India on My Platter (3 page)

H
IGHWAY
S
TYLE
D
AL

(North Indian lentils tempered with cumin and chillies.)

Ingredients

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).

∼

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.

D
AY
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.

D
AY
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 own 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.

M
OTI
P
ULAO
(Also known as pearl pilaf, cottage cheese balls coated in silver make it a royal treat.)

Ingredients

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.