Showing posts with label ITALIAN. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ITALIAN. Show all posts
Sunday, July 30, 2023
The Great Indian Burrata Crossover
Saturday, March 26, 2022
Spinach Inquisition
(This article appeared in 26th March 2022 issue of the Mid-Day newspaper, India on pages 18-19 https://www.mid-day.com/mumbai-guide/mumbai-food/article/spinach-inquisition-23220013)
Wednesday, January 12, 2022
Slice to Meet You
(This roundup appeared in the 12th January 2022 issue of the Mid-Day newspaper, India on page 18
Monday, January 10, 2022
Prima Donna: Taste Test of Donna Deli
(This review appeared in the 10th January 2022 issue of the Mid-Day newspaper, India on page 17
Thursday, November 11, 2021
Restaurant Review: Ammata
Sunday, March 14, 2021
Mile-high feasts
Far from the unappetising, cardboard-like taste of airline food served on board today, flying in the 80s and early 90s initiated a budding gourmand into a world of delicious discoveries amidst the clouds.
By Raul Dias
I was first introduced to Oliver Twist as a 10-year-old up in the air aboard a British Airways flight in the late 1980s. The genial flight attendant (or air hostess as they were called in those politically incorrect days!) with twinkling blue eyes likened me to the Dickensian character as she gently set down a second helping of one of the evening’s main courses on to my tray. “Please ma'am, I want some more,” I had unknowingly said to her a few moments before as I polished off a rather scrumptious portion of Beef Wellington. I had never experienced anything as complexly constructed before. Succulent slabs of moist, pink meat anointed with an earthy-tasting mushroom duxelle, cloaked in a gossamer thin crêpe, then further ensconced in a buttery puff pastry and finally baked to golden perfection. Like some sort of culinary equivalent of a nesting Russian matryoshka doll.
Flights of Fancy
Hard as it may be to comprehend, but the eclectic selection of food served aboard flights in the late 80s and early 90s is what set me on my current path as a food writer. With a great premium placed on the importance of world travel by my parents, my sister and I were taken along for the ride almost everywhere they jetted off to. Be it our annual summer vacations in Europe or Mum’s impromptu business trips to South East Asia, we happily tagged along. Making serendipitous discoveries along the course.
In fact, many epoch-making firsts in the realm of my food oeuvres—like my introduction to smoked salmon aboard Singapore Airlines—took place in tightly-packed economy class cabins. But not always! I remember my first tryst with salty beluga caviar toned down with the creamy unctuousness of grated boiled egg. Served to us as an hors d'oeuvre aboard an Air France business class flight to Bangkok, followed by a divine duck à l'orange for mains.
Mum had somehow managed to charm the check-in staff, securing us an upgrade to the coveted ‘Le Club' which was what the airline’s business class cabin was then called. All this, as we tried not to asphyxiate on noxious cigarette smoke. Yes, unfortunately we were also privy to an era when smoking on board a flight was very much de rigueur.
This was also the time when travelling out of a major airline hub like Bombay (desk note: I retain the original name for nostalgic context) meant the opportunity to fly with and enjoy the edible delicacies aboard a mind-bogglingly large number of international airlines. This was way before the Middle East 'usurped' my home city’s position as a mid-way refuelling stop for long-haul flights between the east and the west.
Nutty Bites and Sneaky Sips!
Speaking of the eclectic selection of airlines making pit stops in Bombay, I loved flying with Al Italia. One was almost always guaranteed of chowing down on a nice pasta meal. Plump ricotta cheese-stuffed ravioli, pillow-y soft potato gnocchi and good old spaghetti were the holy trinity that got me hooked onto Italian food.
I clearly remember being coaxed into trying a spinach and egg breakfast frittata by the tiny Italian nonna (grandmother) seated next to me. This, after I had ‘ordered’ a fried egg in lieu from the amused flight attendant who explained to me that they unfortunately didn't have the right equipment on board to meet my à la minute demands. I loved the intensely savoury taste and texture of the fluffy frittata so much that I promptly came back home and tried to replicate it following a recipe in my great-aunt’s old cookbook. Till today, that frittata remains one of my most successfully cooked dishes ever.
As a teenager, on a trip to Kenya aboard the country's flag bearing Kenya Airways, I chanced upon the glorious taste of the macadamia nut. I remember it served alongside a tiny glass of the typically African marula fruit liqueur called Amarula that I sneaked in a sip of whenever mum wasn't paying attention.
