Cookin' with Chris McGaw

One of the few stated goals of my trip to India was ‘learn to cook’. Specifically, I wanted to learn to cook like an Indian Grandmother. I was assured several times by several different people that such a feat would be impossible. Not one to listen to advice from people, much less to be dissuaded, I still set out to learn how to cook as Indians do. Whether or not my culinary skills are up to sub-continental geriatric par is a question best left to critics, but I have learned a few recipes along the way.

Indian food as experienced in Continental or US restaurants is not Indian food as eaten in India. This is a statement backed up severally by more than a few Indians that I have spoken with about the topic of menu variety, food quality etc. I was assured that the finest chefs in India were working in London because the market is thriving and the money is so much better. Regardless of the culinary center of gravity, the menu of day to day living in India, in Chattisgargh especially, differs significantly from the list of items you might see at your local Indian restaurant. Several pieces are constant: chicken curry is, indeed, just about everywhere but is more of a special occasion food than a day to day meal. Vegetable pakora is also served with regularity, though far more simply than you would find at a restaurant.

Nearly the sum total of food here in Chattisgargh, the day to day food, is vegetarian. Non-veg is for a wealthier segment of the population than I deal with on a regular basis. For example, in a given month I may eat chicken prepared in my home only twice and there have been month long stretches of pure vegetarian. Meat is most commonly consumed at weddings; thankfully there are many weddings in Mungeli and the hospital staff is invited to most of them. Of the meat dishes prepared, especially at weddings, mutton features very heavily as a go to delicacy or fancy dish to be provided for visitors.

Most day to day meals, however, follow this pattern: wake and head to work and take lunch at around 10:00ish, eating chipati (unlevened flatbread made from wheat flower, water and a pinch of salt) or parata (chipati fried in oil, often stuffed with vegetables) with some left over veg from the night before. If no left overs are on hand, samosa (thin, flakey dough wrapped around a spiced potato mix into a kind of fattened, distended pyramid and deep fried) or pakora (wheatflour based dough with vegetables, chilies and maybe some meat deep fried) are subbed. Lunch follows far later than in the States or Europe, starting generally around 1500. Rice and dahl (literally translated as lentils, dahl is a lentil soup) are the primary constituents with some vegetarian to go with. Finally, dinner comes later still, often as late as 2030 or 2100 (2300 or later if you are Dr. Henry). Dinner is the larger meal, featuring roti (bread – usually chipati), left over rice and dahl from lunch and a more substantial vegetarian main course. Dinner is often where I would eat meat, bought from town that afternoon and carried home in a black plastic bag, still warm. All meals are eaten with the hands; only the meek eat with silverware!

Eating with the hands is not terribly difficult once the technique is figured out. Eating is one of vital, spinal skills that can be relied upon to develop quickly due to necessity, much like running or swimming – can’t swim? Toss yourself into a pool and you may be surprised how decent of a job you will do getting to the edge if panic doesn’t send you to the bottom. When at the Christian Medical Association of India conference in Aurangabad I was dressed down by a venerable nurse who told me that I need not a spoon ‘for god has given you five of them,’ holding up her fingers.

Eating is always, always, always done with the right hand. India has a distinct lack of toilet paper and the left hand is used to clean up after using the toilet. However aided by water one may be, I would still shy from using the same hand to feed myself.

The technique, relatively easily acquired if difficult to master to a point of whole sale food inhalation, revolves around pinching and mushing rice together with whatever additives are present, relying on dahl to stick everything together. The motion resembles taking a clod of dirt into your hands and pressing it apart between your fingers and thumb. Once mixed, one gathers a pinch of rice and veg with the finger tips, turning the whole mess in circles as if trying to take a large hexagonal nut off of the plate. Pushing the slowly forming beehive shaped lump about on the plate helps to sop up whatever juices lay near the pile and also pushes clear any offal, letting your fingers work with only the intended bite. After several good turns and a push or two, one ought to have a small, egg shaped ball of food that is ready to be scooped up. Lifting with all the fingers and turning the palm up, the food ought to rest on your fingers almost as if to offer to another. To finish the delivery to your feed hole, press with your thumb as if sloughing something sticky off of your fingertips, pushing the lump of rice and veg into your mouth with the remaining fingers acting like a shovel, pointed into your mouth. After a meal or two if trying to master this, eating will become second nature and silverware will seem extraneous. Well, maybe not extraneous to all…

