Naughty Curry

RICE: Is Soaking Worth the Wait?

 

          "We're going to do something very special today," I told Trina when she stopped in for her weekly NC session.

           She took her seat. Her face was one of curiosity and uncertainty. I smiled.

          "See, in most Indian recipes for rice dishes, they ask that you soak the rice before you begin cooking. Usually, like, half an hour. Well, you know that you don't really have to -- and we never do." Call us lazy. Call us untraditional. Un-refined. So be it.
          "So.."
          "So we're conducting an experiment here at the NC... more to answer the Big Rice Question, really. And the question is..."
          Dramatic pause.
          "What would you do? If you were coming home from work on any given night and had in mind to cook up some rice, would you bother to soak it first. In other words, is soaking worth the half-hour wait."

          I could see that I'd hooked the pretty fish. Now comes the time to reel her in. After all, the actual doing of an experiment can be a bit tedious. Curiousity is an essential component; it may kill cats, but it fuels discovery.

          "Now," I continued, "Trobee has done it. Ruthie has done it. They made their observations. Submitted their opinions. And now it is down to you. They're bloody curious to hear your take on this."

          So was I. Trina appreciates delicate flavors in her food. Yet being a college student who works almost full-time, she also leans the most toward convenience.

          "Well what did they say?" Trina wanted to know.

          "I'm not telling," said I. "Because I want to know what you would do. Our People want to know what you would do. This is not about correctness-- I don't want to taint your reaction."

          Once and for all, we at the NC would compare soaked and un-soaked cooked rice. Side by side. The nuances of appearance and texture between the two would be clearly stamped upon our brains.

          I sat back and waited.

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

"Should I just boil up plain rice then?"

Of course not. That would be boring. I showed her the recipe of Meenal Mehta's for a mild and elegant rice preparation: Kesar Pilau ('Saffron Pilaf', so to speak.)

The first step of Meenal's recipe is to soak the rice for an hour. Therefore, we at the NC would cook up two versions of the recipe -- one having soaked the rice for the suggested length of time, and one going ahead with the recipe without the soaking. (Ooh. Such renegades, we are.)

*     *     * 

"It seems to me...," Ruthie had murmured when comparing the two versions, "that the soaked version..."

"...yes?"

"...seems smaller, somehow. Like it...shrunk."

"Yes," I replied. "Soaking causes shrinkage. What else?"

She noted that the grains were slender, more delicate, more distinct. A definite difference in appearance and texture, if not flavor. "But you know what? I think I like un-soaked rice better." She prefers chubbier grains. Or maybe she just likes it a bit sticky.

In either case, Ruthie adored the softly-spiced recipe: "This is a rice dish that you could serve with a stronger curry-type thing and not worry about clashing flavors. And it's very pretty. Look."

*     *     *

Trobee also preferred rice that was not soaked. "I mean, both ways are fine. They taste the same."

"But would you bother to soak it first?"

"Absolutely not."

"Ok. Ok. That's all I wanted to know."

And Trina?

"I can see how if you were used to the rice being this way, you'd want to soak it."

"But would you soak it?"

"I might. Sure."

I shook my head. "No. I mean, if you're at home, making this for yourself some night after work, would you bother to soak it."

She shook her head. Meaning no.

"OK." I said. "That's all I wanted to know."

*     *      *

To tell you the truth, People, I had hoped for some controversy. A sparkly debate, if not a bar brawl-type feud. But all three of my colleagues had kind of agreed. No fun.

As for me, I think the soaked style of rice is much nicer. Indeed, 'nice' is not a word I use often without sarcasm, but it is the one that fits here. Sincerely.

If I could buy my rice pre-soaked, I would. But would I bother, or rather, do I bother to soak it myself?

I'll never tell.

Click on the pic to get closer.

