Hello boys and girls!
Welcome to cooking with Varun! If you've grown up in India, you know how suspicious parents are when you hang out with a person of the opposite sex. What's worse is when some 'aunty' sees you with them and the news spreads like widfire and before you know it, everyone you know and their bai are looking at you with smug, 'judgy' expressions.
A few years ago, I was headed back to the UK following a trip home to Poona. My return flight was via Delhi so I decided to switch flights such that I had a day in Delhi to meet up with a friend. My friend, incidentally, happened to be a girl. A very pretty girl who was kind enough to let me crash on her couch for the night before my flight the next morning. I landed in Delhi, got picked up at the airport by a friend and an hour later, I was deposited in Patel Nagar which happened to be my destination. Before I go any further, you should know that my mum is from Delhi, so I have about 50 relatives there; cousins, neices, nephews, aunts, uncles, the whole gamut, so I had to make a courtesy call to them to let them know I was in the city lest they find out from other sources and be upset that I was around and I didn't even call. I made my calls and explained that I was only there for less than a day and I was staying with a friend and that it wouldn't be possible to visit them. After (regrettably) thwarting their attempts at a joyous family reunion, I was told that they would be having dinner at a restaurant in Connaught Place to celebrate my bhabi's birthday and that I should at least catch up with them for a few minutes if not the whole evening. Seeing as they're my family and I love them and all, I consented and hung up. Getting back to my friend, after a few hours of catching up, we decided to go to dinner to a Chinese restaurant in Connaught Place not too far from where my relatives were dining. So we hailed an autorickshaw and putt-putted our way down to the restaurant where we spent a couple of hours talking, laughing and basically having a very good time. Too soon, sadly, it was time to leave and as we paid and exited the establishment, I called my relatives to say I was free for a bit and asked where I might meet them. After deciding on a place, we made our way there and as my friend stood a little way in the shadows, I was enveloped by my family. Massi, cousins I hadn't seen in years, kids I didn't know they had and more. After bone crushing hugs had been given, cheeks had been kissed, kids were cooed over and remarks about how much I'd grown (Kanjar kitna bada ho gaya hai!), my cousin (Hawkeye that she is) spotted my friend and asked if she was with me. 5 seconds after an affirmative response was provided, I was forgotten and she was suddenly the centre of attention, subjected to questions only a Punjabi family deems appropriate to ask someone they've met for the first time (in very loud voices, I might add). After several awkward minutes, we were allowed to leave unscathed. I apologized to my friend on the way back but thankfully she's a good sport so she just laughed and shrugged off my apologies. We got back to her place and I called my mum to tell her I'd met everyone and the even before I could say hello, she told me my massi had already called to say they'd met me and a girl who was 'rajj ke soni' (crazy pretty) and had asked if there was a 'story'. Fortunately, my mum knows me well enough and has a sense of humour so after chuckling all through the call the matter was put to rest.
What does this story have to do with today's recipe? Well, my friend is vegetarian and loves aloo. I happen to love aloo too and this recipe is so easy and so good that it seemed like a shame not to share it.
For Crispy Garlicky Aloo, you will need the following:
Potatoes 6 medium
Welcome to cooking with Varun! If you've grown up in India, you know how suspicious parents are when you hang out with a person of the opposite sex. What's worse is when some 'aunty' sees you with them and the news spreads like widfire and before you know it, everyone you know and their bai are looking at you with smug, 'judgy' expressions.
