Pakora

Pakora, the delicious tea-time-any-time snack of Pakistan, has become a staple at my house. It’s a crispy, flavorful addition to my recipe collection that I will take with me wherever I go.

There are many variations: I’ve had cabbage and onion with a hint of soy pakora for a Chinese twist; I’ve had onion and spinach bundles, eggplant slices, chicken pieces and even boiled eggs coated with batter and fried for a heavy, fulfilling treat.

Some people I know add an egg or two to the batter mixture, but unless I’m making a big batch, I find it doesn’t need it. I suggest you try it first without it, you can always add it later. It’s a very forgiving recipe, and everyone I know here has her own version.

The main ingredient in pakora is besan, which is a flour made out of chickpeas, and if you have never cooked with it, you should make an effort to find it because it’s delicious. It’s definitely worth a trip to the Asian store. You might also try looking for it in your local health food store, as it is a good vegan ingredient. The flavor of besan is so unique that I believe there is no substitute for it, but regular all-purpose flour can be used to make a potato fritter that is similar to pakora in shape and texture, although not in taste.

Ingredients

2 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into sticks

1 medium onion, chopped

2 small green chilies, sliced (optional)

1 handful of cilantro, minced

½ teaspoon cilantro seeds (optional)

½ cup besan (also called gram flour)

salt & pepper to taste

¼ teaspoon chili powder (optional)

¼ cup water

oil for frying

Method

Place the potatoes, onions, chilies, cilantro and the seeds (if using) in a medium bowl and toss to combine.

Add the besan, a little at a time, mixing it in well (your hands are best for this).

Add the salt, pepper and the chili powder, if you are using it. Mix again to distribute evenly.

Pour the water using a spoon, little by little, until the flour is no longer powdery, but not too wet.

Heat the oil in a frying pan over medium heat. When the oil ripples, using your hands, take a handful of pakora mixture and gently and carefully place it in the hot oil, making sure your pakora stays together. Your can use a spoon if you prefer, but I find you have less control that way. If your fritter breaks up in the pan, quickly pat it into place before it sets, using a metal spatula or a slotted spoon.

Cook the pakora for a few minutes on one side until golden, then turn it and fry the other side. If the pakora has an irregular shape, move it around to make sure it cooks evenly on all sides.

Taste your pakora once it is cool, and make adjustments to your seasoning if you think you need it. Continue frying the rest of the batter until you’re done.

Pakora are served with ketchup, or sometimes with yogurt and mint chutney, but I like mine with chilmol, a tomato and onion relish from Honduras, where I grew up.

Chilmol

3 medium plum tomatoes

1 medium onion

salt & pepper to taste

squirt of lemon juice

Chop the tomatoes and the onion into small pieces. Place in a bowl and toss to combine.

Add the salt and pepper and toss. Pour a bit of lemon juice.

Check the seasoning and adjust.

You can add finely sliced cabbage, chopped cilantro, or cucumber pieces if you like. They all go well together for a cool, refreshing taste.

Carrot Halva

My collection of recipes has grown since I came to live in Pakistan, and now it includes several dishes from the region. My palate has been enriched, and some of my discoveries have become tradition in my family.

This dessert is one of my favorite such additions. It’s perfect in Winter, because it’s warm and rich, sweet and soothing.

Ingredients

1 pound of carrots

2 cups whole milk

½ cup sugar

2 tablespoons butter, unsalted

2 cloves

2 cinnamon sticks

1 whole vanilla bean

3 or 4 whole black peppercorns

2 green cardamom pods

¼ cup blanched slivered almonds

2 or 3 tablespoons raisins (black or golden)

1 tablespoon pistachios, crushed

Method

1. Peel the carrots and grate them in a food processor until very fine.
2. Soak the raisins in warm water for about ten minutes to soften them.
3. Infuse the milk with the cloves, the cinnamon sticks and the vanilla bean by heating it until just before it boils. Remove from the heat and set aside.
4. Place the grated carrot and the butter in a large pan over medium low heat. Add the peppercorn and the cardamom and fry for about five minutes.
5. Add the sugar and stir. Cook until the liquid is absorbed. Add the almonds and raisins and cook for a couple of minutes.
6. Pour the milk into the pan using a strainer. Discard the spices.
7. Check the sugar and add more if it’s not sweet enough, or a bit of milk if it’s too sweet for your taste. Lower the heat to low and stir occasionally until the milk is absorbed and the carrots are soft.
8. Remove the cardamom and peppercorns and garnish with the crushed pistachio. Serve warm.

B is For Bread

I have tasted fancy dishes and eaten at fine restaurants many times in my life. I have sampled the strange and unfamiliar. I have found fresh favorites and discovered new ingredients, but nothing tastes so delicious to me as the flatbread I ate as a child.

Tortillas de harina, a bread made out of wheat flour and enriched with eggs and butter, is by far the most popular meal in Honduras, where I grew up. The dough is shaped into a disc, a griddle is put on the stove, and the bread puckers up, little blisters fill with air and golden spots appear on the surface as if by magic.

