Latest news with #GobiManchurian
Mint
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Banu Mushtaq's recipe for Gobi Manchurian
One of the strange things about getting an English education is that you are afflicted with a French education too. And a little bit of Russian too. What I mean is that if you have to study the English classics you are supposed to be thrilled by everything that the English thought was thrilling. Even if you have never sneezed in the direction of Marcel Proust, you will probably know that someone in a Proust book ate a tiny cake called a madeleine and then had an intense, emotional flashback. Sensory memory, particularly food-triggered memories, are real, of course. Contemporary cuisine loves to build on gastronomic nostalgia. Chefs know that it is like letting you bring an old friend to a party full of new people. Indians love all the heavy emotional artillery associated with food. Our books are full of deliciousness but off the top of my head though, it is hard for me to remember one right this moment. (This is cue for you to please email my editor about all the superb books I have forgotten about or foolishly haven't read yet.) This brings me to the important matter of Banu Mushtaq and the Gobi Manchurian. Also read: When we mock the working class, the joke is on us Banu Mushtaq, as you know, is the 77-year-old writer from Karnataka whose book Heart Lamp (translated from Kannada into English by Deepa Bhashti) has just won the International Booker Prize. When you get the book, I recommend you turn to The Arabic Teacher and Gobi Manchuri right away. If it was possible to take every last entitled male behaviour that drives women mad and turn it into a crispy pakora, that is what Mushtaq has done in this short story. Many spoilers ahead but really my plot recap shouldn't ruin your enjoyment of this story. The central character is not a floret of cauliflower. It is a lawyer looking back to when her daughters were young and she needed to hire an Arabic teacher. She is a busy, smart woman who knows her in-laws would enjoy watching her fail at her professional life and/or her domestic life. She is told that her husband cannot be involved in finding a teacher. Her younger brother performs a reluctant, shoddy and snark-filled assist and finds her a teacher. Our heroine is not given a proper chance to vet the Arabic teacher, keen as she is to make sure he is safe to leave with her tween daughters. Her husband won't even promise to keep an eye on the teacher. As it turns out, the teacher is great at his job. Six months in, the lawyer is startled when she finds the teacher and her flour-smeared daughters ensconced in the kitchen with the cook. The teacher doesn't wait to be fired and flees. Our enraged heroine finds out the teacher is apparently addicted to street-side Gobi Manchurian (or Gobi Manjoori as it is known in my fair land) and he had persuaded the clueless cook to try to make it for him. Also read: It's never too late to learn lessons from exams Later, even though the teacher is well out of her children's lives, the lawyer keeps hearing of him and his matrimonial plans. He loses one prospect because the father of the bride doesn't want someone who could abandon his daughter and run back home north of the Vindhyas. He loses another because he accosts the prospective bride and asks her if she knows how to make Gobi Manjoori. Here Mushtaq and her translator Deepa Bhashti have so much fun because each time someone mentions the 'strange" new dish, it gets another name. Gube manchari, gube curry, gube manchali. Gube, the Kannada word for owl, lets us know that everyone is worried that the suitable boy is off his head. The English might attribute wisdom to owls and the French general awesomeness, but Kannadigas know better. The parents of the young women ask each other what kind of nut wants fried cauliflower at his wedding? (Don't raise your hands. I know! Me too!) The moment that really had me cracking up was when the lawyer speculates that instead of this strange vegetarian dish, if the teacher had only 'demanded biriyani, kurma sukha, pulao or other similar dishes, the girl's family would have accepted happily." I had a non-Proustian flashback to an incident in my former Bengaluru neighbourhood, back in 2014. The groom's side pitched a fit that chicken biriyani had been served at the reception when really only mutton biriyani would do. Wedding cancelled. Back then, the bride had told the press, 'My family also had doubts about his moral character and that set me thinking. Finally, the biryani episode settled it and I knew I would not have been happy in the relationship." Unfortunately, in this story, the teacher does slip under the radar of watchful parents and canny brides and finds someone to torture. A battered young woman and her brother arrive at the lawyer's office to ask for help to file a complaint with the police. The woman's husband had been asking her to make an unfamiliar dish and beating her for not being