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.

Apple Tart

Do you remember I wrote about cāturmāsa in September? A week ago, on Monday, the smiling face of full Moon marked the beginning of its final quarter, the month of kārtika, which is especially dear to bhakti-yogis for belonging to Śrīmatī Rādhārānī, Śrī Krishna’s feminine energy. It cases the most intimate pastimes in Vrindavan, the forest village of tulasī tree. Among millions, I’ve taken a vow, in addition to my regular practices, to wake up early, bath in cold water, offer a ghee lamp and sing a compilation of eight stanzas, Śrī Dāmodarāṣtaka, from Padma Purana that reminds of the essence of life.

The austerity of taking an icy shower has a deeper impact than I’d like to think. As unpleasant as it may feel, it is vitalizing. A warm shower cleanses the body but a cold one purifies the subtle self – the mind, intelligence and ego. It removes the mental plaque of hankering and lamenting, and brings the mind, in a shocking fashion, to ‘now’, which is a prerequisite for meditation. It is a sacred act, along with applying auspicious clay markings, tilak, on the sensitive points like the heart, throat, forehead and crown, and dressing in clean clothes. Such routines transform the body into a temple and align it with environments and activities of compatible nature.

One and a half hour before sunrise is known as brahma-muhurta, a period more advantageous for yogic processes than any other. Wagtails, swifts and nightingales softly tune their vocal instruments at such hour during the summer, but now, due to the frosty season, they are composing lyrics in a warmer location, perhaps in Southern Europe or Africa. Only sounds heard in our home are the tapping of a clock on the wall – tick tack, tick tack – and an occasional shuffle on a highway, two kilometres away.

Gradually, the silence is overridden by a brass bell and Sanskrit invocations. When a hint of camphor climbs a column of smoke at the burning tip of an incense stick and blossoms with the sweet aroma of ghee, I’m already sitting on a woollen mat on the floor and reciting maha-mantra, a thirty-two syllable prayer from Kali-Saṇṭāraṇa Upaniṣad. It’s the recommended method of self-realization for the present Age. Unlike most of the Vedic mantras, it’s an open one available for everyone regardless of a prior qualification, gender, race, nationality, religion or language. Because there are no hard and fast rules in chanting it, it won’t produce an ill result even if pronounced incorrectly, jokingly or without comprehending the meaning.

hare krishna hare krishna
krishna krishna hare hare
hare rāma hare rāma
rāma rāma hare hare

It’s the only sound I live to hear in the darkness of each morning. Habitually, the mind is restless and wanders around, but I pull it back as often as it tries to treat the mantra as elevator music on the background of my worldly thoughts and desires. The sound vibration is the most valuable gift I’ve been given in this lifetime. It is a relationship in which I am an eternal, individually conscious soul with a temperament of devotional service, instead of being a sack of bones, mucus, blood, senses, moods, cravings, intellect, social status or any other designation I’ve been so eager, for lifetimes, to be recognized by. It is the base, path and destination of love. Sometimes I’m able to immerse in it more profoundly than other. In the phases of enlightenment, like kārtika, it is easier.

The idea of contemplation, study of philosophy, asceticism and taking commitments that are directly linked to Divinity, is to revive a consistent and genuine state of consciousness which defines my culture and lifestyle. It is like charging batteries by being connected to the source of energy. The sense of identity, knowledge and bliss generated, establishes the platform from which I act and make choices at every moment, whether physical, ethical, emotional, social, intellectual or transcendental. It allows a greater freedom from the conditioned nature and lower modes of passion and ignorance.

Cooking, like breathing and the rest of activities we do, is karma which is often misunderstood to mean a punishment or retribution, although it refers to any deed – the universal principle of causality – done either according to or against nature by all living entities. Akarma, which is ascribed to yoga, refers to inaction. It is work executed through the senses, just like karma, but in proper knowledge. It doesn’t accumulate material reaction or entanglement in the cycle of birth and death, samsara. Developing an understanding of one’s involvement and liberation from the karmic network is a privilege and responsibility of a sentient being.

When we speak of cooking, much is said about the sensual,moral and social experience. However, it’s rare to hear a discussion about our relationship with food on higher levels of consciousness. We spend a lot of time thinking about, shopping and preparing eatables according to our values and view of life. Cooking, dining, serving and sharing meals have more potential than commonly given.