It’s a simple, unpretentious, traditional meal, accompanied most often by refried beans and sour cream, and called a Baleada when it’s smeared and folded in half. The word baleada comes from the Spanish word for bullet, or bala, and I think it’s called that because the little bubbles and dark spots sort of look like bullet marks.

My mother, who is an excellent cook, makes the best tortillas. She grew up in a large family, and as the eldest daughter she learned to make them when she was twelve years old. Kneading the dough was her daily chore, and she’d get up early every morning to do it before she went to school. My mother’s tortillas are soft and rich, and nothing speaks to me of home more than the sight of a ball of dough resting on her kitchen counter.

One of the earliest memories I have is of making small tortillitas for my father when I was a young girl, in the little house in Belize, where we were living at the time. They were awful, I’m sure, burnt on the outside and uncooked on the inside, but I was proud of myself, and as eager to please as only children can be.

Today my daughter and I made these together. I gave her a bit of dough and, standing next to me, she played around with her ball as I worked the mix into a soft, pliable dough.

I don’t think my tortillas will ever be as good as my mother’s, for years I thought I had a heavy hand, but I’ve let go of my fear of failing and with regular practice I have improved. My daughter loves them. I hope they will be as cherished a part of her childhood as they were of mine.

 

My Mother’s Tortillas de Harina

Flour Tortillas

 2 cups flour

2 eggs

1 ½ teaspoon butter

1  ½ teaspoon vegetable shortening

1 pinch of salt

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ to ¾ cup water at room temperature

 

1) In a large wide bowl, sift the flour, the salt and the baking powder. Stir with a spoon to combine.

2) Make a well in the center and add the eggs, the butter and the shortening.

3) Dust your hands with flour and move your fingers to combine the ingredients.

4) Add water, a little bit at a time, and gather the mix until a dough begins to form. Here you can make adjustments if you need to. If the dough feels dry, add more water, a tablespoon at a time. If it doesn’t feel soft enough, add more fat, a little bit at time, until you get the right consistency.

5) Knead the dough on a floured surface. Stretch the dough away from you, using the heel of your hand. Bring the dough back towards you and turn it a little before you stretch again.

6) When the dough is soft, shiny and it is easier to knead, shape it into a log and divide it into small pieces, about 2 inches in size.

7) Gently knead each piece and shape into a ball. Place the balls back in the bowl and let them ‘sleep’, as my mother says. Lay a damp cloth over the dough and leave it in a warm place for at least 15 minutes.

8) Women in Honduras flatten the tortillas in the palm of their hands, but that requires years of practice. I use a large zipper bag as my stretching surface because the dough doesn’t stick. Place the ball in the center of the plastic and use the tip of your fingers to flatten and stretch the dough, until you have a good size disc.

9) Place a flat griddle (a comal in Spanish) or a large non-stick frying pan over medium heat. Carefully peel the plastic with one hand as you hold the tortilla on the other.

10) Place the tortilla on the griddle and cook on one side for a minute or two. The bread will bubble up in places. Use a knife to turn it onto the other side, or your fingers, if you dare.

11) Using a cloth napkin gently press the tortilla to release some of the air trapped in the bubbles.

Your tortilla de harina is ready. Wrap it with cloth to keep it warm. Serve with refried beans and sour cream. I like queso fresco and scrambled eggs with it too.

The balls of dough keep well in the refrigerator for a day or two. Cover them with plastic wrap and lay them in a single layer inside an airtight container. 

Delicious Roasted Eggplant

One of the pleasures of living in this part of the world is the food. I have become exceedingly fond of nan baked in a clay tandoor, of juicy, tender meat generously rubbed with spices and dripping with flavor on an open flame, and of creamy, cooling raita with cucumber and roasted cumin.

Since arriving in Pakistan three years ago (has it really been that long?), I have learned to cook several of my favorite dishes. I always liked the food of the region, but living here has given me discernment, an invaluable gift that deepens the enjoyment of eating as it adds a welcome reference point.

This dish, called Bharta in Pakistan and India, is similar to baba ghanoush, the Arab dish. I like to roast the eggplant over an open flame, now that I have the use of a gas stove, but it can easily be done in the oven or the barbecue grill. The smoky, earthy flavor is a good contrast to the soft, creamy texture of the aubergine.

I do not like the taste of ginger with this particular dish, but I know some recipes call for it, so use it if you wish. I don’t add chili powder either, as the green chilies give enough heat for me, but if you like it hot, go for it.

 Ingredients

5-6 small eggplants (or 2 large ones)

1 large onion

3 large plum tomatoes

2-3 large garlic cloves

2-3 small green chilies

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

¼ teaspoon garam masala*

salt and pepper to taste

3 tablespoons olive oil

 Method

If you have a gas stove, place each eggplant on the lighted burners, using long thongs to handle the vegetables as they sit on the open flame. Turn them carefully and often until the skin is black all around. Remove from the heat and set aside.