able to. The lawyer knows immediately, of course. The dish is familiar and so is the nut. She knows the teacher ought to be punished for his violence. And at this denouement is where the genius of Mushtaq's story lies. Also read: Sometimes it's nice not to know things My friends at the feminist digital platform The Third Eye have compiled an incredible 'Dictionary of Violence"—concepts that help us understand how gender-based violence is navigated on the ground, in families and the legal system. Twelve women from Lalitpur, Lucknow and Banda, caseworkers all, unpacked the words in this dictionary. And at the heart of that dictionary, the heart lamp if you will, is the Hindi word samjhauta—the deal that is struck in the aftermath of domestic violence. The whole world is recruited into the samjhauta that is bargain, compromise, agreement, persuasion and every other word that seeks translation of men's violence into something that women can live with. At the end of Banu Mushtaq's story about cauliflowers and men, our lawyer makes lightning-quick calculations in her office to save the young woman's future. If she filed a police complaint, the teacher would run away like he had run from the kitchen. The young woman would be neither with husband nor without. Rather than file a police complaint, better to mollify the madman—a decision made all over the world every moment at every level, in war and in peace. And hence, as we leave the lawyer, we see her swiftly searching her phone for a samjhauta—a good recipe for Gobi Manjoori. Nisha Susan is the author of The Women Who Forgot to Invent Facebook and Other Stories. Also read: The benefits of reading poetry in a world of muddled meanings
News18
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- News18
Cauliflower Cake Is The Coolest Winter Dessert. TBH, We Didn't See It Coming
Cauliflower, one of the abundantly found vegetables during the winter days in subtropically climatic zones, has already developed an array of recipes. The white-hued variety of cabbage is particularly grown in regions with cool and dry seasons in India, China, Italy, Spain, and the United States. While many have already tasted items like Aloo Gobi, Gobi Manchurian, Gobi Paratha, Gobi Masala and many others, have you ever seen a cake made up of cauliflower? One such unique video of a cauliflower dessert went viral on social media. In a video posted on Instagram, a digital creator made the viewers a virtual part of her foodie diary exploring one of the must-have dishes at a restaurant in Moscow. As the influencer was seen capturing the moment on her phone while being seated at the food joint, the waiter was seen serving a piece of cake on her plate after detaching it from the white head of the cauliflower with two forks. advetisement
Yahoo
10-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Check out the Kongunadu cuisine at Brickfields' Erode Amman Mess that has already won over a huge following
KUALA LUMPUR, Mar 10 — So why are there long queues at Erode Amman Mess in Brickfields? What is so good about this place... which is how we ended up at Erode Amman Mess. The crowd in front of the restaurant at the corner of Jalan Tun Sambanthan and Jalan Rozario is hard to miss. What makes it different here is how everyone gets to queue in comfort as chairs are provided. But there's no queue for our weekday lunch. Weekends are when crowds of people come. Depending on how big your party is, the wait can be say 10 to 15 minutes for two diners. Mutton Biryani has tiny 'seeraga samba' infused with flavour and dotted with tender mutton pieces — Picture by Lee Khang Yi Once you walk in, you're greeted with a packed dining room outfitted in gold accents, chandeliers and even a gold lion head water feature. Its opulent décor may scare you but don't be intimidated, the food served here is down to earth goodness. Originating from Tamil Nadu in India, the restaurant offers Kongunadu cuisine where its hallmark is balanced spices and flavours At almost every table, people are tucking into the Erodu SPL Veg Meal. At RM14.95, it's bang for your buck with unlimited rice, ghee, special podi, sambar, special kuzhambu, two types of poriyal, kootu, pachadi, appalam, pickle, curd and honey gulkhand. Gobi Manchurian (left) is a classic Indo Chinese dish with sweet, spicy flavours while the Chicken Milagu Gravy (right) makes a good pairing with the rice — Picture by Lee Khang Yi It's definitely the most superior banana leaf rice meal I have ever had. Even the leaf is laid on top of a silver tray, so you won't have any messy accidents. The vegetables rotate daily so your palate is never jaded even if you're a regular here. One time there was beetroot and drumstick or murungkai. Another time, it was a bean feast, with black eyed beans, chana dal and butter beans with different vegetables. The podi, a mixture of spices, taste like toasted peanuts and enhances the fluffy rice. Here, the appalam is huge, giving you maximum crunchiness. Curd and ghee is by request so