When I started practicing bhakti-yoga, I had been a vegetarian for many years. Yet, I had never tasted anything like the food I was served in the temple I visited for the first time. It clarified my thoughts and made me utterly ecstatic. It carried the awareness of the person who had cooked it and, instantly, elevated me from the mental disposition I was at. It was a spiritual revelation. I learnt an attitude or focus while baking, boiling and roasting is the core element that deserves the same level of purity than personal hygiene, ingredients, utensils, location, association, methods and techniques used.

What’s in the heart will be on the plate. Food that comes from the yearning of a soul to exchange affection and serve other living entities and God nourishes our eternal needs, whereas food created by ego, no matter how expertly done, only satisfies the physical and, at best, the metaphysical body. The first will make us blissful and free from further material implications and negative psychic traits, whereas the latter will increase our blindness. There is a gulf of difference in the intensity of happiness and satisfaction derived on a sensual, communal or spiritual realm.

Although a plant-based diet is more compassionate than meat-eating, it is not free from karmic reactions. Sometimes harvesting, storing, transporting and preparing grains or vegetables involve intentional or unintentional violence and, even, killing of other living beings. Therefore, Veda, the authority on yoga and reincarnation, recommends sanctifying food. It involves recognizing one’s interdependent position in the universal organism and respecting all forms of life. For thousands of years, kitchen yogis have been cultivating attributes like equal vision, peacefulness, self-control, cleanliness, humility, truthfulness, tolerance, wisdom and sense of duty in the loving dedication to para-brahman, Krishna, for the immortality of everyone, the savoured and those who savour. Following in their footsteps, I have baked this apple tart.

Thank you.

Apple Marmalade Candy

When Henry VIII of England received a box of marmalade from Mr Hull of Exeter in 1524, it likely contained Portuguese quince paste, marmelada. In the 17th century, when the citrus became plentiful in England, the definition of marmalade was restricted to a preserve made of citrus juice and peel. In other languages, however, marmalade may still refer to what is known as jam in British and Commonwealth English. Jam can be made of any fruit or berry. Or, even, a vegetable.

A step further from a spreadable marmalade is Pâte de Fruit, a sophisticated French confection made with precision and care. The soft but resistant texture comes from a perfect amount of pectin. We are talking about the sweet our elderly relatives never fail to serve! My grandmother used to display a glass stand of expired design full of them as a centrepiece of every prominent tablesetting. The modern shortcut of Pâte de Fruit is settled with gelatine, agar-agar, citric acid, corn syrup and who knows what.

My recipe today takes you even a step further from Pâte de Fruit, to the point the mass of fruits and sugar can’t be cooked a second longer. It is inspired by Indian fruit halwa. The cooking method begins with a meeting of lightly browning butter and sliced apples in a pot. The character of fat plays a secondary role until sugar is added. The combination of butter and sugar will gradually caramelize and change the intensity of taste and texture.

The final product is chewy and dense. There are subtle threads of caramel. It’s not melt-in-the-mouth, smooth Pâte de Fruit, but something that calls for serious biting. It is a fruit paste taken to an extreme. There is a balance of fruity tartness and sweetness. The taste of apples is concentrated, but rounded by butter and sugar.

It is up to you to what extent to cook the fruits. As soon as the mass pulls together, it can be removed from the heat, placed on a plate, cooled down and cut into pieces. A shorter cooking time gives a softer paste.

Any fruits can be used instead of apples. I’ve made it with pears, nectarines, peaches and plums, or a mixture of them, in the past. Additional spices – citrus zest and juice, ginger, vanilla and so on – can be used. Nuts, raisins or other dry fruits may be added. Whatever way offered, be assured, the recipient most heartily thanketh her Ladyship for her marmalade!

Thank you.

Doughnuts & passion fruit juice

The springtime fertility fest of the Northern Hemisphere, May Day, originates from the pre Christian era of pagan tradition. It stood for the day cows were released onto the pasture and bonfires were lit to drive away evil spirits and disease. The etymology of Finnish Vappu is traceable to the German Walpurgisnacht, a night of witchcraft, after Saint Walburga who was canonized on May 1st, possibly in AD 870. It was celebrated with homemade mead and dancing.

