Cooking During the Pandemic

ফুলকপি ডাল  
Cauliflower Daal 

Cauliflower daal with brown rice

What a year its been. Apart from that, I don't think I have much to say. 

Like many of us, I've spent a lot of the year inside - food shopping in bulk to avoid being in busy public places for too long. That's meant a lot of cooking at home, and while for me that's been an unexpected blessing, most of what I've cooked has been the usual curries, stir-fries and simple pasta dishes. 

And despite the pandemic, work has been as busy as ever. Only now at the end of the year am I taking a bit of a break, and this is my chance to share a quick recipe. In the last few months I've gotten better at cooking Bangladeshi and South Asian vegetarian food - making different types of daals and experimenting with spiced shobji bhajis and Bangla-Chinese stir-fries. This is mainly because of the frozen veg I started buying when fresh produce ran out near me. The larger portions frozen veg comes in meant learning to cook bigger veggie dishes rather than just side dishes. 

This slightly spiced vegetable daal is a result of that - nothing too glamorous and indeed quite similar to another daal recipe I shared a while back. I originally cooked it using frozen cauli, but I've reduced the cooking time assuming fresh cauli in the instructions below. I also like the veg in my daals to be quite mushy, so do reduce the cooking time further if you want more crunch. The recipe below makes enough for 6 portions as a side, or perhaps 4 as a main. It's great comfort food if you like daal, and in normal circumstances I would serve this with rice and another protein course. 

Ingredients:

• 140.00 g or mushur daal (red split lentils)
• 1.00 teaspoon of garlic paste
• 1.00 teaspoon of ginger paste
• 0.50 teaspoons of turmeric
• 0.50 teaspoons of powdered chilli
• 0.50 teaspoons of powdered coriander seed
• 0.50 teaspoons of powdered cumin seed
• 1.00 teaspoon of whole cumin seeds
• 2.00 tablespoons of cooking oil, any type
• Half a head of fresh cauliflower
• 60.00 g of frozen peas
• 2.00 cloves of garlic
• 2.00 fresh green chillies
• 2.00 tablespoons of mustard oil
• Salt, to taste

Method:

• Place the daal in a large bowl and fill with water. Wash it thoroughly, draining away the water and repeating the washing process until the water runs mostly clear
• Leave to soak for a few hours - this will help the daal cook quicker later
• Place a deep saucepan on the hob over medium heat, and add the cooking oil
• Once the oil has heated add the garlic and ginger pastes, along with the dry spices
• Mix thoroughly, and allow to cook for a couple of minutes
• Drain the daal and add it to the pan. Mix the spices and daal together, and allow to cook for 2-3 minutes
• While the daal and spices are cooking, boil a litre of water in an electric kettle. Pour the water into the pan, giving the daal a good stir. Partially cover the pan and leave to cook for 25-30 minutes, lowering the heat slightly
• After 30 minutes have passed, chop the cauliflower into smaller bite size pieces and add to the daal. Partially cover the pan again, and leave to cook for 10-15 minutes
• After the cauliflower and daal have cooked together for at least 10 minutes, put a small frying pan on medium-low heat and add the mustard oil
• As the oil heats up, chop and add the garlic cloves. Once they've begun sizzling add the fresh chillies and cumin seeds, continuing to fry for about a minute, before taking the frying pan off the heat
• Check on the daal, stirring lightly to check if the cauliflower is cooked and tender and the daal has broken down into a creamy base. At this point, top up with some more freshly boiled water depending on the consistency of daal desired
• Add the mustard oil, garlic, chilli and cumin seeds from the frying pan to the daal - followed by the peas
• Leave to cook partially covered for a final 10 minutes, before taking off the heat
• Serve hot with rice, as a main for a simple meal or as a side as part of multiple courses 

Roast Stuffing "Innovations"

Lamb & Apricot Kofta

Our Christmas spread last year: roast, veg, gravy,
biriyani, mac & cheese among others.
Hasty, blurry photos were taken,
but you can still see I burned some of the kofta! 

Since moving to the UK, I've made it my mission to consume as many Christmas-style meals as possible during the month of December. I love cooking roasts and its accompaniments because I don't usually get to, and of course I love any kind of meal that brings people together. Last year I spent the holidays with friends, and we made a joint meal where I volunteered to do the roast and stuffing. The roast was a very simple affair - think normal Bangladeshi spicing on a chicken, marinaded overnight before going into the oven. The stuffing, however, was a little different - because basically it was this. 