   

photos by Trina and Trobee

graphic by Mo Digital

---

Kesar Pilau

• 1 cup rice
• 2 cups water
• 2 green cardamom pods, bonked slightly open
• 2 whole cloves
• a pinch of saffron threads, dissolved in 1 tsp water
• 1/3 cup mixed cashews, almonds and golden raisins
• 1 tsp oil, then 1 tsp later
• 1/3 cup frozen mixed diced vegetables or peas, thawed
• salt 

OPTIONAL: After rinsing the rice, cover it with water in a bowl and let it soak for an hour. Drain and proceed.

1. In a medium-sized skillet, heat the oil until it is sizzle-hot. Add the whole cloves, cardamom pods, and half of the raisin-nut mixture.
2. When the cashews are golden-brown, add the rice, 2 cups water, saffron water and salt. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for about 15 minutes.
3. In a small skillet, heat 1 tsp oil and roast the remaining nuts with the mixed vegetables. When the nuts are golden-brown, pour the pan’s contents over the cooked rice.  Done.

Click here to see Meenal's original recipe

Other cool NC rice recipes:

• Bengali Pilau Rice
• Artichoke Lemon Limbo Rice

Of PINEAPPLE, COUSCOUS, and Unwanted Crushes

     "Who crushed my bread? Who?"demanded my brother Chase. "It's sagging!"

           "Oh get a grip," I told him. "It'll still be good."

          "Is there ever a time when sagging is good?"

           I had to think about that one....

          "Just look! Look!" He held out a deformed slice of bread for me and Trobee to behold. "Somebody crushed my F 'n bread!"

          I burst out laughing.

          "Well don't look at me," said Trobee, turning back to the stove.

           "I'm not looking at you!" he snapped. (Except that he was.) "I hate it when people crush my bread..." he muttered quietly as he went about frying up his daily omelet. "Bet it was Tim..."

          Speaking of crushes.

          Trobee was insistent that the pineapple pieces in today's dish NOT be 'crushed'. She was fixated on how they must be unmolested chunks-- she went on and on about it. I nodded, but didn't 'feel' it. Pineapple. Hmf.

          A pineapple curry has been in the NC destiny for a good long while now, ever since Trobee learned that pineapples do indeed exist in Indian cooking. "I'm a pineapple FANATIC!" she has often claimed. And yes, she is one of those People That Like Pineapple On Their Pizza.

          Diversity is good, I have often claimed. And since the NC is all about variety and possibilities, and NOT about me, I promised the feisty lass that one day we would come up with a pineapple dish for the NC.

          Over the past few months, we have cooked up several pineapple recipes. One recipe turned out 'boring', one was 'not bad', one was 'pretty good'. None of them were outstanding-- just not good enough to share with you, Our People.

          Enough! I'd had it. I printed out 7 Indian pineapple recipes that looked like they had potential. I laid them out before Trobee: "Here: Skim through these. Note what spices are used with the pineapple, note the method and the technique. Then come up with your own. I'm out of this one; it's your baby." After all, how could I be spice-intuitive about an ingredient I didn't like? It's all about love, spicing is. "Remember, Tro, you are doing this for the Pineapple People of the World. Well, at least among our Readers anyway. Now go."

          "I'm thinking couscous..." she murmurred thoughtfully as she began looking them over.

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

We wanted to get whole wheat couscous. Honest. Yet our town's largest supermarket didn't carry it! But don't cry for us. We're used to that kind of rejection.

*     *    *

"Uh... so how many chillies?" asked Trobee.

I knew what she was really asking. "Go ahead. Use what you like. Trina won't be here today."

"Yesss!" She unearthed the hefty bag of dried red chilies from the pantry. We buy our dried chilies at the supermarket for very cheap. Nothing fancy.

"Don't bother de-seeding them either, since it's just for us. But bust em up a little when you add them to the pan. To let loose more of its its love-heat-flavor stuff."

"Yeah!"

It's not hard to get Trobee's motor running... if you know which buttons to press.

Our final recipe calls for 3 dried chilies. Since they are not ground here, the dish will not be hot (ask Trina.) Trobee uses six, resulting in "a bit of a bite."

