Keema Pav

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun. Back in 2005, when I first started working, I, along with several others, was part of a scholarship program to get my M.S. degree that had us working as full time employees Monday through Friday, and learning as students on the weekends. Since this was everyone's first job, and given that the first 3 months after joining, we had been subjected to a battery of trainings and assessments, the college hangover hadn't quite gone away, and after a week of playing it professional, we'd regress into our 'campus' persona.

As part of our initial training, we were randomly split into batches and a bunch of us found ourselves in the same training facility in Bangalore, India. Given that we were all in the same boat, nervous freshers with no knowledge of the corporate world, a group of us became fast friends. One of my mates, Manly-Aerobics-Doer, had made a quick trip home one weekend and returned with a box of the most spectacular laddoos that we practically inhaled! The weeks ticked by, and our training was soon complete, and we returned to our respective cities to finally pretend to be responsible adults. A couple of semesters in, Manly-Aerobics-Doer, the gem that he is, gave me a call to tell me that his buddy was moving cities and coming to Poona for the remainder of the program and that he was sending me a box of laddoos with him. Normally, the fact that someone new was joining our program would have been enough for me to speak to them, but the promise of the laddoos really put the prospect over with me and I couldn't wait for the bloke to arrive. On D-day, I got a call from him saying he was on campus and where we could catch up, and I hurriedly rushed to meet the laddoos (and him). I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but my first meeting with the guy, Tall-dark-and-Bong (short for Bengali, not what you're thinking!), was driven so much by greed, that I barely said hello; I just grabbed the box and bolted. Thankfully, as the laddoos were devoured, sanity returned, and Tall-dark-and-Bong and I became really close friends.

A few years later, after our program was done and we had all either moved jobs and/or cities, Tall-dark-and-Bong told me his wife, Run-till-you-drop, was coming to Poona for a visit and that I should meet her. Seeing as I was in the city and that Run-till-you-drop and I had only spoken online, it seemed like an excellent opportunity to really get to know each other. Unfortunately, poor explaining on Tall-dark-and-Bong's part and even worse comprehension on mine, coupled with my appallable sense of direction, our meeting was less than stellar and it only seemed right that I should begin my association with both husband and wife on the wrong-est of feet, the only saving grace being the excellent keema we had for dinner.

All that is behind us now though, and we continue to keep in touch, my friends circle with Tall-dark-and-Bong and I reminisce about the good times, and Run-till-you-drop trades me fitness inspiration for what she terms 'marriage saving recipes'. This one, in fact, is all for her!

For my Keema Pav, you will need the following:

Keema (mince)	500 gms. (meat of choice)
Onions	2 medium
Tomato	1 large
Peas	1 cup
Ginger garlic paste	2 tsp
Coriander (dhaniya) powder	3 tsp
Red chilli powder	3 tsp
Cumin (jeera) powder	1 tsp
Garam masala	2 tsp
Green chillies	2
Cumin (jeera) seeds	2 tsp
Bayleaf	1
Cardamom (elaichi) pod	1
Cloves	3
Cinnamon	small piece
Tomato puree	shot
Salt	to taste
Coriander (dhaniya) leaves	handful
Water
Oil

Prep:

1. Blitz or finely chop the onion.
2. Puree the tomato.
3. Shell or defrost your peas. 
4. Chop the chillies.
5. Roughly chop the coriander leaves.

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung a little pan on.
3. Splash in some oil.
4. Count to 20.
5. Float in the bayleaf.
6. Pop in the cloves.
7. Poink in the cardamom.
8. Toss in the jeera.
9. Slide in the onions.
10. Wince at the spatter.
11. Roll in the chillies.
12. Cook until the onions are light brown.
13. Spoon in the ginger garlic paste.
14. Mix and cook until the onions are dark brown.
15. Sprinkle in the red chilli powder, dhaniya powder, jeera powder and 1 tsp of garam masala.
16. Mix.
17. Add in the tomatoes.
18. Cook until the oil separates from the masala.
19. Add in the puree shot, and mix.
20. Plop in the keema.
21. Break it down with a wooden spoon so it's not lumpy.
22. Bump the heat up a notch.
23. Mix and cook until the keema goes brown.
24. Add in the peas.
25. Pour in a couple of cups of water.
26. Add salt to taste.
27. Bring to a boil.
28. Drop the heat down to low.
29. Pop a lid on.
30. Take a 20 minute walk.
31. Take the lid off.
32. Taste test.
33. Adjust the salt and cook some more if required.
34. Turn the gas off.
35. Sprinkle on 1 tsp of garam masala.
36. Throw on the coriander leaves.
37. Pop the lid back on and let it sit for a few minutes.
38. Serve with buttered, lightly toasted pav.
39. Stuff face.
40. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

 

Tip: If you live abroad and can't find pav, burger buns or white rolls work just as well. 

