The Burmese Way With Noodles

The Burmese have interesting noodle dishes, using many of the ingredients that other Asian countries do, but with a few local touches that result in distinctive flavours. As with all dishes, these too have many versions and the ones I have eaten in Burma (Myanmar) to me seem tastier than the reproductions elsewhere. I was often served Mohinga for breakfast - an involved affair that used catfish, fish sauce, shrimp paste, ground peanuts, spices, rice and gram flours to make a thick broth. This was served along with rice noodles, eggs, lime, coriander (cilantro) leaves and bean crackers and was a very wholesome, delicious morning meal. Then there were the Shan rice noodles, served with a meaty pork broth over which were sprinkled golden bits of fried garlic, white and green spring onion slivers and fragrant green coriander.

One of the better known Burmese one-meal dishes is the Burmese Chicken Noodles, called Oh-no Khaukswe (or Kaukswe or Khau swe). This is a rich chicken-coconut milk soup into which are added boiled wheat noodles, bits of chopped chicken, eggs, spring onion greens, chilly powder, raw, sliced onions, lime juice and/or fried rice vermicelli depending on one's personal preferences.

I have found this to be a very popular party dish as the ingredients themselves are delicious and people seem to enjoy putting their meal together in a sense. Much of the work can be done before hand except for prepaing the accompaniments, which I prefer to do a few hours before serving. I give below a recipe modified from Mi Mi Khaing's book (Cook and Entertain the Burmese Way) along with notes about the original recipe. I modified this to make a slightly lighter, vegetarian version of the soup and to increase the variety of accompaniments. This gives it more versatility as a party dish. The left overs last for at least a week in the refrigerator, it's one of my favourite party options for all these reasons. This makes about 20-24 cups of soup depending on how thick you like it (enough for 15-20 servings).

Ingredients for the soup:

3 coconuts, grated, from which coconut milk has been extracted or
3 cups thick coconut milk and about 4-5 cups thin coconut milk or
7-8 cups canned unsweetened coconut milk

2 cups minced or ground onions
1/2 cup minced or ground garlic

12-16 cups water

3/4 cup gram flour (called besan in India, a pale yellow coloured flour)

oil to fry the onion and garlic (about 1/2 cup)

1/2 tsp turmeric
salt to taste

Method:

In a large pan, heat the oil till a faint haze appears. Add the onions and garlic, fry till pale brown. Add the thin coconut milk. Make a paste of the besan using about 2 cups of water and slowly stir it into the mixture in the pan. Add the remaining water, turmeric powder and salt. When the mixture comes to a boil, turn the heat to low, add the thick coconut milk and let it simmer for about 5-10 minutes till it is of the desired consistency. Remove from heat. This is ready to serve and can also be stored in the refrigerator and reheated.

Accompaniments (you can select from amongst these, the boiled noodles are essential):

Boiled wheat noodles
Boiled eggs, chopped
Pan fried, sliced baby corn
Fried, finely sliced okra (ladies finger)
Pan fried, chopped prawns
Boiled chicken, chopped
Chopped spring onion greens
Wedges of lime or lemon
Chopped coriander (cilantro) greens
Raw or fried sliced onions (I prefer fried)
Fried chopped garlic
Fried and pounded red chillies
Fried rice vermicelli

A smile(essential)!

Note: The original recipe involves cutting a 3 1/2 pound (about 1 1/2 kg.) chicken into pieces, rubbing it with turmeric, boiling it in water for about 20 minutes or until cooked. The chicken pieces are removed from the water, the meat taken out, the bones smashed and reboiled with the water to get a rich stock which is strained and used (instead of the water that I use in my recipe). About 2 tablespoons of fish sauce are added towards the end of the final cooking. The boiled, shredded chicken is served along with the soup.

The Pleasures of Traditional Foods

I did all my winter homework and made large amounts of kanji (fermented carrot juice, a deep pink in colour), bought lots of carrots and radishes for salads and nuts for those in between moments. One could argue about the wisdom of transposing north Indian foods to the south, but I have realized that as long as the weather has a similar pattern (though the intensity may vary) and the ingredients are fresh, the body seems happy with it. And I rediscovered the joys of traditional winter foods after many years.

I discovered, to my surprise, that kanji is perfect for elevenses - a glass is enough to keep me going till lunch and I don't get that cloying aftertaste that packaged 'fresh' juices leave. How one glass of liquid can be so sustaining and satisfying, I have yet to figure out. Undoubtedly it involves not just the stomach but the nervous system as well. But this phenomenon is true of many traditional foods I think - they don't need to be consumed in large quantities yet they remain satisfying and nourishing. A handful of nuts or half a carrot does the job better than a bowlful of fried things. And it leaves one ready for and looking forward to the next meal.

