Thiruvadhirai Kali - To Nutty with Love!

Today is Thiruvadhirai - a day of special celebration, worship, and feasting at all Shaivite shrines in South India; and Tamil Nadu in particular. Even though the asterism of Thiruvadhirai occurs once in every 27 days, its occurrence during the Tamil month of Maargazhi (Mid-December to Mid-January) is observed with much grandeur. It is said to be the day when Shiva answered the prayers of the saints Vyagrapaada and Patanjali, and blessed them with a vision of His cosmic dance. The grandest of these celebrations are observed at the Shrine of Chidambaram where Shiva appears as Nataraja (AKA Nutty), the Lord of Dance, housed in a hall roofed with golden tiles. The festivities begin at 2 in the early morning when the murti (idon/idol) of Nataraja (Yes, the same bronze masterpiece whose replicas are seen worldwide from the CERN campus to the humblest of homes) is bathed in fragrant powders, followed by a procession around the temple to the tune of several instruments. Several hours after being woken up at an unearthly 2AM, He is finally offered a large cauldron of something that looks like mashed Sakkarai Pongal. This is the famed Kali, that is offered just once a year to Nataraja, and like all off-the-beat temple offerings, has its own small tale.

Chendanaar was a poor but pious inhabitant of the hallowed town of Chidambaram. Like all devout Shaivas of yore, he had inculcated a practice of partaking his mid-day meal only after sharing a portion of it with another Sivanadiyaar (One who offers himself to Shiva). One year, on the day preceding Thiruvadhirai, severe rains had driven people indoors. As a result, Chendanaar's wife had no opportunity to collect the necessary resources for the meal. So, when a Sivanadiyaar showed up at their doorstep in the pouring rain, they had no choice but to serve him a quick, frugal meal of rice flour cooked in jaggery syrup. Greatly saddened by their assumed inhospitality, the couple turned up early at the shrine on the day of Thiruvadhirai. When the priest finally opened up the sanctum for worship, Nataraja stood there, dancing in bliss as always, but with a smattering of Chendanaar's Rice-Jaggery paste across His lips, while scattered Kali lay all over the floor. Chendanaar's eyes welled up at the revelation of his guest being Shiva Himself, while his wife related the incident to others amidst supressed sobs of humility, wonder, and satisfaction. Ever since, the humble Kali has become a staple offering for Nataraja not only at Chidambaram, but also at everyone's homes on Thiruvadhirai. The touching tale brings to one's mind Krishna's words in the Gita :

patram pushpam phalam tOyam, yO mE bhaktyA prayacchatI

tad aham baktyupAhrtam ashnAmi payatyAtmanah.

"If a person offers to me with love and devotion, even a leaf, a flower, a fruit or water

I accept wholeheartedly, that offering made by the pure-hearted being"

It is not the offering that is so important as the spirit in which it is made. With that small thought in mind, lets dive into the recipe.

THIRUVADHIRAI KALI (Serves 2)
Set-up Time :  10 minutes

Experiment Run-Time : 25 minutes

The Shopping List

          Set 1: For the Kali
          Raw Rice : 1/3 Cup
          Moong Dal (Dehusked Green Gram) : 1 Tbsp
          Jaggery/ Brown Sugar : 1/2 Cup, powdered
          Grated Coconut : 1/3 Cup

          Set 2: For the Drool Factor

          Cashew-nuts : about 6, broken

          Cardamom Powder : 1 tsp

          Ghee : 2 Tbsp

Methodology

1. In a wide pan, fry the rice on a medium flame until it gives off a nutty aroma and turns a delicate shade of brown. Please, let it be a delicate shade of brown and not the much coveted chocolate brown!

2. Cool it sufficiently (which I always lack the patience to do) and grind it a coarse powder in a blender. A few pulses are usually enough!

3. In the same pan, fry the Moong Dal until it too starts acquiring a golden-brown hue. Pour in a cup of cold water and watch the Dals dance merrily as it comes to a boil.

4. Check the Dal in about 10 minutes. It should almost be there. If you tried to squash one between your thumb and forefinger it should give in but with a little resistance.

5. Once convinced about the consistency of the Dal, add the powdered Jaggery (Or brown sugars, as I sometimes tend to substitute) into the pan with about 2 cups of water. Let it come to a boil on medium flame 

(If you live within the subcontinent, it would be worth to dissolve the Jaggery in some warm water, filter it, and then proceed with the solution at hand)

6. When the Jaggery syrup starts to boil, tip in the powdered rice and start to stir until the rice particles are mixed well into the syrup.

7. Add a tablespoon of ghee and some cardamom powder and watch them get absorbed by the now spluttering mass.

8. Finally, add the grated coconut and incorporate it into the Kali.

9. In a separate pan, heat the rest of the ghee and fry the cashew-nuts to a golden shade.

10. When the nuts are done, add them to the spluttering Kali, ghee and all.

11. When the paste starts to leave the sides of the pan, it is done. Scoop it all up into a bowl and proceed with either your worship or your devouring!

