• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

EGD

It's me!

  • Home
  • Recipes
    • Writing
  • About
  • Contact
  • Quaran-zine
Home » vegetarian recipes

vegetarian recipes

We need diverse books (and food) + Aloo-gobi pot pies

March 10, 2015 by Edlyn

Processed with VSCOcam

“Can I have one?” I asked him

“You’re not going to like it,” he said.

“I just want to try it.”

“They’re alive,” he said, “when they go down.”

“They see all the way down your throat?”

He nodded.

“You still want to try one?”

I wanted to do it because he said I couldn’t. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted it to be the two of us standing in the yard, eating oysters in the dusk, always.

“Yeah”

He skewered the shell. popped it open with a flip of his wrist. The oyster meat was gray, streaked with silver, a purple trill in the center where my father cut it from the shell.

“Here,” he said, holding the oyster iut to me flat on the blade, as if it were a spoon. “Open your mouth.”

I opened my mouth, sucked the oyster in. It was warm and salty and wet. I imagined it smothering in the pink insides of my mouth, staring at the dark tunnel of my throat in despair. I held it there, considering.

“Don’t spit it out,” my father said, and the burlap sack of oysters at his feet shifted, clinked. “Do not spit it out.”

It was too warm. It was alive.

“Swallow.”

I consigned the oyster to death and swallowed. My father looked pleased.

“You like it?”

I’d hated it. I shook my head. My father laughed, and his teeth were very white in his face, which became duskier and darker as the sun set. He stuck his knife in the seam of the oyster again, shucked again. He balanced the oyster delicately on the knife, brought the knife to his mouth, and sucked the oyster inside. I switched from foot to foot, scratching the inside of my calf with the thick skin on the bottom of my feet. I wondered how he never cut himself, how he could be so beautiful, so tall, so impressive.

–Excerpt from Men We Reaped by Jesmyn Ward

Read diverse books. We need ’em.

Aloo-gobi pot pie

Processed with VSCOcam Processed with VSCOcam
Processed with VSCOcam

Notes:

  • Ginger-garlic paste is staple in every Indian household. If you want to make the food of my people taste like the food of my people, ginger-garlic is a good place to start. It’s an easy recipe and keeps well in the fridge. The recipe I used makes a little more than I needed but it’s been in my fridge for almost 3 weeks now and it tastes perfect. Don’t tell the health department.
  • The ramekins I used for these pot pies measure 4 inches in diameter. This recipe makes 4 pot pies.
  • If you don’t have easy access to corn and oat flours, you can substitute regular savoury pie crust (store-bought or homemade)

Ingredients

Recipe for masala corn crust adapted from Green Kitchen Stories

For ginger-garlic paste

  • 1 cup ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 1 cup garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1 tbsp vegetable oil

Put all the ingredients in a food processor or high-speed blender and pulse until it turns into a soft and completely smooth paste. If you feel you need more oil to get the ingredients to a pasty consistency, add a little bit more oil (about ½ a tsp). Store in glass jar in the fridge for all future Indian food experiments. You can squeeze a bit of lime over the top to help it keep for longer.

Processed with VSCOcam

For the masala corn crust

  • 100 gms oat flour (1 cups)
  • 75 gms corn flour (2 tbsp + 2 tsp)
  • 1.5 tsp corn starch
  • 1 tsp garam masala
  • ½ tsp baking powder
  • ¼ tsp baking soda
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 3 tbsp extra-virgin coconut oil, at room temperature (coconut oil stays in the liquid state at room temperature back home in India. So if you live in a warmer climate, make sure the oil is mostly solid but can still be worked into the dry ingredients)
  • ½ cup full-fat yogurt (I used Greek yogurt)
  • 1 large carrot (approximately 75 gms), shredded
  • 1 onion (about ½ cup), finely chopped

To make the oat flour, grind rolled oats in a food processor until they turn to a fine powder/flour. Combine the oat flour, corn flour, corn starch, garam masala, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large bowl. Add the coconut oil to the dry ingredients and using your fingers, press it into the flour until it has a crumbly texture, with pea-size bits of flour in it.