And remember, overeating is a myth. A full tummy is a happy tummy!

Stuffed Capsicum (Stuffed Peppers)

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun. Let's start this off with a lame (Hindi) joke shall we? If an apparel store had a blowout sale on t-shirts and not on headgear, kya tshirt ki keemat cap-se-kam hogi? If you understand Hindi, please don't leave. I'll stop making jokes, I swear (maybe). If you don't understand Hindi, lucky you! 

While we're on the topic of caps and t-shirts, I'm taken back years and years ago to when I was fresh out of school and often sported a backwards cap with a tuft of hair poking out. Not my best look, I'll admit, but I was more excited about going to junior college not having to wear a uniform everyday, and the fact that I didn't need to crop my hair as short as freshly mowed grass, which is the rule with most convent schools in India. College was great; after a lifetime of studying in boys-only schools, I finally got the chance to interact with the fairer sex. Also, I didn't have to be stuck in a classroom all day, so I spent a lot of time at the basketball court, or throwing about a frisbee on the college ground. One time, my friends and I came across a little envelope of passport sized photographs that some other kid had accidentally dropped on the basketball court by the pavilion. We didn't recognize the face on the picture so returning them got a little difficult. After looking around to see if we could spot the person in question with no luck, one of the more mischievous of our number suggested we play a little prank on the as yet unidentified owner. We got a blank sheet of paper (probably ripped from the stock provided in one of the files provided for practical work) and proceeded to fashion a 'Missing Person' poster. I can't recall the exact words we wrote on it but there definitely was a bit about giving the kid his own room and how much his parents loved him. To make it look official, we used a heavy soled boot to make what resembled a seal or rubber stamp on the bottom right corner. Once we had a poster ready, we had copies made (which made our dusty seal look infinitely more official) and glued a picture on each poster. We then walked around the campus sticking our posters next to the many notice boards, using chewing gum as an adhesive. After we were done, we popped over to the guy selling nimbu paani (lemonade) across the road, and congratulated ourselves on our cleverness as we chugged down glasses of the definitely unhygienic, but unquestionably delicious drink.

For those wondering, we did eventually see the owner of the pictures but since we hung out in different circles, he never found out that we were the ones responsible for making him a very minor celebrity. 

Coming back to food (having exhausted my cap connection), here's the recipe!

For my Stuffed Capsicum/Peppers, you will need the following:

Capsicum (peppers)	2-3
Onion	1
Potatoes	4 (medium - large)
Garlic cloves	3-4
Green chillies	2-3
Mustard seeds	3 tsp
Haldi (turmeric) powder	1 tsp
Red chilli powder	2 tsp
Salt	to taste
Oil

Prep:

1. Boil the potatoes. (4 whistles in the pressure cooker should do it.)
2. Let the potatoes cool.
3. Peel and roughly mash them.
4. Chop 3 chillies.
5. Peel, smoosh, and chop the garlic cloves.
6. Halve the capsicums (green peppers), and take the seeds out.
7. Thinly slice the onion.

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung a pan on.
3. Splash in some oil.
4. Count to 20.
5. Bounce in the mustard seeds.
6. Roll in the chopped chillies.
7. Toss in the garlic.
8. Pop in the onion.
9. Cook for a minute.
10. Add in the haldi and the red chilli powder.
11. Wait a couple of minutes until the masalas are cooked.
12. Add in the (almost) mashed potatoes.
13. Mix well until the potatoes are a uniform sunset yellow.
14. Add salt to taste.
15. Cook for a couple of minutes.
16. Turn the gas off.
17. Wait 5 minutes until the potatoes cool a little.
18. Fetch your halved capsicum.
19. Grab a spoon.
20. Spoon in the potatoes until the capsicum is full.
21. Smoothen the top.
22. Repeat steps 20 and 21 until all capsicums are stuffed.
23. Turn on the gas.
24. Bung a non-stick pan on.
25. Drizzle in some oil.
26. Pop in your capsicum, back down.
27. Cook until the back of the capsicum becomes a nice brown.
28. Flip the capsicum over so it's stuffing side down.
29. Cook for 2-3 minutes until the potatoes go crispy.
30. Turn the gas off.
31. Gently scrape off the  bit of potato stuck to the pan.
32. Fight with your roommate/partner over who gets to eat the crispy goodness.
33. Serve.
34. Stuff face.
35. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

Tip: If you want your capsicum cooked a little more but are worried about over-browning it, just pop a lid on for a 2-3 minutes on each side.

And remember, overeating is a myth. A full tummy is a happy tummy!