(This article first appeared in the 11th December 2022 issue of Deccan Herald newspaper's Sunday Herald section https://www.deccanherald.com/amp/sunday-herald/sh-top-stories/hot-desi-cakes-1169835.html)
Showing posts with label INDIAN CAKES. Show all posts
Showing posts with label INDIAN CAKES. Show all posts
Monday, December 12, 2022
Friday, January 14, 2022
Mid-Town Master Chefs
Tuesday, September 7, 2021
Around the World in Savoury Cakes
(This article first appeared in the 7th September 2021 issue of Business Line newspaper's BLink section online https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/takeaway/savoury-cake-connection/article36331869.ece)
Monday, March 2, 2020
Fusion Flavours!
Anglo-Indian cuisine, India’s ‘original fusion cuisine’ is a fascinating one that’s spiced with centuries of history and culture.
By Raul Dias
As one of India’s most underrepresented cuisines, Anglo-Indian food and its wonderful cache of fusion dishes is all but a lost legacy. Once the mainstay of colonial-style gentlemen’s clubs and railway canteens overseen by khansamas, Anglo-Indian cuisine is slowing inching out of the woodwork. All this, thanks to efforts of people like Bridget White Kumar—author of several cookbooks on this unique cuisine who are seeking a revival of dishes that hold within them centuries of history and culture. The latest boost comes in the form of the recent opening of India’s first true-blue Anglo-Indian cuisine restaurant, Anglow in New Delhi’s Khan Market.
We look at some classic Anglo-Indian dishes that have stood the test of time here in India…
Jalfrezi and Pepper Water
This two-part Anglo-Indian dish is a strange one given its geographical antecedents. The former part of the dish was born in erstwhile Calcutta when it served as the capital of India right up to 1772. Derived from the Bengali word jhal parhezi which means “hot dish”, the vegetable stew—that’s tempered with mustard oil—is always served with a thin broth-like side dish called pepper water. The latter itself came from another British strong-hold of the then Madras Presidency, where the tamarind pulp-based dish is more-commonly known as rasam or saaru.
Chicken Country Captain
This three-way fusion dish is an amalgamation of the Italian chicken stew of cacciatore, a British roast chicken and an Indian korma. Named after the captains of the ‘country ships’ owned by the British East India Company, in whose galleys this dish took shape, the red-hued preparation is a sweet-n-spicy chicken gravy best mopped up with slices of crusty bread.
Ball Curry and Yellow Rice
Taking the very British dish of meatball stew and giving it an Indian flip, this quintessential Anglo-Indian classic sees the introduction of thick coconut milk added to the stew that’s further spiced width cumin and coriander powder. This Anglo Sunday lunch staple is always served with an accompanying duo of sides that take the form of a sunshine yellow turmeric rice and a devil’s chutney made from Kashmiri chillies, tomatoes, sugar and vinegar.
Spiced Allahabad Fruit Cake
This dense, rich confection—that is part of the edible legacy left behind by the once strong Anglo-Indian community of Allahabad—best defines this fusion cuisine. While desi ghee stands in for the regular fruit cake shortening of butter, giving the cake a slight savoury edge, local Indian spices like nutmeg, saunf (fennel powder) and sonth (dried ginger powder) make it typically Anglo-Indian. Further augmenting this mélange is the use of petha (candy pumpkin) that replaces the once hard-to-procure candied fruit peel that had to be imported in from good ol’ Blighty. Today, Allahabad’s famous bakery Bushy’s on Kanpur Road is one of the few places where one can still get a slice of this unique cake.
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the March 2020 issue of Travel 360, the in-flight magazine of Air Asia India)
By Raul Dias
As one of India’s most underrepresented cuisines, Anglo-Indian food and its wonderful cache of fusion dishes is all but a lost legacy. Once the mainstay of colonial-style gentlemen’s clubs and railway canteens overseen by khansamas, Anglo-Indian cuisine is slowing inching out of the woodwork. All this, thanks to efforts of people like Bridget White Kumar—author of several cookbooks on this unique cuisine who are seeking a revival of dishes that hold within them centuries of history and culture. The latest boost comes in the form of the recent opening of India’s first true-blue Anglo-Indian cuisine restaurant, Anglow in New Delhi’s Khan Market.