I think stuffing is traditionally made from breadcrumbs pimped up with herbs, spices and (usually) pork sausage. Most of us at the meal last year didn't eat pork, so I initially considered replacing it with another fatty minced meat. This line of thought eventually led me to kofta - and finally I decided I'd just make lamb kofta with some breadcrumbs and pass it off as stuffing. I added the apricots as I've been served stuffing with apricot before in British households, and I really enjoy the lamb and apricot combo. Once I'd decided on the apricot, I thought why not also use up the jar of Moroccan spices languishing in my cupboard, hence the ras el hanout. If you don't have ras el hanout at home just swap for powdered cumin and coriander seed.

These koftas can be deep-fried or roasted in the oven - do whatever suits your routine.  Roasting makes them a bit drier, unless you do of course stuff them inside a roasting bird. I've given pan-frying instructions below to keep things simple. The breadcrumbs in the recipe below are definitely optional. As you'd expect, they give the koftas a heavier, drier feel. Without them, expect something meatier and bouncier. If you look at my recipe for beef kabab, you'll notice a lot similarities in both method and ingredients. Both dishes have the same roots, but the bread and beef creates a pate-like texture with bite, while the fatty lamb gives you a more squidgy, elastic end-result. The recipe below makes enough koftas to serve 4.

Ingredients:

• 500.00 g of lamb mince
• 1.00 large onion
• 1.00 tablespoon of garlic paste
• 1.00 tablespoon of ginger paste
• 75.00 g dried apricot
• 2.00 tablespoons of supermarket ras el hanout (alternatively, use 1.00 tablespoon each of powdered cumin and coriander seed)
• Fresh parsley, a small handful
• Fresh coriander, a large handful
• Fresh mint, a small handful
• Breadcrumbs (optional), a small handful 

Method:

• Grate the onion by hand or in a food processor
• Thoroughly mix all of the ingredients together, making sure that the herbs and spices are distributed evenly within the meat
• Form small sausage-like kofta shapes of the mixture, each about 4.00cm in length. Make sure they aren't too fat, or it will be difficult to get the middle to cook
• Put a frying pan on medium heat. Pour in enough oil so that the liquid is deep enough to submerge about half a kofta
• Once the oil is hot, add the koftas to the pan, being careful not to overcrowd the vessel. Unless the frying pan is massive, expect to cook the koftas in batches
• Fry the koftas on medium heat for about 3-4 minutes, then flip them over and fry for another 3-4 minutes on the other side
• When done, the koftas should be evenly browned. This can take practice - I've often cooked them too long and burned them black 
• Also important - resist flipping them before 3-4 minutes have passed, as the meat won't have cooked and sealed, and the kofta could fall apart from the movement
• Serve the koftas hot with flat breads like naan or pitta 

Additional Info

For easy variations, play around with the herbs and spices. And of course, omit the apricots if you don't like the sound of them! To cook these in the oven, pre-heat a fan oven to 200C, place on the middle shelf and cook for 25-30 minutes. 

Family Food Fights

মুরগির কলিজা 

Curried Chicken Liver

Chicken liver and potato swimming in deliciously spicy jhol :) 

Organs and innards aren't everyone's cup of tea. While heart, lungs and offal are part of everyday Bangladeshi cooking, I know many people who pass on these options. Which is their loss, as far as I'm concerned. I was introduced to animal innards early in life, and I am a big proponent of cooking and consuming them. After all, as people who eat meat, we should make efficient use of the animals we (indirectly) kill. I eat everything from cow's intestines to chicken's feet and goat's lung, and in fact, intestines are a particular favourite in my family! 

The most common organs at my table, however, come from the humble chicken. While I was growing up, everything from the head and brain, to the heart, gizzard and other parts I have no English translations for, would be cooked into our everyday chicken dishes. And that would set off the fighting between siblings and cousins, as we tried to decide who would get to eat what. The head seemed to be most people's prime target, though for me, the prize was always the liver. And with no one else interested, I grew up stuffing my face with the liver from every chicken cooked at home. For me, chicken liver with its soft, fluffy texture is like an amazingly meaty, savoury cake. And I love it just as much as I love cake.  

Calamity struck when we moved abroad though, where supermarket chickens were sold without livers. The next few years of my life were spent devoid of chicken liver, except during the visits back home, or after the odd trip to particular butchers. However, it seems more and more supermarkets in Britain (where I currently live) stock liver as a standalone product. This has meant a return to cooking liver curry for me. The spicing I favour is similar to most other Bangladeshi curries, though the amounts of each spice is toned down in comparison. Chicken liver cooks easily, and doesn't need the super-charged treatment that cow or goat liver might warrant. The recipe below is for 400.00 g - the standard weight sold near me. This technically serves two generously as a main dish, but as liver is rather rich I'd recommend it as a side dish shared amongst a few more. 

