Soon, the whole village near that gaushala knew that there was a ‘shooting’ happening. At least 100 people gathered by sunset. Ajit introduced me to a very popular ghazal (soulful ballad) singer of that village. He came in with his harmonium and told me, ‘I’ll sing for you if you cook for us.’ I graciously accepted the deal and soon I could see wooden cots all over with about 100 people sitting on them, just like traditional old Indian village set-ups that I’d seen in Bollywood movies. Cows in the backdrop…carefree people ready to sing merry songs…
I decided to cook Dark Chocolate Kheer, from fresh milk, for 100 people. (I had collected the milk, yes!) As the kheer (rice pudding made by boiling rice, broken wheat, tapioca, or vermicelli with milk and sugar; it is flavoured with cardamom, raisins, saffron, and nuts) preparation started, the bhajans (religious songs) got sweeter. I felt like a 12-year-old child who had cooked his first dish purely out of love. Soon the kheer was served; it was over and I could see kids licking their plastic bowls and spoons clean. I had never felt this happy feeding a customer inside a restaurant or any hotel I’d ever worked at. To see that satisfaction on their faces made me overjoyed and I wanted to stay for a while longer but it was time to say goodbye, take a selfie with the cows and move on.
DARK CHOCOLATE KHEER
(Sweet Indian rice pudding cooked with chocolate.)
Ingredients
1 cup
500 ml milk
7-8 strands saffron (kesar)
50 gm dark chocolate
2 tbsp malt powder
2 tbsp cocoa powder
⅓ cup brown sugar
¼ tsp cardamom (elaichi) powder
Method
1. Soak the rice in water for 30 minutes.
2. Pressure cook the rice with milk for one whistle. Instantly release the steam and put in a deep pan.
3. Keep it simmering for 20 minutes.
4. Now add the saffron and mix it nicely. Melt dark chocolate on the side on a double boiler or a microwave.
5. Add the melted chocolate, malt powder and cocoa to the almost ready kheer.
6. As the kheer thickens, add sugar. Cook for another three to four minutes.
7. Finally, add the cardamom powder at the end. Give it a final mix and serve it either hot or cold. I usually prefer to chill it and have it cold.
DAY 3
8 August / National Highway 1
It had been two days since I left home… After an overnight halt in Karnal and wandering around the town, we headed to Punjab. The land was visibly becoming more fertile as we moved on. The agenda and challenge for this day was to eat somewhere on the road, but not in a dhaba, because we would be travelling the whole day. After much contemplation I decided to go on a bike ride for four or five kilometres with a stranger. The aim was to try and look out for unique highway eating experiences; we were running out of options and it was well past lunchtime. Finally, my luck worked and I saw a dozen trucks parked in a row on one side of the highway with only one dhaba in sight. I got off the car and spoke to one of the truck drivers named Kartar Singh. He was wearing an old blue T-shirt and a lungi (sarong-like garment wrapped around the waist and extending to the ankles, usually worn by the males), and with his curly hair and messy beard looked every bit like a regular truck driver. I asked him where he ate, what his routine was like and there I found a solution to our hunt for eating options. He said, ‘Sir, we cook our food ourselves inside the truck… My helper, Ramu, cooks dal (lentils), rice and sabzi (vegetable curry) in these small utensils on a gas stove that we carry with us.’ This whole concept of cooking inside a moving vehicle was quite fascinating.
Kartar Singh explained that he was usually away from home for 11 months. Because of his job, he considered the roads his real home. After I had a word with him, Kartar immediately and very generously, offered to cook dal and rice for me. The thing about Indians is that no matter how rich or poor they are, they believe in hospitality and have big hearts. Now, how could I say no to that? He quickly tossed a simple Highway Style Dal, with extra ghee, for me.
HIGHWAY STYLE DAL
(North Indian lentils tempered with cumin and chillies.)