Eating with roti (breads) is easily managed: simply tear a piece of chipati (or whatever) off and pinch up some solid food with it, deliver it to thy feed hole and feast. Pushing the roti around in the juices before scooping is also a good idea. If you care to be particularly Indian about it, hold the roti in your right hand and extend a length of it past your fingertips. Then, turn your hand over, pressing your fingers to the table, pinching the roti in place and, using your thumb, begin to tear free a piece of the roti. The whole process is easily understood if you think of trying to tear a piece of paper towel or whatever with only one hand, the other hand busy dealing with some kind of spill – push the paper towel (roti) into the table and use your thumb and fingers to tear a chunk off, slowly working your hand right and left to get a good square torn free. Same idea with roti.

After being in Mungeli for nearly five months I went to Darjeeling and found myself at Glenary’s, a lovely little restaurant in Darjeeling, eating some bacon and eggs (what a treat!). What was amusing, if slightly disconcerting at the time, was that without thinking I had begin to tear my toast with my right hand, treating it as my ‘roti’. Using my chunk of toast I pulled free a piece of egg and folded a chunk of bacon off of the strip, all using my toast covered fingers to create a little Indian vessel of yummy. After a few bites I just sat there and stared at my plate for a moment – the cognitive dissonance was pretty extreme. I was not sure where I was in memory or place. Point is, Indian eating is relatively easy to learn and, once learned, allows for a very visceral connection to the food that makes eating with silverware seem more like surgery or mechanic work than eating, like you are dealing with something unreal and separate rather than necessary and delicious. Besides, if you learn to eat well like an Indian, Indian people will love the crap out of you just for eating with your fingers. Also, you will get along fine at an Ethiopian restaurant and can wow your friends.

The following are a few staple recipes that make up the day to day eating here at Mungeli. They are not terribly fancy, given that they are simple table food. Simple as they may be, they are delicious and rib sticking. The quantities listed are approximate, for Kavita (the maid and my mother away from home) does not use measuring tools – she simply adds what she thinks is appropriate and then tastes to make sure. Also contributing to the strange quantities is that the dishes are often calibrated towards using a particular whole amount of a given ingredient – so many potatoes of such and such a size per person, so many tomatoes of such and such a size etc.

Note: all purees are made with a tablespoon or two of water and are roughly the consistency of runny apple butter.

Chicken Curry
Chicken curried in a brown sauce is one of the quintessential Indian dishes that everyone knows. Making a good curry is not terribly difficult, as this recipe shows. Overall, the whole process takes around a half an hour, less if you have a food processor. The results are not going to win you any awards, but they will almost certainly please your table.

½ kg of chicken per person, chunked ( [ 1kg = 2.2lbs] the recipe is calibrated for 1-1.5 kg of chicken)
2-3 golf ball sized onions, diced
2-3 golf ball sized tomatoes, diced
1-2 tsp cumin seeds
Puree: 3-4 tbs garlic
1-2 tbs ginger
1 tbs whole black peppercorn
Powdered Masala Spices
1-2 tsp dalchini (cinnamon)
1-2 tsp salt
1 heaping teaspoon each of dalchini (red chili powder), garam masala (meat based powdered stock), haldi (turmeric)

Begin by adding a cup or so of oil (Kavita adds somewhere between two and three cups – too little oil will not produce the correct consistency curry) to a pan at medium heat. Add diced onion and fry. When onion is beginning to become translucent add the cumin seeds and toast them with the frying onion. Once the onion begins to brown, add the chicken chunks, tossing to ensure an even coating of oil across the chicken. Fry for approximately three minutes before adding the diced tomatoes, masala powder, and puree. Add approximately a cup of water to create a brown sauce base to cook down. Continue cooking uncovered for approximately seven minutes until the chicken is cooked through. If the chicken chunks are very thick, you may try covering the curry for several minutes, but be sure to scrape the bottom of the pan when you stir and toss the curry once uncovered. Add another teaspoon of turmeric and salt if flavor or color are not to your liking. Garnish with diced cilantro if desired. Serve with rice, roti and a side salad of sliced carrots, tomato and turnip.