Cooking on the Trail

সবজি ডাল  

Daal with Vegetables

Spiced daal with vegetables

I spent a weekend in Glen Affric earlier this summer, staying at an off-the-grid hostel while attempting to climb some local munros. The hostel itself was quite unique - 13 kilometres from the nearest road and powered solely by a wind turbine and solar panels. This is enough for lights and some heating, but not much else. Cooking is done on gas stoves - supplied by cylinders that are transported in using off-road vehicles. The remote location also makes it difficult to carry supplies onto site regularly, and guests are encouraged to bring food for their own trips. I was travelling with a group of friends, and we all pitched in to carry enough for 3 days. But this was 3 days without access to refrigeration, and we had to make sure everything we brought was non-perishable. 

Did I mention Glen Affric was beautiful?! 

I was in charge of dinner on day 2, and I had to think of ingredients that would cope well without a fridge. Hence I opted for daal with vegetables - but spiced up a little to make it work as a main event. I was a little worried about feeding a group of hungry hikers something like this, especially as at my family table daal would never be more than a side dish. So I decided this iteration needed to be richer, and I immediately knew I'd be using meat spices as a base. I've also always loved tart daals with jolpai and green mango - so I replicated that tartness here with tinned tomato. For the veg, I opted for carrots and courgettes because they were tough enough to survive the journey in our backpacks. The result was a spicy, tangy and thick daal: something I know I'll be cooking for years to come. The recipe below serves 6 generously. 

Vegan Bangladeshi

নিরামিষ

Mixed Vegetables

Mixed vegetables with panch phoron

Don't worry about the title, I've not gone vegan. I'm just finally confident enough about my veggie cooking skills to share this recipe. I'm not sure quite why it took me so long to get here, but vegetables don't come to me as naturally as meat. I find it more difficult to get the flavours right, and the cooking times correct. However, I am trying to eat more of them, while at the same time cutting down on meat for health and environmental reasons. Right now I'm helping this process along with a bright and interesting recipe for mixed vegetables with panch phoron, a staple of most Bangladeshi kitchens. Aside from simple turmeric-and-chilli stir fries and hearty mashes, this is how I'd expect vegetables to be eaten in a Bangladeshi household. In our family, vegetables cooked this way could be served for breakfast, lunch or even dinner - though hopefully never all on the same day!

Panch phoron is a five-spice mix consisting of cumin, fennel, fenugreek, black mustard and nigella seeds. If you're not in Bangladesh, don't fret. The mix is commonly stocked in many Asian corner stores and supermarkets around the world. Of course, you can always make up your own mixture, using each component in equal amounts. My most vivid memories of panch phoron are from its use in pickle-making, along with cooking vegetables like this. In my mind, panch phoron is to cooking what colour-blocking is to the fashion world. In most dishes I make, the spices come together and create a unique new flavour - like a colour-coordinated school uniform. It's not so with panch phoron, where instead it feels like the different flavours all compliment and bounce off each other. If you're not Bangladeshi, this spice mix may feel like an acquired taste. 

The recipe below is quite long, but only because I've broken it down into simple, easy-to-follow steps. I would advise not using store-bought garlic and ginger pastes here. The short cooking time won't rid them of their vinegar-y smell. You wouldn't normally encounter chickpeas in this dish, but the eateries near my late nani's all make their shingara fillings this way. Inspired by them, I've included chickpea in my recipe too. It adds some protein, and helps me turn this into a one-dish dinner for weeknights.

Finally, a few notes on the cooking times. These will vary depending on the vegetables used. Fresh, younger plants will cook faster than the older and tougher. Equally, there will be differing opinions on what constitutes "cooked". Some people prefer everything in this dish to go soft and mushy, while others prefer their vegetables to retain a slight crunch. In our family, we opt for the crunchier version of this dish, unless we're serving it for breakfast. For breakfast, we cook this for longer than stipulated below, and with more water. The end result would be soft dollops of vegetable and a tiny bit of broth - ideal for scooping up with ruti! Do experiment with timings and combinations that suit your own preferences. The recipe below serves 4 as part of a larger Bangladeshi meal. 

Basic Bangladeshi Greens, Part 1 of n

Swiss Chard with Mustard & Fennel Seeds

সরষে ও মৌরি দিয়ে সুইস চার্ড 

Messy but delicious

I bought Swiss chard by mistake the other week. Embarrassingly, when I got home and unpacked my groceries, I didn't recognise the plant for what it was. I tentatively trimmed and washed some of it, then cooked it into mac & cheese. I was counting on the smoked cheese from my sauce to cover up any weird tastes or smells. It turned out the apprehension was unnecessary, as eventually someone on Instagram confirmed it was just chard! Chard I could work with, and I initially contemplated cooking the remaining plants just like spinach. Our family relies on the tried and tested garlic-and-chilli combo to cook most of our leafy vegetables, expect for maybe potato leaves and thankuni patha. 

