The vacations till now, I ruminate in agonizing frustration, have been thoroughly uneventful and lacklustre.
The brutal April sun, the listless heat, the blinding glare weaving a maze of wicked illusions, the energy-sapping humidity have all conspired against me. I complain to Maa and Grandma, tears rolling down my cheeks. Why have vacations in summer at all ?
Almost a prisoner indoors, I idle around, looking for cool dark refuges to lay out my dolls, they loathe the sultry summers as much as I do.
Or follow Didi around in the house. Aimlessly. Pestering her with an unending volley of questions.
Or lie on Grandma’s ancient four-poster watching the sparrows chase themselves silly in the water-bath Manikkaka has set up in the garden.
This morning is no different.
I look around for someone to play with me. Or entertain me with stories.
Grandma is in her thakurghor.
The only time of the day she wants to herself and doesn’t appreciate being disturbed.
Even by her pampered princess.
Manikkaka is already at work.
He has old newspaper sheets spread in disciplined layers on the red oxide floor of the sunlit corridor. A plump green jackfruit lies in front of him. Awaiting its fate. I chuckle.
Manikkaka doesnt notice me. He greases his palm generously with mustard oil. And then proceeds to smear the blade of the bnoti (Bengali cutting implement), ominous as it catches a streak of the blazing sun, with oil.
Not the appropriate time, I conclude, given such a painstaking ordeal it is to peel and chop green jackfruit, messy with its white viscous glue that leaves a dirty black trail when you rub your fingers, to engage Manikkaka in trivial conversation.
Disappointed I go looking for Didi. She must be in her usual hide-out, the kitchen.
Didi is indeed in the kitchen. Stooped in front of the mud oonoon (oven), patiently stirring a pot of milk.
I want you to play with me, I entreat Didi.
Too much work this morning my Princess. She responds. Still fussing over the milk.
And then as an afterthought she quips, Boudi (as Didi calls Maa) is making a special pulao this morning and I need to keep everything ready in time.
Pulao ? My eyes light up. What pulao ?
Enchor Kofta Pulao. She tells me.
Aha !! Thats why Manikkaka is labouring on the obstinate jackfruit.
I go looking for Maa.
Find her in her bedroom. Lost in a book. A Rabindrasangeet hums on the radio.
What are you reading Maa ? I quiz. And Didi just told me you are making a pulao for lunch.
Yes, she responds with a smile. Not any pulao. A pulao from the house of the Tagores !!!
Rabindranath Tagore ? I ask in excitement.
I have already been introduced to Tagore by Grandma and Maa.
I love Kabuliwala. I adore Mini, I love Rahamat Khan, I weep in deep anguish when the Kabuliwala gets incarcerated in prison and I weep in sublime joy when years later he gets re-united with Mini on the day of her marriage.
I also know the national anthem by heart, can recite kumor parar gorur gari eloquently and can even sing momo chitte niti nritye. Though not as well as Maa does.
Did Rabindranath Tagore cook delicious food ? I ask.
Not Tagore, Maa laughs, although, mind me, he did relish his food. I am speaking of his family here – wife, sisters-in-law, nieces, grandnieces et al.
She goes on, a trifle absent-minded, The family can proudly claim to have modernized Bengali cuisine, allowed European cooking techniques to be experimented with in their kitchens and opened the doors for Awadhi influences to waft in. Which if you are a careful observer you shall see in the enchor kofta pulao today.
A lot of this sounds arcane to me.
Yet I nod.
At times it just feels good to be able to indulge in a grownup discussion.
So that was my first brush with Thakurbarir ranna – a blazing April morning when Maa cooked Enchor Kofta Pulao, a dish conceptualized by the Tagores more than a century back. A pulao which food aficionados might argue is actually a biryani.
The Enchor Kofta Pulao was divine. The melt-in-your-mouth koftas, the sinful gravy perfumed with saffron, the subtly flavored rice, the ingenious use of dal in the pulao lingered on my palate for days.
Enchor Kofta Pulao. Green jackrfuit koftas in a decadent gravy. A fragrant pulao of gobindobhog rice and musur dal. Assembled with love. Tastes divine !!