Alternately, the chicken may be fried by submersion in oil first. An easy fry coating for the chicken mix is one or two tablespoons of pureed ginger, an egg and half a cup of flower. Toss the chicken in the mix and fry for around two or three minutes per side (five to six minutes total) and then add to the curry as described above, reducing cooking time slightly. Serves 2-3.

Tomato Chutney
One of the accompaniments to most dishes is chutney: spiced sauce to add flavor or character to a meal. Tomato chutney, as made by Kavita, is a powerful mixture of both the smooth, cool flavors of cilantro and the long, steady burn of green chili. Taken together with the biting flavor of tomato and a touch of sweet from sugar, this tomato chutney goes really well with savory parata or meat dishes.
2 golf ball to fist sized onions
5 golf ball to fist sized tomatoes diced to >1cm (coarsely puree if desired)
3 tbs cilantro
3 green chilis split length wise and then diced
Approx. 5 cloves of garlic, pureed
1-2 tbs ginger, pureed
2 tsp salt
1-2 tsp sugar
Option 1:
2 tsp turmeric (optional: this will add a savory flavor and change the color from bright red to an orangey mustard with red tomato chunks)
1 cup of flour, sifted (optional: used as a thickening agent, the flour will change consistency and color significantly)
Option 2:
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp mustard seed

Begin by adding several tablespoons of oil, perhaps three quarters of a cup, to a pan and add the onions. As they fry and become translucent toss in the cilantro (slightly wet, even) to flash fry. Option 2’s spices may at this point be added to create a more spicy variety of chutney. Stir in the diced green chilis soon after along with the pureed garlic and ginger. Leaving the garlic and ginger slightly chunky can add nuggets of strong flavor in the chutney; consider adding coarsely diced ginger and garlic in addition to puree. After a few minutes the air should be hot and thick from the frying chilis and your onions will be beginning to brown. Add tomato and stir frequently. Season with salt and sugar if desired. At this point you must decide if you want to add a thickening agent. If so desired, add the turmeric, stirring constantly. Sift in flour slowly, stirring constantly, until the desired consistency is achieved. The whole mixture will solidify slightly when it cools, so look for something a little more runny than you want. I tend to like it around the consistency of runny tomato soup, thickening to tomato soup as it cools. Serve alongside savory foods warm or chilled. Serves 3-4.

Aloo Gobi Muttar
King of vegetable dishes in my mind, Aloo Gobi Muttar (potato, cauliflower and peas) is heavy hitting vegetarian fare that will satisfy nearly any appetite. The final result is a lovely, light brown sauce with bright greens and very spicy notes throughout. Delicious, cheap and relatively easy.
2 golf ball to fist sized onions
Puree: 2 tsp green coriander, 1 tsp garlic, 1 tsp ginger
One large head of cauliflower cut into 2x1 inch pieces
2-3 potatoes cut into small cubes
1 and ½ cup green sweet peas
2 tomatoes, diced
½ tsp turmeric
Salt to taste
½ to 1 tsp red chili powder

Add a few tablespoons of oil to a pan and begin frying the onions. Once the onions are translucent, add the pureed masala base and the powdered spices. Stir until an even consistency is achieved. Add beans and potatoes. Fry until the potatoes are firm, not hard (approximately half or less of the way to mashable). This will take around 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add cauliflower pieces and salt to taste. Continue cooking over heat until the cauliflower is at the desired softness; giving under the press of a fork with a slight ‘pop’. For a hotter dish add two finely diced green chilis to the mix. Serve with rice and roti.