But then I reconsidered, and began wondering how I could incorporate mustard into the dish. I've been a little obsessed with mustard since moving to Scotland, and I go through this thought process for pretty much everything I cook now. I decided ground mustard seeds would work quite nicely as a base flavour, with some fennel seeds as complement. I rounded off the ingredients list with a little turmeric for colouring, and some sliced onion to ease the frying process. The result was a win: think soft pieces of plant peppered with caramelised onion, each mouthful accentuated by a slight prickly heat from the mustard. I'm definitely adding this to my regular vegetarian repertoire. Speaking of which, I'm hoping to post more recipes for easy to cook greens, hence the title of this post. The recipe below makes enough for 2 as a small side, but scales up quite easily. 

New Year's Eve Snacking

ডালের বড়া 

Daaler Bora or Lentil Fritters

My batch of NYE daal bora, all plated up for us to devour

Happy New Year everyone! To kick-off 2018, I'm posting a very traditional recipe for daaler bora, or lentil fritters. 

The daaler bora is very different from the other fritters I've written about for the blog. First of all, it has no flour - gram or otherwise - and the daal or lentil is what goes straight into the hot oil. Secondly, making a batch of them is a bit of a challenge: the lentils need planned pre-soaking, followed by blending and careful frying to avoid disintegration. Oddly enough, in generations past they were considered an easy enough snack to whip up. I assume this is because households would have lentils soaking anyway as part of their daily routine, and making daaler bora would just involve swiping some from that stash. Things have changed nowadays though, and in our family the daaler bora is usually bought from neighbourhood eateries - at least when we're in Bangladesh. It's much less frequently made at home, and usually only for special occasions like Ramadan, when it's an iftaar staple. In general, the daaler bora is a tea-time snack, though it can also be eaten as a side during a larger meal. The fritters are also the first phase of another dish called the doi bora, though I'm not a big fan.

The ingredients used vary from family to family, and change between Bangladesh and the rest of South Asia, as well as between Hindu and Muslim families. My family recipe is quite basic, using only one type of lentil, salt, chilli, turmeric and onion. Other families may use a mix of different lentils, and also add spices and herbs to liven things up. In the recipe below I've added coriander, but otherwise I've kept things pretty simple. I've also snuck in a bit of baking powder, something one of our chefs taught me to do, as it makes the boras stay crunchier for longer. This is really useful if you want to make them a little ahead, as I was doing to take to a New Year's party an hour away. Boras like these are usually served with dips and sauces. I served my most recent batch with sriracha, but tamarind-based sauces or ketchup are the more common accompaniment. The recipe below makes about 24 boras, each about 3.00 centimetres across. 

Making Jhol

Curried Coconut Broth

Curried coconut broth 

I'm saving up to go travelling in 2018, so I didn't fly back to Bangladesh in December this year. Instead I'm spending the holidays with a few friends, and we all pitched in to cook different things for Christmas day. I made the roast, stuffing and gravy - but I did things a little differently from usual with the gravy. I'm a big fan of the traditional version made from pan juices, but I normally underestimate how much we want and make too little. To make sure we didn't run into the same problem again, I just made a broth from scratch. This is partially inspired by the super common curry sauce served over chips in UK fish and chip shops, but made a little richer with the addition of coconut milk. It worked really well with the spiced roast we made, but be warned the below portions makes quite a lot! 

An Aloo Bhorta Substitute

Cumin & Chive Mashed Potato Bake

Fresh out of the oven, sans cheddar this time though

I've never been able to roast potatoes properly, hence this dish. I needed to serve potatoes in some way alongside roast meats and fish, and so I gravitated towards a potato bake. I know there are many luxurious versions with milk, butter etc. around, but I've avoided these in favour of something that isn't too unhealthy. Chives and potato are a classic combo, and I've incorporated cumin here as it's a favourite flavour of mine. The beaten egg gives the dish a bit of lightness. Truth be told, this is also my substitute to the traditional Bangladeshi aloo bhorta - especially as I can't get the right kind of dried chilli or mustard oil where I live right now. The amount below serves 4 as part of a main meal.

