Spherical Pancake Culture Collision: Gluten free Cashew Kunukku and Æbleskiver

That's right. Spherical pancakes. It's not a gimmick either. It's a global phenomenon. 

We recently acquired an Æbleskiver pan. To be a bit more precise and inject some cultural relevancy (to me), Ck acquired a kuzhi paniyaram pan (aka Æbleskiver pan - that's what they called it at the shop) and generously shared his new toy with me. Intrigued by this odd little pan and stories about my maternal grandmother making some sort of pancake like item in this pan, I got down to doing some serious food research. Pancakes are a very serious matter to me. They're among the easiest things to muck up and the most difficult things to do really well. After poking about for a bit, I discovered that this odd looking little pan is used in places like Holland, Scandanavia, and Denmark to make little pancakes called poffertjes (Dutch) or Æbleskiver (Danish). It's known as a monk's pan, pancake puff pan or an abelskiver pan in western shops.

Intrigued, we decided this Æbleskiver pan was the only appropriate thing to use for breakfast on Saturday. Note how shiny and new it looks here. My parents had given me some apples and Meyer lemons that were languishing away in my fridge. I chopped them up and made a sweet-sour-bitterish filling that was something between marmalade and apple butter.

 

We beat the poffertjes batter up and carefully dropped half spoons of it into the oiled, gleaming wells of the pan. They hissed satisfactorily. I quickly dropped a little spoonful of the apple-meyer lemon marmalade and then topped the little pancake up with batter until the well was three-quarters full. Adding the apple in the centre is a very traditional Danish approach to this, which I suppose makes what I did more Æbleskiver than poffertjes.

Learning how to cook them was a bit tricky. If you tried to flip them before they were properly golden on the pan belly side, they wouldn't budge. If you were careless with your fork (that was the first implement of choice), you'd ruin the shape of the uncooked top side. I dug about in my research and discovered a Danish recommendation to use a knitting needle for this task. I hauled out my bamboo knitting needle and hastily washed it up. It worked like a charm. We'd carefully push down on one cooked edge with the knitting needle and the Æbleskiver would somersault over with the greatest of ease.

The finished Æbleskiver or poffertje is not only a thing of beauty, it's also scrumptious.The dough is light and airy, and the centre filling (you can pick anything!) is a happy surprise to the tongue. I dusted the poffertjes with a bit of icing sugar to pretty them up a bit and to add a bit of sweetness to the bitter meyer lemon rind.

After experimenting with chocolate-filled poffertjes and plain poffertjes, I continued with my research. I came across interesting Japanese and Chinese versions of pancakes that use a very similar pan - Takoyaki and gai daan jai (eggette) respectively. I'll report out how those recipes turn out when I try them. 

As I was doing research on a totally unrelated topic one day, I stumbled across something quite extraordinary. I nearly fell off my chair. The abelskiver pan has its own name among Tamils who use it to make their own rounded golden delicacies - a kuzhi paniyaram pan. At that moment, it became clear to me that everyone loves pancakes. If nations and people can't agree about territorial sovereignty or global warming, by the gods, we can all agree about pancakes. 

Pancake love notwithstanding, this question remains: how did northern Europeans, East Asians and South Asians end up with very similar pans to make spherical pancakes? It's a good question. When I find out the answer, I'll let you know.

I found a brilliant recipe for cashew kunukku - think comfort food for rainy days or for days when you're too lazy to cook dinner but you want a quasi-substantial nibble and a movie. Kunukku was designed to be portable and is great for picnics. This dish is popular in South India, Sri Lanka and wherever there are Tamils with kuzhi paniyaram pans or deep vats of hot oil. Cashew kunukku is savory whereas Æbleskiver strays to the sweeter side of things as a result of the delightful things served with them. You could make a sweet variation of kunukku if you wanted to. I love both equally. 

