A small home printed sign for Indian Cooking Classes was always going to attract my attention. There it was stuck on the wall as we walked along the narrow path, keeping company with cows, motorbikes and other pedestrians. Finding the sign again was only part the mission. Armed with a photograph, I GoogleMapped the address. Nothing. I checked the local map under the glass topped reception desk. No. I asked the manager. He was new, but the cook would know. Not promising on either front. Deciding that the spelling on the sign was a close match to some spelling on the map, I went for a roundabout walk in the general direction of, well, the arrow.
Left turn at the drain, after the cows, through the gate, ask for directions, back through the gate, left turn again, following the diminishing path and more signs, more frequent and there it was. At the end of the lane stood a little concrete house, painted lime green and proudly announcing 'Indian Cooking Class' in bright red letters. A scurry of activity greeted my approach and a young lady was summonsed to attend to me.
... and that's how I met Madhuri and her dad, Subol. Madhuri, in her final year at the International School in Haridwar, and aspiring to study medicine at university, acts as interpreter in tne cooking classes, for her dad. Subol was an international chef, and then a wedding party caterer. Together they support the family running cooking classes from the converted top room of the family home.
Between us we decided on a menu and determined that Brian could come along later for the eating.
"I'm so glad I found you. I saw your sign near the guesthouse we're staying in."
"Yes. That's the one on the wall of my grandma's house."
The rest is cooking.
Masoor Dal
150gm Malka (pink) dal (washed)
600ml water
1 tspn tumeric powder (haldi)
1 tspn salt (namak)
Place in pressure cooker and cook for 4 minutes and take off heat.
Tadka:
In a ladle of ghee, fry off 1 tblspn of cumin seeds (jeera). Add to pressure cooker and close lid. Mix through to serve.
Aloo Ghobi
500gm potatoes, cut into 2cm cubes
500gm cauliflower, cut into 2 cm pieces
Cook* potatoes then cauliflower and add to masala mix when done.
(* Subol deep fried the vegetables. I would steam them, then pan fry to crisp and slightly colour, then add to the mix.)
50gm oil
1 tspn jeera
1 purple onion finely diced
1 tspn grated ginger
Fry off until onion is browned.
Blend:
4 tomatoes and add to onion mix and continue cooking with a little water as needed.
Add:
1 tspn tumeric
1 tspn salt
1 tspn coriander
1/2 tspn chilli
(Note: These four spices, plus the jeera above, are the base for any curry. The addition of green and black cardamom, cinnamon, back pepper and cloves, makes garam masala.)
Garnish with fresh coriander to serve.
Chapatis
200gm wholewheat plain flour
Water
(Truly that's it!)
Form into dough and roll into balls.
This amount will make 8 chapatis.
Using a rolling pin, flour and roll out to an even thickness of 2-3mm and about 18cm in diameter. (This is the size of the concave griddle used on the gas stove.)
Cook chapatis directly on the griddle with no ghee or oil.
When starting to bubble, but not bursting, turn over.
Again when starting to bubble, turn over.
This time the chapatis will puff, and they're ready to serve immediately.
Note: Chapatis, along with naans, rotis, are eaten with dry curries. Rice is served with wet curries.
Gulab Jamun
These small balls of melt in your mouth bliss translate as 'rose coloured' referring to the honey pink colour you cook them to. However, I think the name may have morphed into rose water flavouring in the syrup. This recipe from Subol is the authentic version.
1kg dry milk (mawa*)
100gm plain white flour
1/4 tspn baking soda
5 tspns ghee (substitute a light oil)
Syrup
1kg white sugar
100ml water
Place sugar and water in a large saucepan and heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved, then allow to gently boil until it starts to turn a light honey colour. Take off heat and set aside.
In the meantime, combine dry milk, flour, baking powder and ghee, to form a soft dough. Roll large teaspoonfuls into small balls.
Deep fry batches of about a dozen at a time, moving with a mesh ladel, til just golden brown, then remove with ladel, drain and place directly into warm syrup.
Keep warm, or rewarm over very low heat, to serve.
