The Cuminist

sabat moong (a.k.a. whole moong daal)

Dried moong beans are pretty – like little jewels in every shade of army green.  If you look closely at the picture above, you can see half a bean with a little cavity in it, where an enterprising buggy once made its home.

I’d never made them before this attempt, but I liked the looks of them, so I called home for instructions.  This version includes a bit of masoor daal for added background.  Mom passed the phone to my dad after giving me the recipe, and when I told him my plan, he told me that he’s not a big fan.  Why, I asked?  “Too froggy,” was his reply.  Do not ask me what this means.

I used a pressure cooker to make this, which forces me to address the whole issue of pressure cookers, which I’ve been avoiding all this time.  My people (and by this I mean all desis) use pressure cookers routinely, for almost all meat or daal dishes.  Until I left home, I didn’t know that pressure cookers weren’t de rigueur all across non-desi America.  Because of this slant, the methods and timings I use for many dishes are pressure cooker-specific.  They could all be made without pressure, and certain steps would just take longer.  In this case, in place of the pressure step, you could cook over a low simmer, covered, stirring occasionally and adding more water as needed.

recipe: sabat moong

4 cups water
1 cup whole moong, rinsed
1/2 cup masoor daal (split), rinsed
1 clove garlic, minced
1 light tsp cayenne
1 light tsp salt
pinch of turmeric

for tarka: a few tablespoons oil, the chopped greens of 2 scallions, and 1-2 tsp minced ginger

If pressure-cookering, put water, whole moong, salt, cayenne, turmeric, and garlic into pot, cover, bring up heat and pressurize for about 4 minutes of weight-whistle.  If not pressure-cookering, start with more water and cook, covered, over a low simmer.  By either method, cook until moong beans are nearly tender; then add split masoor daal.  If pressure-cookering, close up pot and re-pressurize about 1 minute after addition of masoor daal.  Otherwise, cook on a low simmer another 15-20 minutes, or until masoor daal has mostly disintegrated into the dish.  Add water as needed.

For the tarka, heat a few tablespoons oil in a small sauté pan.  When the oil shimmers, add the scallions and minced ginger – after just a second of cooking, add the oil/scallion/ginger mixture to the pot of daal (which should now be completely tender); stir it up to integrate.  This is very homey and comforting served with white basmati rice.

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. 

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.

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!

chick peas with potatoes (a.k.a. aloo channe)

A favorite leisurely weekend breakfast in our house was aloo-channe with puri and halwa.  This was a dish for a day that was slightly out of the ordinary – maybe when we had brunch guests, or on a Sunday when there was no rush to get anywhere after, and we could sit around with the Sunday comics and digest.  It’s a bit of a carbohydrate bomb, in the tradition of extravagant breakfasts everywhere.

The looseness or dryness of the finished dish is a matter of taste, so add water to your liking, but gradually so you don’t have to cook the whole thing to death to drive off the extra water. Over-vigorous stirring will break down the potatoes faster and make them more likely to stick and catch, so the safer practice here is to let it cook slowly, though some potato-breakdown is delicious and necessary.

Instead of making puris from scratch, my mother hit upon the method of substituting deep-fried flour tortillas (“tortilla” is apparently Mexican for “puri”).  To prepare them, heat an inch or so of veg oil in a deep skillet until a wee piece of tortilla dunked in the hot oil immediately starts bubbling and sizzling.  Fry one at a time, a few seconds on each side, until the “puri” starts to puff up.  Drain on paper towels to get rid of some of the extra oil (but do not imagine that such treatment renders them low-fat).

I sometimes use leftovers as a base for a poached or fried egg to give the dish a protein boost.

recipe: aloo channe

1 small or 1/2 medium onion, chopped
2 T canola or other mild veg oil
1 medium tomato, chopped
3 good-sized potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks (perhaps 1 inch in the largest dimension)
2 cans chick peas, drained and thoroughly rinsed
1 tsp salt
1 light tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp garlic powder
pinch of turmeric
1 light tsp ground cumin
1 light tsp ground coriander

for garnish:

1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
diced tomato
lemon wedges
thinly sliced onion

Brown the onion in the oil over medium-high heat.  When most pieces are medium-brown, add the tomato, potatoes, chickpeas, salt, cayenne, garlic powder, and turmeric.  Add 1 1/2 cup water and stir it up; when it starts bubbling, cover and turn heat down to medium-low.  Every now and then, stir gently, check the doneness of the potatoes, and add more water if necessary.  When the potatoes are tender, and the mushiness is to your liking, the dish is done.  In the last few minutes of cooking, add the cumin and coriander, stir them in, and remove from heat.  Garnish with cilantro and serve with the aforementioned puris, diced tomato, sliced onion, and lemon wedges.