Today, as I sit at my desk writing this piece, travel-bereft and rather despondent, it is the vicarious tastes of my childhood spent indulging in exotic mile-high meals, that make me once again feel like Oliver Twist. Wanting...nay, demanding some more, please!
SUNDAY RECIPE
Spinach Frittata
INGREDIENTS:
6 eggs
2 tbsp oil or butter
1/4 cup cream
1 tsp salt (divided)
2 small potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 cups spinach, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp dried thyme
1 cup cheese, grated
METHOD:
• Arrange a rack in the middle of the oven and pre-heat to 200°C.
• Whisk the eggs and cream together with 1/2 tsp salt in a small bowl and set aside.
• In an oven-proof frying pan or skillet sauté the potatoes in oil or butter and sprinkle with the pepper and the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until tender and lightly browned, 4 to 6 minutes.
• In the same pan, wilt the spinach with the garlic and thyme stirring for 30 seconds to 1 minute.
• Spread the vegetables into an even layer, flattening with a spatula. Sprinkle the cheese on top and let it just start to melt.
• Pour the egg mixture into the pan and tilt the pan to make sure the eggs settle evenly over all the vegetables. Cook for a minute or two until you see the eggs at the edges of the pan beginning to set.
• Place frying pan into the oven and bake the frittata for 8 to 10 minutes till golden and puffy.
• Cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then slice into wedges and serve.
(This column first appeared in the 14th March issue of The Hindu newspaper's Sunday Magazine section on page 8 https://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/food/flights-of-fancy/article34050532.ece)
Sunday, July 19, 2020
All Tangled Up
Cutting a wide swathe across several regional Indian cuisines, with many finding a permanent position in the country’s mainstream culinary landscape, are a mind-boggling variety of ‘inspired’ noodle and dumpling preparations.
By Raul Dias
Isn’t it fascinating, how food somehow manages to find a catalytic role to play in almost every socio-political discourse drama here in India? From the kind of meat one is ‘allowed’ to eat or not, to the rather banal debate often centred around the North’s roti reverence v/s the South’s obsession with rice, we’ve been spectators to it all.
But none, perhaps, pertaining more to what we know, love and… yes, paradoxically hate as ‘Chinese food’. A cuisine that we’ve ingeniously co-opted to form a hybrid in the guise of the coriander leaf and garam masala redolent Chindian food.
In 2012, we had a khap panchayat in Haryana’s Jind district blaming the consumption of “hormonal imbalance evoking” chowmein behind the growing incidents of rape in India. Yes, try chewing on that indigestible titbit.
The most recent salvo fired against the cuisine being union minister Ramdas Athawale’s call to boycott, what he terms ‘Chinese food’, demanding that restaurants serving it should be banned. All this vilification, never minding the fact that said chowmein is as Chinese as chaat probably is. Or that another Chindian staple, chicken Manchurian was invented in Mumbai in the late 1970s by Nelson Wang, a third-generation Chinese chef born in Kolkata!
Strands of History
What is really interesting to note here is that we in India have had a tryst with Chinese cuisine way before dishes like chowmein and chicken Manchurian entered our local culinary lexicon. Unbeknownst to us and thanks to ancient international trade routes like the Silk Road and to the Chinese Buddhist scholar Xuanzang, who travelled extensively around India in the 7th century, Chinese cuisine has lent to us several regional noodle and dumpling iterations. Much like it has to Italy’s celebrated pasta repertoire. Something many believe to be a direct result of the 13th century cultural appropriations by the famous Italian explorer Marco Polo.
Speaking of Italy, we may as well set the record straight about the whole which-came-first-the-pasta-or-the-noodle conundrum. Irrefutable evidence in the form of a 4,000 year old bowl of millet noodles unearthed in an archaeological settlement in the Laija region of Northwest China has proven that most forms of noodles and dumplings—be they rolled, cut or extruded—have indeed come to the world from China.
This is exactly how one of India’s most beloved and popular vermicelli-like dried noodles that we know multifariously as seviyan in Hindi, sevai in Tamil and semya in Telugu came into being. Adapted from Italian vermicelli, also called angel hair pasta or minutelli (that was itself adapted in the 14th century from an ancient Chinese super fine rice noodle called mai fun) the rice noodle is used in both sweet preparations like kheer and payasam and in savoury ones like upma, here in India. The slightly fatter and freshly extruded idiyappam or noolputtu as it is known as in Kerala and Tamil Nadu respectively is another hybrid rice noodle that is steamed in coils and eaten with both sweet and savoury accompanying dishes like egg curry.
