Madame Mahsa Travels

A foodie's guide to Sri Lanka

madamemahsa — Fri, 10 Jul 2015 20:44:00 GMT

If you're like me, food is more than just fuel while travelling. You don't just grab a bite between sightseeing, you're constantly searching for the next food experience. There's a 'food' tab in your travel spreadsheet and your travelling style is more food safari than road safari. You're a travelling foodie – a troodie.

Recently, I was lucky enough to take a food tour through Sri Lanka. The food here is surprisingly diverse; and contrary to popular belief it's not all just rice and curry. I also found out that while the gourmet scene is growing, especially in tourist hot spots like Galle, Kandy and Colombo, the best part about Sri Lankan cuisine is the home-style cooking.

So, here it is: my 'best of' list for all those hungry travellers planning a trip to Sri Lanka. You lucky things!

Ditch the toast for breakfast and feast like a local with Pol Sambol – a mouthwatering shredded coconut and chilli 'salad' – and Rotti. You can get a decent serving pretty much anywhere, but Da Silva's in Nuwara Eliya would be my top pick. Their traditional pastries (like cheese rotti and onion buns) are bang on as well.

Start your day with a touch of good karma by trying some Kiri Bath, which is white rice cooked in fresh coconut milk. Sri Lankan Buddhists believe that the boiling over of milk in a clay pot brings prosperity. If you're in Sri Lanka on a Poya Day, get up early and visit a Buddhist temple to catch pilgirims make a Kiri Bath offering to the Buddhist society.

Usually I stay away from tourist-hyped eateries, but Downtown Rotti Hut in Ella is an exception. We ordered a couple different varieties of their Kotthu Rotti dish and couldn't leave without trying some of their crepe-style chocolate and banana rottis.
Also in Ella, try Lamprai – a rice, veggie and curry dish cooked in a banana leaf. Bypass the crowds (and tourist prices) at Chilli and give one of the other restaurants on the main strip a go. There's a great place (forgot the name!) with lip-smacking Lamprai just two doors down from the Rotti Hut.

Rice and curry is the staple dish in Sri Lanka. It's tasty, filling, cheap (a couple dollars, or 200-300rp) and on every menu. Mama's Fort in Galle was a real highlight though. Mama's special roasted curry powder is the secret to the amazing flavour, and her mango chutney and vegetable curry dishes are a stand out. Mama also offers cooking classes, which includes a trip to the local food market.

For the past couple of decades the northern cities of Sri Lanka, like Jaffna, have been synonymous with civil war, but with peace restored to the area that's about to change. You won't see many tourists here (yet) so chances are you'll have the spice trail on the main road all to yourself, and you'll be free to mingle with the locals at the popular fruit and veg markets near the bus depot. But what you want to try here is the famous Jaffna chilli crab.

Hydrate with the ubiquitous orange king coconut. You'll find a coconut kiosk around every corner in most parts of Sri Lanka.

Watch the sunset in Galle with an EGB ginger beer or Lion Lager, and for the perfect snack order a bowl of dry roasted cashews with chilli spice and curry leaves.

Do you have a favourite foodie moment from Sri Lanka? What did I miss? Share your comments below!

Visit to a real-life chena farm + Recipe for Sri Lankan spiced fish in coconut oil

madamemahsa — Fri, 10 Jul 2015 15:29:00 GMT

When travelling to unknown destinations they say to be prepared for anything. But the last thing I expected one morning in Sri Lanka was to find myself seated next to a machete and a firecracker in a handmade treehouse on a remote farm.

My trusty travel guide Bala, a Sri Lankan native, had climbed up the shaky wooden ladder to the makeshift treehouse first and had already made himself comfortable on the soft blanket inside.

So there we were, high above the marshy land on a real-life chena farm in remote central Sri Lanka.