Traditionally, the Kali is accompanied by an Ezhu-Kari Kootu, a yummy Sambhar like medley of seven vegetables. But, Hello! Where am I to go for Avarakkai, Yam, Colocasia, Mochai and the rest of the veggies in the middle of an Ohio winter? So the Nataraja at my home got served only the Kali sans the Kootu. It saddens me a little, but then again, let us all remember Krishna's words in the Gita and make up for the lack of Ezhu-Kari with a little more sincerity, devotion and love!

Milagai Thokku - Hostel-Life Nostalgia

Did I ever tell you that long ago, like around a decade ago, I joined Mepco Schlenk Engineering College, AKA "The Jail" for my Undergraduate College and ended up spending 4 years of my life there? It was the strictest place I had seen since birth. The professors were strict and tight-lipped about anything beyond the subjects, the wardens were strict about your sleeping-walking-talking-peeing habits, the janitors were strict about your hygiene, the watchmen were strict about your non-IST punctuality... honestly the list is never ending. But to be fair, I enjoyed ALMOST every bit of it. Almost, because, the hostel residents were subjected to three boring/ half-cooked/ tasteless meals every single day in a weekly cycle. The hostel mess was a place where metaphorical rock-idlies, rubber-rotis, noodle-glue and handkerchief-dosas ceased being metaphors and posed severe post-digestive nightmares instead. 

To me, almost every meal was my tongue's funeral. Again, almost because, there was the lunch menu on Tuesdays which somehow managed to jolt your gustatory organs from their coma-state. There was dal (with ghee), rice, some brilliant spinach kootu, more-milagai (fried-buttermilk-soaked-green-chilies) and this whacking milagai thokku! The thokku alone provided enough willpower to make it to the next Tuesday lunch.

The thokku was so awesome that it was the first item I missed after getting out of that place. My mom had no idea about the recipe, and at that time I didn't even know it was called milagai thokku. It was only three years ago, when I was flipping through a random Tamil magazine that I came across a photo of the very familiar dish (and learnt its name in the process). The recipe we are going to see today is what I noted down from that magazine (which I abandoned the next second as I dashed towards the kitchen!)

MILAGAI THOKKU (Serves 4 It's a pickle I say)
Set-up Time :  10 minutes

Experiment Run-Time : 20 minutes

The Shopping List

          Set 1: Spice Base
          Onion : 1 Small, finely chopped
          Tamarind Paste : 1 Tbsp, mixed with 1/2 cup of water
          Spicy Green Chilies : 10-12, slit length-wise

          Set 2: Seasonings

          Asafoetida : 1/4 tsp

          Mustard seeds : 1 tsp

          Curry Leaves : 4-5 leaves (optional)

          Chana Dal (Split ChickPeas) : 2 Tbsp

          Sesame Oil : 3-4 Tbsp (Don't cringe)
          Salt : To Taste

Methodology

1. Slit the chilies as said - along the length. You may deseed the chilies if you believe that you may have trouble sitting down tomorrow, but I must say, you would have missed the point of this dish.

2. In a small kadai or pan, heat the sesame oil and crackle up the mustard seeds. Follow it up with the asafoetida, Chana Dal and curry leaves.

3. When the Dal takes on a shiny golden hue, add the chilies and the onion. Sauté, sauté and sauté until the green chilies shrivel a little and the onions are shiny and translucent.

4. Add the tamarind water to the pan along with some salt. From now, it is just a matter of patience. Keep stirring until the liquid evaporates and oil starts oozing out from the sides. Switch off the stove.

5. Cool it down to room temperature and transfer to a clean glass bottle if you plan to keep it for sometime. With me it lasts no longer than a day.

Ready - Gobble at your own risk!

The thokku goes well with dal, sambhar, rasam and most obviously curd rice. The pleasure in rolling up a ball of thacchu mammam, dragging it through the thokku and dropping it in your mouth is indescribable. I sometimes eat it with dosas too and venn-pongal and rava idlies. All delicious. Like I said, it rarely lasts more than a day and I prepare it equally rarely (due to obvious pin-vilaivugal ;) ). But every time I make it, my mind passes through all that Mepco has given me - awesome friends, uncountable memories, a few awards and a great sense of independence. The thokku, in the truest sense, gives pleasure to the both my tongue and mind alike. 

Muttaikos Paruppu Usili - Fresh from the Agrahaaram!

There are certain connections that you are bound to make between food items and ethnic groups, within every state in India. With cuisines varying from one sub-community to the other, you get a medley of recipes for a simple dish such as sambhar and a quick Sunday of house-hopping, visiting friends and relatives is sufficient to make your head (and probably your digestive tract too) spin with the inherent variety of food. However, each community has some signature dishes that are virtually impossible to be replicated by another community, however much they may try to beg-borrow-or-steal. My mother calls it கை பக்குவம் (Kai-Pakkuvam) , or roughly translated - "Prowess of the Hand". That is why she laments that she can never replicate the Iyer-Morekuzhambu, the Chettiar Chicken Biriyani, or the Tamil-Muslim Bread Halwa. Probably that's why "To each his own", is a well accepted saying among the home-chefs of India.