In a separate bowl, combine the yogurt, shredded carrot and onion. Add these wet ingredients to the flour mixture and using a spoon, mix well until you are comfortably able to work with the dough i.e roll it out, flatten it etc. Gather the dough into a ball and flatten it into a disc. Using your hands, flatten out the dough until it’s about ½ inch thick. Using the ramekin as a cutter, press the rim onto the surface of the dough and cut right through it. You should be able to cut out 4 circles of dough. Set them aside on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

For the aloo-gobi

  • 2 tbsp vegetable oil or ghee
  • 1 tsp cumin seeds
  • 1 tsp black mustard seeds
  • 1 tsp Thai green chilies or serrano peppers
  • 1 tbsp ginger-garlic paste
  • 1 tsp ground coriander seed
  • ½ cup yellow onion, finely chopped (about a ¼ yellow onion)
  • 1 cup tomato, finely chopped (I used a cup of canned petite-diced tomatoes)
  • 2 cups cauliflower florets, about ½ inch in size
  • 1 cup gold potatoes, medium-dice
  • ¾ tsp ground turmeric
  • ½ tsp chilli powder
  • A big pinch of dry mango powder (optional, but sooo good)
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 2 tbsp water
  • Cilantro, to garnish

Place a saucepan on medium heat and add the vegetable oil to it. Heat the oil for about 2 minutes and add the cumin and mustard seeds to it. Once they start to pop add the green chilies, ginger garlic paste and ground coriander to the saucepan and stir constantly for a minute, until the ginger-garlic paste stops smelling raw (one sneeze later, perhaps? I’m half-joking). Add the onions to the saucepan next and stir until the onions soften. Add the tomatoes to the saucepan. If using fresh tomatoes, stir until they turn soft and meld with the mixture. If you’re using canned tomatoes, this process should be shorter as the tomatoes don’t need to be cooked much. If you feel like it’s getting dry too fast, sprinkle a few drops of water on the top. Stir for about 1.5 minutes. This is your basic spice flavour.

Next add the cut potatoes to the saucepan and give it one or 2 big stirs until it’s all mixed in. Cover the saucepan for about 3 minutes to let the potatoes cook. They should only be partially cooked i.e they should taste cooked but still have that bite to them. Add the cauliflower florets next and mix well to combine with the rest of the ingredients in the saucepan. Add the turmeric, salt and 2 tbsp of water, give it all a big stir and cover the saucepan for about 4-5 minutes. Once most of the water has evaporated or been absorbed and the cauliflower is mostly cooked, take the saucepan off the heat.

To assemble and cook the pot pies: Heat the oven to 450 degrees F

Spoon the filling into the ramekin until it’s about 3/4 full. Place the oat-corn flour circles cut out earlier on top of the ramekin. It should fit in snugly into the ramekin, topping the aloo-gobi filling.

Brush the top of the pot pie with melted ghee or coconut oil. Place in the oven for 15-20 minutes until the top is crusty and biscuit-like and the inside is cooked but still slightly tender.

Top with cilantro and serve warm.

Processed with VSCOcam Processed with VSCOcam

Filed Under: savoury Tagged With: aloo-gobi recipe, Indian food, Indian vegetarian recipes, spiced cauliflower, vegetarian recipes, We need diverse books

Oh these seasons, they slay me. So I ate summer in a salad.

July 11, 2014 by Edlyn

IMG_2428

It seems like it’s finally raining in Goa! We’ve all got the summer talk covered in America blog-o-land so why not veer a bit off track? Allow me to switch to Indian weather. Right now, it’s “Thank God it’s not summer any more” season, our own season of plenty.

The old soul that I am, I feel sad about the way children had to go back to school last month. They had no need for a raincoat, or a brightly coloured umbrella. No new cheap rain shoes that bite the heck out of their tiny feet that grew 10 times over since school closed for the sweat bath that is West/ South Indian summer. Oh you kids, you don’t know what you missed. Those awkward first few days were the best. You wrapped your books in that brown paper and stuck a label on it because that’s what everybody did. You used to buy the non-plasticky kind, but then you saw this monsoon approaching and you still didn’t care. Your school bag would inevitably have a corner for water to seep in and water would inevitably seep in.

It was the best. Those rebel years.

It would rain and rain and rain and at some point, (meaning 10 minutes after they rang the “begin school” bell) they’d said, “Okay, go home.” To all those kids that took one for the team by coming to school drenched and giving us a wonderful Goan version of a “snow day”, thank you. I have no idea why we didn’t plan these things more often. Wet uniforms with kids in them are apparently dangerous to have around in a school building.