Enchor Kofta Pulao (Green Jackfruit Kofta Pilaf)
Ingredients
For the Enchor Kofta
- 250 g enchor or green jackfruit cut into medium cubes
- 100 g paneer or homemade chhana mashed
- 3 tsp ginger grated
- 3-4 green chili finely chopped
- 2 tsp roasted cumin powder
- 1/2 tsp turmeric powder
- 1/4 tsp garam masala powder
- 1 tbsp rice flour
- salt to taste
- 1/2 tsp sugar
- oil for frying
For the Gravy
- 1/2 cup yogurt whipped
- 1/2 cup milk
- a few strands of saffron
- 2 tbsp peanuts
- 1 tbsp raisins
- 2 tbsp poppy seeds
- 2-3 green chilies
- 2 tsp ginger paste
- 1-2 bay leaves
- 2-3 green cardmom
- 2-3 cloves
- 1 tsp turmeric powder
- 1/2 tsp red chili powder
- 2 tbsp oil
- 1/2 tbsp ghee
- salt to taste
- sugar to taste
For the Pulao
- 150 g gobindobhog rice
- 50 g musur dal or red lentils
- 1/2 tsp turmeric powder
- 1 one inch cinnamon stick
- 2-3 green cardamom
- 2 tsp oil
- 2 tbsp ghee
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 1/2 tsp sugar
- 1-2 tsbp cashes nuts fried, for decoration
Instructions
For the Enchor Kofta
- Boil the green jackfruit with a little salt and a couple of drops of mustard oil in a pressure cooker. About one whistle, I would reckon.
- Drain the water and allow the jackfruit to cool sufficiently enough to handle. Mash lightly.
- Take the mashed green jackfruit and chhana in a bowl. Mix well.
- Now add the ginger, chillies, chopped coriander leaves, roasted cumin powder, turmeric powder, garam masala powder, rice flour and salt. Give it a hearty mix.
- Make small kofta balls of the mixture, keep aside.
- Heat oil in a kadai, deep fry the koftas till golden brown. Keep aside on a kitchen towel.
For the Gravy
- Soak the saffron in 1/4 cup of warm milk, keep aside.
- Soak the peanuts and raisins in warm water for 15 odd minutes. Drain the water and make a smooth paste with very little water.
- Soak the poppy seeds in warm water for 15 odd minutes. Drain the water and make a smooth paste with the green chilies.
- Heat oil in a pan, when smoking hot, temper with crushed cardamom, cloves and bay leaves. Saute for a couple of minutes, allow the spices to release their aroma.
- Now add the poppy seed paste and ginger paste, saute for a minute or two.
- Add the whipped yoghurt, peanut and raisin paste, turmeric powder, red chili powder and salt, saute for 4-5 minutes till oil starts to release from the masala.
- Add 1/4 cup of warm water, rest of the milk and bring to a gentle simmer. Add the saffron infused milk, simmer for another 2-3 minutes.
- Gently place the fried koftas in the gravy and simmer for a further 3-4 minutes over a low flame.
- Finish with a generous dollop of ghee. Keep aside.
For the Pulao
- Add a few drops of oil, turmeric powder, crushed green cardamom, cinnamon and little salt added to a pot of water and bring to a boil.
- Cook the rice and dal in the boiling water till the rice and dal are about 80% done. Drain the water, spread the rice and dal over a flat dish, keep aside.
- To assemble the pulao, take a deep bottomed pan, grease generously with ghee. Start with a layer of rice and dal, add a layer of koftas along with the gravy. Dot with ghee. Follow this with yet another layer of rice and dal, another layer of koftas and gravy. Again dot with ghee.
- Cook with a lid on over a low flame for 5-7 odd minutes. Toss gently to mix.
- Finish with a garnish of fried cashew nuts and serve hot.
@Rama Thank you so much ☺️. Let me know if you like it!!
Another beautiful write up ?!! Mesmerising it is. Thank you. I’ll ask my wife to make it.
@Pallavi Thank you 🙂
Spellbound….!