*     *     *

"Bay leaf? Sure, throw it on in there. Can't hurt."

*     *     *

"Mmm? I freaking love the smell of chicken cooking with turmeric!"

*     *     *

"You know," said Trobee when we were finalizing the recipe, "I could've sworn that I had ground the masala before cooking with it last time...but I didn't write that here... "

I had her name the spices in the masala, and then when the masala was added.

"You did grind them first, then," I said. "For sure. If we're adding them on top of the onion and garlic, they have to be ground. Plus we almost never use coriander seeds whole -- they're hard little buggers."

*     *     *

"I just can't wait to see how this turns out!" said Trobee as she covered the pan to let the couscous absorb.

"I have no idea how this is gonna turn out," I said. Yes I was skeptical. Pineapple? Warm? With spices and vegetables? Hm.

When it was finished, she brought the steaming pan of golden couscous and bursting colors from the mixed vegetables.

It was beautiful. I took a bite.

Silence.

"This is a masterpiece," I said. "It's absolutely wonderful...and I don't even like pineapple. Good one, Tro. The Pineapple People will thank you for this."

~Click here for the post on *Couscous Upma*

photo by Trobee

graphic by Mo Digital

---

Pineapple-Paradise Couscous Curry

• 2 chicken breasts or 8 oz. seitan, cubed
• ½ tsp turmeric
• ½ tsp salt
• 1 tsp oil
• 1 tsp black mustard seeds
• 3 dried chilies, deseeded (Trobee uses 7 and leaves the seeds in)
• 1 bay leaf
• 2-inch cinnamon stick
• 5 green onions, chopped
• 1 ½ tsp garlic paste or minced garlic
• 1 ½ cups (12 oz.) pineapple juice
• 1 Tb sugar
• ¾ cup pineapple chunks (we use canned ones)
• 2 cups frozen mixed vegetables
• 1 cup uncooked couscous
• ¾ cup water

MASALA:

• seeds of one green cardamom pod
• 1 ½ Tb coriander seeds
• 2 tsp cumin seeds
• 4 whole cloves
• ½ tsp paprika

1. Whizz the masala into a powder with your coffee grinder. Set aside.
2. Marinate the chicken with turmeric and salt for about 20 minutes. Cook and set aside.
3. In large skillet, heat the oil until it is sizzle-hot. Add the black mustard seeds and chilies. Blink 5 times. Add the bay leaf and cinnamon stick. Cover the skillet.
4. As soon as the mustard seeds have popped, add the onions and garlic, followed by the masala. Sauté until golden brown.
5. Add the pineapple juice and sugar, and bring everything to a boil.
6. Now add the chicken and vegetables. Cover. Cook until veggies are tender as you like them.
7. Add the raw couscous, pineapple chunks, and water. Cover and remove from heat. Don't lift the lid for five minutes, to allow the couscous to suck it up to its fullest potential. Now you can lift the lid and stir. Done.

Trobee WONTON Kenobi?

     "You better keep your guard up," Trobee told my brother Chase. "You never know when Tro is gonna' give you the old one-two!"

          Chase invades the NC kitchen from time to time. He cooks eggs. He eats. He leaves a mess.

          "Ow! Stay away from me!"

          "Whatsa' matter, brother? You scared?"

           "Yes."

           Trobee laughed wildly as she chased Chase around the kitchen counter. He fled downstairs. Trobee stood triumphant.

           "Ok, Courty. What are we making today?"

           "Today is the day," I said, "that we're gonna' finalize our Wonton Squishies. Cause I'm craving em like crazy. Plus I have an idea for a sweet n' sour dip...."

          "Yesss! I love those bad boys!"

           I nodded. Yes, yes. Everyone loves the Wonton Squishies. Ruthie and I first started making them a couple of years ago-- I had desired the wonton cream cheese puffs from Chinese restaurants without the deep-fry damage and with a little spice action. And lo, the 'Squishies' were born.