Watch the behind the scenes video here

Chena cultivation is a very primitive form of agriculture, still in practice in modern-day Sri Lanka. It’s been described to me as a ‘slash-and-burn’ type of farming. Instead of rotating crops, the farmers clear a block of land, set fire to existing growths to renew the soil, cultivate crops for a few years, before starting the whole process again on a different block of land.

Apart from the air of awkwardness, I was in safe hands in the makeshift tree house.

The farmers sell their produce to the local community, and rely on the crops as their own food source. By building a tree house on the farm they have a watchtower to guard the ‘chena’ from wild animals, like elephants and leopards, who roam onto the land at night.

The machete I saw in the tree house is used to cut down weeds during the day, and doubles as a protective weapon at night. And the firecracker, also in the tree house, is used to scare away any elephants attempting to eat the crops. Just one stray elephant could devastate an entire years’ worth of crops if the farmers don’t scare them away.

While we're in the wooden watchtower, Bala also tells me that the treehouse plays another important role in Chena culture. As it turns out in the olden days newly-wed farmers would consummate their marriage up there. That was my queue to climb back down to solid ground.

Getting to the farm

To reach the farm, we drove from Dambulla to central Sri Lanka and met a local man who would guide us to the exact location by foot. We walked along a winding dirt track through bushy terrain, and at one point we were pushing away the overgrown weeds and plants to get through to the other side. Eventually, we reached a clearing and our final destination was in sight.

When we arrived, Bala introduced me to the lovely young couple who run the farm. They both come from a long line of chena farmers and live nearby. They have a two-year old son, who loves to follow his dad around the farm and cling to his mother’s leg as she tries to show me her special spice blend.

The local woman who showed us around her chena farm and small hut (the person behind her is not her husband; not sure who that was really!)

Every day, the mum brings a few kitchen essentials to the farm and prepares meals from scratch in their handmade hut. They have a lot of work to do on the farm, so unlike some of the more traditional Sri Lankan recipes, her meals are rustic and don’t require hours of preparation. Despite this she doesn’t compromise on flavour or nutrition; and much like every other home cook I’ve met on this trip so far, she prepares everything by hand.

Paddock to plate

There is no truer example of paddock to plate than right there on the chena farm. The family uses the crops from their farm, mainly tropical vegetables, cereal grains, yams and corn, to prepare most of their meals. The finger millet rotti we made together on the day was prepared using the same finger millet crop that was picked and ground by hand that day. We stayed hydrated throughout the day by drinking fresh water from the coconut shells; and our fish for lunch was caught earlier that morning from the nearby lake.

The small hut on the chena farm. Used for shade and basic cooking throughout the day.

The finger millet that was ground into flour for the rotti we made on the day!

I grew up in urban Sydney and knew very little about agriculture and even less about Sri Lankan farming before this trip. Yet after a few hours on the farm with my new friends I had learnt about a completely different way of life. An antiquated farming culture which, at its core, is based on a concept familiar to most of us: simple and delicious food shared with family and friends.

The women who work on the chena farm next door.

Our host shows us around his farm and the nearby lake.

The view as we approached the chena farm.

Sri Lankan spiced fish in coconut oil

On the farm, we tried Sri Lankan spiced fish two ways. The first was whole lake fish infused with a blend of spices then cooked in coconut oil. The other was spiced fish fingers, which we then crumbed and deep fried in coconut oil. Both dishes were simple to make and tasted out of this world.

Ingredients

300-400g whole fish, gutted and scaled
300-400g white fish fillets
1-2 tsp red chillies, finely sliced
1 tsp cumin powder
½ coriander powder
1-2 sprigs curry leaves
Salt and pepper, to taste
Coconut oil, for frying
2 eggs, lightly whisked
Flour and breadcrumbs, for fish fingers

Method - Spiced lake fish in coconut oil

Mix the spices together, and rub on the whole fish
Heat the coconut oil in a deep fryer
Deep fry the marinated fish for about 8-10 minutes
Place the fish on a few paper towels to soak up the excess oil. Serve with fresh salad or rice.

