Entries Tagged as 'Food and Drink'

Gunpowder

If you’ve eaten a south Indian meal, you have probably come across a variant of what is often called ‘gunpowder’ in Indian English - spicy roasted lentil powders that go as accompaniments to various dishes. The Tamil name is molagaapoDii (literally spice powder, I think), but in Marathi and Kannada we call them chaTNiipuDii, or chutney powders. Each family has some tried and tested way of making them, and there is always one visiting aunt who insists that one lime leaf or lentil or coriander instead of cumin makes all the difference. And so the versions grow. In my family, one combination of two lentils is a favourite. I was sous-chef-cum-photographer for this afternoon’s batch.

Ingredients:

pudiingredients

1 cup split chana dal (Bengal gram)
1 cup split urad dal (black lentils that are actually white when split)
3/4 cup sesame seeds
3/4 cup dried and grated coconut
A handful of peanuts
approx 6 tbsp red chilli powder
1 small lemon-sized piece of tamarind, soaked and squeezed of all water
approx 2 tbsp of grated jaggery
salt to taste

For tempering - 4 tbsp oil, 3 tbsp black mustard seeds, 2 tsp cumin seeds, a pinch of asafoetida and turmeric, and lots of curry leaves

What to do:

So first, in a heavy-bottomed pan, you roast each of the dals, the sesame seeds and coconut separately, till they’re all nice and brown. You can roast them in the oven, I think (about 10 minutes at 350 deg with a couple of turnovers), but my attempt at doing that in our little electric oven resulted in blackened seeds and a fresh batch in the pan.

pudiroasteddals

Then, you grind each one separately in a dry grinder very coarsely - first the chana, then the urad, then the sesame, coconut and peanuts together. After the tiny coffee grinder I use in Berkeley, my mother’s large dry grinder (which admittedly gets a lot more use than mine does!) was a treat. Then, you mix all together, and make five equal parts. Eyeball the parts, and add chilli powder the equivalent of one part. This is how my mum does it - you could add less or more depending on how spicy you want the powder to be. One-fifth of the total packs quite a punch, but is quite moderate compared to how some people like it.

pudigrounddals

Add the jaggery and tamarind and the salt, and mix well. The dry powders absorb the slightly moist jaggery and tamarind. These two, incidentally, are the two gatekeepers of my family’s mixed Kannada/Marathi cuisine. They feature in practically everything. The chef in action:

pudiaai

In a separate pan, make the phoDNii, aka tadka aka tempering - heat the oil, and then add the mustard seeds. When they start spluttering, add the cumin seeds, turmeric and asafoetida, and finally the curry leaves. Set it aside and let it cool. The leaves become nice and dry and crunchy. Then grind the chilli-lentils mix together once more to make it a bit more fine, and finally add the tempering to the powder. Mix well till all the oil is absorbed.

The final texture should be grainy, but not totally fine. In Tamil cuisine and some other parts of south India, the molagaapuDii is often eaten mixed with sesame oil, as an accompaniment to idlis. In our parts, or in our family at least, it’s eaten nearly every day with lunch or dinner as a side dish for pretty much everything. Either with yogurt, or with ghee. With chapatis, rice, dosas, mmmmmm.

pudifinal

I’ve been travelling a bit, and away from my computer, so I hope I didn’t miss replying to anybody from the last post…. more photos of my trip to follow shortly!

A healthy gathering

Some snapshots of the Thanksgiving dinner I had in San Diego. Nearly everyone was vegetarian, and even those that weren’t were ardent turkey-haters, or pumpkin-neutral. So the idea was to make it a healthy meal, which we did.

Some Potatoes au gratin absolutely dripping with cheese:
augratin

Baked zucchini, with lots of cheese to neutralize any benefits of the vegetable:
zucchini

Black bean soup, where the celery by no means dominated:
blackbeansoup

More beans (yes, these were appallingly low fat, inspite of all the olive oil they were drenched in):
beans

Pear Crisp with whipped cream:
pearcrisp

and a Banana Cream Pie with more whipped cream:
bananacreampie

But the most important servings were large dollops of giggles, reminiscences and the warmth of college and grad school friendships with two beloved old roommates:
teeth

And, finally, stiff cosmos, good cheer and the promise of many more such healthy gatherings in years to come:
Cosmos