          "Don't bother to find the recipe-- cause we've never actually written it down."

          "We haven't?"

          "Well no. It's just so easy... Anyway, it's time we did a post on them. Our people will love them."

          "Damn right they will."

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

"So what spices do we have in these again? I forgot."

"Just three spices," I told her. "Real easy. Think of that Queen song We Will Rock You... The beat goes dun-dun-TSCH! Dun-dun-TSCH! Cumin-Coriander-ASS! [-afetida]"

Blank look. Tumbleweed. I shrugged.

"We had ass [asafetida] in there?"

"Yeah, baby!" said I. "It's the secret ingredient." People eat these, including those who won't normally touch spiced food, and just can't figure (or really care at that point) what that special flavor is. Ha. Fun.

*     *     *

Of the sweet n' sour dipping sauce: "Oh yum!" went Trobee. "I can't wait to dip the wontons in this!" 

"I can't wait to dip you in it," went Chase. "Then it'll really be sweet n' sour."

"Ooooh!" went Courtney. I mean-- myself.

*     *     *

"I just can't figure out," I was telling Trina, "why yours are just so much better than Trobee's."

It was truly a mystery.

Over the weekend, Trobee and I had served them to a poker-playing party at a lakeside resort. And they were pretty good... just not the yum-yum-yum that I remembered. And now that I'd had Trina make them just one more time to restore my confidence (and validate the sweet n' sour dipping sauce) all of those old lovin' feelings were coming back. Croinky.

Even Chase grunted thus.. as he savagely sopped up the remaining dip. (Did I mention that the lad 'hates spices'?) "These are better." [Aside: I didn't alert him when he was scarfing down the soy cream cheese version. Trust, you know, is an important commodity. And no, he couldn't tell a difference.]

Could it be that our Trina had a special 'wonton way' about her? (After all, her boyfriend is half-Vietnamese). Or perhaps there was some secret to her baking protocol that coaxed the spices to swell forth in flavor.

The answer to this riddle: Trobee had forgotten to roast the spices first!

So let that be a lesson to y'all.

photos by Trina and Mo Digital

---

WonTon Squishies

• 20 wonton wrappers
• 8 oz cream cheese-- whipped, low fat, or soy
• 1 green onion, minced
• 1 tsp coriander seeds
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 1/2 tsp asafetida
• 10 or 20 jalapeno rings depending on if you are going to use a whole or a half ring for each wonton
• a light sprinkle of salt, optional

1. Pre-heat your oven to 350 degrees. Get a small bowl of water handy.
2. In a small skillet, dry roast the coriander, cumin and asafoetida until the cumin seeds have darkened a bit. Whizz to a powder in your coffee grinder
3. Mix together the spices, green onion and cream cheese with a fork. You may want to nuke the cream cheese a bit first to soften it, unless you're using 'whipped'.
4. Place the wonton wrappers on a plate. Plop a little glob of cream cheese mixture in the middle of each wrapper, then place the jalapeno ring (or half-ring) on top in the center.
5. Dip your clean fingers in the small bowl of water and moisten the top left corner of the wrap. Take the bottom right corner and fold it up onto where the water was placed (like a hat shape). Then gently take the other corners and squeeze them all together.
6. Arrange the stuffed wontons straight up on a greased baking sheet and spray a little of oil on top of each wonton. Put in the oven for about 10 minutes.

Pineapple-Tamarind Dipping Sauce

• 6 oz pineapple juice
• 1 Tb sugar
• 1 tsp cornstarch
• 1/2 tsp tamarind concentrate
• 1 tsp soy sauce
• 1 tsp ketchup

1. Mix the sugar and cornstarch in 1 Tb water. Set aside.
2. In a small pot, mix the pineapple juice, tamarind paste, soy sauce, and ketchup and bring to a boil.
3. Now add the cornstarch mixture, stir well and cook for a few minutes.