Ingredients
1 cup yellow pigeon peas (arhar dal), soaked for 15 minutes and drained
¼ tsp turmeric (haldi) powder
Salt to taste
1½ cup water
1 tbsp clarified butter (ghee)
1 tsp cumin (jeera) seeds
2 slit green chillies
2 tsp chopped garlic (lasun)
A pinch of asafoetida (hing)
¼ cup finely chopped onions
Method
1. Place the lentils in a pressure cooker, add turmeric powder, salt and one and a half cups of water and pressure cook till two whistles. Put the gas on low flame after the first whistle.
2. Open the lid when the pressure reduces and let it cool down.
3. Heat the ghee in a deep non-stick pan, add cumin seeds and let them roast and give out a nutty aroma.
4. Add deseeded green chillies, garlic, asafoetida and onions and sauté till the onions are lightly browned.
5. Now add the cooked lentils, mix and bring the mixture to a boil and then reduce the flame to low and cook for another three minutes. If you like the dal to be of thin consistency, add a cup of water and cook it for seven to eight minutes. Have it hot with homemade rotis (unleavened flat bread made of wholewheat flour).
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We cooked all this food sitting on the road right next to his truck; this had to be the wildest kitchen I’d ever cooked in. The simplicity of the dal-roti is what made it so special. I learnt a small tip from Kartar about using green chillies in dal. Always deseed them to control the hotness and then let them splutter with the cumin seeds for extra flavour. When I asked him, ‘Where did you learn to cook such delicious food? From your mother? Did your wife teach you?’ He replied humbly, ‘Sir, I told you I live on the road for 11 months. My hunger for simple home food taught me how to cook.’ Being a trained chef, from heavily equipped kitchens, we tend to take many things for granted. I never realised that a single need, food to quell hunger, could make you cook. My question was simple but his answer was simpler; it overwhelmed me. While I savoured that dal, Kartar gave me a thought that I would carry with me throughout the day. Though it was just the beginning, I could already see a glimpse of what this country had in store for me.
DAY 4
The entire day was spent travelling to Anandpur Sahib, Punjab. I arrived late evening and slept early as there was to be an early start the next day.
DAY 5
10 August / Kangra
It had been four days already on the road and we had covered almost 400 km. We made our way through Punjab as we headed to Dharamshala. I was up at 3 a.m. and the reason was to get ready to reach Gurudwara Anandpur Sahib, located in the Roop Nagar Zilla. The idea was to be there before 5 a.m. to be a part of the early morning prayers that are offered to Guru Sahib. So after the usual grooming formalities, we were on our way to the gurudwara. It was still dark outside, so quiet that it made you feel sleepy.
As we were nearing the gurudwara, I saw a huge pole around 80 feet high; an indicator that the gurudwara was nearby. This huge flag pole is actually called 'Nishaan Sahib.’ There is a reason why all the gurudwaras have a Nishaan Sahib; sometimes people might miss the structure but when they see their sacred flag on this huge pole from a distance they know that a gurudwara is nearby.
The first reaction after reaching there was of pure joy. It was huge, serene, pure, covered in angelic kind of white and divided in two parts, one being the place where prayers are offered and the second where you take the holy bath. I quickly washed my feet in the holy water and tied an orange handkerchief on my head, as one’s head should always be covered when they enter a gurudwara. I headed to the takhat: the place were the granth (religious text of Sikhism) is read and prayers are offered. It is called a takhat because it was from here that Guru Sahib, in his o
wn time (1690), recited and passed religious and political orders for his followers.
After offering my prayers, I sat there staring at the orange sky, waiting for the sun to rise. I have never really been a religious soul, but at that moment, I felt calm, peaceful and could actually count the number of breaths I took in those 15 minutes. It was time to take the Holy Dip, to relieve myself from any sins that I might have committed. Though the only one that I know I am guilty of is gluttony! Also, taking the bath was a norm before I could visit the langar (common kitchen where food is served in a gurudwara to all the visitors, without distinction of background, for free) kitchens there. The first kitchen that I visited was purely dedicated to making the kadah prasad (devotional offering made to God, typically consisting of food, which is later shared among devotees). I won't lie, but a lot of times I've visited a gurudwara only to eat that prasad. There is something heavenly about it. It is grainy, extremely sweet, earthy and laden with ghee.