ask for those, if you fancy them with your meal. Japan Chicken (left) is like a riff of buttermilk chicken and Prawn 65 with Karuveppilai Pepper Gobi (right) uses curry leaves and pepper to cook the cauliflower — Picture by Lee Khang Yi The other star here is the Mutton Biryani (RM22.95), which is prepared Kongu-style with tiny grains of seeraga samba. It comes in a deceptively small looking pot. Once you start digging into it though the biryani seems endless. The flavour of the tender mutton pieces are infused in the small grains, leaving you satisfied even after demolishing half of the hefty portion. We suggest you pack home the remainder to relish later. Ask for curd and curry too with your biryani for a complete experience. With your meals, there's a huge choice of curries, fried items and then there is their Indo Chinese selection, which is their version of Chinese classics. Gobi Manchurian (RM14.95), the classic Indo Chinese dish, with its balanced sweetness and spiciness makes it enjoyable while the Chicken Milagu Gravy (RM16.95) allows you to drench your rice happily with the spice forward curry. Remember to add the 'rasam' to your order, whether it's the Kozhi Rasam (left) with chicken broth or the weekend special of Nandu Rasam (right) with the sweet crab flavour — Picture by Lee Khang Yi One of their iconic dishes is Japan Chicken (RM17.95). It's inspired a few copycats as some like to recreate it at home. For our palates, it may not be exciting as it tastes like a doppelganger of buttermilk chicken, a common dish found in dai chows. On the same flavour profile, there's also a Butter Garlic Mushroom (RM17). It has less liquid but the creamy, thick sauce adheres to the cauliflower florets. What worked better was the Karuveppilai Pepper Gobi (RM14.95) with a more piquant pick-up for the vegetable using curry leaves and pepper. The winners here are the rasam. Here, it's not just spices but it's tiny bowls of soupy heaven that will brighten your day wonderfully. Mutton Kola Urundai (left) is filled with moist minced mutton cooked with herbs while one can end the meal with a cup of Mylapore Filter Coffee (right) served in a 'dawara' tumbler set — Picture by Lee Khang Yi The Kozhi Rasam (RM5) uses a chicken soup base while the weekend special Nandu Rasam (RM7.95) is sweet from the crabs. Another must-eat here is the Mutton Kola Urundai (RM4.95 per piece) or mutton meatballs. The Kongu classic looks like an ordinary dark brown ball but inside is the treasure of moist minced meat mixed with herbs. There's also various fried items like Pepper Chicken Fry, Chicken 65 and more, but we settled for the Prawn 65 (RM22.50) with prawns battered and deep fried. Do not miss the dessert here, washed down with their Mylapore Filter Coffee (RM5). The coffee is served in a brass dawara tumbler. Pour the aromatic brew in the smaller tumbler filled with fresh cow's milk to mix it together. I like mixing it a few times like the teh tarik man until the sugar melts. For a lighter, coconut forward dessert, order the Elaneer Payasam (left) and the divine Beetroot Halwa (right), a warm pudding of happiness with beetroot, milk, raisins and nuts — Picture by Lee Khang Yi If you're looking for your usual creamy payasam with vermicelli and sago pearls, you will be disappointed as here, they serve Elaneer Payasam (RM10), a Kongu classic. The cool coconut forward dessert is lighter and more refreshing. The mixture is composed of coconut water, pounded coconut pulp, coconut milk with a mild hint of cardamoms. What blew our minds was the Beetroot Halwa (RM6.95), a daily dessert special. The texture when served warm is similar to a pudding made from grated beetroot cooked with milk, raisins and nuts. Every bit of that dessert was happily scraped away till the bowl was empty. This Beetroot Halwa alternates with the Carrot Halwa that is a big crowd favourite. Most of the diners visit for lunch. For dinner, they serve idli, dosai and idiyappam. The interior (left) of the restaurant features gold accents, chandeliers and gold lion head water feature while one can spot Erode Amman Mess (right) from the crowd that flocks here during weekend lunch — Picture by Lee Khang Yi It was a great meal, made even better by the hospitality of Dr Pallavi Tarun who was at hand with recommendations for the halwa and rasam. She's also mentioned in their Google reviews by numerous diners. Erode Amman Mess started out in Erode, a city in Tamil Nadu, India, hence the name. As time passed, many gave it the nickname, 'Amman Mess' which stuck even after they opened in Chennai. They have outlets in Dubai, Singapore and now in Malaysia, where they were brought in by Sri Paandi Restaurant about a year ago. Erode Amman Mess, G9 (Retail). Sentral Suites, 248, Jalan Tun Sambanthan, Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur. Open daily: 11.30am to 4pm, 6.30pm to 11pm. Facebook: Instagram: * This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal. * Follow us on Instagram for more food gems.