To my parents: I have no idea how we reached home on days of rain-cancelled school but I will never forget this one particular day. I think you dropped us home, mama and went back to work. You told us to change of our wet uniforms and you didn’t wait around too much to see if we did. But we did. We changed into dry home clothes (I love saying home clothes!!!).

And then we went right back out in the rain to play. We made paper boats and put them in the gushing water right outside the compound. Apart from the tragedy of your bicycle brakes failing (sorry, Jane), living on a slopey slope was the best. We jumped around, blocked the drain on the terrace and kicked water on each other. A little before we knew you were coming back home, we changed into other dry clothes and it was as if nothing ever happened.

At that moment in time, it was the best day ever. I’ve collected more than a few of those days since then.

Here in Washington, we complain about the rain. Rain means winter. Rain means “no sun”. Nobody really likes cold rain. As for me, some days I need that weather. Amidst slushy feet  and frozen fingertips, I need it to remind me that seasons change. I need it for the introspection, the warm beverages, the comfort foods that feel extra comforting, but mostly I need it to begin again.

I won’t jinx it or rush it. Let these seasons be. Flourish you crazy things.

Simple summer vegetable salad with amaranth

IMG_2405

The best thing you can do with fresh ingredients is let them be. A little salt, pepper, lemon juice here. Olive oil there. Why complicate such beautiful things? I learn this all the time I feel overwhelmed while looking in my vegetable drawer. This recipe is a non-recipe. It’s mellow, it’s easy and it can be your best friend every time you feel stumped. The best part is you can easily add more flavours as you feel your way around the dressing. If you’re unsure about cooking with amaranth, substitute with any grain that you’re familiar with.

Ingredients

For the salad

Chop the first 3 ingredients in 1/8 to 1/4 inch rounds

  • 1 cup carrots
  • 1 cup radish (Use a mandoline if you’d like since radishes are slightly trickier to cut by hand)
  • 1.5 cups zucchini and summer squash mix
  • 1 tsp kosher salt
  • 1/4 cup fresh mint, cut in thin strips
  • 1/4 cup red onion, chopped fine

For the dressing

  • 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  • Zest of 1 lemon
  • 1 tbsp lemon juice
  • 2 tsp garlic, chopped fine
  • 1/4 tsp kosher salt
  • A healthy crack of fresh black pepper

For the cooked grain

  • 1/2 cup amaranth (rajgira), soaked overnight or for up to 8 hours and drained
  • 1 1/2 cups vegetable stock or lightly salted water

IMG_2335 Collage 1 IMG_2368 IMG_2390

Cut the carrots, radishes, zucchini and summer squash and place in a collander. Mix in some salt to drain out the excess water from the vegetables. Let them sit in the collander for about 15 minutes. You can prepare the dressing in the meantime. Shake the collander and let the water drip out, then pat the vegetables dry with a paper towel. Move them to a medium-sized bowl.

Chop up the mint and the onions and add to the other vegetables. A quick tip (if you need it) to chopping the mint: Roll it up like a joi… just roll it up. and then chop horizontally.

For the dressing, whisk all the ingredients in a small bowl or a glass jar (like I usually do). Taste for salt and then add more if required.

To cook the amaranth. bring vegetable stock or water to a boil in a small saucepan. Add the amaranth to the water and cover the saucepan, turning down the heat till the water is simmering. Let it cook for 20 minutes. If you see that there’s still a lot of water in the pot, don’t fret. Use a strainer to get rid of the excess water. Carefully taste a bit of the grain (Caution: hot food..or something). It’s salad-ready when it’s in between soft and firm. Too mushy and you can turn it into porridge. But, it’s a matter of taste so make it work the way you like it.

Let it cool.

To assemble

In a large bowl or serving dish, add the cooled amaranth on the bottom. Spread the salad over it and pour the dressing on top. Using your hands, mix the ingredients until they’re combined well. Serve with thin shaving of parmesan cheese. This as always, is optional.

IMG_2436 IMG_2442

Filed Under: food, savoury Tagged With: Cooked amaranth, Grain-based salads, no recipe salad, Raw food, Raw recipes, Simple summer salad, summer salad, summer squash recipes, vegan recipes, vegetarian recipes, Zucchini recipes

Primary Sidebar

Meta

  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.org

Archives

© 2012–2023