I have also discovered the many joys of Khow Suey (about which I will write more later). It is a Burmese soup, made with coconut milk, gram flour, spices and saesonings and is topped with little bits of meats, noodles, eggs, fried garlic, onions or whatever your heart desires. I have found it to be an excellent party dish, people are drawn to it by curiosity and the fun of assembling one's own dish - and it tastes very good too no matter what you add. But I find, in simplified forms, it serves as an excellent lunch when rice and dal seem too heavy yet one wants something hot, flavourful and slightly liquid. All kinds of left overs go well on the side and the coconut milk in small doses is not as heavy as it would be in a thick curry. I find this preferable to the processed soup - noodle combinations that stores are flooded with these days.

I find that many of these traditional foods easily last upto a week in the refrigerator (the winter foods often last longer) and somehow one doesn't tire of them as quickly. And so it really is not as time consuming to get these things together as one imagines. Though home made traditional foods generally taste better than store bought ones, even if you can't make them, it's good to look out for them in shops.

The Headaches and Heartaches of Dogs

I just finished reading 'My Dog Tulip', by J.R. Ackerley - an endearing book on the ins and outs of Ackerley's dog, Tulip. It is a book that only ardent dog lovers can read, filled as it is with details of Tulip's anatomy and physiology, described though in an eloquent, poetic style (interspersed with occasional irritation or impatience with those who failed to understand the magnificence of this beast who could do no wrong).

Over the years, frustrated by the limitations that urban life imposed upon the large female alsation, Ackerley began walking her in the woods and leaving her to her instincts. This seems to have enriched their relationship all the more and he ends the book with a general thought about the fate of dogs and how little we know or think about their needs. For instance, how many of us would know whether dogs suffered from headaches?

I have wondered about this occasionally and have also wondered whether dogs might suffer from toothaches and how they might communicate this to us. I quote a couple of more general passages from this book, descriptive and thought provoking:

"This is our goal, our haven. Here, where the silver trees rise in their thousands from a rolling sea of bracken, Tulip turns into the wild beast she resembles. Especially at this early hour the beautiful, remote place must reek of its small denizens, and the scent of the recent passage of rabbits and squirrels, or the sound of the nervous beating of their nearby hidden hearts, throws her into a fever of excitement. The bracken is shoulder high, but soon she is leaping over it. Round and round she goes, rhythmically rising and falling, like a little painted horse in a roundabout, her fore legs flexed for pouncing, her tall ears pricked and focussed, for she has located a rabbit in a bush. Useless to go after it, she has learnt that; the rabbit simply dives out the other side and is lost. Her new technique is cleverer and more strenuous. She must be everywhere at once. She must engirdle the crafty, timid creature and confuse it with her swiftness so that it knows not which way to turn. And barking is unwisdom, she has discovered that too, for although it may add to the general terrorizing effect of her tactic, it also hinders her own hearing of the tiny, furtive movement in the midst of the bush. Silently, therefore, or with only a muted whimpering of emotion, she rises and falls, effortlessly, falls and rises, like a dolphin out of the green sea among the silver masts, herself the colour of their bark, battling her wits with those of her prey. The rabbit can bear no more and makes its dart; in a flash, with a yelp, she is after it, streaking down the narrow track. Rabbits are agile and clever. This one flies, bounds, doubles, then bounces like a ball and shoots off at right angles. But Tulip is clever too. She knows now where the burrows lie and is not to be hoodwinked. The rabbit has fled downhill to the right; she sheers off to the left, and a tiny scream pierces the quiet morning and my heart. Alas, Tulip has killed! I push through the undergrowth to the scene of death. She is recumbent, at breakfast. Casting an anxious glance over her shoulder at my approach, she gets up and removes her bag to a safer distance. I follow. She rises again, the limp thing in her jaws, and confronts me defiantly."

Along more general lines, Ackerely writes about Tulip's wooers:

"Indeed, now that I was a spectator merely, observing with detachment, I thought of them more deeply and regretted that I had added to canine social difficulties by my persecution of their fellows in the past. Not that I truly cared for them. Whatever breed or non-breed they might be, they seemed too preposterous or indistinct beside the wild beauty of my imperial bitch; but I saw how amiable and well-mannered they mostly were, in a way how sad, above all how nervous with their air of surreptitious guilt, and meeting the mild, worried brown eyes that often studied me and my friendly hand with doubt, I realized clearly, perhaps for the first time, what strained and anxious lives dogs must lead, so emotionally involved in the world of men, whose affections they are expected unquestioningly to obey, and whose mind they never can do more than imperfectly reach and comprehend. Stupidly loved, stupidly hated, acquired without thought, reared and ruled without understanding, passed on or "put to sleep" without care, did they, I wondered, these descendants of the creatures who, thousands of years ago in the primeval forests, laid seige to the heart of man, took him under their protection, tried to tame him, and failed--did they suffer from headaches? Infinite pains I now took to reassure them, and sometimes succeeded. They perceived, after all, that, surprisingly enough, I did not mean to bully them or interfere; they saw too what a comradely relationship existed between myself and Tulip, whom I was always stooping down to caress and praise; in the end they would come confidently to meet me and put their cold noses against my hand."