Hope everyone celebrating had a happy thanksgiving weekend! Thank you all for the generous comments on my Ogee Tunic! I think I replied to everyone, but in case I missed anyone, thanks again. I got a lot of knitting done these past few days too, so stay tuned for some significant progress pictures on my WIPs…

Two years old

Two years ago on this day, I took the plunge into blogging. I gave myself three months, then six, and then a year to see if I was really going to stick with it. I had picked the name randomly for a knitting forum login and just went with it. My first anniversary didn’t even register. In between periodic bouts of angst about ‘Why Am I Photographing This’ and ‘Who Is Reading This Anyway’, doing a roughly weekly post over the past two years has validated my tag-line about keeping me (almost) sane more than I realised. I have learned so much about new techniques, adapting patterns, and am much more disciplined (in a good way) about my knitting now. (This is clearly not the time to ponder how obsessed I am with it). The best part has been making blog-friends from all over the world and being part of a wonderful circle of creativity that has taught me so much about the craft. Thank you all! I know there are many who read regularly without commenting, but if you can, do stop today to say hi.

I had hoped to have an FO post by today on the Ogee Tunic, but it has to wait a few more days - definitely by this weekend. Instead, am sharing with all of you a plate of my Diwali faraal.

diwalifaral

Clockwise from top -
1) chiwdaa, which is spiced, flattened rice, available in Indian stores as ‘thin poha’. Basically you roast it and make it crumbly and crisp, then mix it up with a bunch of spices. An excellent recipe for this snack is here.

2) karanji, a deep-fried crescent filled with a mix of fresh grated coconut, brown sugar, powdered cardamom and crushed almonds. The dough is a mix of all-purpose flour and semolina. I made myself sick in childhood once by eating too many of these. This was my first attempt at making them from scratch, and they didn’t disappoint! If anyone wants to try them, the recipe I followed broadly is here.

3) chirote, a kind of south-Indian beignet, if you will - layers and layers of a deep-friend pastry dusted with powdered sugar. As my friend Spud said recently, this combination is a *very good thing* and she is quite right! Here is a good recipe for it.

And now, I think I must celebrate my second blog anniversary by going to the gym!

Diwali lights and gifts

It’s Diwali: the annual festival of lights, spread over these four days from now until Sunday. Diwali wishes to all! May the new year bring good cheer and happiness, renewal and fulfillment all around.

diwalilamp

This is the one festival that my family celebrates with abandon, and the one festival I can never be home for, given the dratted semester system. To be sure, there are religious ceremonies, and a mythical tale of good triumphing over evil that ensures renewal and prosperity - but what is Diwali without new clothes, fireworks, and food? The centrepiece is a snacks package called faraal in Marathi - about twenty different types of eats are made specially in each family, depending on their resources, taste and enthusiasm. Everyone exchanges faraal over the Diwali weeks and you give yourself over entirely to fried dough, powdered sugar and clarified butter. It is a good time. I am attempting an ambitious faraal myself this time, but more about that in the next post - cross your fingers that I manage to get it all together.

My festivities began spectacularly today. I had a very intense, exhilarating graduate seminar class, and came back home to open a package from Finland, containing this:

twistedflowersock1

Silja sent me the most gorgeous sock ever in the whole wide world, encased in a wonderful little bag, along with a spare skein of Regia silk for me to knit the second one in the pair.

twistedflower2

I love the colour, the fit, the pattern - thank you, thank you, thank you single sock partner! You chose everything just right, and this is just the perfect, timely festival gift. I cannot wait to knit its pair. I have been wearing the lone sock all over the flat already. That Cookie A. is a genius designer, just look at the twisted flower stitches:

twistedflower3

Finally, this evening concluded on a pleasant note with this finished object:

stockintettehat

Although not mine, I am proudly featuring it on the blog, as the first FO of my friend who learnt how to knit not two weeks ago! Isn’t it gorgeous? Just look at the elegant shape. She switched to DPNs in our neighbourhood Chinese restaurant this evening over dinner, and we walked home to cast off and photograph the hat amidst much squealing and glee. I am amazed at how smoothly she transitioned from circulars to DPNs, and from ribbing to stockinette to decreases. Definitely a natural at the craft! I think I have some idea of what evangelists feel like, finally. She left the house muttering, “cabling without a cabling needle…” even without my broad hints about knittinghelp.com, Ravelry, Zimmermann, etc….. I think we might have a convert!