Similarly, the translucent, corn or arrowroot-starch noodles found at the bottom of a glass of falooda came to India from Iran, another pivotal country on the Silk Road, where they are called faloodeh. The north Indian sweet called sutarpheni is another rice-based noodle of Chinese origin that was introduced to Indian cuisine by way of the Turkish who call it pismaniye.
Adapt and Thrive
It is by turning our attention to the lesser known, more regional varieties of Indian noodles and dumplings—particularly in the high North and Northeast of the country—do we see how well the original Chinese ones have been adapted and assimilated into the culinary milieu. Take for instance the steamed Shanghainese nian gao rice dumplings made from dense rolls of pounded glutinous rice. Cooked in a warming stew along with yak meat, the kyu which is made from wheat dough is a popular dumpling in both Ladakh and Spiti and a dead ringer for the nian gao.
Chutagi another Ladakhi dumpling that came to the region via the Silk Road from Central Asia is a bow-tie shaped dumpling used in a soup that is made from meat and vegetables and similar to a thukpa. Ladakhi cuisine is also known for its sweet dumpling called pakchel mirku that is cooked into a warming dessert along with ghee and dried yak cheese called churrpi.
Assam too has its own version of the Chinese bee tai bak (rat tail) rice noodle that takes the form of anguli pitha. Named after the pinky finger (anguli) that they resemble, these extruded rice dumplings are eaten as a teatime snack when cooked with onions, green chillies and tomatoes. The chushi and jhinuk pitha originally from east Bengal are more examples of dried rice flour-based dumplings that can be reconstituted by adding them either to a savoury curry or a creamy, milk-based payesh.
This sweet-savoury adaptability is also one of the chief characteristics of the tiny ring-like dried dumplings called sarvale. Found in the cooking of Goan Muslims, sarvale are either boiled and served with a topping of scrambled eggs for breakfast or as yet another kheer-like thickened milk dessert. Substituting dairy for the thick, first extract of coconut milk is the delicious coastal Maharashtrian noodle dessert called naralyachya dudhache shiravlya where rice noodles are cooked with the coconut milk along with sugar and cardamom and served during festivals like Ganesh Chaturthi.
The Desi Twist
While most of China’s noodle and dumpling varieties are made from either rice, corn or wheat, there are a few made from legumes like the mung bean cellophane noodle called fen si. Interestingly, Indian dumpling adaptations—particularly in regions like Gujarat, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh—seem to focus on these.
With its glossy surface speckled with tempered black mustard seeds and a scattering of freshly grated coconut flesh and coriander leaves, the Gujarati khandvi made from a mixture of gram flour and buttermilk is also spread on a flat surface to set before being rolled up into bite sized morsels, much like the Cantonese dim sum dumpling called cheung fun.
Still in Gujarat, the wheat-based dumplings of dal dhokli that are submerged in a spiced lentil stew are another example of adaptation. As are other regional Rajasthani dishes like the chickpea flour dumpling strip-based besan chilla ki subzi and Varanasi’s sui mai-meets-ravioli like wheat pockets called dal ka dulha.
Wonder what Marco Polo and Xuanzang would have made (pun intended!) of these?
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 19th July 2020 issue of The Hindu newspaper's Sunday Magazine section on page 8 (https://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/food/all-tangled-up-the-straight-and-narrow-of-chindian-food/article32113300.ece)
By Raul Dias
Isn’t it fascinating, how food somehow manages to find a catalytic role to play in almost every socio-political discourse drama here in India? From the kind of meat one is ‘allowed’ to eat or not, to the rather banal debate often centred around the North’s roti reverence v/s the South’s obsession with rice, we’ve been spectators to it all.
But none, perhaps, pertaining more to what we know, love and… yes, paradoxically hate as ‘Chinese food’. A cuisine that we’ve ingeniously co-opted to form a hybrid in the guise of the coriander leaf and garam masala redolent Chindian food.
In 2012, we had a khap panchayat in Haryana’s Jind district blaming the consumption of “hormonal imbalance evoking” chowmein behind the growing incidents of rape in India. Yes, try chewing on that indigestible titbit.