To roast the eggplants in the oven, cut the vegetables in half and lay them skin side up on a baking sheet (line it with parchment or aluminum foil to prevent sticking). Set the oven to broil and cook until the skin of the eggplants is roasted black.

Once the eggplants are cool enough to handle, carefully peel off the skin completely, making sure that none of it remains. I wash off the vegetable under a gentle stream of running water to clean it fully.

Chop the eggplant into small pieces and place the pulp in a colander set over a bowl and let it drain for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, slice the onion very thinly, and chop the tomatoes. Mince the garlic, and if you can, grind it to a paste in a blender or use a mortar and pestle. Cut the chilies into small pieces.

Heat the oil until rippling and add the mustard seeds. Be careful because they pop. Add the onions and cook, stirring often, until soft and slighly golden. Do not brown.

Add the garlic and the green chilies, plus a tablespoon of water to prevent burning. Cook for a minute or two, then add the tomatoes. Pour in a splash of water and lower the heat to low. Cook for about five minutes, until the tomatoes are soft and glistening, and the oil comes to the surface.

Now add the turmeric powder, the garam masala and the salt and pepper. Cook for 1 minute.

Take the reserved eggplant and mash it with a fork or a potato masher. Add it to the cooking pan. Discard the liquid that has drained in the bowl.

Cover and cook the eggplant on low heat for five minutes. Add a tablespoon of water if it sticks to the pot. Stir and taste to check the seasoning. Adjust the spices if necessary.

Cook for a few more minutes until the eggplant looks soft and smooth. Serve with pita bread, nan, basmati rice  or a crusty baguette. It’s also great mixed with pasta, and I love it smothered with cheese in a lasagna.

*Note: Garam (Hot) Masala is a mixture of spices. You can make your own by toasting then grinding black peppercorns, coriander seeds, cumin seeds, broken up cinnamon sticks, cloves and black cardamom pods in a spice grinder. 

Raspberry Cheese Coffee Cake

This cake is very easy to make, it’s ready in just thirty minutes and it’s delicious, with a soft, tender texture. What more do you need?

 

Ingredients

1 package of cream cheese, softened at room temperature

½ cup butter (1 stick), softened

1 cup sugar

2 large eggs

¼ milk

1 ¾ cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup seedless raspberry preserves

3 tablespoons icing sugar

Preparation

Beat the cream cheese, the butter and the sugar until creamy. Add the eggs and the milk, beating until smooth. Set aside.

In a separate bowl combine the flour, the baking powder, the soda and the salt. Add this mixture to the cheese mixture, beating gently.

Spread the batter unto a cake pan that has been previously prepared for baking. I use butter, flour and parchment paper.

Use a spoon to pour the raspberry preserves (or the fruit of your choice) on top of the cake batter. Make swirls over the surface  using a knife.

Bake at 350°F  (175° C) for 30 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean. Cool for ten minutes in the pan. Unmold and dust with powdered sugar. Enjoy.

Perfect Basmati Rice

Basmati rice is a fragrant, fragile grain that needs to be handled with a gentle hand. Rice is a staple food in Asia, and getting it right is so important, that if I ever write a book about what it’s like to immerse oneself in Pakistani culture, I have a thought to call it “How to Cook Basmati Rice”. It reminds me of all the cultural allowances, adjustments and delicacy that are necessary in such a case.

In my opinion the most important step when cooking it is to soak the rice, and to use the right amount of water. Soaking saturates each grain with water, which then evaporates, fluffing and separating each grain. The amount of water should always be double the amount of rice.

I’m very proud of my rice. It’s light and fluffy, and the long, graceful grains are intact and separated, not lumpy or mushy, but with a soft, tender bite. I like to add cumin seeds to the rice but this can be omitted, in which case the oil should be omitted too.

Ingredients

1 cup basmati rice

2 cups of water

½ teaspoon cumin seed

1 teaspoon olive oil

½ teaspoon salt

Preparation

Pick the rice clean and fill the bowl with water a couple of times to rinse the rice. Soak for at least 20 minutes.

Rinse again and gently move your fingers in the bowl a few times to release the starch. Rinse until the water is clear. Set aside.

Heat the oil on medium heat. Use a pot that has a tight-fitting lid and has no steam holes.

Fry the cumin seed for 10 seconds, until fragrant but not toasted. Add the rice and immediately add the water. Stir gently and add the salt.

Cook, partly covered, until the water is almost dry. Small circles may appear as the water dries. Check the salt and add more if necessary.

Lower the heat to the minimum and cover tightly. Move the pot to the smallest burner if you have to, as you need slow, gentle heat for steaming.

Pakistani cooks wrap the lid with a tea towel, but if my lid fits tightly I simply lay a towel on top for extra warmth. After 8-10 minutes, turn the heat off. Do not open the lid.

Let the rice rest undisturbed on the warm stove for ten minutes. Transfer to a serving bowl, using a fork to fluff out the rice.