New Things This Year Brings

Poetry! Travel! To remind myself of these resolutions to read more and travel some, I have re-formatted my blog. All the readers who get my blogs directly by mail might like to make one visit to my blog site to see its new look (I should probably say 'avatar', which sounds more arty but 'look' will suffice, for the content has not changed).

Artisanal bread! I have bought a wonderful, new oven and my cast iron bread pan is on its way from Amazon. Ever since I read the book 'Tartine Bread', I have been introduced to a completely new world of bread and bread making. Of natural leavening, long rises, high hydration and at the end (one hopes) - crackling, crusty, flavourful loaves that keep well. I was so excited by this proposition that I decided to take the leap and buy a small sky blue charcoal grill called Smokey Joe (recently introduced by an American company in Bangalore). So Smokey Joe, Iron Mae (as I have named my bread pan) and I will spend long hours together, rollin' down the rough country road.

Growing my own salads! I hope to attempt growing a few simple leaves and vegetables, praying all the while that the monkeys don't get to them before I do. This is a biased experiment in studying plant-animal interactions. Yesterday I was delighted to see a bird hopping about amongst my pots in the garden, occasionally pecking at something on the leaves or in the soil, peering at the lotus pond and the bird bath (which no bird has used as of now!). It made me decide not to spray any strong chemicals on the plants or in the soil. This year, the aphids made their annual visit but I observed that just with a dose of good nutrients, the plants were able to survive the insect attack. So I will stick to organic gardening in the coming year.

Oh! And I totally forgot to include my resolution to do more 'real work' as well!

Happy New Year!

A year goes by faster than we care to think about. For me this has been a year of tremendous learning, of trying to go deeper within myself and of trusting my spirit as a guide.

As my element is water (as described by the Chinese five elements), this is the time I think of Lao Tzu's words -

"Nothing in the world is more soft and weak than water
But for attacking the hard and strong
Nothing can surpass it.
And therefore nothing can take its place."

This is a translation by the Tai Chi master, Professor Cheng Man-ch'ing, who illustrated its application in different aspects of Tai Chi, for example -

"In the application of Tai Chi Chuan, when it comes to the point of someone wanting to hit me, or to attack me, then the real usefulness of the art makes itself known. For instance, take a piece of cloth. You can beat it but you won't harm it. It doesn't resist you, it's not stiff. So if you're as soft as the cloth, then there's no problem. Moreover, one who is soft will not be afraid when people come to attack. Then you will be able to respond to an attacker's speed and strength in an effective manner.
The first and most difficult point of all is: you have to believe in what I say. If you don't believe it, when the person comes to attack you, you will resist him and then it will already be too late."

His student, Wolfe Lowenthal, explains further in the book 'There are no Secrets':

"The "difficulty" is that softness is a quality of the true self, that which exists beneath our myriad defences.
Resistance is rooted in our lack of faith in the self. We create armor to protect that self from the world: hard images of strength and brittle, false fronts. These images exact a huge toll of energy required for their maintenance.
"The first and most difficult point" would probably be impossible were it not for the wisdom of the heart. The heart knows that the gung fu of softness is not only practical, it's the only path worth taking."

My year was largely spent in warding off attacks of ill health and I realized towards the end of the year that what really helped me was looking deep within and allowing my heart to take decisions instead of focussing continuously on how my brain perceived things. A combination of the two is required, but each has its specific role. Allowing my mind to follow my heart helped me on many occasions.

As the year ends, I find myself opening up to possibilities that my still-water tendencies had never really wanted to explore. As my heart warms up to the thought of an exciting, completely new year ahead, I feel the the fire element gradually making its presence felt within. Towards the end of this year, I feel that I would like to be softer, less resistant to change in the coming year. Strangely enough, my writing, which I thought might be isolating in nature, has brought me in contact with many new people, new ideas and the possibility of new assignments.

And so, I would like to reach out to all the readers, known and unknown, of this blog, to wish them a wonderful, soft and heartwarming new year.

A Kerala Christmas Spread

Last night, we went to Ente Keralam, the (yes!) Kerala restaurant in Bangalore. It has received consistently good reviews and was always on our 'must visit sometime' list, but inertia intervened. Yesterday, my brother snapped us out of our overwhelming reluctance to drive into town and we met some family and friends there for dinner.

