A Book

Six months ago you kindly gave me feedback about writing a cookbook. Your encouragement and ideas weighted in deciding whether to take up the task or not. Three publishers had approached me months earlier but, as usual, I hesitated to commit. In November, finally, I abandoned my reluctance and, by December, was developing and testing recipes.

The book will be published and distributed in 2015 by Roost Books, an offspring of Shambhala Publications whose focus has been on bringing an enlightened approach to life, through literature, for more than forty years. I’m comfortable knowing our values are similar.

It will be a coffee-table book with 108 illustrated recipes that will address the goodness of vegetarian diet and, also, the concept of cultivating consciousness compatible with the skill of cooking. I will explore the subject of preparing, serving and enjoying food, not only as a sensual and social experience but as a spiritual and transcendental reciprocation and love. It will open, hopefully, a new angle to culinary discussion and purify the palate for thought, too.

Until the end of this year I will be writing the content and photographing the recipes. Like during the past two weeks, there will be periods I won’t have time to update the blog. I’ll try my best but, please, bear with me if I fail to post every week. After I hand in the manuscript, I will fully resume the blog responsibilities again.

Thank you.

Strawberry Sorbet & Sweet Paratha

Nobody drives a forty-eight years old car. It doesn’t meet today’s need for speed, practicality, ecology, prestige or other values attached to a vehicle. Cars could, potentially, last longer but our ever changing desires dictate when a car, mobile phone, computer or camera is outdated.

Buildings from the 60’s, on the other hand, are still used for living although they may require renovation. They are more expensive to design and, thus, more respected. Also, homes are emotional investments: they are made of memories. Unless abandoned, a house will stand for several generations.

As awkward as it may sound, the human lifespan is somewhere between a car and a building! Our tissue deteriorates faster than the combination of earth, water, fire, air and ether in wood, stone or metal. Or, even, plastic! A physical body is made of matter, although it’s organic and able to stretch, transform and facilitate our mental and intellectual development to a large degree. It’s intricate and, in many ways, inconceivable. But, it will decay and die, just like everything else. Even the subtle matter that forms our sense of self, mind and ability to discriminate will, often, debilitate in old age, despite of its advanced metaphysical nature and ability to archive impressions during a lifetime. It’s the part of us that wants to and will manifest again, even after death, to realize our passions. Therefore, death is nothing but changing a set of clothes for a new role, situation and relationships. It’s the end of a play and the beginning of a new script.

If you are wondering why the morbid subject, no, I’m not dying. Yet. I just turned forty-eight!

Optimistically speaking, forty-eight is a late afternoon, six o’clock, in a twelve hour circle. It’s a transition hour; a twilight. The fall of night is probable, although not immediate. Naturally, I find myself less enamored by the wonders of this world and more withdrawn. Similarly, there are fewer smiles on my face but many in the heart.

If anything, birthdays remind me of the transitory principle of material life! Accepting a sack of blood, flesh, bones and mucus, as a residence, is a mixed deck. However, the cards are not delivered randomly. We get what we order, knowingly and unknowingly. We may not remember when, where, why or how we requested what comes our way. Neither can we, usually, cancel the order at our convenience but, thankfully, we can deal with it in a sensible and sober manner. The sages recommend observing the field and working with it intelligently: being in, but not of, the world! For a soul, constituted by the finest transcendental substance of eternity, knowledge and bliss, it’s the way to remain unaffected by the erosion of time. For one who is never born, there won't be death.

To celebrate of being never born, we enjoyed refreshing strawberry sorbet and sweet parathas (flatbreads) made with cinnamon bun spices with my husband yesterday. An odd combination, perhaps, but it tasted otherworldly.

Unlike the banana ice-cream I’ve made before, this sorbet was far from insipid. Strawberries restore the potential and glory of the recipe.

Today is one of the biggest holidays, and a fasting day, in our vaishnava tradition of yoga. It’s to commemorate Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, who appeared like the moon to dissipate the darkness of ignorance. He is prananath: the one in charge of my life-air.