We look at some classic Anglo-Indian dishes that have stood the test of time here in India…
Jalfrezi and Pepper Water
This two-part Anglo-Indian dish is a strange one given its geographical antecedents. The former part of the dish was born in erstwhile Calcutta when it served as the capital of India right up to 1772. Derived from the Bengali word jhal parhezi which means “hot dish”, the vegetable stew—that’s tempered with mustard oil—is always served with a thin broth-like side dish called pepper water. The latter itself came from another British strong-hold of the then Madras Presidency, where the tamarind pulp-based dish is more-commonly known as rasam or saaru.
Chicken Country Captain
This three-way fusion dish is an amalgamation of the Italian chicken stew of cacciatore, a British roast chicken and an Indian korma. Named after the captains of the ‘country ships’ owned by the British East India Company, in whose galleys this dish took shape, the red-hued preparation is a sweet-n-spicy chicken gravy best mopped up with slices of crusty bread.
Ball Curry and Yellow Rice
Taking the very British dish of meatball stew and giving it an Indian flip, this quintessential Anglo-Indian classic sees the introduction of thick coconut milk added to the stew that’s further spiced width cumin and coriander powder. This Anglo Sunday lunch staple is always served with an accompanying duo of sides that take the form of a sunshine yellow turmeric rice and a devil’s chutney made from Kashmiri chillies, tomatoes, sugar and vinegar.
Spiced Allahabad Fruit Cake
This dense, rich confection—that is part of the edible legacy left behind by the once strong Anglo-Indian community of Allahabad—best defines this fusion cuisine. While desi ghee stands in for the regular fruit cake shortening of butter, giving the cake a slight savoury edge, local Indian spices like nutmeg, saunf (fennel powder) and sonth (dried ginger powder) make it typically Anglo-Indian. Further augmenting this mélange is the use of petha (candy pumpkin) that replaces the once hard-to-procure candied fruit peel that had to be imported in from good ol’ Blighty. Today, Allahabad’s famous bakery Bushy’s on Kanpur Road is one of the few places where one can still get a slice of this unique cake.
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the March 2020 issue of Travel 360, the in-flight magazine of Air Asia India)
Sunday, February 5, 2017
A Slice of India!
From the bakeries of Allahabad and Puducherry to homes
in Mumbai and Goa, cakes made with typically Indian ingredients like ghee and petha can be found jostling for space along with the more
ubiquitous varieties, making for interesting confectionary chimeras.
By Raul Dias
Incredible as it may be to believe, but until I was
around 10, I thought that ghee was
the only shortening agent employed in baking a cake! It was only when I began
to get ensnared in the vice-like grip of a multitude of cookery shows—thanks to
the satellite television invasion of the early 90s—did I discover butter as
being the de facto, world’s favourite cake fat. All this, much to the chagrin
of my Anglo-Indian grandmother who resolutely refused to make the switch,
insisting that her spiced fruit cake could only be made with lashings of shudh desi ghee.
Thanks to the forced WWII frugality thrust upon her in the form of grocery rationing, as a young homemaker, she came up with several recipes substituting the expensive and tough-to-procure butter with the easy-to-prepare homemade clarified butter. Recipes, along with a larder of rather strange ingredients, that would remain intrinsic parts of her baking repertoire, forever.
Speaking of strange, long before it became fashionable to add a bit of puréed pumpkin (and grated zucchini, too!) to impart a rich, moistly dense crumb to a fruit cake, my Nan would chop up bits of her favourite sweet—Agra ka petha, or sugar candy pumpkin—in lieu of the more ‘kosher’ candied peel and tutti-frutti. Along with ghee and a sprinkling of spices like sonth (dried ginger powder) and javitri (mace), she’d lovingly make her legendary fruit cake that both my mum and I have tried to replicate rather unsuccessfully over the years since Nan’s passing.