Ingredients:

• 300.00 g potatoes
• 1.00 teaspoon of powdered cumin
• 1.00 tablespoon of dried chives
• 1.00 tomato
• 1.00 egg
• Salt, to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• Cheddar to crumble, as desired

Method:

• Bring a saucepan full of water to boil. Cut the potatoes into cubes, and add to the saucepan along with a little salt. Cook until soft, around 20 minutes
• Preheat the oven to 180 degrees Celsius
• While the potatoes are boiling, halve the tomato and slice into thin slivers
• Beat the egg
• Once the potatoes have boiled, run them under cold water so that they cool enough to add the egg without cooking it
• Mash the potatoes, adding the tomato, cumin and chives
• Season as desired with salt and pepper, then mix in the egg
• Transfer the potato to an ovenproof dish, then top generously with crumbled cheddar
• Bake for 25 to 30 minutes and take out of the oven

Korola Masochism

করলা ভাজি
Stir-Fried Bitter Gourd

Stir-fried bitter gourd garnished with red chilli

I've moved to a neighbourhood with a Bangladeshi store around the corner! Unsurprisingly, I've been re-living all kinds of childhood food memories. I try not to buy perishables with lots of air miles, but I couldn't resist picking up a couple of fresh looking bitter gourds the other day. Bitter gourds, or korola, get their name from the very distinct bitter taste they retain even after cooking. Despite this, they are unreasonably popular back home, probably because the fruit has long been associated with alleged health benefits. I've heard people claim it does everything from curing an upset stomach to preserving healthy eyesight. 

I suspect the fruit I bought (photo in this post) is from India, as commonly available Bangladeshi varieties are quite small. They're eaten green and unripe, usually fried but also on occasion mashed or stuffed. Folks have various methods of dealing with the bitterness. The most common technique I've come across is to cook the gourd in lots of oil with plenty of onion and potato to distract from the bitter taste. On a similar principle, some people garnish the gourd with chopped coriander or squirt lime onto the dish to mask the taste with sour notes. Others soak the fruit in salt-water to counteract the bitterness, though I have never tried this myself. 

My family was quite masochistic when it came to korola though - we'd often have it without any onions or potatoes - fried in a bare minimum of oil, salt and turmeric.  The recipe below is a little more conventional, with onions and potatoes left in. Be as healthy or unhealthy as you want with the amount of oil. This makes a good side as part of a larger meal - it's the kind of everyday dish cooked alongside plain rice and simple chicken. Given my childhood hatred for vegetables, I find it hard to believe now that I liked this dish quite so much!

Cholar Daal and Eggs for Breakfast

ছোলার ডাল

Cholar daal

Cholar daal
Topped wit a fried egg, coriander and black pepper

It's taken me a while, but I finally have most of my family's recipes for daal written down. We usually serve them simply - but this cholar daal is a little unusual. Spiced and cooked like meat, I've been told it's something of a special occasion daal in Bangladesh. However, in my extended family it's always been breakfast food. We eat it with eggs cooked various ways and flatbreads, or sometimes with vegetables and beef curry. As a child, I used the spicing to mask the taste of egg, which I hated. To be fair, even now the eggs in my life come drenched with Hollandaise, filled with cheese or pimped with smoked salmon, so I guess some things never change. 

This dish makes a great accompaniment at a heavier breakfast or brunch, whether it be with eggs, veg or meat. It takes a while to cook, so I'd recommend tackling it the night before you intend to serve it. In the morning, all that's left to do is heat it up (this works well, like reheating curry), make the eggs and bake your flatbreads (which can also be pre-formed). In my book, this is something to attempt for a leisurely weekend brunch rather than during a weekday cooking session. I promise the other daals (coming soon, i.e. whenever I get a craving for them) are simpler and cook quicker. 

Cholar daal soaking

Finally, a quick note on language and ingredients. "Chola" in Bengali means chickpea, and "daal" - translating vaguely - means lentil. Cholar daal together means chickpea lentil, although I realise chickpeas aren't really lentils. The chickpeas you will need for this dish are dried, skinned, and split. They're commonly stocked in Asian food stores. In the UK, they're usually sold under Indian brands and labelled "chana dal". If you're familiar with dried chickpeas you should have no trouble identifying them, but use the photo above to help as well. 

Another Weekday Dinner

শাক দিয়ে চিংড়ি
Spinach with Prawns

Spinach with prawns, served on a bed of boiled rice

It takes 10 minutes for rice to cook in the microwave, and another 2 minutes for it to cool down. That gives me 12 minutes to whip up a main dish - not quite enough time for anything traditionally Bangladeshi. But if you’re happy to spend just a little bit longer in the kitchen, this spinach and prawn combo will be done in around half an hour. Think 5 minutes of ingredient prep, 10 minutes to temper spices, and another 15 minutes to finish off the cooking process. The amounts below make a generous portion for one, or a side dish for two. It's an easy weeknight venture, making some allowances for the ingredients of course. I'm assuming a kitchen stocked with readymade garlic and ginger pastes, and prawns bought peeled and cleaned from a supermarket. 