Kerala has a rich (and, like each Indian state, fairly unique) cuisine, owing to its distinct geography and cultural diversity. It is a region of rivers and backwaters, low lying fields and hilly plantations. The land is fertile and just right for cultivating rice, spices, nuts, tea and coffee. It also has a long, accessible coastline. For these reasons, it has traded with Southern Europe, the Arab lands and South East Asia for centuries, resulting in an intermingling of people and culture over time. About 24% of the population is Muslim and about 19% Syrian Christian, the rest is Hindu. Each region and community has its own cuisine.

Thus, it was no surprise that the menu was filled with things we had never tried and while we were pondering over what to order, another 'Christmas and New Year special' menu was produced. This had a list of delicious sounding dishes, many recognizable Syrian Christian specialties. We all decided to sample the fixed (but unlimited) menu that began with mulled wine and Christmas cake and ended with three kinds of sweets (pounded rice cooked with jaggery and eaten with small bananas, a thickened jaggery and coconut milk payasam and tender coconut icecream with a sprig of mint).

We raised a toast to friends, festivity and feasting. Conversations were struck, wine (and more wine) appreciatively sipped and crispy-tender mutton cutlets downed with ease. At some moment, there appeared gigantic silver thalis laden with bowls full of wondrous creations. Golden morsels of fried bittergourd, a bowl of dry lentils and grated coconut, a mild curry made with thickened curd and all kinds of special meat and fish preparations. Roast duck that melted in the mouth and released flavours of ghee, onions and whole spices, creamy and mild mutton ishtu (mutton stewed in coconut milk and spices), a tangy fish curry, almost like a pickle, a mild fish curry in coconut milk (meen moilee, one of the few things I was familiar with), beef fry (a delicious stir-fry of slivers of beef, onion, garlic, whole pepper and curry leaf) - these were served with a local bread (soft and porous), wholesome Kerala red rice and the distinctive Kerala appams that were tender in the centre and golden brown on the outside (this colour and texture is obtained only when the rice flour used to make the appams is fermented slowly with toddy and then cooked in shallow, lightly greased cast iron pans).

At this stage, the conversation was limited to "Have you tried this?" and "I wonder if I can have more of that?". Finally, the contents of the groaning table having been transferred to our now-groaning stomachs, we sat back, with small glasses of Sulaimani chai (sweetened black tea with generous doses of lemon and cinnamon) - a much needed digestive!

I happened to have my camera handy and took some photographs of the food as it appeared, in steady succession, at our table. Here are some pictures; unfortunately blogger does not allow me to attach smells and flavours...

A Delhi Winter

I'm in Delhi for a short winter break, in the midst of lower than average temperatures and biting winds. The sun is out for about half the day and people are out for much less. The Delhi centenary celebrations draw to a tired close and cultural events are at an all time low. Undoubtedly things will begin to move again during Christmas and New Year's eve.

For now, I spend my mornings outdoors, wrapped up like a mobile Christmas tree, in deep green and carrot orange (alternate, stripy sweater) and red woolly jacket, trying to catch the sun. Evenings find me seated next to a steam heater, sipping hot soup, watching the Christmas special movies on television. Day before yesterday I saw Casablanca, the unforgettable film with the perfect cast and one liners that stay in your mind forever. I don't believe any other actors could have created the same moods as Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman did.

Yesterday I visited some bookshops owned by individuals, not chains - places with eclectic collections and eccentric crowds. Peeped into a shop selling honey glazed hams and European cheeses and bought a small Christmas cake with almond icing. Well fed street dogs seem to lie along pavements, many with little woollen jackets around their middles.

On the road there was a flurry of Krishna devotees selling copies of the spiritual and philosophic text, Bhagavad Gita. Ever since a Siberian court has been moved to decide whether this book should be banned (as it might be 'war-promoting, extremist literature'), heated discussions have begun in Indian political and religious circles.

Today I bought gigantic prawns and large and small river fish - this is truly a great season for seafood and I try and make the most of it. Visited a sweet shop to buy the winter sweets, made with dark and delicious palm jaggery. Had a little talk with the shop attendant about labour shortage and the evident decrease in variety of sweets.

I am leaving this evening, carrying a suitcase of books and a large carton of food. Deep red, sweet winter carrots (for halwa and perhaps, if I desire, a carrot cake), tender white radish with pungent liver-cleansing leaves, dark indigo carrots for kanji (a fermented winter drink), sweet and juicy kinoos (a local orange) and tiny cape gooseberries - some to eat and some to jam. As the winter moves on, I have my work cut out for me.