It’s not for nothing that all the photos in this post have a warm glow, eh?

Asparagus soup on a chilly night

I’ve been eating very poorly of late, with very little impetus to do any cooking or housework in general. But today the kitchen was in a crisis situation, so I cleaned, took stock of the fridge and swore not to buy veggies from the market just so they can decompose merrily in my crisper. On one such zombie-like trip to the market a while ago, I had brought back two leek stalks, a sweet potato and a bunch of asparagus, with very little idea about what to do with them. This evening, back from the gym,* I took the sorry veggies out and looked at them. They were on their last legs, and had to go.

soupingredients

They went into an unvented soup with some desi twists, and it has hit just the spot on this suddenly chilly night. I thought I’d share the recipe. It’s rough and ready, mind you, so feel free to improvise.

Asparagus Soup with Yam and Leeks

You need:
A bunch of asparagus stalks - chop the tips off and keep aside, and chop the rest into into one-inch bits
A smallish yam/sweet potato - chopped
Two leek stalks, chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 large bay leaf
1 tsp sambar powder (or curry powder, or madras powder or whatever the commercial stuff is called in English)
2 tbsps fat free milk (optional)
2 cups water (or stock, if you have it - I didn’t)
salt to taste

Heat the oil in a stockpot and add the bay leaf and cumin seeds. When seeds sizzle and leaf is browned, add the chopped vegetables (except for the asparagus tips). Saute everything for a couple of minutes. Then add the water (just enough to cover everything), and add the sambar powder. (If you don’t have a premade curry powder, you can dry-roast some cumin, black pepper, cardamom and cinnamon, and some coriander seeds if you have them, and grind the whole mixture together, and add it. The roasting brings out the fragrance and flavour of the spices.)

Mix, reduce heat to medium and cook till everything is soft. About 15-20 minutes. Add salt to taste.

Then take the pot off the flame and let it cool a bit. I added the milk partly to cool it down a bit, but water will do nicely. Puree the whole thing in a food processor. The soup turned out quite thick, so you can choose how much water depending on what consistency you prefer.

Throw the asparagus tips into some boiling water, (with a pinch of salt and a drop of olive oil - I confess I added the much richer ghee you see in the picture above), and cook for 3-4 minutes. Drain.

Pour into bowls, and garnish with asparagus tips. Enjoy!

yamasparagussoup1

The spices balance the sweetness of the yam really well, somehow. The alternative combo suggested above will, I think, give the same kick and balance to the soup. I didn’t think it would taste this good, but it turned out to be a fine one-bowl dinner.

*(y’all! After years of knee pain and bitching about it on the couch, the word pronation, followed by a trip to a specialty shoe store a few weeks back, has resulted in me running over a couple of miles on the soft and forgiving treadmill. Like I said last time, this is admittedly nothing for many people, but for me it has literally been leaps and bounds!)

Yogurt, figs, a little honey

I don’t think I could ever be a vegan. I could easily give up meat, which I eat rarely anyway and didn’t eat at all for half my life, and perhaps milk and cream, but never dahi (curds / yogurt). It is one of the staples of my diet and something I absolutely adore.

Dahi Bhat or Mosaru Anna (curd-rice in Marathi and Kannada) tempered sometimes with curry leaves, mustard seeds and spice-stuffed dried chillis, and garnished with fresh coriander is a common south Indian dinner item. With some lemon or giner pickle or raw mango chutney, it is my ultimate comfort food.

dahibhat

Then there’s Mishti Doi (sweet yogurt in Bengali) a divine, divine Bengali dessert that’s made with reduced milk, caramelized sugar (often palm sugar) and set in earthenware pots. On a hot summer afternoon or evening, a few spoonfuls are enough to make you forget the sweltering madness around you. I had way too much of it this summer (as the scale, ahem, testifies) but it’s totally worth it. Coming back, I was seized with a longing to have some more. No earthenware pot or palm sugar, but a good detailed recipe.
Some Strauss milk, some Pavel’s yogurt, and some demerara sugar - the result was less than ideal, but it’s a work in progress. 

