STARTERS AND SNACKS
Indians are always nibbling; in fact, India has one of the biggest street-food and snacking cultures in the world. With a lot of passion for food and very little regulation about who can sell food and where, streets thrum and resonate across the country with the calls of a thousand food hawkers selling their snacks. Whether it's from bikes turned into kitchens, from bins turned into ovens or from baskets perched on heads, food is sold everywhere.
In the far north in Amritsar you'll find lines of turbaned Sikhs waiting for the legendary Amritsari fish, a spiced deep-fried kingfish, and in the winter the mustard-seed curry "sarson ka saag," topped with freshly made butter and mopped up with cornbread. Travel down to Delhi and you'll see spiced potato tikki (see here), dressed with tamarind chutney, and delicious blackened kebabs served with "roomali roti" - chapatis as thin as hankies and as big as car wheels. In Mumbai, they love pav bhaji (see here), a rich mash of vegetables eaten with bread, chicken tikka (see here), and chaat (see here). Head east to Kolkata for a "kati roll" - an egg-fried wrap of meat or vegetables; west to Gujarat for some fluffy ondwa (see here) or addictive pea kachori (see here); and south for dosas, thin crispy pancakes made from rice and lentils.
What might have started out as an idea on the street can now be found in the homes of many Indians, recreating the famous dishes they first tried on a hot, dusty street corner and adding them to the snacks already served in their homes.
My favorites are the ubiquitous samosas (see here); the chili paneer (see here), which I first encountered near my grandparents' home in Leicester; and the corn on the cob (see here), which our family has eaten in the same way in Uganda, in India, and in Lincolnshire, where it grows as tall as me.
There is so much variety, the only tough decision you'll face is what to eat first.
PEA KACHORI
Pastry-encased cinnamon-spiced peas
These delicious balls of pea-green joy are an old Gujarati delicacy. They are often served at family functions because they're very easy to wolf down when no one is looking. Baked in the oven, they are best served on a bed of sharp lime-pickled onions (see here), alongside some mint and yogurt chutney (see here).
A food processor is ideal to make the kachori mixture, but if you don't have one, you can use a mortar and pestle and a potato masher. Amazingly, pea kachori can be made almost entirely from items you'll probably already have in the freezer and pantry.
MAKES AROUND 25 KACHORI (TO SERVE 5 TO 8 PEOPLE)
For the filling
1¾-inch piece of ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
2 fresh green chilis, roughly chopped (seeded if you prefer less heat)
1¼ pounds frozen petit pois or garden peas, defrosted
canola oil
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
1¼ teaspoons ground cinnamon
1¼ teaspoons garam masala
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
1¾ teaspoons salt (or to taste)
½ teaspoon chili powder
For the pastry
2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus extra to dust
½ teaspoon salt
1½ tablespoons canola oil
¾ cup hot water
Preheat the oven to 350°F and lightly grease a tray with some oil.
Place the ginger and green chilis in a food processor and blitz into a paste, or bash them up using a mortar and pestle. If using a food processor, remove the paste and set to one side. Briefly blitz the peas in the food processor and set aside, or mash up using a potato masher.
Put 3 tablespoons of oil in a frying pan on medium heat and, when it's hot, add the mustard seeds. When they start to crackle, add the ginger and chili paste, stir-fry for a couple of minutes, then add the peas and cook for a further 5 minutes.
Now add the cinnamon, garam masala, turmeric, salt, and chili powder. Cook for a further 2 minutes, or until there is little to no moisture left but the peas are still bright green. Transfer to a bowl and put to one side.
To make the dough, put the flour in a bowl, make a well in the middle, and add the salt and oil. Rub through with your fingers until the flour resembles fine breadcrumbs. Pour in ½ cup of the water and add the rest little by little, kneading it into the dough until it feels nice and firm. Pour a teaspoon of oil into your hands and pat the dough with it to keep it moist.
Before rolling out the pastry, get your station ready. You will need a clean floured surface, a bowl of flour, and a rolling pin. Now pinch off a piece of dough roughly the size of a marshmallow. Dip your dough ball into the bowl of flour and roll into a circle roughly 4 inches in diameter (the size of a bottom of a mug). To speed things up, you can divide the dough into the small balls before rolling and stuffing them.