But on a recent trip to Allahabad, I came across a version of a spiced rich fruit cake that could easily step in as a worthy doppelganger to the one I’ll sadly never savour again. Once a stronghold of thousands of Anglo-Indian ‘railway’ families, Allahabad today has barely a dozen or so left. But what they’ve left behind is an edible legacy of sorts in the form of the Allahabad Cake, which is what I discovered at Bushy’s on Kanpur Road. This modest, 54-year-old little bakery still makes a scrumptious, Indianised version of a traditional fruit cake using nutmeg, saunf (fennel seeds), cinnamon, caraway seeds, ghee and a marmalade that the person at the counter told me is sourced from Loknath ki Galli—Allahabad’s foodie haven.
The mava cupcake is another Indianised cake treat most of us grew up eating here in India. Dried whole milk or mava is the chief ingredient of the moist, eggless cake that’s flecked with cardamom seeds that go pop in the mouth when bitten into! This classic tea time delicacy has been made famous by the Irani and Parsi bakeries of Mumbai and Pune—particularly Merwan’s that has several branches in both cities and by Mumbai’s iconic Sassanian bakery at Marine Lines.
Made with copious quantities of salted butter, eggs, semolina and the main star ingredient—desiccated coconut powder—the bhaat cake is Goa’s pride and joy (see recipe). A vestige of Goa’s Portuguese colonialists, this dense, intensely coconut-y calorific treat has its underpinnings in Middle Eastern confectionary, given its remarkable similarity to the basbousa semolina-orange blossom water cake of Egypt, that is understandably bereft of the very coastal Indian ingredient—the coconut.
Another close colonial cousin of bhaat is the East Indian thali sweet that uses an additional ingredient in the form of almonds ground in rose water. And alluding to its name, this festive treat is both baked and served in an inch-high steel thali. Once ready, diamond shaped slices are cut and eaten more like an Indian mithai than a cake.
On a year-long work assignment in Chennai a few years ago, my weekends were mostly spent driving down to Puducherry, both, for bar essentials restocking, and to partake in the wonder that is the vivikum cake. Also known as the Pondicherry cake, this more-ish treat is prepared by Puducherry’s Franco-Indian Christians for Christmas, though one can find it all year round at bakeries such as La Boulangerie and Baker Street. Made with ghee (there we go again!), eggs, semolina, nuts, brandy-macerated raisins and zesty lemon peel, the alcohol in the cake helps lengthen the vivikum cake’s shelf life. Not that longevity matters in this cake… err, case!
Thanks to the forced WWII frugality thrust upon her in the form of grocery rationing, as a young homemaker, she came up with several recipes substituting the expensive and tough-to-procure butter with the easy-to-prepare homemade clarified butter. Recipes, along with a larder of rather strange ingredients, that would remain intrinsic parts of her baking repertoire, forever.
Speaking of strange, long before it became fashionable to add a bit of puréed pumpkin (and grated zucchini, too!) to impart a rich, moistly dense crumb to a fruit cake, my Nan would chop up bits of her favourite sweet—Agra ka petha, or sugar candy pumpkin—in lieu of the more ‘kosher’ candied peel and tutti-frutti. Along with ghee and a sprinkling of spices like sonth (dried ginger powder) and javitri (mace), she’d lovingly make her legendary fruit cake that both my mum and I have tried to replicate rather unsuccessfully over the years since Nan’s passing.
But on a recent trip to Allahabad, I came across a version of a spiced rich fruit cake that could easily step in as a worthy doppelganger to the one I’ll sadly never savour again. Once a stronghold of thousands of Anglo-Indian ‘railway’ families, Allahabad today has barely a dozen or so left. But what they’ve left behind is an edible legacy of sorts in the form of the Allahabad Cake, which is what I discovered at Bushy’s on Kanpur Road. This modest, 54-year-old little bakery still makes a scrumptious, Indianised version of a traditional fruit cake using nutmeg, saunf (fennel seeds), cinnamon, caraway seeds, ghee and a marmalade that the person at the counter told me is sourced from Loknath ki Galli—Allahabad’s foodie haven.