OPTIONAL AND RECOMMENDED: In a small skillet, heat a dab of oil and roast a crumbled chile pod and about half a teaspoon of sesame seeds. When they have darkened a few shades, dump them over the dipping sauce. Do this before serving, They will float on top. It looks cool. And it gives great texture. We like texture.

UPDATE 5/05:  Chase cooks up the second-best omelette I've ever had -- using green onions, spinach, and the Spiced Cream Cheese (see above recipe) as the filling. Incredible.

Bengali POTATOES: Beyond Butter OR Gravy

      "I'd like to drive over everyone on the road, I'm not kidding you!" Trobee fumed when she burst into the NC kitchen.

          She went on to describe the harrowing traffic situation from which she had just emerged. Actually, I was proud of her for keeping her anger bottled up in the heat of the Road Rage Moment (You know. Not giving anyone any menacing verbal OR nonverbal communication. Etc.) and so I encouraged her to vent.

          "Oh, simmer down," Mo muttered from the table, where she was hard at work saving the world by solving Sudoku puzzles.

           I don't encourage anyone to simmer down. Who wants tameness? Who wants politeness? Energy, energy-- that is where creative creation is born.

            "Music," I said. "Music." As in, put some on. Must re-direct road rage. Must... recharge road rage into something... positive?

             Trobee flew to the stereo and tapped into her hard rock station; Stairway to Heaven instantly oozed into the kitchen: "If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now..."

             She pumped her fist in the air. "Yes! Good tune!"

            "The piper's calling you to join him...."

             Her fury forgotten, she then boasted of how she set her parents straight on their eating habits: "They add like a half a stick of butter to everything, I swear to God!  I told my dad, if I see that lard they cook with the next time I'm there..."

            "But that's how it is here," said I. "Our folks grew up that way. We grew up that way." Mainstream American food relies almost completely on fat as the primary flavor enhancer. Especially with potatoes, which are typically loaded down with butter, oil, cheese, gravy and sour cream. Fat. That's basically it.

          The use of spices in the midwest U.S. is quite radical. Renegade. Bohemian. I'm dead serious.

          But oh, those poor parents. To have a tornado (Trobee) seize upon their kitchen and their comfortable customs.

          "Well that actually kind of fits with what we're making today." A Bengali-style spicing manoeuver on potatoes, that's simple, creamy but creamless-- with a bit of a bite. The poppy seeds are even a source of protein. Totally rad, huh?

          Trobee hopped to her (size 4!) feet. "Cool. Let's do it."

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

Known as posto to the Bengal region of East India, white poppy seeds are the key ingredient in this dish,

"Whoa! It says here to use half a cup!"

"Right. What you're gonna do is soak them for an hour to soften them, then grind them into a paste in the coffee grinder."

"O-o-o-kay.."

"No, it's cool. Me and Ruthie have made a couple variations of this dish. Alu Posto is a classic. It's real unique."

*     *     *

After the white poppy seeds completed their soaking time, I asked Trobee. "Now look at them. What do you notice?"

"Well, they do plump-ify in the water... I guess I can see why you would soak them. To get a nice smoooth paste."

"So... the soaking is worth it then. lf you were cooking this dish at home, you would take the time to soak the poppy seeds first."

"Absolutely."

*    *     *

"Wow, Courty. I like this," said Trobee with a few bites. "To tell you the truth, I hadn't been too sure about the poppy seeds. But it's good. Looks cool, too."

---

Aloo Posto

• 3 large potatoes
• ½ tsp turmeric
• Salt
• ½ cup white poppy seeds, soaked in warm water for about an hour
• 1 tsp oil
• 10 jalapeno rings
• 1 large onion
• 1 Tb paprika or cayenne
• (optional: a green sprinkly garnish-type thing)

1. Cut the potatoes in long slices 2 x ¼ in. x ¼ in. wide. In a bowl, coat the potato pieces with the turmeric and salt. Set aside.
2. Whizz the soaked poppy seeds in a coffee grinder with the jalapenos into a smooth paste. Set aside.
3. In a large skillet, heat the oil and saute until soft and clear. Add the coated potatoes, poppy seed paste, and cayenne or paprika. Cook for about 5 minutes.
4. Add 1 cup of water. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and cover. When the water has been absorbed, uncover the pan and fry for another 3-4 minutes. Done.

photo by Trobee

graphic by Mo Digital

Click here to see Chitra Nag's original recipe.