The most recent salvo fired against the cuisine being union minister Ramdas Athawale’s call to boycott, what he terms ‘Chinese food’, demanding that restaurants serving it should be banned. All this vilification, never minding the fact that said chowmein is as Chinese as chaat probably is. Or that another Chindian staple, chicken Manchurian was invented in Mumbai in the late 1970s by Nelson Wang, a third-generation Chinese chef born in Kolkata!
Strands of History
What is really interesting to note here is that we in India have had a tryst with Chinese cuisine way before dishes like chowmein and chicken Manchurian entered our local culinary lexicon. Unbeknownst to us and thanks to ancient international trade routes like the Silk Road and to the Chinese Buddhist scholar Xuanzang, who travelled extensively around India in the 7th century, Chinese cuisine has lent to us several regional noodle and dumpling iterations. Much like it has to Italy’s celebrated pasta repertoire. Something many believe to be a direct result of the 13th century cultural appropriations by the famous Italian explorer Marco Polo.
Speaking of Italy, we may as well set the record straight about the whole which-came-first-the-pasta-or-the-noodle conundrum. Irrefutable evidence in the form of a 4,000 year old bowl of millet noodles unearthed in an archaeological settlement in the Laija region of Northwest China has proven that most forms of noodles and dumplings—be they rolled, cut or extruded—have indeed come to the world from China.
This is exactly how one of India’s most beloved and popular vermicelli-like dried noodles that we know multifariously as seviyan in Hindi, sevai in Tamil and semya in Telugu came into being. Adapted from Italian vermicelli, also called angel hair pasta or minutelli (that was itself adapted in the 14th century from an ancient Chinese super fine rice noodle called mai fun) the rice noodle is used in both sweet preparations like kheer and payasam and in savoury ones like upma, here in India. The slightly fatter and freshly extruded idiyappam or noolputtu as it is known as in Kerala and Tamil Nadu respectively is another hybrid rice noodle that is steamed in coils and eaten with both sweet and savoury accompanying dishes like egg curry.
Similarly, the translucent, corn or arrowroot-starch noodles found at the bottom of a glass of falooda came to India from Iran, another pivotal country on the Silk Road, where they are called faloodeh. The north Indian sweet called sutarpheni is another rice-based noodle of Chinese origin that was introduced to Indian cuisine by way of the Turkish who call it pismaniye.
Adapt and Thrive
It is by turning our attention to the lesser known, more regional varieties of Indian noodles and dumplings—particularly in the high North and Northeast of the country—do we see how well the original Chinese ones have been adapted and assimilated into the culinary milieu. Take for instance the steamed Shanghainese nian gao rice dumplings made from dense rolls of pounded glutinous rice. Cooked in a warming stew along with yak meat, the kyu which is made from wheat dough is a popular dumpling in both Ladakh and Spiti and a dead ringer for the nian gao.
Chutagi another Ladakhi dumpling that came to the region via the Silk Road from Central Asia is a bow-tie shaped dumpling used in a soup that is made from meat and vegetables and similar to a thukpa. Ladakhi cuisine is also known for its sweet dumpling called pakchel mirku that is cooked into a warming dessert along with ghee and dried yak cheese called churrpi.
Assam too has its own version of the Chinese bee tai bak (rat tail) rice noodle that takes the form of anguli pitha. Named after the pinky finger (anguli) that they resemble, these extruded rice dumplings are eaten as a teatime snack when cooked with onions, green chillies and tomatoes. The chushi and jhinuk pitha originally from east Bengal are more examples of dried rice flour-based dumplings that can be reconstituted by adding them either to a savoury curry or a creamy, milk-based payesh.
This sweet-savoury adaptability is also one of the chief characteristics of the tiny ring-like dried dumplings called sarvale. Found in the cooking of Goan Muslims, sarvale are either boiled and served with a topping of scrambled eggs for breakfast or as yet another kheer-like thickened milk dessert. Substituting dairy for the thick, first extract of coconut milk is the delicious coastal Maharashtrian noodle dessert called naralyachya dudhache shiravlya where rice noodles are cooked with the coconut milk along with sugar and cardamom and served during festivals like Ganesh Chaturthi.