Although sima, a fermented drink, is still associated with the festival, the rest of the tradition has turned into a street carnival of students and working class. It is, along with New Years Eve and Midsummer fest, by far the wildest public holiday in Finland. Sobriety is an unknown virtue during Vappu. If civilisation was the reason of Christianisation of paganism, I wonder how successful it has been. Isn’t our modern culture producing another type of tribe, able to build tiny mechanical appliances while being disconnected, more than ever, with nature, ourselves and the Truth?

Sima, munkki (doughnuts) and tippaleipä (funnel cakes) are served on May Day. Although I follow a different, Vedic moon calendar of annual events, and rarely bother with Western holidays, I used the occasion to develop a yeast-free doughnut recipe. It turned out perfect! The doughnuts were crispy and airy. Instead of using milk to thin the batter, try carbonated water. It makes the doughnuts light and less dough-like. Although the batter is more liquid than the one made with yeast, with the help of an ice-cream scoop, it can be spooned into the hot oil. The doughnuts are bite-size and small. Using a piping bag it is easy to impregnate them with chocolate filling. After all, Vappu is a fertility fest!

Serve the sugar infused doughnuts with a refreshing passion fruit juice. It is a combination made in heaven!

Written on obscure pieces of paper, no wonder my recipes get lost half of the time!

Thank you.

Pasha

Of all foods, pasha was the first dessert I made by myself as a teenager. I still remember the excitement in all stages of preparing it: beating the butter and sugar; adding vanilla, roasted almonds and dry fruits; whipping the cream; layering a cheese cloth over a mould and, finally, anticipating how it will look and taste after having drained overnight. I had never eaten pasha before. It was an opulent and exotic choice of recipe. I don’t know where I got the idea of making it. All that cream and butter! It was a loud contrast to what we usually ate on holidays.

Pasha is a dish made in the Eastern Orthodox tradition after the fast of Great Lent. It is blessed by the priest after the Paschal Vigil, a service that celebrates the Resurrection of Jesus. A similar manner of sanctifying food is found in all spiritual cultures. When pasha migrated to the Finnish Easter menu from Russia, it lost the religious significance. Most of the Finns are Protestants.

Originally Pasha is shaped as a truncated pyramid in a beautifully carved wooden mould. It is decorated with the Cyrillic letters XB that stand for the Slavonic form of greeting “Christ is Risen!” The whiteness of curd, cream and butter symbolizes the purity of Jesus. Pasha is topped with a red candle that reminds of the illuminating light, as well as, the blood that was shed for our sins.

I forgot to add fresh cheese to the pasha! As a result, it didn’t hold the form. To hide the mistake, I served it in lemon cups. It added freshness. Even without curd it was rich. As I had run out of vanilla, I flavoured it with anise, fennel and cardamom.

In the Easter spirit of purification and gratitude, I would like to thank you for submitting Pure Vegetarian by Lakshmi to the annual Awards of The Saveur Magazine. By the mystic ways of providence, it made as a finalist out of 40 000 nominations. For such a new and small blog it is an encouragement. I value the sincerity of motive and presence of mind in everything I do. Although I’m satisfied with the reward of happiness and inner joy that follows any activity done in a proper consciousness, I’m reassured by the professional acknowledgment in this situation.

The other finalists in the category of Best Special Diets Blog are:

My Darling Lemon Thyme

Nom Nom Paleo

Roost

Sodium Girl

Tartelette

Please visit the wonderful blogs and support by voting the one that inspires you. You can access the category directly by clicking The Saveur badge below.

AN UPDATE: The award goes to Nom Nom Paleo this year. Congratulations!

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Citrus Cake

Days are getting darker and darker. The arctic lack of light creates a sub-human environment. My camera is able to perform indoors an hour or two a day. It is difficult to coordinate cooking, photographing and the rest of daily duties when there is such a short burst of daylight. Therefore I will concentrate on other responsibilities for the time being and return to blogging in January or February when the days are getting longer again. To those of you who will celebrate Christmas, I wish you happy holidays! May we all enter the new year with a deliberate mind and grateful heart. Thank you for your feedback and interest over the past months.

Thank you.