Another yogurt favourite of mine, with which I have more success, is a beloved dessert of western India, Shrikhand.  This is made with yogurt drained overnight of all the whey, and the resultant curds (called chakka in Marathi) beaten with powdered sugar, a pinch of saffron and some ground cardamom seeds, very occasionally some pistachio or almonds. This is a rather sweet dessert, and it’s often made so sweet that one dollop of the thick, thick yogurt in your mouth takes a while to work through. I often alternated dollops with some spicy pickle to balance the sweetness, much to everyone’s annoyance at the heresy. An excellent shrikhand recipe, with pictures and detailed procedure and personally tested by me, can be found at Evolving Tastes. 

A famous sweetmeat-wala in Pune, Chitale Bandhu Mithaiwale, came up some years ago with amrakhanda, shrikhand with alphonso mangoes. This became a raging hit in the summers. The firm flesh of the alphonso makes it ideal for blending with drained yogurt, but since I didn’t have any in Delhi this August, I used the local Dussheri variety, which are a littler juicier, but incredibly sweet:

amrakhand.jpg

Of late I’ve seen other fruit flavours too. Manisha made shrikhand with blackberries, which looked scrumptious. I’ve been wanting to try this dessert with anjir (figs) ever since I read her post, and since I had some lovely fig and honey icecream in Delhi. I love figs only next to mangoes, and the ripe, luscious figs in the market now tempted me even more. So this morning I made some for a visiting relative:

anjirkhand.jpg

I wanted to try out a slightly healthier, low-fat option, so all this contained was
1) a tub of Pavel’s non-fat yogurt, 2) ten ripe, peeled and mashed figs and 3) three tablespoons of honey. It made about 6 of the serving pictured above.

Really, all you have to do is:

- Take the yogurt and pour it into a bowl lined with a large, thin cotton cloth. Cheesecloth will do, but make sure it’s relatively firm.
- Tie up the yogurt in the cloth and hang it on a hook with a bowl below to catch the draining whey. I just take a thin muslin towel and tie the yogurt over the sink.
- Leave overnight.
- In the morning, take the drained dahi into a bowl.
- Peel and mash the figs  separately, then add to the dahi and keep beating the damn thing till it’s all blended and fluffy. the drier the yogurt, the better the shrikhand consistency.
- Add the honey and mix well.
- Dress with fig pieces and an extra dollop of honey when serving, depending on taste.

I’m not sure if the excising of sugar from the recipe still makes this a shrikhand recipe, or merely a desi twist on a common Greek breakfast combination. Whatever it may be, it’s delicious, and I invite you to try it!

So many ways to eat a mango

One of the reasons I’ve taken so long to post is that I’ve been very busy - meeting friends in Delhi and Pune, learning Modi, stuffing my face.. all the things that have to be done slowly, carefully without distractions. Also, after the 115-degree oven that was Delhi, the 90 degree humidity of Pune is making it feel like a brisk fall day in comparison, so long walks in the city in the late afternoon after my class, when the sky looks heavily pregnant and occasionally delivers, have been fun. I do wish the monsoon would stop being coy and explode, though.
<watch this space for some venting about being waterlogged and washed out, er, a couple of weeks from now..>

Anyway, another reason this post is late is that I’ve been taking photos over the last week of the many ways a mango is eaten in our household (and in western India in general) every year. In late March and April, the kairi or raw mango starts appearing in trees and markets. (btw, all italicized names are in Marathi)

It is one of those tragedies of life that the time to clamber up a mango tree’s branches to pluck kairis is also the time of final exams, and all parents and teachers can think of is that kids will fall down and break their arms and not be able to take their final exams. This happened often on the campus where I grew up and my folks regularly plucked kids from trees along with kairis.

The simplest way to eat a fresh, white hard kairi is to chop it up, rub some salt and red chilli powder on it (tikhat-mithaachi-kairi), and wash down the incredibly spicy-salty-sour thing with some cold water as all your senses tingle. I didn’t have gin & tonic with me as  I munched on these a couple of days ago but they were just as delicious:

tikhatmithachikairi.jpg

There’s a cool drink that is often made as a concentrate, called the kairiche panha (the recipe at this link is very good). It tastes good just with some ice and water, but in Delhi this time I discovered that it makes a good gin cocktail too. Unfortunately, I forgot to photograph it.