I especially adore kunukku with some tomato chutney - it's one of my ideas of heaven. We made kunukku over at my parents' house and enjoyed them with some lovely tomato chutney and coconut chutney. Rather, I should say I ate too many kunukku at my parents' house and was too bug-eyed and full of kunukku and taro root to go to bed later.

Don't be worried when you see the ingredients for kunukku. They're easy to find in any Indian shop, extremely inexpensive, very healthy for you, and so easy to cook with. They're far more easy to work with than beating up egg whites for Æbleskiver, let me tell you. Be brave. Most importantly, have fun with it.

 

Æbleskiver Recipe (adapted from Lindgren's Bed & Breakfast in Lutsen, Minnesota)

4 separated eggs
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
3/4 cup apple cider plus 1 cup yoghurt plus 1/4 cup water)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 cups rice flour
oil

Method

 

1. Beat egg whites until stiff; set aside. 

2. Beat rest of ingredients until batter is very smooth. Fold in egg whites. 

3. Heat your pan over moderate heat with 1/8 teaspoon oil in each of the 7 holes. Fill each hole about three-quarters full with batter.

4. When browned on one side, turn with knitting needle [or two-tined fork] and keep turning until needle comes out clean after piercing through the cake. Generally, you'll only need to flip the cake once. 

5. Add a few drops of oil to each well in the pan before the next round of batter.

Serve with flavored butters, such as maple or cinnamon honey, syrup, jam and brown or white sugar.

Servings: plan on each person eating 7-10 cakes. Makes approximately 48 pancakes.

Cashew Kunukku (Sourced from Chef in You. Bless you, woman, for posting your marvellous recipes.)

2/3 cup plain short grained rice 

1/3 cup par boiled rice 

1 cup toor dal (pigeon peas) 

1/4 cup channa dal (bengal gram) 

1/4 cup whole urad dal (black gram) 

2-3 dried red chillies ( or as per taste) 

1/2 cup broken cashews 

1/2 tsp asafoetida (as per taste) 

1/4 cup grated coconut 

1-2 green chillies (optional) 

salt to taste 

few sprigs of curry leaves

Method

1. Wash the lentils and the rice in cold water. Then soak them along with dried chillies for at least 3 hours.

2. Drain the water from the soaked lentils and rice. Grind them with very little water along with coconut, salt and asafoetida to form a coarse batter.

3. Add the curry leaves, green chillies along with the broken cashew pieces. Stir well.

4. Meanwhile heat the pancake puff pan (kuzhi paniyaram pan) with 1/4 tsp of oil in each of the depressions. Drop spoonful of batter inside each of the holes.

5. Cook until the underside gets brown and then turn it upside down and cook for another 2-3 minutes. 

Test the first batch. It should be crunchy on the outside, but soft and bread-like on the inside. If it’s a bit dry, add a bit of water, and keep trotting along. I found I had to add a bit of water to my batch. The difference in texture that's achieved by adding a bit more water is significant, so do taste the first bunch you cook! I served these with coconut chutney.

The Epic Viewing of Carlos Part II - Luscious Brings Beetroot Poriyal

For the epic viewing of Carlos part two, we decided that we would bring a Tamil dinner over to Sharon and Thom's place. Ciaran and I did most of the cooking at my place before bringing the food over for the final polish. I decided to fry up some Madras style pappadum I brought back from Toronto. Pappadum in its raw form is a dried thin disc made from chickpea flour and spices. When fried, it expands into a crisp cracker. It is incredibly addictive nibbling food. I love breaking it up into my rice.

In favour of the gentle vegetarian, Ciaran, I decided on egg curry and beetroot poriyal. Egg curry? you say. Egg curry, I say. Yes. It doesn't sound like it should work, but in fact it does. It's one of the most marvellous vegetarian inventions in the Tamil culinary lexicon. Sharon took care of her pot of chai and the beets while I performed tricks with hot oil. I loved the luxury of cooking on S & T's fine gas stove.