It’s very common in Bangladesh for leaves to be cooked with freshwater prawns or the discarded bony parts of fish. The prawns or fish are meant to liven up a purely vegetarian dish, but traditionally they were never the main attraction. As people’s purchasing power has increased, this has changed, and growing up I looked forward to these more as seafood dishes. Across the extended family our parents upped the prawn content considerably, all to get the kids to eat their greens. The spices add a bit of heat to the dish, and the cooking time does mean that both the prawns and spinach are on the stove longer than is strictly necessary. But that’s the idea of the dish - mushy, soupy leaves studded with spiced prawns for a bit of bite. 

Ingredients:

• 1.00 medium onion
• 0.75 teaspoons of garlic paste
• 0.75 teaspoons of ginger paste
• 0.75 teaspoons of powdered turmeric
• 150.00 g of fresh prawns, cooked or uncooked, peeled and cleaned
• 200.00 g of spinach
• Salt, to taste (if using)

Method:

• Put a large frying pan on the stove. Add a tablespoon of oil, and leave to heat
• Finely chop the onion, and add to the pan
• Fry the onions until they go soft, translucent and start to brown at the edges
• While the onions are frying, boil 1.50 cups of water in the kettle
• Once the onions are slightly browned, add the garlic and ginger pastes to the pan. Add a splash of boiled water, and stir everything together
• Add the powdered turmeric, mix in and cook for 10 minutes. If the water starts to dry up add some more, making sure that the onions stay wet enough to form a sauce

The cooked prawns just after they
went into the pan with the onions.
Try and maintain this level of liquid
throughout the cooking process by adding hot
or boiling water as necessary

• Add the prawns - cooked or uncooked will make no difference since raw prawns will cook quickly
• Mix the prawns into the onion based sauce and leave to cook for 10 minutes, again adding water as needed if the dish dries up too much
• Add salt to taste - bearing in mind cooked prawns are already salted and shouldn't need any extra
• Add the spinach, mixing it in as it wilts and reduces

The frying pan just before the cover went on

• Cover the pan and leave to cook for a final 10 to 15 minutes - the spinach should go dark green and mushy, as opposed to bright green and crunchy
• Serve hot with plain boiled rice

Additional Info:

I leave out chillies from this recipe because I enjoy the natural sweetness of the prawns. However, feel free to add either powdered chilli with your turmeric, or some dried whole chillies just before adding the prawns. You can skip the prawns entirely to make this a vegetarian dish, but I'd recommend adding 0.25 teaspoons of garlic on top for a little more flavour. This dish would normally be served as the fish and/or vegetable component of a mutli-dish meal - combine this with recipes for chicken, other meats and carbs for a dinner party. For a purely vegetarian spinach recipe, see here, and for just prawns see here. 

A Gluten-Free Accident

ছিটা রুটি
Splattered Flatbread 

An approximation of Bangladeshi "chita-ruti",
roughly translating to splattered flatbread

This one isn't too much of a recipe. My partner was planning to make gluten-free crumble for a potluck picnic last week, but turns out gluten-free flour doesn't behave in the same way as traditional flour. As his flour and butter crumble turned into more of a slab, we realised we'd have to do something other than dessert. Hence this "chita-ruti", translating roughly to splattered flatbread, the quickest thing that came to mind. It was a gamble, but gluten-free flour seems to have the right stickiness vs springiness ratio needed to imitate the original chita-ruti. Traditionally served with beef curry, the amounts below make enough for 10 flatbreads. Given how quickly they went at the picnic, we should have made more!  

Ingredients:

• 100.00 g of gluten free flour
• Salt, to taste
• Lukewarm water

Method:

• Place the flour and salt in a large mixing bowl, and add enough lukewarm water to make a thin, pourable batter
• Put a large frying pan on low heat, and use a kitchen towel to smear with vegetable oil. Leave for 30 seconds to allow the pan to heat
• Using a spoon (or hands if preferred), mix the batter again before adding it the pan
• Again, using a spoon or your hand, take a small amount of batter and scatter it over the pan to make a flatbread as in the image at the top of this post
• Make sure the layer of batter is as thin as possible for quick cooking
• Ensure all the different parts of the bread connect, as this makes it easier to manage
• Cook until the edges of the bread start to just lift off the pan, which can take around a minute
• Flip, taking caring not to damage the splattered pattern, and cook on the reverse side for another minute
• Serve immediately, or stack on a dry towel so the bread doesn't steam up and serve when it is cooler

Additional Info:

Funnily enough, the traditional chita-ruti is also gluten-free, being rice flour based. But processed rice flour from UK supermarkets doesn't seem to be glutinous enough to make a proper batter. Any flatbreads I've made with it have gone crunchy-crumbly as opposed to crunchy-elastic, so a word of warning if you're going to give it a go.

