Peach Pie & Giveaway

My aunt, who is in her seventies now, did a long career in Helsinki University. Besides teaching Family and Consumer Sciences, she wrote and co-authored twenty cookbooks.

As a kid, I admired her unconditionally! Not because of her academic achievements, but because she came with open arms and connected with a shy girl like me. My brother was her Godson; I envied him for that! Although I’ve since learnt that my brother’s merits are due to his own good nature, I still dote on my aunt.

When Pure Vegetarian came out, I handed her a copy, “Look aunty what I did,” feeling like a kindergartener who gives an object made of empty paper rolls to a renowned sculptor! I was nervous knowing she would examine it as a professional.

She called me five days later to offer feedback. By browsing through the recipes she had noted that she isn’t the target reader because her dietary habits are settled – she wouldn’t use Indian ingredients or learn new cooking methods, like tempering spices. Nonetheless, she appreciated the clarity of the recipes and found the instructions articulate. She enjoyed exploring details about hing, tej patta, bitter melon and other items that are foreign to her, listed in the end of the book.

When I dedicated to bhakti-yoga in my late teens, many of my relatives were embarrassed and cut contact with me, but my aunt remained broadminded. Therefore, she wasn’t surprised that I approach cooking as meditation in the book. She nailed my purpose of writing Pure Vegetarian by saying that even before she read the non-recipe content she saw that the photographs respect the elements and ingredients I work with. She found the images delicate, telling a story about commitment to spirituality, and concluded, “I will be proud to show your book to all of my colleagues.”

I admit, I read the book again after hanging up the telephone. Are authors allowed to do that? Is it a shameful confession? My aunt claimed she never opened any of her books after publishing them. I’ve rendered aloud mine at least 20 times!

Pure Vegetarian is imperfect – or, impure – in many ways, like I am. Trust me, I’ve beaten myself for every sentence I could’ve written more genuinely, every recipe I could’ve tested again, and every picture I could’ve put more effort into. However, the book inspires me. It reminds me, and hopefully everyone who reads it, of different ways to associate with and around food. Isn’t it true that you and I are ultimately looking for the sustenance of the soul that comes from connecting to the divine nature – our source, and the source of bread and butter – through consciousness? Nutrition, as metabolic and physiological support, doesn’t satisfy the hunger for fulfilment; matter alone will always be inadequate for us, spiritual beings.

Think of Pure Vegetarian as a rest stop on the path of elevation all humans travel from inside out – instead of outside in – searching for lasting happiness and love. Press your breaks and sit down with me! Let’s dive into the essence of food and the potential of cooking, while I’ll serve you rice, dal, vegetables, salads, savories, sauces, sweets and beverages.

Tell me who has encouraged you recently in your life under this post to enter Pure Vegetarian giveaway (or write anything else). I’ll randomly draw a name from a hat on November 15, announce it on the blog, and ship a copy of Pure Vegetarian to the winner – hopefully you – anywhere in the world! Meanwhile, enjoy the peach pie; the recipe is from the book.

PEACH PIE

Step I

63 ml (1/4 Cup) wholegrain spelt flour

250 ml (1 Cup) all purpose spelt flour

1 Tbsp sugar

½ tsp sea salt

120 g (1/4 lb) cold unsalted butter

63 ml (1/4 Cup) ice cold water or as needed 

Step II

1 ½ kg (3 1/2 lb) peaches

3 liters (12 Cups) boiling water for scalding 

Step III

2 Tbsp lemon juice

188 ml (¾ Cup) sugar

¼ tsp cinnamon powder

A pinch of nutmeg powder

A pinch of salt

3 Tbsp corn starch

Step IV

Milk, yogurt, cream or water for brushing

Sugar for sprinkling on the top

Make the dough by mixing the flours, sugar and salt in a bowl. Cut the butter into small cubes and fork it into the flour until it resembles a coarse crumble with visible (pea-size) pearls of butter. Add the water gradually while pulling the dough into a rough ball with a spatula. Adjust the amount of water, depending on the quality of flour.