Sharon's choice of Barefoot's Moscato wine went really well with the spicy beets and egg curry (Sharon and Thom agreed that the curry was "Hong Kong spicy"). Sharon and I share a love of sweet things. Moscato definitely tickles that sweet spot. The men opted for something less sweet. Sharon also helped break down my irrational distaste for brown rice by making some to accompany the curry.

Full of curry and the delicious bread pudding Sharon and Thom whipped up for dessert (I got a persimmon to myself in place of bread pudding), we flipped on the projector to watch the last half of Carlos. I'll confess that I was comfortable enough by the fireplace and philistine enough to doze through part of it. My culinary partners in crime were kind enough not to razz me about it.

When I attempted to come up with the specs for beetroot poriyal, I realized why I was struggling. There's a French term for this - au pif. It the context of cooking, it means cooking by the nose, or by sense. If you cook that way, writing down precise measurements is ... a challenge. Here goes.

Tamil Beetroot Poriyal

3 medium sized beets

3/4 teaspoon black mustard seeds

6 curry leaves

4 - 5 gundu molzuka chilis

1/3 cup dessicated coconut

1/2 teaspoon curry powder

1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder

1 tablespoon coriander powder

salt to taste (about 1/2 teaspoon)

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Method

1. Peel the beets and then grate them coarsely. If you have someone around with big muscled arms, I highly suggest recruiting them for this job. I know I did. Heat the oil in a heavy bottomed frying pan or pot.

2. When the oil is hot, add the mustard seeds, curry leaves, and chilies. Fry until the mustard seeds begin to pop. Add the grated beets immediately.

3. Add the curry powder, turmeric, coriander and a 1/4 teaspoon of salt. Stir well and add a quarter cup of water. Cover the pan and cook until the water is almost evaporated.

4. Add the coconut and some more water. Continue to cook the beets in this manner until they are tender. Taste and adjust for salt and spiciness as required. The beets should have a taste that's balanced between sweet and spicy.

Note: Gundu molzuka is Tamil for "fat chili." They are also known as mundu chilis. They are moderately pungent and much like their shape, impart a rounded heat to food. They are available at Indian grocery shops, but if you can't find them, any dried or fresh chili that's moderately hot will do.

Toronto Foodie: Tamil Love Food and Chicken Masala

The whole reason for the Toronto foodie post series is because of the people you see to your left. I went to Toronto to see Thanu and Sabesan get married. They were married in traditional Tamil Hindu style. They married for love.

Every culture I have encountered has an understanding about the linkage between food and love. It can be an expression of voodoo seduction between lovers, the nurturing demonstration of a loving parent, the happy medium at a meeting of friends, or the subject of a charitable act between strangers.

All I'm saying is that most of us can tell when food was cooked with love. It just tastes different. I had a friend who was a professional baker. She swore her bread always failed to rise or bake properly if she tried to bake after fighting with her lover. Maybe the bread just knew.

As per Hindu tradition, no meat or alcohol was served at Thanu and Sabesan's wedding feast. Meat and alcohol have long been considered to be things that pollute in the South Asian Hindu tradition. We were treated to a lovely  vegetarian spread after what was maybe the shortest and most punctual Hindu wedding I've ever cried at. We were sent home with sweet little boxes of palaharams - Tamil sweetmeats. These were all made by hand by the women of the groom's and bride's family.

After the wedding, Sujith, Shanthi and my sisters decided to go to Sujith's family home for tea. We stopped at the Sri Lankan Quality Bakery in Markham. We happily bought up a lot of nice things for a proper Sri Lankan Tamil tea.

From the top right, moving clockwise: mutton rolls, masala vadai and fish patties, butter cake and panakai paniyaarum, and finally, fish buns. Delish. All in all, an excellent accoutrement for a fierce conversation about ethnicity and politics.