Method - Sri Lankan style fish fingers

Cut fish fillets into 4cm x 10cm strips
Mix the whisked egg and spices together in a bowl
Coat the fish pieces in flour then dip into the egg mixture and place onto a clean plate. Repeat this step until you have coated all the pieces
Coat the fish in breadcrumbs
Heat the coconut oil in a deep fryer or pot and slowly lower the fish, a few pieces at a time
Cook for about 5-6 minutes or until golden brown
Serve with salad and lemon.

Cooking with a Jaffna family affected by civil war + Recipe for Jaffna Chilli Crab

madamemahsa — Thu, 9 Jul 2015 18:47:00 GMT

This is a blog post about how a simple cooking date with one Jaffna family turned into a touching experience that I’ll never forget.

In the kitchen with Mythily and her niece.

On my first night in Sri Lanka’s far north, I was introduced to a local family who were generous enough to show me their secrets for making an authentic Jaffna-style meal.

Mythily’s family hails from nearby Delph Island and have always lived on the coast. So it came as no surprise that the dish that they were going to share with me was their famous Jaffna Chilli Crab.

Jaffna cuisine is a little different to that of the rest of Sri Lanka. The dishes are heavily influenced by the Tamil Hindu culture from neighbouring South India, so the curries are fierier and rely less on coconut milk. Fenugreek, cardamom and cumin are some of the most commonly used ground spices. And thanks to the abundance of the palmyra or sugar palm in the region, the locals make their own palmyra oil, flour and nectar, among other things.

A highly respected school educator, Mythily works long hours during the day then returns home by bicycle to look after her family. Her husband works on another part of the island, so Mythily lives with her teenage son, parents and niece.

When I met Mythily, I instantly felt a familiarity and warmth that I do around my own mum. She welcomed us into her home with open arms and shared her special family recipes with conviviality and pride.

Just like home: taking selfies while cooking up a storm.

Watch the behind the scenes video here

As is the case with so many Sri Lankan home cooks, Mythily learned how to cook from her mum and grandmother. Her recipes are steeped in family tradition, but that doesn’t mean the dishes haven’t changed over the years. Mythily tells me that every Sri Lankan housewife adds her own special touch to the recipes. An extra dash of spice here, or a unique curry blend there. Every woman makes just the slightest adjustment to make the recipe their own.

For the crab curry, Mythily’s niece first prepares the base ingredients from scratch. She extracts the coconut milk by shredding the coconut flesh by hand, and prepares the blend of spices by grinding roasted cumin and pepper seeds in a traditional mortar and pestle.

Learning how to grate coconut flesh like the pros.

Mythily’s dad starts cleaning and shelling the fresh crabs in the washbasin outside. And Mythily’s mum steps into the open furnace they call the stove and starts roasting all the base ingredients in a large saucepan. She mixes together fenugreek, onion, curry leaves, green chilli, garlic, ginger, cumin, pepper, coconut oil and tamarind paste almost in one go – it’s hard to keep up.

The kitchen was getting a little too hot so Mythily and I took a break and started chatting a bit more in her lounge room. After a few minutes it became apparent that Mythily and her family had been through hell and back over the last several years.

During the civil war, Sri Lanka’s north was considered a battle zone. Sadly, many families, like Mythily’s, were forced to flee the area in search of safer surrounds. Finally, after seven years the family was able to return to their home, but by then it was completely in ruins.

Mythily tells me that the house we’re standing in is the very same one they left behind all those years ago. Life was not the same upon their return, but the family had no choice; they had to rebuild. As did the rest of the region.

A local vendor at the Jaffna markets. The region is slowly starting to rebuild after being affected by civil war.

One of most iconic Hindu temples in the region.

The spice trail in Jaffna.

What struck me the most was that the family did not seem the slightest ounce bitter. And standing there in their lounge room, I didn’t see any signs of a war-torn past; rather a room filled with happy family photos, sacred heirlooms, and ornamental souvenirs brought back by family members visiting various European cities.