Divide the dough into two parts and wrap a plastic film around each one. Flatten them slightly and place in the refrigerator to rest for at least 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, wash the peaches. Cut a shallow cross on the top of them. Plunge them in a pot of boiling water for a minute. Drain and rinse them with cold water. Slip the skins off with the help of a paring knife. Pit and slice them. Set aside.

Preheat the oven at 200 C (392 F).

Take one portion of the dough. Roll it into a thin round between two baking sheets sprinkled with flour. It should cover the bottom and sides of a 25 to 28 cm (10” – 12”) pie form. Remove the top sheet and transfer the crust into the form by flipping it over with the help of the bottom sheet. Remove the second paper, too. Trim the edges. Put it back to the refrigerator.

Unwrap the other portion of dough and roll it, similarly, into a thin disk. Use a cookie cutter to cut small hearts out of it. Alternatively, you may use it as such (pierced with a knife), or make a lattice top for the pie.

Combine the peaches, lemon juice, sugar, spices, salt and corn starch. Take out the pie form and pour the filling in it. Cover with the hearts and brush with milk or water. Sprinkle it with sugar and bake on the bottom third of the oven for about 50 minutes. If the edges are becoming too dark, cover them with a piece of foil, wet baking sheet.

Serve hot or cold. The filling settles as it cools down.

Thank you.

Eggless Meringues

Internet – the modern day village where masses gather to entertain, and to be entertained, and where Facebook along with blogs comprise message boards and news booths at the central marketplace – has been buzzing about aquafaba for some time. Although I’ve stayed away from the latest feeds for the best part of the summer, whenever I’ve connected online, recipes for this new culinary obsession have popped up on my screen.

Finally, I gave it a try, too.

It wasn’t that I craved for eggless meringues. After all, I belong to the tribe that has never understood the thrill behind veggie-burgers, mock pork-chops or imitation chicken nuggets. I mean, if you are a vegetarian, why would you enjoy dishes that echo values associated with meat? To some extent, I have the same attitude towards veganized meringues, macaroons, pavlovas and marshmallows that look pretty but simply mimic egg-based classics.

Ethics aside, I didn’t taste the meringues because of my sugar free lifestyle, but my husband indulged in them while oohing and aahing. You have to rely on his word here.

There hasn’t been scientific research or formal chemical analysis about cooked chickpea liquid, showing why it is such a competitive emulsifier, and leavening and foaming agent. It looks like someone figured out (accidentally?) in a home laboratory that the high protein content of aquafaba behaves in a similar manner than egg-whites, and to some degree, egg yolks, too.

To get aquafaba you boil whole chickpeas (after soaking them in plenty of water overnight) until they become tender, and then collect the water. When the liquid cools down it forms jelly like consistency that turns into white, hard foam when you whisk it. Add sugar, a pinch of vanilla and a squeeze of lemon; pipe the mixture on a baking tray, and slowly dehydrate it in the oven; and – voilà! – there is your batch of meringues. If you are looking for an egg-replacer, you won’t find a better one. And, no, aquafaba doesn’t taste like chickpeas.

I added beet-juice to the part of the foam but my hopes of getting pink meringues burnt when our oven over-heated. Have you ever tried to keep a wood oven around 100 C (212 F) for two hours? It’s a laborious job!

Do you see the small cracks on the meringues? They are caused by too high temperature.

Eggless Meringues

(The recipe makes about 30-40 small pieces)

3/4 cup (187 ml) aquafaba
1/2 - 3/4 cup (125 - 187 ml) caster sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla sugar
1/2 tsp lemon juice

Whip the aquafaba with an electric mixer until it becomes white and light, and forms soft peaks. A balloon whisk of a stand mixer works best. Blender isn’t suitable because the blades spin too fast and don’t aerate the foam.

Add the sugar gradually towards the end of whisking along with the vanilla and lemon. Keep processing until the mixture becomes glossy and so hard that you can turn the bowl upside down without spilling the contents.

Pipe or spoon the mixture on a baking tray.

Bake in 100 C (212 F) for 1 ½ to 2 hours until the meringues are completely dry.

Store the meringues in an airtight container. If they become moist and sticky, re-dehydrate them again in the oven.