To make the kachori, pop a heaped teaspoon of pea mixture in the middle and bring the sides of the pastry up tightly around the peas. Seal the pastry at the top by pinching it closed, then pinch off any excess pastry, roll the kachori into a ball, and put it on a plate. Then make the rest. The first one you make might look a bit odd, so mark it out for tasting when it comes out of the oven.
Roll the kachori balls around on the baking tray to coat them in the oil and bake in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes, or until golden brown.
CHILI PANEER
Every now and then, when we were growing up, Mum would find me and my sister wherever we were hiding in the house, whip us into the car, and take us to Leicester on a sari shopping expedition. Our only consolation (aside from secretly unraveling beautifully folded saris in the shops) was a dish of freshly prepared chili paneer from one of the nearby food stalls or cafés afterwards.
This dish is as popular with kids as it is with grandparents. Here's Mum's recipe for this spectacular street food.
SERVES 4
1½ teaspoons cumin seeds
14 ounces paneer
canola oil
4 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 fresh green chili, very finely sliced
¾ teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon tomato paste
½ teaspoon sugar
4 scallions, finely sliced into rings
lemon wedges, to serve
Throw the cumin seeds into a mortar and pestle and roughly grind them to a coarse powder. Next cut the paneer into ¾-inch cubes. Pour a thin coating of oil into a large frying pan and bring it to a high heat. Fry the paneer in batches, turning the pieces until golden brown on each side, and transfer them to a dish lined with paper towels. Watch out, as the paneer may spit; if so, half cover the pan with a lid.
Put 2 tablespoons of oil into the pan, followed by the garlic, green chili, cumin, black pepper, and salt. Sauté for around 3 minutes on a low heat, stirring occasionally. Add the tomato paste and sugar and stir, then put the paneer back into the pan along with a splash of water. Cover the pan and simmer for a further 5 minutes.
Take the lid off the pan, add the scallions and simmer until there is no water left. Serve fresh and hot with a squeeze of lemon.
FIRE-SMOKED EGGPLANTS
Ringra nu orro
I used to bake my eggplants in the oven for this recipe, but after seeing my aunt smoke hers to perfection over a direct flame in her kitchen in Porbandar, I can't go back to my old ways. She holds the eggplant by its green stalk over the stove until the skin chars and the soft, creamy white flesh begins to peek through. Then she peels off the blackened skin and cooks the eggplant in a garlic and tomato sauce.
It's a gorgeously rich, smoky mash of flavors and one of my all-time favorite dishes. I eat it hot or cold with chapatis, chapati chips, or fresh naan.
SERVES 4 TO 6 AS A DIP
1¾-inch piece of ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
5 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
1 fresh green chili, roughly chopped
salt
2 large eggplants
3 tablespoons canola oil (plus extra for brushing the eggplants with)
1 onion, finely chopped
2 medium ripe tomatoes, finely chopped
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
a small bunch of cilantro (½ ounce)
To serve
Greek yogurt
chapatis or chapati chips (see here)
Put the ginger, garlic, and chili into a mortar and pestle along with a pinch of salt, bash to a pulp, and set aside.
Pierce the eggplants in a few places with a sharp knife so that they don't explode when cooking, and lightly brush them with some oil. Hold them one by one with a pair of tongs over a naked flame on the stove. Keep turning them until the skin blackens and the eggplant collapses and goes floppy. This should take around 15 minutes for both eggplants.
When the eggplants are cool enough to handle, peel off the charred skin, scoop the flesh out into a bowl and mash using a fork, then set aside.
Put the oil into a wide-bottomed, lidded frying pan on a medium heat. When it's hot, fry the onion for 8 to 10 minutes, until soft and golden. Add the tomatoes, cover the pan and allow them to cook for another 4 to 5 minutes. Then add the ginger, garlic, and chili paste and leave to cook for a couple of minutes before adding the eggplant mash, cumin, ground coriander, and ¾ teaspoon of salt.
Cover the pan, and cook for a further 5 minutes until all the ingredients have come together into a lovely thick mash. Taste for salt and spice and adjust if necessary.
Chop the cilantro and stir into the mash, then serve in a large sharing bowl or in individual bowls with a dollop of yogurt on the top and some small chapatis or chapati chips on the side.
Copyright © Meera Sodha, 2015
Text on wine and Indian food copyright © Sunaina Sethi
Photography copyright © David Loftus