This recipe makes dozens of balls and they can be kept in the fridge til needed. Madhuri told me she likes them better cold anyway, and I think the sponginess soaks up the syrup more if you can resist eating them all straight away. In the afternoons, you can often buy them from street vendors. They have large wok style pans of them, kept warm over a flame. At Rs 20/- for 15 balls in a small saucer with a tiny spoon, this is a great way to keep your intake down, or maybe indulge because they are so cheap.
*Dry milk is reduced milk. It's not actually dry and it's not like condensed milk. It's made by boiling milk for a very long time til it reduces to one tenth (10 litres of milk produces 1kg of dried milk). It has the texture of a drier and slightly gritty version of ricotta cheese. In India you can buy it loose in the dairy section of the market. Sometimes baking powder has already been added, and this will make your balls crack and explode during frying. For this reason, when using prepared dried milk, do a test batch of 5 or 6. If they crack, re roll your mixture with some more plain flour. As for the cracked ones? Well, disgard for presentation, but I personally would eat them as test ones as I went; much like the first pikelets of the batch, or the broken biccies.
Then there was the eating.
Brian had arrived, to the delight of Subol. "Sir, please sit. Are you liking Indian food?" His English was much better than he originally let on, and once he got the measure of us, was quite happy to initiate conversation. I've found that my willingness to flex my food Hindi is the best way to get involved. It's my introduction and my window into the hearts of all the passionate cooks I'm meeting.
Of course we ate two servings of everything; me sitting crossed legged on the table and next to the stove and pantry, Brian reclining in the esteemed visitor's chair.
"Is the food good?"
"Oh, very good!"
"More chapatis?" As they are already arriving on the plate.
"More gulab jamun?" I asked.
"Yes, yes! Would you like to take some with you?"
Madhuri offered her lunch box for the transport of the prized rose coloured balls. "You can bring it back tomorrow."
We arranged for me to come back at 9am and walk with her to our guesthouse for an introduction the manager. (He shared some of the gulab jamun as advertising.) I arrived the next morning to a beaming Madhuri and excited Subol. On our short walk we chatted about recipes and how the dishes we had cooked the day before formed the base of all Indian dals, vegetable dishes and sweets, so easily doable for me in my soon to come Indian kitchen.
Coming up to the place I saw the sign, I asked, "Your grandma's house is just up there?"
"Yes. I took her some gulab jamun yesterday. She said a lady had taken a photo of the cooking class sign, and I told her that it was you and you'd made these."
And that's where you go from grandma's house.
Left turn at the drain, after the cows, through the gate, ask for directions, back through the gate, left turn again, following the diminishing path and more signs, more frequent and there it was. At the end of the lane stood a little concrete house, painted lime green and proudly announcing 'Indian Cooking Class' in bright red letters. A scurry of activity greeted my approach and a young lady was summonsed to attend to me.
... and that's how I met Madhuri and her dad, Subol. Madhuri, in her final year at the International School in Haridwar, and aspiring to study medicine at university, acts as interpreter in tne cooking classes, for her dad. Subol was an international chef, and then a wedding party caterer. Together they support the family running cooking classes from the converted top room of the family home.
Between us we decided on a menu and determined that Brian could come along later for the eating.
"I'm so glad I found you. I saw your sign near the guesthouse we're staying in."
"Yes. That's the one on the wall of my grandma's house."
The rest is cooking.
Masoor Dal
150gm Malka (pink) dal (washed)
600ml water
1 tspn tumeric powder (haldi)
1 tspn salt (namak)
Place in pressure cooker and cook for 4 minutes and take off heat.
Tadka:
In a ladle of ghee, fry off 1 tblspn of cumin seeds (jeera). Add to pressure cooker and close lid. Mix through to serve.
Aloo Ghobi
500gm potatoes, cut into 2cm cubes
500gm cauliflower, cut into 2 cm pieces
Cook* potatoes then cauliflower and add to masala mix when done.
(* Subol deep fried the vegetables. I would steam them, then pan fry to crisp and slightly colour, then add to the mix.)
50gm oil
1 tspn jeera
1 purple onion finely diced
1 tspn grated ginger
Fry off until onion is browned.
Blend:
4 tomatoes and add to onion mix and continue cooking with a little water as needed.