SPINACH POWER: Pleasuring Your Inner Popeye

     Women are attracted to power and comfort, 'they' say. I myself believe this dual gravitation to be human nature. It is in our reddest blood to gravitate toward these two compelling entities. It courses through our veins, urging us to seek it, meet up with it....

          EAT it?

          A tantalizing concept, to be sure. Hence, my own 'gravitation' towards Saffron Hut's recent post on a spinach-dal dish called molagootal (It sounds seductive when said slowly. Try it.). Key words she used: 'power', 'comfort', 'running in their veins'....

          Ah me. I wanted that.

          And so it was that Saffron Hut's recipe ascended to the top of the NC agenda...

          P.S. If you're into saag or palak paneer, this one's for you -- especially if you want to do away with the heavy cream or cheese...

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

First batter up: Trina. Cause she loves loves loves spinach. (You should see her attack spinach-artichoke dip. Holy man.)

Time to send Trina to a happy, magical place, as the recipe called for tur dal (toor dal, tuvar dal, etc.). "Go into my closet, my child. Look for a flat yellow lentil-type. Starts with a 't'. Fare thee well."

She returned with a bag of split mung beans (which are in fact yellow). Apparently I was out of tur dal. So I figured what the hell. "Just use those then."

Like tur dal, split mung dal requires no soaking and cooks up fast-- like, twenty minutes. But I would imagine any cooked lentil would be Ok to use here.... you just need 3/4 cup of them cooked.

*     *     *

"She says use 'some' curry leaves," noted Trina. "How many is 'some'?"

"'Some' means... some," said I. "No, seriously. Indian recipes often don't say exactly how many leaves. They'll say a sprig or a bunch. Or a few. Or--some."

"So how many?"

I shrugged. "Go with eight."

I should have told Trina to use 6 3/8 curry leaves... just to mess with her mind. Actually, she probably wouldn't have minded such an anal measurement. It's the 'whatever-factor' that she can't stand.

Our final version, at any rate, had ten curry leaves. Cause I felt like it.

*     *     *

"What is jeera?"

Jeera is zeera. Known to the English-speaking world as:

"Cumin," I said. "Cumin."

*     *     *

"Don't fret, Trina. We'll knock off most of the chillies for you."

I would have to wait for the full-throttle molagootal experience when it was Trobee's turn to have a go at the recipe.

Trina used a fraction of the requested chillies, resulting in a mild niceness that suited her fine.

Trobee, however, used the same number of dried chillies as Saffron Hut's original recipe. Her finished product had a hot salsa level of heat, pumping out the razzle-dazzle but remaining flavorful. And that suited her.

*     *     *

There's a bunch of ways to spell or say most Indian food ingredients. As you may know.

Trina was jotting down notes for Trobee, who would be cooking the next day. "So... should I say 'mung dal' or 'moong dal' or spell it like the package, 'moongdall'..."

I had to smile. "You know what's cute about you? You're so precise in every thing you do. It's great. Love it."

"So how should I say it?"

I was tempted to say 'whatever'...

*     *     *

"It's awfully thick," said Trina. "But look at the picture. Guess it's supposed to be this way." She puzzled about eating it with rice, as traditionally eaten.

"Just forget the rice then," I said. Tradition should inspire, not confine. I believe.

I took a bite. And another. "You know, I like this. I really like this. This is something you could make a bunch of, keep in your fridge, and add to so many things. Think omelets, crackers, pizza, pasta, chips, toast..."

"Yeah! Toast!"