As I entered the kitchen, I saw a bearded man in simple off-white kurta pajama (loose collarless shirt worn by people from south Asia, usually with a pair of loose trousers tied by a drawstring around the waist), a turban, with a kirpan (short sword or knife with a curved blade, worn as one of the five distinguishing signs of the Sikh Khalsa) hanging from his left shoulder to his waist. He was making 45 kg of halwa (Indian sweet dish consisting of carrots or semolina boiled with milk, almonds, sugar, butter, and cardamom) as the kadah prasad in one go! Anyone can make halwa, but to make it as the main prasad, one must be an Amrit Dhari Sikh (a Sikh who has tasted the holy water). This procedure is to convert a Sikh into a Singh and only then can the person make kadah prasad in the temple. So for this reason I wasn’t even allowed to interfere with the cooking process of the prasad, but they did give me the recipe. It is very simple, for one kilogram of halwa, you need a kilogram each of ghee, sugar and wheat flour (atta). When I was told about this one is to one ratio, I almost had a heart attack; no wonder it is so tasty! But then, there is also another mystery ingredient…the love and blessings with which they make it; all the time that they take to make that halwa the cook is reciting ‘Satnaam Wahe Guru.’
After learning and tasting the kadah prasad, I headed to the main kitchen and what I saw left me amazed. There was a kadhai (wok) big enough for eight people my size to fit in and the cook who was making the dal inside it was shorter and slimmer than me! He was tiny! This kitchen was like a big open banquet hall with huge boilers, pots, and a gigantic roti-making machine, which I was told, churned out around 30,000 rotis a day. There was a lot of steam and humidity in the air as food was being cooked in bulk all around. Wood was being used as the fuel to generate fire to cook pulses, vegetables, and tea; no gas was used for this purpose. A boiler and steamer were used to cook the rice. There were three or four women sitting next to the roti-machine, only to apply ghee on hot rotis so they could be quickly served to people while still hot and soft. Now, I’ll let you in on a small secret here, people love eating at the gurudwara because they associate the food served here with a certain smoked taste that the fire from the wood imparts. So, for the langar effect try cooking dal on wood-fire back home!
The statistics here were enormous; in one go almost 300 kg of pulses, or any vegetable for that matter, are cooked. Almost six kilograms of salt and one kilogram of chilli powder are added in almost every dish. Despite the tough stats handled in the kitchen by the chefs, if I may call them so, they have never served food that is not tasty or is too salty or spicy or burnt. As a chef myself, it seemed an impossible feat to achieve; how could one not go wrong ever? When I asked one of the volunteer cooks there to explain this strange fact, he said, ‘This food is devoted to our guru and the people we serve; it can never go wrong as the main ingredient is pure selfless love.’
After the tour of the biggest kitchen I had ever visited, it was time to go to the langar hall and do seva (selfless service). It was a big rectangular hall with at least 20 rows of people sitting back-to-back in straight lines and waiting for food to be served. The rules were simple; you’ve to feed as many people as you can till the time your heart, soul and body allow you to. Being a chef, and from the service industry, this bit was fairly easy for me. I have served many people with a huge smile. After an hour of service, I couldn’t resist anymore and it was time for me to sit down and finally taste the dishes I’d observed being made in the kitchen. The menu was urad chana dal (black and split Bengal gram lentil dish), kala chana (staple black chickpeas curry) and roti. The smoky feel in the dal was evident, the rotis were thick and topped with hot ghee to fill you up. My biggest lesson from this meal was that even as a chef, or a cook, your conscience while cooking has to be clear. It may be a profession, but it is a noble act to feed people, so love, respect and selflessness have to be there whenever you cook.
After a brilliant morning and afternoon in the gurudwara, it was time to head towards Dharamshala. There was no scope for a nap. We were some 100 km away from our destination when the weather took a sudden turn. It turned cloudy, the skies were unclear with the onset of thunder and lightning. About 20 km before Dharamshala, Kangra begins. It has a beautiful fort. Some of the crew members insisted that we take a small tour of the fort as it had started raining and they would be able to get beautiful shots. The breeze smelled fresh with rain, the fort was picturesque and the whole plantation surrounding the fort was a happy dark green in colour.