A Bangladeshi Breakfast, Part 2

মোঘলাই পরোটা
Mughlai Porota 

Mughlai porota with an egg, red chilli & spring onion
filling, with a Sriracha dip on the side

I've been contemplating pancakes, mango milk and stick toffee pudding recently. However, my last two recipe posts were sweets too, and hence this savoury interlude. The Bangladeshi iteration of mughlai porota, for those who don't know, is a fried flatbread filled with egg or mincemeat. These porotas are commonly sold from road side shops in Dhaka. In my grandma's family, they feature heavily in our rotating menu of tea-time street food snacks. My mom also served them for breakfast when I was younger, in a bid to get me to eat eggs. I personally prefer these porotas for breakfast rather than tea, especially when I want something heavier as part of a brunch menu. Eggs are always a morning thing for me. 

The mincemeat version of the mughlai porota has been much less common in my life. My family rarely made it, and it's not often sold in our Dhaka neighbourhood due to the prohibitive price of meat. I've never personally made it either, and the recipe below is purely for the egg version of mughlai porota. I've also recommended shallow as opposed to deep-frying the porota. This is mostly because I can't imagine deep-frying foods I regularly eat. Do note it makes a difference - deep-fried mughlai porota comes out flakier and fluffier, and so deep-fry if you wish. Reading back over the instructions, I realise how complicated the rolling and folding may seem to a first-timer, so I'll be updating this post with more photos as soon as possible. 

Bangladeshi Eid Recipes Incoming

খিচুরী 

Khichuri

Khichuri - the big yellow bowl of rice, accompanying
spicy duck, deep fried fish and tomato salad.
Dinner at my Nani's in Dhaka

Khichuri is great. A dish of lightly spiced yellow rice, it can easily be morphed from comfort food to something fancier for a dinner party. As the former our family has always cooked it mushy and watery, often with a few vegetables thrown in to make it "healthy". The variety served at dinner parties is usually drier, and tends to be cooked with a more complex spice combination. I decided it would be the carb entry for my Eid menu, so be aware that the amounts below are enough for 6 to 8 people. Why I cooked so much I don't know, given there were only 3 of us in the house! 

I've kept things simple in the recipe below, as while I like my khichuri I don't want it to overpower whatever dish it's meant to accompany. Khichuri has a few items its traditionally served with - think spicy chilli-onion omelettes and fried aubergine. Even more well known is the idea that it should be served with beef, on a rainy day during the monsoon season. Do what you want of course, though my personal opinion is that khichuri works best with spicier food, whereas polao is best for the mild.

Post-Work Dinner

হালকা সাগ ভাজি
Shallow-Fried Spinach

The chilli isn't just to make the dish look pretty

I've written about this before, but growing up I hated most vegetables, especially if they were cooked the Bangladeshi way. I was partial to a few veggie bhortas, sheem (broad beans) and notably, spinach. When I say spinach I don't just mean the (single?) variety one can buy in UK supermarkets, but an entire range of leafy vegetables eaten in Bangladesh: red amaranth, Malabar spinach and even potato leaves. We have a collective word for these leafy vegetables in Bengali, shaag, and our family has always used spinach as the rough English equivalent.

There is good reason for the proliferation of these dishes in Bangladeshi cuisine. The plants in question are widely available, often growing wild, and can be foraged for free if you're eating the more esoteric varieties. This is important to many Bangladeshis who have to manage their diet while exercising limited spending power. Back home, leaves are often fried quite extensively, especially as people tend to use the older, tougher parts of the foliage and stem so as to not waste any part of the plant. The recipe I'm sharing below has a lighter touch. It's also mostly devoid of spices - something I know is often added as part of the typical Bangladeshi preparation - but I grew up without. An easy 15 minute dish that's great if you're running short on time on a weekday evening, although most typically shaag is eaten as a side as part of the bigger meal.

Eggs From Our Sundarbans Trip

ক্যাপসিকাম ও পাপরিকা দিয়ে ডিম ভুনা 

Eggs, Red Pepper & Smoked Paprika Bhuna

Egg bhuna, served with khichuri on the boat during our trip
through the Sundarbans. From my Instagram feed.

Curried eggs have a long history in my family. In Bangladesh, they represent a cheap, inexpensive way to incorporate protein into a family's diet. Growing up, I had a great dislike for eggs and currying them used to be one of my mom's tactics to get me to eat them. They're also easier (read: quicker) to cook than meat, and therefore often a common enough recourse when she was pressed for time in the kitchen. This recipe is my own, based on the basic chicken curry recipe I posted long ago here. The addition of smoked paprika is the result of a slight personal obsession, and the red pepper gives the dish sweet-sour notes without resorting to sugar or yoghurt. I have been cooking this dish for a while, and have served it to guests when a vegetarian main has been called for.