Hm. Ok. I was more excited about the chips. But hey, whatever floats Trina's (pink) boat.

*     *     *

Trina and I agreed: the spinach concoction was majestic in its spicing, yet would be jacked up still further with some onion-garlic mojo. Which Trobee included in future molagootal manifestations.

"Oh yeah," said I when I tasted the finalized product. "Yeah, yeah. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!"

I then told Trobee what we were going to do with it.

"Ooh!" she said. "Yum!"

"Well we'll try it and see."

BELOW: Spinach Molagootal Quesadillas! Trobee's version: (the right half) shredded cheese, salsa, chicken, jalapenos, Spinach Molagootal. Courtney's version: (the left half) chopped artichoke (from a can) feta cheese, mushrooms, Spinach Molagootal.

BELOW: Loaded Spinach Molagootal Nachos!

photos by Trobee

---

Spinach Molagootal

Says Saffron Hut in her post:

"This is a dish from the Palakaad region and is typically eaten with rice. The traditional accompaniment is "Thogayal" (a type of chutney) or Pulikaachal (tamarind chutney). Keerai Molagootal is similar to a spinach dal, but has a few additional ingredients that add a layer of complexity to the taste.

For my husband and brother-in-law, this is the ultimate comfort food. My SIL often jokes that they have 'molagootal' running in their veins rather than blood!! that is the power of this dish..."

• ¼ cup tur dal or split mung dal-- rinsed
• 4 cups spinach
• 1/2 tsp oil, then 1/2 tsp later
• 3 green onions, chopped (our addition)
• 4 garlic cloves, chopped (our addition)
• ¼ cup coconut, fresh or dried (we used powder)
• Salt

Masala 1:

• 2 Tb urad dal
• 3 dried red chilies (Trina uses 2 and de-seeds them, Trobee uses 5 with the seeds)
• 1 tsp cumin seeds

Masala 2:

• 1 tsp black mustard seeds
• 2 dried red chilies, de-seeded
• 10 curry leaves

1. Cook the tur or mung dal: Boil it in 3/4 cup water, then cover and simmer for about 20 minutes, or until it is tender. If you want, you can cook up more to store in your fridge. Just boil the dal in three times the water.
2. Meanwhile, boil the spinach in about 2 Tb water until it is wilted. Blenderize to a coarse puree, then set aside.
3. In a medium skillet, heat ½ tsp oil until it is sizzle-hot. Add Masala 1. When the urad dal turns golden brown, add the onions and garlic. Sauté until the garlic is golden-brown.
4. Now grind the pan's contents with the coconut into a paste with your coffee grinder. Set aside.
5. Mix the paste, spinach and the cooked dal in the skillet and bring to a boil, adding a little water if needed.
6. In a small skillet, heat ½ tsp oil until it is sizzle-hot. Add Masala 2. When the black mustard seeds quit popping, dump the pan contents into the spinach mixture. Add salt to taste and heat through. Done.

Click here to see Saffron Huts original recipe.

UPDATE: Trina politely informed me today that the 'chips idea' was in fact hers, and she never recalls having mentioned the toast.

"The nachos were your idea? Oh honey, I'm so proud of you!" is what I told her.

Guess it's a good thing that I never actually became a reporter.

UPDATE 2: Note to Autumn, the NC's token anti-coconut chick (apparently she's allergic to the stuff. Yeah sure, Autumn, we believe ya): Trina and I cooked up Spinach Moolagootal substituting ground almonds for the coconut. Turned out great! You could also use white poppy seeds -- you would roast and grind them with Masala 1. Ah me-the possibilities!

UPDATE 3: Saffron Hut responds!

"...BTW, the substitution of tur dal with moong dal is quite common in molagootals and kootus (there's another word that sounds better when said s-l-o-w-l-y)

And you are right about tradition not  being inspiring vs. confining. The best results come from experimentation right?

Oh dear, why do I feel like that is fodder for another "naughty" post!!!

- cheers!

Saffron