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What’s in a name? Rose cookie, rose de coque, Scandinavian rosette, beehive cookie, nan-e-panjereh, achappam…these are names from around the world for a light as air, barely there, confection of deep fried pastry. They all consist of a thin layer of batter formed on heated decorative moulds of brass, iron, aluminium or even copper. These cookies, with so much style and little real substance, are a true delight!
Often associated with festive occasions like Christmas in Scandinavia, or Chinese new year celebrations in Malaysia, rose cookies were something my grandmother made on a regular basis as an any time treat. Her recipe consisted of a lightly sweetened milk, egg, and flour batter with vanilla flavouring.
It takes a little practice to get the basic procedure right. But it’s definitely worth the effort, and the little heaps of mangled, scorched, “tries”! A good place to start is with a well seasoned iron that will release the batter easily.
Earlier this month, market stalls along the highway between Mysore and Coorg were laden with locally grown seasonal produce, including a variety of cucumbers.
There were dark green ones, pale green and white striped ones, and skinny, fuzzy ones an even lighter shade of green. All of these were arranged in neat pyramids, soothing to the eye and conjuring visions of cooling salads for the increasingly dry and warm weather ahead.
Between the harvest and replanting of a staple crop, it’s common practice to turn over part of fields to the cultivation of pumpkins , gourds, melons, and cucumbers. Quite a Cucurbit family plot, so to speak!
One of my personal favourites in this extended family is Bollari*, a pleasingly plump field marrow with flamboyant yellow, green and ochre striped skin and cool, crisp flesh. Unlike its more delicate cucumber cousins, it takes cooking to bring out the best in it. And it handles heat just fine, holding its own and not falling to pieces even after a long simmering in a spice bath.
Sharp kachampuli, tart tamarind, and an array of citrus fruit are among the popular choices used to to add an acidic element to dishes in Kodava cuisine. They always serve as an accent, while preparations featuring ripe, sweet fruit are often served up in accompaniments to a meaty main dish.
Take mango and pineapple curries – both feature the familiar dark roasted spices commonly used in meat dishes, but with a sweet touch from the fruit, and a little added jaggery. We enjoy mutton pulao with maange pajji – fresh ripe mangoes in a smooth yogurt base with green herbs and the sharp bite of chillis to counter the sweetness of the fruit. Again, meat, with a side of spicy sweetness.
Aside from traditional fare, there are also sweet pickles and chutneys, recipes borrowed from elsewhere, that routinely share the table with more traditional offerings. Spicy, sweet and tangy condiments like date pickle, lime chutney and carrot pickle with raisins, to name a few, are among the popular ones.
So, it’s not like we are completely averse to the idea of pairing meat with something sweet and fruity – just not in the same dish! But, let’s not forget that favourite guilty pleasure – luridly coloured pineapple sweet and sour pork (or chicken) at the local Chinese restaurant!
Perhaps the combination of sweet fruit added to meat dishes has a somewhat limited appeal. Nevertheless, I’ve been experimenting with giving the popular pairing of pork and pineapple a distinctively Coorg flavour, by marrying elements of two classics – pandi (pork) curry, and pineapple curry. The recipe below is the result. I’ve increased the sweet, woody spices in the masala to give the dish a lighter tone. If I say so myself, it is truly delicious!
As 2015 draws to a close, I’d like to thank all those readers who have been so encouraging and supportive of my blog for nearly five years.
Happy New year to all of of you and your families! I look forward to sharing much more with you in 2016. And until then, I’m signing off with this image taken in one of Vancouver’s beautiful public parks.