Bhindi, paneer, dal, butter chicken and roomali roti.
These were the demands from my old friend, ahead of the weekend reunion.
I shudder, as I invariably do when he’s visiting. Here in the heart of Bangalore east, I can offer brain, ox tongue, kheema samosas, lemon rice—I can’t go on because now he shudders and shouts “nonsense”.
Sigh.
It is obviously fun to have a loud, loutish globetrotting Punjabi intellectual, but there is just so much you can cook for he who dodges exquisite nasi lemak and instead hunts down butter chicken in Singapore.
The others are easier to cook for. Like me they are willing to experiment, though, unlike me, all of them might not eat everything that has once lived.
The great thing about reunions used to be that the food rarely mattered. It was all about long drinking soirees. As we grow older, the liquor remains important, but the food appears to matter as much, if not more. And, what’s this, after falling asleep pleasantly buzzed, there are folk who want to walk/run the next morning.
I guess we really are nearing the 50s. Our bonds are stronger than ever. Our humour has rarely been as dubious. We are conscious of our last, serious shot at fitness. We listen to the stories of our children, collectively basking in their achievements, marvelling how only the other day they were running around in chaddis. Of course, my two-year-old is still running around in chaddis, and, as the only child present, she revels in the attention from aunties and uncles. “Open door!” she yells every morning to collective groans, as she pounds her little fist and rouses the ageing horde to action.
Once they are roused, I find myself in the kitchen—as happens at every reunion—thinking of food for the lazy day ahead. This time there is a cook, and she provides great relief because she caters to the bhindi-paneer-dal demands of the lout. As for the butter chicken, I draw the line, though the wife has sneaked in a package of factory-made butter chicken.
What I offer instead—successfully, as it emerges—is roast chicken and baked fish, easily made, garnished with two new readymade spice-mix discoveries.
Yes, yes, I know. I do not think much of such spice mixes, and in previous columns I have waxed eloquent on the wonders of roasting spices, the magic of their aromas and uniqueness of the end results.
During the chaos of a reunion, I realize, it is best to make everything quick and easy. That does not mean reunion food is condemned to ordinariness.
Flavouring tools: Spice mixes for a quick meal.
After much trial and error, here is what I settled on.
1. Shichimi Japanese seasoning, from a brand called Keya, produced by Amalgam Speciality Foods from Kerala’s Alleppey district (amalgam@alamgamfoods.in)
2. Lebanese seasoning, from Fabindia Organics, a part of the Fabindia art and craft empire, produced in Model Town, Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh (UP).
How interesting is that? Japanese seasoning from Kerala, and Lebanese seasoning from UP. Until I stumbled on these—the first at Thom’s Bakery and Supermarket, an old Bangalore store; the second at a Fabindia store in Mumbai—I had no idea Indian companies were seeding the market with such global culinary ideas.
Using these spice mixes, I dish out baked fish and roast chicken for the reunion; my experiments are listed at the end.
I also use these spice mixes for everyday cooking. I garnish the baby’s egg-drop noodle soup and infuse stir-fried vegetables with the Lebanese mix, and I sprinkle omelettes and fried fish with the Shichimi seasoning.
Most of us are happy with the baked fish, accompanied with a light salad, sprinkled with sunflower seeds, the only imported ingredient in my kitchen.
During the reunion, the roast chicken appears good enough to stifle the butter chicken demands. “It’s reeely good,” the lout concedes, with some reluctance, eating the bird for two meals and making no mention of the butter chicken. If you cannot take Punjab out of the Punjabi, try a little Lebanese spice—never mind if it’s made in Ghaziabad.
Shichimi Roast Chicken with Carrot and Onion
Serves 5
Ingredients
1kg chicken, full legs, cut into three
6 tsp Keya Shichimi Japanese seasoning
1 star anise, broken
5-6 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp olive oil
3 large carrots, diced, 1-inch pieces
2 large onions, quartered
15 garlic cloves
Salt to taste
Method
Mix all the ingredients. Marinate for an hour. Place in an oven-proof dish and seal with foil. Bake for 60-70 minutes at 200 degrees Celsius. Open and spoon the liquid over the chicken so it does not dry. Reseal and bake at 250 degrees Celsius for 20 minutes, or open and roast for 15 minutes. Remember to keep the chicken moist. Reduce heat to 200 degrees Celsius for 10 minutes. Open the foil and serve hot, spooning liquid over the chicken.
Baked Fish with Marjoram and Lebanese Spice
Serves 1-2
Ingredients
2 whole pomfrets, 250-300g each
3 tsp Fabindia Lebanese seasoning
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 sprigs of marjoram
Salt to taste
Method
Marinate the fish in seasoning, vinegar and salt for an hour. Stuff the cavities with a sprig each of fresh marjoram. Seal in foil and bake for 40 minutes at 200 degrees Celsius.
Baked Fish with Shichimi and Soy
Serves 1-2
Ingredients
2 whole pomfrets, 250-300g each
2 tsp Keya Shichimi seasoning
1 tbsp soy sauce
Salt to taste
Method
Marinate the fish in seasoning, salt and soy sauce. Seal in foil and bake for 40 minutes at 200 degrees Celsius.
This is a column on easy, inventive cooking from a male perspective. Samar Halarnkar also writes the fortnightly science column Frontier Mail for Mint.
Write to Samar at ourdailybread@livemint.com
Also Read | Samar’s previous columns