The newly married couple rashly promised to cook lunch for Shanthi, Sujith and me in their squeaky new apartment a scant two days after their marriage. It was actually quite an honour to be invited for lunch as this was the very first meal they cooked together in their new home. I arrived uncharacteristically early and watched the two of them cook together.

She chopped tomatoes for the tomato, red onion, coriander and green chili salad.

He industriously peeled hardboiled eggs and tended to the chicken masala on the stove.

As I idly sipped on mango juice mixed with perrier and watched them cook, my eye fell on a virgin jar of tamarind.

Tamarind is an amazing thing. You can make candy with it, shine brass with it, heal wounds with it, cook tasty curry with it, eat its green sour fruit from the tree, and as you see here, make a paste out of it for cooking purposes.

I'm not sure why Tamils never popped out an equivalent of George Washington Carver to do for tamarind what George did for peanuts.

Sabesan and Thanu cooked a lovely lunch that included the hardboiled eggs, spinach keera, tomato salad, rice, eggplant curry and ...

... a delectable chicken masala. Here's a recipe for Tamil love food.


Tamil Style Chicken Masala 

1 pound of chicken cut into 2 inch square pieces
1 large onion chopped finely
2 tomatoes chopped into 1 inch dice
7 - 8 garlic cloves coarsely chopped
3 inch piece of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 or 2 dried red chilis
3 green chilis chopped into1/2 inch rounds
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon red chili powder
1 rounded teaspoon coriander powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon garam masala
1/2 teaspon turmeric powder
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1/4 teaspoon cumin seeds
6 - 7 curry leaves
1/2 teaspoon black mustard seeds
reserve Jaffna/Sri Lankan style curry powder
1 tablespoon of curd  or Balkan style yoghurt
Salt - as per your taste

Method:

1. Heat the oil in a deep cooking pan over a medium to high heat. Add the black mustard seeds. When they start popping, throw in the red chili, cumin seeds and curry leaves. If you have fennel seeds, chuck in about a 1/4 teaspoon for bit more flavour. Don't break the dried chilis unless you like hot curry.

2. Reduce the heat to medium. Add the onion and fry until translucent. Add the ginger and garlic and fry until everything is well browned. Be brave. Allow your onions to turn a brownish colour. This is key in most Tamil curry making. If you like your masala spicy, add your green chilis now. Add a small quantity of salt (1/4 teaspoon). 

3. Turn the heat up and add the chicken pieces, add turmeric powder and another 1/4 of salt. Turmeric must be treated almost like a raw vegetable and cooked to develop its flavour. Add the rest of your powdered spices: coriander, cinnamon, cumin, and garam masala. Fry the spices well but take care not to burn them. If need be, add a tiny bit of water.

4. After no more than 3 minutes, add the chopped tomatoes and mix until the chicken is gloriously coated in masala. If you didn't throw your green chili in earlier, add it in now. Add the curd/yoghurt and two cups of water to the pot. 

5. Turn the heat down to medium. Let the masala cook for 15-20 minutes with the lid on. Stir the masala once in a while.

6. When the chicken is almost done cooking (the time for this will depend on your chicken, your stove and your pot), remove the lid and raise the heat. The object is to evaporate all excess water so that you end up with a lovely dry curry

7. Lower the heat when the gravy level drops, and do your level best to ensure the curry doesn't scorch. Some of my friends prefer more gravy with their masala, so if you're a gravy lover, don't feel pressured to cook the masala all the way down. Near the end of the cooking, test again for salt and for curry level. If you need more pow, add a bit more curry powder and cook for a few minutes more.

Note: I've read some blogs written by people who insist that true South Asians don't use curry powder. I resent that. Having lived among Tamils, and grown up with Sri Lankan Tamils, I can assure you that we use curry powder. Not all curry powders are created alike. Buy a good one and be wary of the sorts that are cut with rice flour or are made with spices that should have been thrown away. Ditto for your spices. Use good quality spices that haven't been sitting on a shelf for ages. Your taste buds will love you for it.