A few years ago, I was headed back to the UK following a trip home to Poona. My return flight was via Delhi so I decided to switch flights such that I had a day in Delhi to meet up with a friend. My friend, incidentally, happened to be a girl. A very pretty girl who was kind enough to let me crash on her couch for the night before my flight the next morning. I landed in Delhi, got picked up at the airport by a friend and an hour later, I was deposited in Patel Nagar which happened to be my destination. Before I go any further, you should know that my mum is from Delhi, so I have about 50 relatives there; cousins, neices, nephews, aunts, uncles, the whole gamut, so I had to make a courtesy call to them to let them know I was in the city lest they find out from other sources and be upset that I was around and I didn't even call. I made my calls and explained that I was only there for less than a day and I was staying with a friend and that it wouldn't be possible to visit them. After (regrettably) thwarting their attempts at a joyous family reunion, I was told that they would be having dinner at a restaurant in Connaught Place to celebrate my bhabi's birthday and that I should at least catch up with them for a few minutes if not the whole evening. Seeing as they're my family and I love them and all, I consented and hung up. Getting back to my friend, after a few hours of catching up, we decided to go to dinner to a Chinese restaurant in Connaught Place not too far from where my relatives were dining. So we hailed an autorickshaw and putt-putted our way down to the restaurant where we spent a couple of hours talking, laughing and basically having a very good time. Too soon, sadly, it was time to leave and as we paid and exited the establishment, I called my relatives to say I was free for a bit and asked where I might meet them. After deciding on a place, we made our way there and as my friend stood a little way in the shadows, I was enveloped by my family. Massi, cousins I hadn't seen in years, kids I didn't know they had and more. After bone crushing hugs had been given, cheeks had been kissed, kids were cooed over and remarks about how much I'd grown (Kanjar kitna bada ho gaya hai!), my cousin (Hawkeye that she is) spotted my friend and asked if she was with me. 5 seconds after an affirmative response was provided, I was forgotten and she was suddenly the centre of attention, subjected to questions only a Punjabi family deems appropriate to ask someone they've met for the first time (in very loud voices, I might add). After several awkward minutes, we were allowed to leave unscathed. I apologized to my friend on the way back but thankfully she's a good sport so she just laughed and shrugged off my apologies. We got back to her place and I called my mum to tell her I'd met everyone and the even before I could say hello, she told me my massi had already called to say they'd met me and a girl who was 'rajj ke soni' (crazy pretty) and had asked if there was a 'story'. Fortunately, my mum knows me well enough and has a sense of humour so after chuckling all through the call the matter was put to rest.
What does this story have to do with today's recipe? Well, my friend is vegetarian and loves aloo. I happen to love aloo too and this recipe is so easy and so good that it seemed like a shame not to share it.
For Crispy Garlicky Aloo, you will need the following:
Potatoes 6 medium
Onion 1/2 medium
Chillies 3-4
Garlic 2-3 cloves
Dill leaves 3 handfuls
Mustard seeds 2 tsp
Curry leaves small handful
Red chilli powder 2-3 tsp
Haldi (turmeric) 1 tsp
Dhaniya (coriander) powder 1 tsp
Salt to taste
Oil
Prep:
Prep:
- Peel and slice the potatoes into circles.
- Thinly slice the onion.
- Mince the garlic.
- Chop the chillies.
Method:
- Turn on the gas.
- Bung a pan on.
- Splash in some oil.
- Count to 20.
- Bounce in the mustard seeds.
- Toss in the curry leaves.
- Pop in the garlic.
- Throw in the onion.
- Roll in the chillies.
- Sprinkle in the turmeric, red chilli powder, and dhaniya powder.
- Cook until the onions are brown.
- Slide in the potatoes.
- Toss until the potatoes are coated with the oil in the pan.
- Chuck in the dill leaves.
- Add salt to taste.
- Mix.
- Pop the lid on.
- Drop the heat to low.
- Take the lid off and toss the contents of the pan like a chef at a teppanyaki restaurant every few minutes until the potatoes are cooked.
- Once the potatoes are cooked, take the lid off and toss and cook for another few minutes until they get crispy.
- Take the pan to the table.
- Serve. (I love these with dal chawal)
- Stuff face.
- Bask in the glory of your succesfully executed dish.
Tip: For a little extra tang, you can sprinkle the potatoes with amchoor (dry mango) powder when you serve.
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