Thank you.

Lemon Tart

Pure accidents by Lakshmi. That’s what the blog should’ve been called. By the strike of fortune I am, time and again, able to turn disasters into edible – sometimes even delicious – dishes. Today’s lemon tart isn’t an exception.

I went astray by mixing too much butter with flour for the dough of lavanga latika, fried Bengali pastries shaped like tiny envelopes and sealed with cloves. A larger amount of butter made sense because I intended to bake them in the oven, instead of deep-frying. But, even before adding liquid, it was inevitable the consistency would not have worked. In a split second, I changed plans. There is never too much butter in a pie crust, is there?

This tart is a combination of the softness of butter and milk-based custard, and the sharpness of lemons. Opposites compliment each others. They allow enough space for both to shine and, simultaneously, cover each others’ weaknesses. You get the sparkling freshness of lemons without grumpiness and the richness of butter without fattiness. It’s a good principle to apply in relationships, too, instead of seeing differences as ostracizing.

The amount of lemon juice and zest is a matter of preference. Take into consideration how sour the lemons are. Sometimes they are surprisingly sweet. This quantity of butter calls for a tang!

I visualize the tart being decorated with white chocolate or some kind of a simple sugar creation. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to do either. Luckily, it didn’t diminish the taste.

Thank you.

Naan

Baked at high temperature in a cylindrical clay oven, tandoor, in Southern, Central and Western Asia, naan is a traditional flatbread which, due to the restaurant culture, is perhaps the best known Indian bread in the Western world. Although I’ve visited India several times during the past twenty years, prior to this week, I had never eaten naan. It’s not typical bread served in the temple compounds of Bengal and Vraj, Uttar Pradesh, where I stay. Since I don’t eat in restaurants, in India or outside, I’ve only heard about the wonders of naan from others. For years I was under an impression it cannot be baked in an electric oven. Also, I was discouraged by the fact it’s leavened with commercial yeast, which I avoid cooking with.

Yeasts are common domesticated organisms in the environment and have been used for fermentation and baking in all parts of the world throughout the history. Industrial yeast was cultivated for the need of brewing business just before the dawn of last century and is the same species as the common baking yeast. However, they belong to different strains to highlight different characteristics.

By giving these invisible fungus-like fellows a bit of sugar, water and flour to feast, they will, in time, produce gas, carbon dioxide, which will expand and aerate the dough. During baking, the yeast will die, leaving behind air pockets that create a soft and spongy texture typical to leavened goods. As expected from the overdose of sugar, fermenting produces alcohol that evaporates during baking.

The fermentation time of naturally occurring airborne yeast is longer than that of cultivated one. In a warm, draft-free place it takes from twelve to thirty-six hours for the unicellular micro-beings to wake up from their coma. But, once they are awake, they will live, prosper and reproduce by mitosis as long as they have a cosy place to snuggle and something to munch. After all, yeast is a living culture that doesn’t require sunlight as the source of energy. They rather recharge by organic compounds like sugar, alcohol and acids. Seems like humans, despite of professing to be more elevated, have more than one common factor with fungus!

I baked one batch of naan with buttermilk that was left over from churning butter. It was good but the second batch, which I used milk for, had a better texture. The bread was crunchy to bite but, still, soft. An important thing to remember when baking: less flour, softer the bread.

A pizza-stone would be perfect for baking naan. In the absence of one, I used my faithful Bengali grinding stone, sil batta, which obviously experienced a shock in 275 C (527 F) but performed excellently despite of the new carbon black look.

Kalonji tastes mildly lemony and original in naan. Served with homemade butter and a sprinkle of chaat masala, naan is a light meal or snack on its own. It camps naturally with rice and dal, or a wet vegetable dish. I even visualized it with poached fruits, thick, sweet yogurt and ginger syrup! It has a potential to host any kind of vegetable or fresh cheese filling, too. Considering how simple and quick it’s to make, after the fermenting process, it will be a part of menu in our household from this on.

Thank you.