The Gondhoraj Lebu plant in the quiet corner of my garden, under the protective canopy of the bougainvillea, now a frenzied riot of pretty pink, is abloom.
I pluck a leaf off my cherished plant. Carelessly shred the leaf. Rub it vigorously against my palm. Slowly raise my palm to my nose. Close my eyes. And take a deep breath.
And as my olfactory senses break into sublime ecstasy and the intoxicating perfume from the bruised citrus leaf leaves me in an indescribable bliss, suddenly all my troubles, (I was indeed glum all morning) as melodramatic as it might sound, I can already see that frown of cynicism on your face, seem to go away.
We all have our biases and preferences in the kitchen.
For Grandma, for example, greens were her undisputed favorites. She adored her greens.
Maa relishes cooking with small fish – puti, mourola, kajli, charapona, bata, the list goes on.
I have often mused on my weaknesses, let me reserve that for a later post, but that I am obsessed with lebu pata (or lime leaves) is undeniable. I do not squander a single opportunity to add lebu pata to my dish, especially during tormenting summers.
What do I do with lebu pata this morning ? I wonder.
Of course lebu patay katla with the gorgeous katla S has got back from the market is an option.
I do love it, S tells me, with that look though that translates to, but you just made that last week. Can we not have something else ?
Lebu lonka murgi ? I enquire.
But the man is in no mood for the bird this morning.
Ok let me whip up something novel, I assure.
What ? He asks.
No clue, I respond with a cheeky smile.
The grey cells get into an overdrive, the refrigerator is raided, prawns are de-shelled and de-veined, fresh peppercorn, loads of it, is ground, shallots are peeled (Is it just me who detests peeling shallots ?), curd is whipped (I remember, just in time, Maa’s tip to add a pinch of flour to prevent the curd from splitting), a gondhoraj lebu is carefully zested and the shredded leaves are washed and pat dry.
And thus is born my Lebu Patay Chingri Stew.
The smile at lunch says it all.
Bliss, remarks S. That Lebu Patay Chingri Stew deserves to be in your blog.
I blush with creator’s pride.
Lebu Patay Chingri Stew. The sweetness of prawns. The burst of citrus from the gondhoraj lebu zest. The earthy warmth of black pepper.
That alluring perfume of lime leaves. Food heaven !!!
Enjoy !!!
Lebu Patay Chingri Stew (Prawn Stew with Gondhoraj Lebu Leaves)
Ingredients
- 9-10 medium sized prawns deshelled, de-veined, heads & tails intact
- 1/3 cup yoghurt whipped with ¼ tsp maida or plain flour
- 1/4 cup beresta or fried onions ground to a paste with very little water
- 12-15 shallots
- 1 tsp ginger paste
- 1/2 tbsp black pepper powder freshly ground
- 1/2 tsp turmeric powder
- 8-10 black pepper corns
- 7-8 gondhoraj lebu leaves
- 1/4 tsp zest of gondhoraj lebu
- 2.5 tbsp mustard oil
- 1/2 tsp sugar
- salt to taste
Instructions
- Marinate the prawns with salt and ½ tsp black pepper powder. Keep aside for 15 odd minutes.
- Heat 1.5 tbsp oil, fry the shallots till light brown. Keep aside.
- Shallow fry the prawns lightly in the same oil. Keep aside.
- Add the remaining oil to the pan. Throw in the black peppercorns, allow to splutter. Add the fried onion paste, ginger paste, turmeric powder and a little salt. Sauté for 5-7 minutes.
- Lower the flame, pour in the whipped yogurt while stirring continuously. Continue to cook over a low flame till oil starts to release from the masala.
- Throw in the fried shallots, give it a hearty stir, cook for a further 5 minutes. Add a cup of warm water, bring to a gentle simmer.
- Gently add the fried prawns and gondhoraj lebu leaves, sprinkle the remaining black pepper powder and sugar. Cover and cook over a medium flame, another 5 odd minutes or so.
- Adjust seasonings, add the gondhoraj lebu zest and some more freshly ground black pepper if you like the heat.
- Remove from flame, give it a standing time of 10-12 minutes. Serve hot.
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