April, May and June are mango pickle, chutney and preservative season. My mum made five of these over the last week:

mangomazaa.jpg

At two o’clock is a simple sweet-sour mango pickle. Very oily, not my favourite, but still quite delicious. I much prefer the chutneys at 10 and 12 o’clock. Very simple to make: for every cup of finely grated kairi, take a cup of dry gul (molasses, use brown sugar if you absolutely must), a tsp each of roasted and ground methi (fenugreek) and mohri (mustard) seeds, half a cup of dry coconut powder. For the red one, take a couple tsps of red chilli powder. For the green, take a few green chillis and half a cup of coriander leaves instead. Blend everything together (the texture is best on a hand stone grinder, electric blenders tend to make it too smooth). Heat a tsp of oil in a pan, put a tsp of mustard seeds in it with some hing (asafetida) and when the seeds crackle (wait for these to crackle, otherwise they taste raw and bitter), pour over the chutney. You can avoid this last step, it’s not absolutely necessary. Also, if using Mexican kairis, go easy on the molasses, as these are much less sour than the ones you get here in India.

Others in the family like sweet kairi concoctions more than I do. The lighter one, at 7 o’clock, is saakharamba (sugar-mango), made by steaming the kairi slices and then boiling them in an equivalent amount of sugar, then adding a pinch each of powdered cardamom and maybe saffron. The darker one to its right is gulaamba (molasses-mango) and is made the same way, but with dry gul instead. They’re like desi jams, and having some wrapped in a chapati was a common evening snack in childhood.

Lest you think that nobody allows the kairi to ripen in these parts into the amba (generic for ripe mango) here is the haapus, one of my favourite mangoes, and about which there has been much hoopla this year in the States (its called the Alphonso in English). I fear that it’s going to be a disappointment though, because all the preservatives and high prices and hype are going to ruin its enjoyment. In mid-May, though, it reigns supreme over all others here and I was lucky to catch a good late batch in early June:

hapus.jpg

A good fresh haapus from Devgad is almost completely fibre-free with very firm, thick and sweet orange flesh and has a lovely fragrance.  It is to be eaten sliced, not sucked, but I also like eating the skin. Sometimes the flesh is made into a pulp called ambrosia of the gods aamras:

amras.jpg

This is one of my serious summer weaknesses, something that instantly puts me in a good mood. It is eaten with chapatis, puris, or simply with a dollop of cream or ghee on top, sometimes with cardamom sprinkled. My mum likes to add just a pinch of salt as a counterpoint. I like it neat.

Well, there you are, some mango moods. There are many many other incredible mango delights from different parts of the subcontinent and around the world, which some food bloggers, many of them desis, put together recently. This fruit totally makes the summer worth it. My mum is most tickled that her concoctions are being photographed and posted online. 

Incidentally, this post is meant especially for NSG and A, both of whom I remembered with every bite and click this past week.

Free Patterns, and Nostalgia

Cloverleaf Socks Free Pattern

Okay, so I charted the cloverleaf pattern and wrote it up, and it’s available as a .pdf download on the left under "free patterns." You can also click here.  As I was writing it, I realised, I used Wendy’s toe-up pattern, but you can adapt it to any toe-up or cuff-down pattern. You can just use the cloverleaf charts for the cuffs and feet. This is my first attempt at writing up a pattern; if you do take a look at it or even - gasp - knit it, please let me know how to make things clearer and shorter, and if there are any mistakes. I have a lot of respect for pattern-writers all of a sudden.

After hearing me complain about eating so much junk on the road and missing my kitchen and some decent home-cooked dal and rice, Manisha rightly figured I was feeling nostalgic and tagged me for a "meme", so here we go.

Ten things I miss of my mum’s cooking:

My mum isn’t one of those legendary cooks who can put a fabulous meal together within no time with no effort. I don’t say this negatively; I admired her for freely admitting that she did not like cooking that much, and cooked because she had to. She always said that left to herself she was fine with some bread and butter. Amidst all the women in our colony who wore their culinary skills with pride and fell all over each other at festivals and colony get-togethers, this must have been tough to admit, but also liberating. She can put together a comfort meal like nobody else, though, and try as I might, I can never replicate some of her dishes. All of them are Marathi/north Kannadiga vegetarian preps.

Amti. A Marathi version of toor dal (yellow lentils) with tamarind and jaggery and Marathi "goda masala". I can live on this and rice all my life and indeed, have, come to think of it, for most of it.

