for different forms of this lentil, but here I’m talking about the split grain, which is a dusty whitish color.  Thanks to Kalustyan’s for their very thorough labeling.

Maash is probably my favorite kind of daal.  Unlike all the other kinds of lentils we make, this one ends up dry rather than soupy.  In my family this makes it a less humble dish, and so more fit to set before guests than, say, masoor daal (is it just us?).  The finished grains are distinct and resilient and nice to bite into, and the ginger gives it a welcome piquant note.  This is a dish that can drink a lot of oil.  Use more than I suggest if you’re feeling extravagant – more oil equals more deliciousness, here as in many things. 

I made this with Mom when she was passing through town a few weeks ago, and I liked it so much that as soon as it was finished I made it again.

recipe: maash daal

1/2 lb (about 1 1/4 cups) maash daal, picked over for stones, rinsed, and soaked in plenty of water at for at least an hour (longer is fine)
1/2 medium onion, chopped
4 T oil
1 plum tomato, chopped
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cayenne pepper
pinch of turmeric
3-4 cloves garlic (whole or minced – they’ll soften and break down during cooking)
1-2 tsp minced ginger
2 cups water
1 jalapeño or desi green chile, sliced into thin circles
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
chopped cilantro (optional)

Brown the chopped onion in the oil over med-high heat.  While the onion is browning, rinse the daal in a few changes of water, drain, and set aside.  Once the onions are brown, add daal, tomato, salt, cayenne, turmeric, and garlic.  Stirfry the daal on med to high heat for a few minutes in the oil – this will brown things a bit and add a layer of flavor.  Add the minced ginger and the water, cover, and lower heat to med-low.  Cook “for the right amount of time” – maybe twenty minutes or slightly less.  If in doubt, it’s fine to peek (though over-stirring will destroy the distinctness of the grains).  When the daal is tender and fairly dry (ideally these two things happen simultaneously), add the green chiles, cumin, and coriander.  Serve with a garnish of cilantro.

reproachful coconut

This coconut made a face at me of such protest, so full of pain and grace, that I had to share.

Didn't stop me from eating him, though.

khichri (a.k.a. khichari, khichdi, etc.)

Kichri is a bland, soothing blend of rice cooked with lentils.  It's the classic thing your mummy makes for you when you have an upset stomach and can't stand the thought of eating serious food.

This dish exists all over South Asia, in various guises, and across the whole range of wet-to-dryness.  Mine is on the drier side, but this is a taste thing and the amount of water can be adjusted to suit if you like it soupier.  Kichri is often served with plain yogurt, or with raita (yogurt seasoned with spices and sometimes diced cucumbers or other veggies).

As with all basmati rice preparations, once you mix up the ingredients into the boiling water and cover it, don't stir the pot again until it's done (lest you end up with an even bigger mush that you already will).  This reminds me of many conversations with my mother:

Me: But how will I know when it's done?
Her: It's done when it's done - you know, after the right amount of time.

recipe: khichri

1/4 onion, sliced thin
1 T veg oil
3/4 cup basmati rice, rinsed a few times and soaked about 20 minutes
1/4 cup masoor daal, rinsed and soaked along with the rice
2 cups water
1 tsp whole cumin seeds
1 tsp salt

Brown the onion in the oil over med-hi heat, stirring to keep it from burning.  When it's brown, add the water, salt, and cumin, and raise temperature to bring to a boil.  As it's coming up to temperature, give it some good stirs so the brown from the onions colors the water a bit.  When the water boils, add the rice and daal mixture and give it another good stir.  Boil it hard for a moment, then cover the pot, turn the heat down as low as it goes, and leave it alone.  After about twenty minutes, take a peek - if the rice is tender and the water has evaporated, it's done!