The fort was beautiful, almost 5000 years old, and had been ruled by 490 royal families to date. It is a mustvisit whenever you’re planning a travel to Dharamshala. My dear producer fixed a meal with one of the maharajas who had once ruled this fort; the perks of my job are just awesome! It was time to drive the Tamatar to Maharaja Bhupinder Singh’s house in Dharamshala. Unlike all the royal palaces that I had been to, this one was like a royal house built in the hills. It had huge ceilings with a lot of greenery around, and twisted pathways that led to small guest cottages and open gardens.
Maharaja Bhupinder Singh was dressed simply. He was wearing a long off-white kurta with a traditional Himachali, or rather a mountain herder hat. He explained how, with a lot of effort, they had tried to save the fort after a major earthquake in 1905. The effort continues, also, to save their culture, language and food that are disappearing with time. The cuisine they refer to is called Kangra, and has major influences from Himachal, Kashmir, Punjab and Chamba. Not many people are aware of this cuisine today. The dishes that are popular and were served to me were lugdu (fern that’s mainly pickled), patoday-arbi ke patte (dish made from colocasia leaves), dham (chana dal with dry coconut), khatta chana (tangy horse gram), brown rice, different sautéed varieties of wild mushrooms, pickled flower buds, mango curry served with saffron and dry fruit sweet pulao (dish of rice cooked in stock with spices, typically having added meat or vegetables). Jealous? Well, there were more than 12 dishes on the menu and each and every dish had a new surprise for my palate. I couldn’t have left the palace without presenting with, and dedicating one royal dish to the humble, graceful and down-to-earth Maharaja Bhupinder Singh. I quickly stirred up a Moti Pulao (moti literally means pearl. Here, it means the small cottage cheese ball added in the pilaf) in his kitchen to add to this feast. After the royal feast and a long day, I thanked the maharaja profusely for the hospitality we received. I hurriedly searched for a bed in the small cottage in Kangra and passed out.
MOTI PULAO
(Also known as pearl pilaf, cottage cheese balls coated in silver make it a royal treat.)
Ingredients
1 cup basmati rice
200 gm cottage cheese (paneer)
3 tbsp cashew nut powder, grind the cashew nuts
1 tbsp cornflour
Salt to taste
10 silver sheets (varq)
2 tbsp clarified butter (ghee)
4 cloves (laung)
1 bay leaf (tejpatta)
2 one-inch stick cinnamon (dalchini)
6 green cardamoms (elaichi)
&
nbsp; 10 strands saffron (kesar) 2 tbsp milk
¼ cup dry fruits for garnishing (assorted and lightly sautéed in ghee)
Oil to deep fry
Method
1. Wash and soak rice in water for about half an hour. Drain water and keep aside.
2. Finely mash the paneer and add cashew nut powder, cornflour and salt to it. Knead it nicely and then roll out balls that look similar to big pearls.
3. Heat oil in a wok and deep-fry these paneer pearls on medium heat till light golden brown. Drain onto an absorbent paper and keep aside.
4. Cover these balls with silver varq (beaten gold or silver edible leaf adorning many desserts). They will almost look like pearls now.
5. Heat ghee in a kadai. Add cloves, bay leaf, cinnamon sticks and green cardamoms. Once they start to crackle, add the rice. Gently sauté for two minutes.
6. Add two cups of hot water and salt to taste. Cover and cook till rice is done. Cook it on low heat.
7. Crush saffron in warm milk. Add this to the rice to give it a beautiful flavour and colour.
8. After rice is done. Let it cool down for 15 minutes; if you open and mix it when hot, the grains tend to break and rice becomes mushy.
9. Now, toss half the paneer motis with saffron rice. Serve this rice garnished with more silver pearls and dry fruits on the top.
India on My Platter Page 2