The Desi Twist
While most of China’s noodle and dumpling varieties are made from either rice, corn or wheat, there are a few made from legumes like the mung bean cellophane noodle called fen si. Interestingly, Indian dumpling adaptations—particularly in regions like Gujarat, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh—seem to focus on these.
With its glossy surface speckled with tempered black mustard seeds and a scattering of freshly grated coconut flesh and coriander leaves, the Gujarati khandvi made from a mixture of gram flour and buttermilk is also spread on a flat surface to set before being rolled up into bite sized morsels, much like the Cantonese dim sum dumpling called cheung fun.
Still in Gujarat, the wheat-based dumplings of dal dhokli that are submerged in a spiced lentil stew are another example of adaptation. As are other regional Rajasthani dishes like the chickpea flour dumpling strip-based besan chilla ki subzi and Varanasi’s sui mai-meets-ravioli like wheat pockets called dal ka dulha.
Wonder what Marco Polo and Xuanzang would have made (pun intended!) of these?
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 19th July 2020 issue of The Hindu newspaper's Sunday Magazine section on page 8 (https://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/food/all-tangled-up-the-straight-and-narrow-of-chindian-food/article32113300.ece)
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Less Pros, More Cins!
By Raul Dias
Claiming to be modelled on the lines of a typical Venitian bacaro, where the homestyle food is fast and the conversation rough, Cin Cin couldn’t be more different. A well-lit, sophisticated space that was crammed full of a mix of the BKC corporate and the ladies-who-lunch crowd the afternoon we visited, the restaurant exudes a hip, stylish vibe. It also intelligently divests itself of the usual tropes one has come to expect of a casual dining, Italian restaurant in India.
This means that thankfully, clichés like terracotta wall/floor/counter top tiles and the ubiquitous, on-display wood-fired pizza oven find no place here. But sadly, Italian restaurant requisites like the all-important bread basket (complimentary or otherwise) and the olive oil-balsamic beakers too are missing and fail to show up at our table, despite requesting for them.
It’s the same story with the serving cutlery that the staff very reluctantly supplied us with after much coaxing. Apparently, the food here is designed for individual portions we are told, thus debunking the whole ‘family-style dining’ philosophy that Cin Cin proclaims is its USP. With the focus on Italian home cooking, pasta dishes feature prominently on the menu, including staples such as bucatini all’amatriciana, garganelli and other classic home-cooked dishes such as risotto and gnocchi.
Almost an hour into placing our order, our table finally saw some food action. The well-made ricotta and parmesan stuffed cappelletti pasta doused with an intensely meaty pork ragu was spot on perfect, though we could have done with a more generous portion of it. Intrigued by its rather verbose name, we called for the Filipa goes foraging pizza. The twinning of the portobello and porcini mushrooms with roasted garlic, sitting atop a pliant, not-too-thin crust base made this 12-inch pie a winner all the way.
One sip of to-my-Tina, the watered down, insipid tomato juice-based gin cocktail was enough to send it back to where it came from. Our free replacement of the high on tequila, low on taste tegroni Aperol cocktail had us abandon the idea of having a drink here completely. We finally settled for the alcohol-free fennel and dill fizz that was ho-hum at its very best.
Suitably al dente Arborio rice spiked with orange zest, holding within it fresh, succulent prawns with a drizzle of lemon olive oil, was the risotto gamberi e agrumi that passed the good risotto test with flying colours. However, once again disappointment made its presence felt as we took a bite out of the tre latti con berries dessert. The mushy sum of its crumbly vanilla sponge and thin, runny milk custard parts with a sad duo of frozen blueberries garnishing it, this one fell flat, both literally and figuratively!
Ditch the drinks and desserts and concentrate on the food. Now, that is one mantra we’d do well to chant the next time we find ourselves at Cin Cin. If ever.
WHAT: Cin Cin
RATING: ** (2 out of 5)
WHERE: Ground Floor, Raheja Towers, Near Dena Bank, BKC, Bandra East
WHEN: 12 pm to 1 am
COST: Around Rs 3,800 for two, with one cocktail each
CALL: 6995-6666
(An edited version of this review appeared in the 28th April 2018 issue of the Hindustan Times newspaper, India on page 15 https://m.hindustantimes.com/mumbai-news/a-hit-and-miss-italian-job-raul-dias-reviews-cin-cin/story-QjjOtAb21pFOjrlNXWqn4M_amp.html)
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