Tips:

I pressure-cooked 400 grams (500 ml / 2 cups) chickpeas in 1 liter / 4 cups of water until only half of it was left. The chickpeas were butter-soft and the aquafaba was concentrated.

The aquafaba becomes even stronger when you refrigerate the chickpeas for a day in the same liquid you cooked them in.

You can directly use the liquid from canned chickpeas, too.

Thank you.

Berry Pie

In order to cut and serve a wet pie neatly, bake it in a shallow dish. Learn from my mistakes and don’t use a tall spring form – it’s a bad, bad idea! When lifting the side piece up, I pierced the crust and trickled the juices; when removing the bottom part, I tore off the entire base of the pie. What a mess! Maroon berry compote splattered around the kitchen and my dress.

Luckily I had photographed the pie when it was still hot and intact. These pictures would give me a narrative license to create a visual illusion and you would never have to know about the mishap! Or, so I thought before realizing I had accidentally – and very permanently – deleted the pictures from the camera. All of them.

I was unfocused. It was a hot day: I wanted to finish baking and photographing as soon as possible. I sweated, had heartburn and a headache. Funny, when the mind becomes distracted it storms all over the place although it should pause and re-evaluate. But, in the heat of the moment, it is too engrossed and ignores the little cues that forecast trouble. How many times have you neglected the flash of premonition that strikes the thought process just seconds before cutting a finger or dropping a glass? Often only a shock will halt a passionate mind. Breaking the pie and loosing the pictures did it for me.

Instead of baking and photographing again, I decided to deal with the mind. Interestingly, when it was calm, the failure no longer bothered me and I could happily share the crumbles with my husband. It seemed like a natural thing to do, and reminded me that cooking and eating are irreplaceable mediums of affection. The rest – in what form the recipes are presented in social media and how artful the images are – is less important.

Thank you.

Berry Cake

Paper-thin oat cookies, cream and fresh berries stacked into a cake – can the summer get better than this?

Never mind the cold, rainy weather that keeps us wrapped in wool. I hope your heart is warm.

Thank you.

After dinner mints

There is a person sitting slightly apart from others, observing. Let’s say he is a modestly but well dressed gentleman who sparsely shares his thoughts, but when he does, everyone halts to listen. Even if he is a young boy, he appears elderly. His wealth is sealed in his manner of speaking and grave voice. He seems to shine silently – like a background canvas – in the company of bright characters, remaining somewhat of an enigma to others. If you know the type, you know dark chocolate.

Peppermint, on the other hand, is the one who doesn’t only initiate a conversation but suddenly changes its direction and fearlessly lifts a controversy on the table. He entertains with radical ideas (and sometimes utopias). He is witty and quick. In fact, he commands attention by engaging others in interesting topics.

When you bring two (or more) contrasting humors with some commonality together, there is a rapport that endures time and trends. This principle is applicable to any kind of relationship, whether between people or inanimate objects. Confectionary industry has successfully utilized it by creating classics, like After Eight, in which distinct but complementary flavors embrace each others.

Instead of fondant made of saccharose, water and enzyme invertase, I have filled these after dinner mints with cream cheese.

Thank you.

Gulab Jamun

When there is a food memory, it is usually long-lasting. Facts – whether physical, chemical or biochemical – rarely play a role; rather, the remembrance links to an experience that takes place while the workhorses of the body, namely enzymes, convert carbohydrates, proteins and fat into energy. Years later we likely recall the emotional essence of the situation. We may think that it was the extraordinary smell, flavor or texture that impressed us, but when trying to reconstruct the physical sensation in the mind, it is futile. A sensual relationship with dead matter, which even the most delicious combinations of starch, sugar, butter, pulses and plants offer via the nose, tongue, eyes, skin and ears, is a flickering experience. Until there is interaction between two or more living beings that accumulates a feeling, the impact remains meager; therefore, a larger context always surrounds the most vivid recollections. Food is the proxy that triggers them.