Add:
1 tspn tumeric
1 tspn salt
1 tspn coriander
1/2 tspn chilli
(Note: These four spices, plus the jeera above, are the base for any curry. The addition of green and black cardamom, cinnamon, back pepper and cloves, makes garam masala.)
Garnish with fresh coriander to serve.
Chapatis
200gm wholewheat plain flour
Water
(Truly that's it!)
Form into dough and roll into balls.
This amount will make 8 chapatis.
Using a rolling pin, flour and roll out to an even thickness of 2-3mm and about 18cm in diameter. (This is the size of the concave griddle used on the gas stove.)
Cook chapatis directly on the griddle with no ghee or oil.
When starting to bubble, but not bursting, turn over.
Again when starting to bubble, turn over.
This time the chapatis will puff, and they're ready to serve immediately.
Note: Chapatis, along with naans, rotis, are eaten with dry curries. Rice is served with wet curries.
Gulab Jamun
These small balls of melt in your mouth bliss translate as 'rose coloured' referring to the honey pink colour you cook them to. However, I think the name may have morphed into rose water flavouring in the syrup. This recipe from Subol is the authentic version.
1kg dry milk (mawa*)
100gm plain white flour
1/4 tspn baking soda
5 tspns ghee (substitute a light oil)
Syrup
1kg white sugar
100ml water
Place sugar and water in a large saucepan and heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved, then allow to gently boil until it starts to turn a light honey colour. Take off heat and set aside.
In the meantime, combine dry milk, flour, baking powder and ghee, to form a soft dough. Roll large teaspoonfuls into small balls.
Deep fry batches of about a dozen at a time, moving with a mesh ladel, til just golden brown, then remove with ladel, drain and place directly into warm syrup.
Keep warm, or rewarm over very low heat, to serve.
This recipe makes dozens of balls and they can be kept in the fridge til needed. Madhuri told me she likes them better cold anyway, and I think the sponginess soaks up the syrup more if you can resist eating them all straight away. In the afternoons, you can often buy them from street vendors. They have large wok style pans of them, kept warm over a flame. At Rs 20/- for 15 balls in a small saucer with a tiny spoon, this is a great way to keep your intake down, or maybe indulge because they are so cheap.
*Dry milk is reduced milk. It's not actually dry and it's not like condensed milk. It's made by boiling milk for a very long time til it reduces to one tenth (10 litres of milk produces 1kg of dried milk). It has the texture of a drier and slightly gritty version of ricotta cheese. In India you can buy it loose in the dairy section of the market. Sometimes baking powder has already been added, and this will make your balls crack and explode during frying. For this reason, when using prepared dried milk, do a test batch of 5 or 6. If they crack, re roll your mixture with some more plain flour. As for the cracked ones? Well, disgard for presentation, but I personally would eat them as test ones as I went; much like the first pikelets of the batch, or the broken biccies.
Then there was the eating.
Brian had arrived, to the delight of Subol. "Sir, please sit. Are you liking Indian food?" His English was much better than he originally let on, and once he got the measure of us, was quite happy to initiate conversation. I've found that my willingness to flex my food Hindi is the best way to get involved. It's my introduction and my window into the hearts of all the passionate cooks I'm meeting.
Of course we ate two servings of everything; me sitting crossed legged on the table and next to the stove and pantry, Brian reclining in the esteemed visitor's chair.
"Is the food good?"
"Oh, very good!"
"More chapatis?" As they are already arriving on the plate.
"More gulab jamun?" I asked.
"Yes, yes! Would you like to take some with you?"
Madhuri offered her lunch box for the transport of the prized rose coloured balls. "You can bring it back tomorrow."
We arranged for me to come back at 9am and walk with her to our guesthouse for an introduction the manager. (He shared some of the gulab jamun as advertising.) I arrived the next morning to a beaming Madhuri and excited Subol. On our short walk we chatted about recipes and how the dishes we had cooked the day before formed the base of all Indian dals, vegetable dishes and sweets, so easily doable for me in my soon to come Indian kitchen.
Coming up to the place I saw the sign, I asked, "Your grandma's house is just up there?"
"Yes. I took her some gulab jamun yesterday. She said a lady had taken a photo of the cooking class sign, and I told her that it was you and you'd made these."
And that's where you go from grandma's house.
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