The mava cupcake is another Indianised cake treat most of us grew up eating here in India. Dried whole milk or mava is the chief ingredient of the moist, eggless cake that’s flecked with cardamom seeds that go pop in the mouth when bitten into! This classic tea time delicacy has been made famous by the Irani and Parsi bakeries of Mumbai and Pune—particularly Merwan’s that has several branches in both cities and by Mumbai’s iconic Sassanian bakery at Marine Lines.
Made with copious quantities of salted butter, eggs, semolina and the main star ingredient—desiccated coconut powder—the bhaat cake is Goa’s pride and joy (see recipe). A vestige of Goa’s Portuguese colonialists, this dense, intensely coconut-y calorific treat has its underpinnings in Middle Eastern confectionary, given its remarkable similarity to the basbousa semolina-orange blossom water cake of Egypt, that is understandably bereft of the very coastal Indian ingredient—the coconut.
Another close colonial cousin of bhaat is the East Indian thali sweet that uses an additional ingredient in the form of almonds ground in rose water. And alluding to its name, this festive treat is both baked and served in an inch-high steel thali. Once ready, diamond shaped slices are cut and eaten more like an Indian mithai than a cake.
On a year-long work assignment in Chennai a few years ago, my weekends were mostly spent driving down to Puducherry, both, for bar essentials restocking, and to partake in the wonder that is the vivikum cake. Also known as the Pondicherry cake, this more-ish treat is prepared by Puducherry’s Franco-Indian Christians for Christmas, though one can find it all year round at bakeries such as La Boulangerie and Baker Street. Made with ghee (there we go again!), eggs, semolina, nuts, brandy-macerated raisins and zesty lemon peel, the alcohol in the cake helps lengthen the vivikum cake’s shelf life. Not that longevity matters in this cake… err, case!
Bhaat
Cake
Recipe
Ingredients
500 gm granulated sugar
250 gm salted butter
250 gm semolina
250 gm desiccated coconut powder
1 tbsp rose essence
1 tsp baking powder
6 whole eggs
200 ml water (room temperature)
25 ml water (heated)
Procedure
* Put 200 ml water and sugar in a thick bottom pan and allow to melt over a medium flame.
* When melted, add butter and allow to combine.
* Now add desiccated coconut powder and semolina and cook for five minutes. Allow to cool to room temperature in pan itself.
* Add baking powder to heated water and pour into the cooled batter.
* Add rose essence to batter and keep aside.
* Beat the six whole eggs till frothy and add to batter combining well.
* Line a 1kg-bearing cake tin with butter paper and bake in a pre-heated oven for 45 minutes at 180˚C.
* When cooled cut and serve on its own.
500 gm granulated sugar
250 gm salted butter
250 gm semolina
250 gm desiccated coconut powder
1 tbsp rose essence
1 tsp baking powder
6 whole eggs
200 ml water (room temperature)
25 ml water (heated)
Procedure
* Put 200 ml water and sugar in a thick bottom pan and allow to melt over a medium flame.
* When melted, add butter and allow to combine.
* Now add desiccated coconut powder and semolina and cook for five minutes. Allow to cool to room temperature in pan itself.
* Add baking powder to heated water and pour into the cooled batter.
* Add rose essence to batter and keep aside.
* Beat the six whole eggs till frothy and add to batter combining well.
* Line a 1kg-bearing cake tin with butter paper and bake in a pre-heated oven for 45 minutes at 180˚C.
* When cooled cut and serve on its own.
--Recipe
courtesy Ann Dias
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 5th February 2017 issue of The Hindu newspaper, India http://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/food/Cake%E2%80%99s-colonial-cousins/article17193172.ece)
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