On the left, the banks of the forest as we sailed past.

On the right, the beach our walk eventually took us to.

Our trip to the Sundarbans for New Year's Eve served as a reminder to post this, as the chef on board our ship served a very lightly spiced version of this with khichuri for breakfast. It made for a heavy breakfast, which was reasonable in light of the walking we were going to be doing throughout the day. Unless you're preparing for a similar excursion, I would recommend serving this as a main or side dish for dinner or lunch. 

An Evolving Relationship

বেগুন ভাজি 

Fried Aubergine

Fried aubergines done in a mostly traditional manner.
Also - I wasn't responsible for the coriander.

A large chunk of my childhood food memories actually revolve around a past hatred for certain vegetables. If they were ever forced on me, I would try to gulp them down without chewing. On the odd occasion I ended up with their horrible taste in my mouth, I’d rush onto the meat course to purify my palate.  Of course, I say past hatred because my tastes have evolved - just as my parents always told me they would! I now dislike fewer vegetables, with my disgust limited to Brussel sprouts, fennel and certain preparations of cauliflower. 

Having said this, there are vegetables out there that I have always liked – spinach, broccoli and mushrooms stand out as long-time favourites. I feel that, as with all foods, the method of preparation makes a big difference. I’ve always had a soft spot for the East-Southeast Asian take on vegetables, whereas Bangladeshi vegetarian cuisine has always engendered mixed feelings. Everyday recipes like the mixed vegetable dish I've written about before I actually grew up detesting, though my opinion has changed now. For some reason (read: I was/am a difficult child) I’ve always liked dishes containing the more difficult to procure Bangladeshi vegetables like pui shag, lota, kochu or raw jackfruit. 

The above vegetables are even more difficult to get your hands on in Europe, and so they haven’t made their way to the blog yet. Aubergines on the other hand grow locally, meaning I've cooked this dish now and again while living in the UK. It's a very simple everyday dish, often served with khichuri. I've never seen any majors variations of it beyond a change in heat levels or the introduction of sour notes - the latter of which I've done below using yoghurt. 

Secret Ingredients

শাশলিক 

Chicken Shashlik

Chicken shashlik at a family dinner, courtesy of mom

Have you ever tasted a really great dish somewhere, perhaps when you've been over for dinner at a friend's? Have you then gone on to ask for the recipe, only to fail at recreating the dish again exactly? Apparently this happens because people withhold key steps in the method, or fail to mention certain secret ingredients. 

Thankfully getting recipes from (mostly) family has meant that I haven't had to face this! But hearing my mom say she uses mustard powder and oyster sauce for her Bangladeshi style chicken shashlik reminded me of those stories. They're not the most obvious ingredients I would think of if I was trying to create a shashlik recipe myself. Not that I can claim these are secret ingredients anymore, but hey, to me food is all about sharing. These are the chicken shashlik I've grown up with, now up online for anyone else to try and recreate. I recently made this for a party at mine, and ingredient amounts are now updated accordingly. 

Let the Fasting Begin

ছোলা ভাজা
Chickpeas

My first batch of chickpeas this year

It's that time of year again. Fasting while growing up was always exciting. Getting up for seheri after midnight felt like a bit of an adventure, especially if I was in Bangladesh with the extended family (read: cousins my age). There was also an element of competition with said cousins - and yes, I do know this isn't the point of Ramadan. But all of this gave Ramadan an extremely festive mood, and made for a great feeling when coupled with the charitable spirit that permeated the air during this time.  

What really cemented this feeling for me was the food. In Bangladesh, this is when restaurants and other establishments retract their normal menus in favour of Ramadan staples: kebabs, various vegetable fritters, haleem, chaap and so on. Opening times change to match iftaar and seheri times, and footfall into food halls and open markets often starts early afternoon and continues into the early hours of the morning. These flipped-around living patterns, queuing for elusive Ramadan-only food makes for a very unique experience.

But food for Ramadan doesn't always need to be bought. Certain staples, like chickpeas, have always been home-cooked in our family. Chickpeas form the bulk of our family's iftaars, substituting carbs for a month. This makes them a somewhat immutable part of Ramadan for me and as such the perfect first recipe to share. At iftaars, we serve this with vegetable fritters, a garnish of salad, fruits and dates to form a full meal. If you're not having this for Ramadan, it can also be served as a snack or a side dish as part of a larger menu.