When I went to India in 1993, I got very sick after drinking impure water from a bottle I bought outside the Kolkata airport on my way to Delhi. Although I noticed the seal was broken, I couldn’t resist drinking while dehydrated due to the scorching weather. After the first sip, I regretted: there was no return from being accompanied by a stomach pain for the rest of my trip, and even beyond it! While visiting the temples and kundas (water wells) in Vrindavan and Mathura area, local residents eagerly served me either sweet-rice or gulab jamun which I could not refuse although I was well aware the treats would pass through me faster than I could run back to the ashram I was staying in. Then, within a week or two, I was able to walk only to a cement-walled toilet outside the room I shared with a transparent gekko on the ceiling. Ever since – regardless how fondly I remember every saintly person I met and the soft mist through which I could hear jubilant greetings “Radhe, Radhe!” long before the sunrise – I have politely stayed away from sweet-rice and gulab jamun which, with all fairness, didn’t even cause the discomfort that finally bound me to a hospital bed.

When my husband was a brahmacari, a celibate student in a monastic setting, gulab jamun were closest to a direct sense-gratification he indulged during the festival days with his friends. They used to make them from milk powder in such a way that they soaked sugar syrup like balloons and exploded in the mouth. Everyone got intoxicated by the amount of sugar!

When he went to India a year or two before me, he travelled by train from a holy place to another and stayed in dharmasala or rest-houses for pilgrims that were far from five star sanctuaries but often resembled animal-shelters without any basic facilities. Although spiritually rewarding, it was austere. It didn’t help that the airline company had lost his luggage on the way to India and he could afford only to a pair of dhoti (loincloth) and chaddar (upper garment) he washed daily. On the top, a monkey stole his eye-glasses in Vrindavan! You can imagine his anticipation when he arrived to Jagannath Puri, a famous coastline town by the Bay of Bengal, and bought one gulab jamun from a vendor outside the temple. He likely thought it will compensate the hardship of being pushed around in the crowded trains and taking cold showers from a bucket in the early hours, only to be utterly disappointed when popping the sweetmeat in the mouth. It wasn’t anything like the soft, juicy bullets that had pampered him in the ashram; rather, it was hard like a stone.

During our twenty years of marriage, I have made gulab jamun once before the past few weeks. Interestingly, it was an uneventful occasion fifteen years ago which I, however, remember clearly; probably due to the initial experience I had in India. I was surprised then, like I am now, how attractive dessert it makes. Yet, I’m not eager to make them again anytime soon!

In order to satisfy my husband’s food memory from the brahmacari years, I had to make several batches of gulab jamun to get them right. It was my understanding that you have to cook them slowly in ghee over a very low heat, but I learnt that it makes them more solid and, thus, unacceptable by our Polish connoisseur! To make them hollow inside, use fat-free milk powder, a pinch of baking powder and enough milk to quickly tie the ingredients together. Then, roll small balls from a marble size up. When fried in ghee over a moderate temperature, they double or triple by diameter. This type of gulab jamun are not the prettiest because they dent in syrup, but if you are going for a sugar rush – nothing beats them! Expect fireworks in the mouth!

I achieved the second best result by using milk powder with 26% fat, a pinch of baking powder and a little bit of milk. Fried fairly quickly over a moderate temperature and soaked overnight in thin syrup, they became spongy and succulent.

Adding a teaspoon (or two) of flour into the milk powder helps the balls to retain a perfectly round shape and prevent dumplings from collapsing when plunged into the syrup. However, in our test kitchen, these types of gulab jamun were least favored. The flour appears to reduce the flavor.

I made one serving using organic whole cane sugar in the syrup; it wasn’t a good idea because the taste was over-powering. Gulab jamun are subtle and sophisticated sweets. Nothing that is fried in ghee and imbued with sugar becomes “health food” by any trick.

Traditionally, gulab jamun are made from milk solids, known as khoya. Cardamom, saffron, rosewater or kewra-water scents the syrup. The Mughals likely introduced the sweet to Indian Subcontinent and its origins are in Persia, as the name, “flower water”, indicates. There are many similar Arab and Turkish desserts. Even the Greek loukoumades, although spiced with cinnamon and honey, seem to sprout from the same root.

