RIP, Ma'am Buch!
***
A Chef with a Dash!
An invitation from Ma'am Buch
Upon invitation from Nirmala Buch, an
esteemed senior colleague and Former Chief Secretary, Government of MP & Former
Secretary, Rural Development, GoI, we had assembled in March 2020 at her lawn
under the mango tree and maintained covid protocol of discreet distance and
masks.
For about an hour the six of us
discussed how to help an NGO working for underprivileged school children. I had
written a few stories for children, Mrs. Buch had learned, and had invited me to
contribute to content development, and use of story-telling method to make the
pedagogy more interesting. She mostly listened, and nudged us to work out a
plan of action to be implemented in the coming months.
First Taste of Kanji
During our discussion, her cook served
us tea and biscuits. I didn’t want tea. Ma’am asked, ‘Don’t you take tea?’
I do, Ma’am, but avoid too many cups
since it gives me hyperacidity.
Okay, have a glass of kanji, then.
Her cook brought in a glass of kanji. It
was about noon and rather warm, and the kanji was refreshingly cool and tasty.
It’s very good, Ma’am.
Have one more glass, it’s home-made,
and a good probiotic drink. In UP and Bihar, most homes make and consume this
drink during the warmer months and serve it to guests. A matka-full of kanji is
readily available at most homes. It’s very easy to make.
This is the first time I had tasted
kanji. Curious, I browsed through a few short videos on You Tube: how to make
traditional kanji. Easy Peezy.
Why not try it, I thought?
Kanji Recipe
I bought the ingredients – carrot (red
carrot since I didn’t get the recommended black carrot), and beetroot, and
diced it to appropriate size, took a Borosil glass jar of about a litre
capacity, put in the diced pieces, added common salt, sendha namak, a pinch of
hing, freshly crushed black pepper, and roughly ground rai seeds. Heated 750 ml
water bringing it to a boil, cooled it to warm level, and poured it into the
jar, and stirred it with a long ladle. I covered the mouth of the jar with a clean
white kerchief and tied it with a string.
On the terrace, I put it in the sun during
the day, and brought it indoors at night since it was still a bit chilly at
night. The next two days, I gently stirred the contents in the morning before
putting it under the sun.
On the third day, I sniffed the
delightful aroma, and tasted a spoonful. It was delicious. Poured from the jar
two glasses, and garnished it with fresh pudina leaves from the terrace, and voila,
served it with a flourish to Sanjukta: Organic pro-biotic drink made by a Chef
with a Dash!
How could she not be impressed?!
Sun: Celestial Cook
Time now to offer my unqualified apology to the Sun – Food Producer, Processor and Preserver, and the celestial cook-
who indeed made my kanji whereas in a hubristic trip I bragged of being the
chef. Who other than the sun gently warmed my kanji in the morning, turned on
peak heat at noon, and slowly tapered to sim in the afternoon?
Before the advent of electricity and refrigeration, every housewife knew how to harvest raw solar energy for food processing and preservation. Every house had a courtyard which worked as a solar energy processing unit. The women made pickles, badis, sun-dried vegetables (brinjals, tomatoes, beans) and fish for the lean season.
Purnamasi, my grandmother made amazing
mango pickle with liquid jaggery in a paatli - a mid-sized earthen pot with the
right thickness made specifically by the village potter for pickling- mixed the
ingredients, tied a clean piece of white dhoti to its mouth, and put it in the
courtyard for the sun to work its magic. In a few days, the diced mango changed
colour, the thickening liquid was a golden brown, and the heavenly aroma wafting
from the pot was like an incense offering to the Sun god in thankfulness for
filling our world with food and flavours.
The women did not know of Fahrenheit or
Celsius, but knew very well that badi (made with ash gourd, black gram, and
spices) made in the month of Margashira would be soft and delectable but that
made in Maagha with the same ingredients would be ruined. There is a Sambalpuri
saying for that: Magshirar badi, gua ghiar ghari; Maaghar badi gai hadar sari
(Badi made in the month of Margashira is soft and delicious like cow ghee, that
made in Magha is like a cow’s bone!). By the way, the best badi in the world is
still made in the rural areas of western Odisha, and the best badi I have
tasted was made by Dhar mausi, our neighbour at Burla.
Conclusion
Thanks to Mrs. Buch for serving this amazing traditional drink, and leading me to make it myself. Thanks to the Sun which did all the work and fermented my kanji with tender care.
Cost of a glass of home-made kanji:
about INR 2.5 or a little less, as per my back of envelope calculation.
Go ahead, try it, you’ll be pleased
with yourself, and your spouse would be bowled over with your belated culinary
skill.
***
Notes:
1. I’ve also used a small matka to make
kanji, and the taste is even better.
2. Kanji can also be made only with
carrots. Nisha Madhulika in her You Tube video uses black carrots. I added
beetroot, an anti-oxidant, and the colour was even more vibrant.
3. The diced sticks are not to be thrown
away. A few sticks may be put in the serving glass. These may also be eaten as
marinated vegetable or mixed in a salad. Your choice!
***
Postscript
An absolutely beautiful narrative packed with amazing culinary details with Sun-God appearing as the protagonist. Thanks for your excellent post.
ReplyDeleteVery beautiful creation on North Indian Kanji prepared by a versatile genius. The author discusses on Odia Badi
ReplyDeleteas a passing remark which shows his grip on that recipe also. Very nice to go through.
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