Pithla, aka Zunka. Chana-dal (chick pea?) gruel. Very difficult to screw up, but with the right combination of jeere-khobra (ground cumin-dry coconut), heavenly. My dad and sister prefer this with green chillis and I with red chilli powder. Nowadays since I live so far away the latter gets made more often when I’m home.

Sabudanyachi Khichadi. Sunday morning brunch, alternated with Idlis or Dosas depending on how much time she had to soak, grind and ferment everything. The best part of the khichadi (which is a kind of spiced sago with ground peanuts, cumin and green chillis) was the slightly burnt part at the bottom which I got to peel off the pan. With the idlis or dosas she makes this Tomatocha saar (kind of tomato curry?), with a little jaggery and ground sesame seeds instead of the usual sambar, which is heavenly. Also, I like that her dosas are always thin but soft, not the papery restaurant things that poke around in your mouth.

Puran poli, which I had blogged out a while ago. Also, Godi kuttada payasa, broken wheat with poppy seeds and jaggery. Mmmmmmm. Oh, and some Tambittu, which also have poppy seeds and jaggery and coconut and some kind of flour, which are made in the month of Shravan (around August) for Nag-panchami. We’re big on jaggery-lentil based desserts in Maharashtra/north Karnataka, rather than the milk-sugar ones in the north and east, and I love these:

tambittu.jpg

More than actual dishes (there are lots of simple ones, like Gajarachi koshimbir, or carrot raita or Pushpicha kanda, a kind of spiced onion salad named after Pushpa, its creator and a relative), though, my mum is a specialist at using every part of a vegetable, fruit or whatever and creating different dishes out of the same thing. This developed out of sheer necessity initially but now she’s honed it to a fine skill. So the flesh of a gourd goes into a curry, the peels into a chutney, the seeds roasted and salted for afternoon snacks, that sort of thing. If it’s edible, it’s to be eaten.

This wasn’t as traumatic in my childhood as it may sound. Over the years I’ve really grown to respect it and try to follow her example as I use the cauliflower florettes in a curry and chop and save the stalk for adding to the sambar the next day and scour the net or ask some serious food geeks for ideas. I prided myself on wasting very little, but when Aai visited me last year , watching her in my kitchen was still an eye-opener on how much one ends up wasting on a daily basis and how one can do better. I think of her every time I save the dratted peels off something.

All this nostalgia is making me really eager to go home now. Maybe next month I’ll take pictures of some of these things. Thanks, Manisha!

Puran Poli

As a rule, I prefer eating to cooking. Anyday. But some stuff in the fridge could not be ignored any longer, and my atta (flour) needs to be finished quickly before it goes bad. So some pumpkin parathas are to be attempted this evening. The dough needs to be *really* soft and pliable. As I kneaded it, I realised that making parathas might not be such a bad idea when stuck on a research paper you’re trying to write quickly for a deadline. All day I’ve tried to write to articulate an argument that is not blindingly obvious and lame; kneading some dough really allows you to work out your irritation without physical damage to self, computer or family members. I think I might even have thought of some decent sentences.

But this kneading also reminded me of the last time such a dough was made, and a dish that is simply out of this world, was prepared in my kitchen: Puran Polis. These are polis (Marathi for layered roti/bread, for non-Ghatis reading this) stuffed with puran (lit. stuffing, but in this case made of cooked chana dal/Bengal gram, jaggery, cardamom and nutmeg) and rolled out, roasted and then eaten with ghee and, if you like it, milk. The idea is to mash it all up and slurp and lick it off your fingers. If some dough is leftover, you can always stuff it with mashed potatoes and have aloo parathas the next day. My mum was here then and made them for Ganesh Chaturthi; I remembered to take some pictures for my foodie friends at Another Subcontinent:

The dough, followed by the puran stuffing (pressure cooked and mixed with the melted jaggery)

poli5.JPG
poli4.JPG

Then the delicate task of stuffing the elastic dough with the puran and rolling it out:
poli3.JPG
poli2.JPG

The final product folded in half, before ghee is poured over and massive
gorging causes it to instantly disappear.

poli1.jpg

For those who know about him, this is reportedly Sachin Tendulkar’s favourite dish. Not that this means anything, of course, but still.

Anyway, back to more pedestrian pumpkin parathas and papers….