Although my husband and I have now created a new gustatory memory around gulab jamun that is quite different from what we experienced before we were married, it doesn’t override the original ones which, in spite of being connected to sickness and severe penance, have a special place in our hearts. In fact, the present remembrance preserves a link to where we came from and helps us to revisit all that is important to us today: our friendship and the search of sacred we are committed to complete together.

Ekadasi Cake

Those who follow a discipline, sadhana, designed to realize one’s ideal in the bhakti-tradition, observe a fast from grains, pulses and certain spices every eleventh day of the bright and dark fortnight of the moon. Ekadasi tithi is the day of Sri Vishnu and stands for an intensified spiritual practice. Sadhus or saintly persons of higher order often uptake a voluntary vow, vrata, beginning at the dawn of the preceding day and ending in the sunset of the day following ekadasi, during which they minimize bodily demands in favor of enlightenment. The commitment advocates increased devotional activities like meditation; studying Srimad Bhagavatam, Mahabharata, Ramayana and other Puranas aiming at redeeming the perception of life; and singing lyrical expressions of love for the Divine, kirtan or bhajan, throughout the ekadasi night. Devotees sometimes make a bold statement of mauna, a promise of silence, by avoiding idle and unbeneficial words.

Many of today’s sadhakas or sadhu-aspirants live and work in the secular society that rarely accepts or endorses the interests of a modern yogi. We lack the luxury of taking three days off every few weeks to carry out self-control of such precision, but constantly balance our lifestyle and worldly obligations without compromising the goal. Thankfully, ekadasi is auspicious whether performed elaborately or simply. In fact, it is said to be fortunate even if adhered to unknowingly or accidentally by abstaining from grains.

The origin of ekadasi is discussed by the sages Vedavyasa and Jaimini in Padma Purana. If you are not familiar with the puranic literature, note that it approaches the philosophical themes of Upanishads from a personal point of view, depicting them as a part of interaction and relationships, rather than intellectual enigmas. This story, like many others, is a classic account of good and evil, personified by a beautiful goddess, Sri Ekadasi, whom Sri Vishnu manifested, out of compassion, to relieve the suffering of those who violate the laws of nature and fall in the hands of the embodiment of sin, Papa-purusha.

Left invalidated and unemployed because of Sri Ekadasi’s blessings upon the wrongdoers, Papa-purusha sobbingly begged Sri Vishnu to restore his control over those who are apt to negative karma. Being fair to all creatures, Sri Vishnu permitted him to enter food every eleventh phase of the waxing and waning moon, on ekadasi tithi, and instill destructive sensual desires in whoever eats grains on those days. It is said that all disharmony and imbalance of the material world take refuge in rice, wheat, corn, beans, peas, mustard seeds and other heavy foods on ekadasi.

Bhakti-yogis are not driven by the fear of karmic implications per se but see ekadasi as an opportunity to come closer to the Transcendence. Fasting pacifies the connective line between the tongue, belly and genitals, and helps the body to respite from dietary irregularities while releasing energy to subtle, conscious processes that nourish the soul’s thirst and hunger for self-realization. When the moon is quarterly full or dark, it gravitates very mildly and its rays sooth the nerves and feelings of the heart; when the mental tides are calm, it is easier to contemplate.

Cakes may not typically be on the menu during the fasting days but sometimes the situation calls for a sweet treat. Being gluten-free, the recipe serves guests with sensitivity to wheat on any occasion.

I have used milk-powder that has 26 % fat. I can’t confirm whether any other type of milk-powder will yield as good result. Be aware that the cake becomes dry if over-baked; keep it in the oven only as long as it takes to become firm. The exact duration depends on the height and width of the form. A regular 25 cm / 10” tin cooks in 170 C / 338 F for 30 to 40 minutes; cupcakes are ready much quicker. Insert a toothpick to determine a proper consistency. If you want to make a layered cake, it may be a good idea to bake each layer separately.

Due to the content of potato starch, this cake is delicate and somewhat sand-like. It is best eaten soon after baking.

Terry, if you are reading this: I will take up the subject of coping with a loss in another post soon. Thank you again for suggesting it.