3 days ago
Samar Halarnkar: Marinated peppers, labneh and other post-stent party adventures
Two days after his arrival from Australia and a day after he had a stent shoved up into one of his arteries, my friend Roger Galway sat up brightly in bed and watched as a young woman made her way into the hospital room.
She said, 'What would you like to have for dinner, sir?" She was the dietician. 'What I would like to have," he said, 'you can't give me—a biryani." She smiled. 'I can't give you a biryani, sir, but perhaps a khichdi?" She felt sorry for him and eventually promised a chicken curry.
Making lifestyle changes after a cardiovascular event can be challenging. I should know. It's been 12 years since the shock to my system. It took two years before I could figure out what was good for my body, as I tried to create a new version of myself. A former sportsman who played competitive cricket, hockey and football but let things slide in middle age—enjoying his regular beer and steak Down Under—my friend now faces the challenge of figuring out how to make the most of his second chance.
So it is for the millions who join the ranks of India's widening epidemic of cardiovascular events. To those who enjoy their food and drink—as do I, and as does my friend—making lifestyle changes can be harder than we realise. Once these changes become a habit, though, it becomes much easier to limit oil, alcohol, red meat and other things that we take so much for granted in many Indian cuisines.
At our home, we adhere to a reasonably healthy diet with minimal oil, lean meat and lots of greens, vegetables, fruits and nuts. But we have instituted cheat evenings, mainly when we have guests over and cholesterol concerns are temporarily abandoned. After all, you can't have pork without fat, and what's a biryani without mutton.
We had two dinners lined up for my friend. During the first one, he was still in hospital. The dinner went on anyway. He insisted, so we complied. In his honour, we ate what he craved: a brilliant, flavour-packed mutton biryani made by a friend who uses the proceeds to fund an old-age home that she runs (if you're in east Bengaluru, call Ameena Taj at 9886990205).
We are a brutal lot. We sent him happy photos of us and the biryani. Later, he admitted to feeling a bit blue but was satisfied that the show went on. Roger was out and about the next day, and for the next weekend we planned a heart-friendly dinner.
We thought long and hard about it. On party nights, I avoid lipids, triglycerides and other banned substances, I swap teaspoons of oil for tablespoons. I simmer fish in coconut milk instead of tomato. I choose pork with its fat intact over skinless chicken. Even the salad dressing gets a freer hand—more olive oil, more indulgence across appetisers and vegetables.
But what if we sacrificed our infrequent moment of indulgence and continued with the healthy theme for Roger's re-welcome party? It wasn't a bad idea and if it worked, would set a trend for future evenings that could be enjoyed without guilt. As we often do, we called for a potluck.
Harish—better known as Chocolate—the only one among us with professional culinary training, was assigned the main course: chicken and vegetables, crafted with strict restraint on ingredients frowned upon in the cardiovascular universe. He delivered a light chicken curry, delicately spiced with baharat, the warm, aromatic Middle Eastern blend. The dish, Quwarmah al Dajaj, a Kuwaiti curry with unmistakable Indian undertones, was fragrant and comforting. Alongside it came a ratatouille—moist, glistening and dripping with promise.
I made a roasted red pepper salad I hadn't attempted in years, pairing it with fish marinated in a touch of salt and Japanese Edo spice (with chilli and citrus)—a recent gift from a generous friend. The fish was pan-fried in just enough oil to sear, not soak.
Another friend brought a tart, refreshing pomelo salad. At home, we cooked up a pot of lemon rice, added a sliced baguette with a labneh dip, and with that, we were good to go.
The healthy outing was a success—though it may have owed something to the fact that it was washed down with a tipple or two. The man with the stent cast off his post-op abstinence, introducing his new stent to not one, not two, but perhaps three (maybe four—I stopped hovering) Old Monks. He declared he would embrace reformed ways once he got home. I hope he did.
ROASTED RED PEPPER SALAD
Serves 4-6
Ingredients
4 red peppers
3 tbsp chopped parsley
5 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tbsp red wine or sherry vinegar (the latter, ideally)
1-2 tbsp olive oil (depending on how much you want)
Salt to taste
Method
Char the red peppers in a grill until the skin starts to blacken (it took me two rounds in the oven, first 40 minutes at 180 degrees Celsius, then 40 minutes at 220 degrees).
Remove the peppers and place either in a ziplock bag or cover with a dish towel. This allows the skin to soften and makes it easy to peel.
Discard the skin, cut a slit in the bottom of each pepper and drain the juice into a bowl. Slice the peppers lengthwise, discarding most of the seeds.
Sprinkle lightly with salt. Mix the pepper juice with vinegar, olive oil, garlic and parsley and whisk.
Pour over the pepper strips and marinate in the fridge for an hour at least. Bring back to room temperature and serve.
Our Daily Bread is a column on easy, inventive cooking. Samar Halarnkar is the author of The Married Man's Guide to Creative Cooking—And other Dubious Adventures. He posts @samar11 on X