As we stepped back into the kitchen, the crab meat and shells were being added to the pan. Mythily’s niece poured in the fresh coconut milk, and Mythily threw in her special Jaffna curry powder mix. After a little simmer, the mixture was taken off the heat and sprinkled with some salt and fresh lime juice.

The making of this delicious Jaffna dish was truly a family affair. Food brings people together all over the world, but it was hugely evident here in Jaffna. Seeing how this family came together over meal times was a special experience. It reminded me of my own family and heritage, and I couldn't wait to share the recipe with my own family and friends back home.

The final spread.

Good karma in Sri Lanka + Recipe for coconut milk rice

madamemahsa — Thu, 9 Jul 2015 15:48:00 GMT

A white-clad pilgrim gestures for me to join the procession. I tuck my tattered notepad under my arm, cup both my hands to hold my coconut rice offering and slink quickly into line. The air is balmy and paper lanterns sway with the wind. There are dozens of pilgrims—men, women, children—in front of me, and plenty more waiting to join the queue. A man playing a horanewa, an oboe-like blowing instrument, and a couple of traditional Sri Lankan drummers, lead the musical procession toward the spiritual site.

The crowd grows larger and more boisterous as we inch closer to the sacred site. I’m excited to see the site myself, but with such charming surrounds, what’s the rush?

I’m in the ancient city of Anuradhapura, just a few hours north east of Sri Lanka’s capital. Year-round local and international tourists visit this UNESCO World Heritage Site for a glimpse of Sri Lanka’s majestic past. In June, however, the city is transformed as trainloads of Sri Lankan Buddhists come to town to celebrate the beginnings of Buddhism on the island nation and visit the one and only bodhi tree.

Considered the oldest living spiritual tree in the world, the bodhi tree was planted here more than 2000 years ago and serves as a reminder of the teachings of Buddha. Pilgrims visit the bodhi tree in the month of Poson, or June, and take part in one of many religious ceremonies, known as puja, during this time.

Watch the behind the scenes video here

I had heard that one of the most significant offerings during puja is a Sri Lankan dish called Kiribath, which is essential a delicious coconut milk rice. In local culture, the boiling over of milk is considered a sign of prosperity so it has become the most common offering to Buddhist monks, especially during festival season.

Kiribath is also a typical breakfast dish, and since the boiling of the coconut milk is meant to bring a touch of good karma, I decided that I had to try it myself.

At the crack of dawn, I met up with a local woman to learn how to prepare traditional kiribath for breakfast. Her kitchen felt old school but did the trick. She owned a good set of clay pots and had them waiting over an open wood fire ready to go, so we didn't waste any time. We started washing and rinsing the white rice, freshly grating the coconut flesh and squeezing out the milk by hand. Then it was time to boil the ingredients together in one of the clay plots

By 7am it was already too hot in the house, and the open fire wasn't helping either. An iced coffee or cold shower was in order, but my host had other plans. It was time to make some of the side dishes that accompany the coconut rice.

She handed me some fiery chilli powder and red onions and we took turns pounding and grinding it into a paste called Luni Miris, which we nicknamed “dynamite”.

We sliced up some more onions and tossed them together with fragrant seeds and spices before caramelising them in a hot skillet. This made Seeni Sambol, which literally translates to sugar salad.

Once cooked, we rolled the sticky milk rice onto a banana leaf and portioned them in blocks so that they could be wrapped up as little rice parcels for the offering.

By the time we were done, I was famished. I didn’t want to mess with karma but all I could think about was those perfect little creamy, sticky morsels. Lucky for me, my lovely host had prepared a little extra and there was nothing left to do but tuck in for a simple, but significant breakfast with my new friends.

Sri Lankan Coconut Milk Rice (Kiribath)

Kiribath, or coconut milk rice, is a traditional Sri Lankan dish that is typically served for breakfast, usually alongside popular accompaniments such as Luni Miris and Seeni Sambol. Sri Lankans extract the coconut milk by hand, from fresh mature coconut, but pre-prepared or store-bought coconut milk works just fine.