The dish that we are going to (attempt to) prepare today is a specialty of the Iyer-Iyengar Maamis of TamilNadu, particularly those who derive their ancestry from the Thanjavur area of the erstwhile fertile Kaveri Delta. Being typical vegetarians, the Iyer-Iyengar cooks of yore devised several recipes to make up for the lack of protein in their regular diet. They encouraged the extensive use of different varieties of pulses and legumes, and made sure that milk and milk products were incorporated at every meal in the form of curds, ghee, buttermilk etc. They made the boring dals interesting by combining them with a variety of vegetables, resulting in brilliantly refreshing kootus and poriyals. One such ingenious marriage is what resulted in the Paruppu Usili - a made-in-the-heaven match of a particular vegetable and crumbled-steamed-lentil-cakes. You will be hard-pressed to leave a typical Tamil-Brahmin wedding without having tasted some of this signature dish.

Ironically, I first fell in love with this dish after I moved to the US. Suganthi Aunty, a friend of my mother, who now knows every possible event in my life at Cincinnati, had served it with her minimalist-rasam. And I was totally mind-blown. To top it all, she had made it with broccoli, while I was used to the cabbage, beans and cauliflower versions of the dish. Maybe that was the whole selling-point. For the next several months broccoli became my favorite vegetable! The recipe that I am sharing today is sourced from Suganthi Aunty, though I have replaced the broccoli with cabbage, and have significantly increased the lentil-to-vegetable-ratio. I feel that it makes the Paruppu Usili all the more yummier, if possible!

MUTTAIKOS PARUPPU USILI (Serves 3)
Set-up Time : 3 hours

Experiment Run-Time : 30 minutes

The Shopping List

          Set 1: At the Chopping Board
          Cabbage : 1 medium, cored and leaves finely chopped

          

          Set 2: The Actual Yumm Stuff

          Channa Dal / Bengal Gram Dal : 1 Cup
          Red Chilies : 4-5
          Asafoetida : a generous pinch
          Salt : As required

          Set 3: Seasoning

          Mustard Seeds : 1 tsp
          Red Chilies : 2, broken
          Curry Leaves : 2 strands, torn roughly

          Asafotida : a generous pinch

          Vegetable Oil : 1 Tbsp
          Turmeric Powder : 1 tsp

          Salt : As required

Methodology

1. In a large enough bowl, place the Channa Dal and red chilies and pour enough cold water to cover the dal by over an inch. Allow them to soak together for a minimum of two hours.

2. Drain the soaked dal and chilies and grind them together with salt and asafoetida to a coarse consistency. Take care to not grind it to a fine paste. Sometimes, mixies/blenders available in the US find it an uphill task to grind the dal. In such cases sprinkle water sparingly as and when the blender struggles with the load.

3. Grease an idli-plate and steam balls of the freshly ground paste for up to fifteen minutes or until they feel firm to touch. Carefully remove them from the idli-plate and allow them to cool completely. I usually throw the steamed balls into the freezer for a good ten minutes.

4. Using a greased hand, coarsely crumble the steamed dal balls to obtain the usili. If the balls have cooled completely, the usili will be less sticky (and more crumbly) and your hands would be burn-free (Trust me. Been there, done that).  

5. In a deep pan, heat the oil and throw in the seasoning items one by one. Once the mustard sizzles, add the shredded cabbage, some salt and the turmeric powder. Sauté the cabbage on medium heat, until it starts to give out its inherent water and cooks completely.

6. In a separate pan, add about a teaspoon of oil and once it is heated, transfer the crumbled usili into the pan. On a low heat fry the usili until it reaches the desired level of crispness. I usually fry it until I see some of the dal-bits taking on a reddish-brown hue.

7. Transfer the cooked cabbage into the fried usili and mix them together to bring them to a uniform temperature. Serve hot with rice and ghee!   

    
Paruppu Usili is the typical comfort food for me. I make it whenever I feel like eating something that reminds me of the huge banana-leaf lunches back home. To keep my interest in the dish at a constant-high, I usually experiment with the vegetables that go into the usili. Broccoli, like I said before, is an all-time favorite. I have also tried it with cauliflower, beans and, more recently, even asparagus. I think I would leave the beans version to the experts. To me, the two don't create sufficient magic when I make it at home, but eating it at a wedding lunch is a totally different experience. 

I love eating the usili with Paruppu Rasam, but like I had mentioned in a previous post, the gold-standard combination for the Paruppu Usili is undoubtedly the MoreKuzhambu. The very image of the two together puts to shame some of the best Kollywood-Couples, both on-screen and off-screen. Such Salivation! Much Finger-Licking!