Ingredients

2 cups long or medium grain white rice
1½ cups coconut milk
4 cups water
Salt to taste

Method

Wash the rice, drain and place in a medium saucepan
Pour in the clean water, add a pinch of salt and bring to boil over high heat
Reduce heat to low, cover pan, and simmer for 15 minutes
Scoop out the water, add the coconut milk to the pot and mix together
Cover the pan and simmer until all the liquid is absorbed and the rice is cooked and creamy
Once cooled slightly, transfer the rice to a large platter or tray and flatten it down into rectangle shape. Cut into pieces and serve warm with your favourite breakfast sides.

Why you should head to Sri Lanka's ancient city in June

madamemahsa — Tue, 7 Jul 2015 11:46:00 GMT

Sometimes, it's not where you go but when you go. If you're planning a visit to Sri Lanka, you can't miss the ancient city of Anuradhapura. And to make your trip unforgettable you may want to head there in June. Here's why.

JOIN PILGRIMS AT THE BODHI TREE

In June massive crowds of Buddhist Sri Lankans converge on Anuradhapura to mark the introduction of Buddhism on the island. The star attraction is the sacred bodhi tree. It's considered the oldest living tree propagated from the bodhi tree under which the Buddha gained enlightenment more than 2,000 years ago.

It's the kind of place that inspires you to embrace your spiritual side. So I decided to ditch the tech and dodgy TV connection and spend an afternoon practising mindfulness. It was time to let go of that petty remark from a colleague, curb my Cats of Instagram addiction, and write down at least one good deed I wanted to achieve before the end of my trip.

To catch the regligious ceremony, or puja, I visited the site in the early morning.

Crowds of devotees, each dressed in white, barefoot, and holding some sort of offering (food, clothing, flower petals), made their way to the bodhi tree. A man playing a horanewa, an oboe-like blowing instrument, and a couple of traditional Sri Lankan drummers, led the musical procession toward the spiritual site.

For devotees, the bodhi tree serves as a reminder of the teachings of Buddha. They give thanks to the tree for providing shelter for Buddha, and make an offering to rid themselves of unwanted desire. Pilgrims also visit the adjacent temple and Buddha shrine to make offerings and receive blessings from the monks.

MAKE A MILK RICE OFFERING FOR GOOD KARMA

Turns out that all those times I accidentally left the milk to boil over (and that milky skin started to form on top) it was a sign of prosperity, not cooking incompetence! Well, according to the Sri Lankan Buddhist culture anyway.

Kiri bath is a coconut milk rice dish that's prepared for special occasions like the Poson festival in June, or New Year, or even a birthday or graduation. It's the most common offering to Buddhist monks, especially during festival time. It's also a typical breakfast dish, and since the boiling of the coconut milk is meant to bring a touch of good karma, it's not a shabby way to start the day either.

In the morning, I met up with a local woman to learn how to prepare kiri bath for breakfast. Her kitchen felt old school but did the trick. She owned a good set of clay pots and had them waiting over an open wood fire ready to go, so we didn't waste any time. We started washing and rinsing the white rice, freshly grating the coconut flesh and squeezing out the milk by hand.

This part of Sri Lanka is hot and humid, and by 7am it was already too hot in the house, and the open fire wasn't helping either. An iced coffee or cold shower was in order, but my host had other plans. She handed me some fiery chilli powder and red onions and we took turns pounding and grinding it into a paste called Luni Miris, which is a side dish I like to refer to as a little bowl of dynamite.

Before we sat down for breakfast, we reserved some of the kiri bath and wrapped it in banana leaf to take with us for the offering at the Bodhi tree.

Local vendors selling kiri bath at the temple entrance. Good karma for all!

MINGLE WITH LOCALS AT THE NIGHT CARNIVAL

The best part about this city in June is that everyone's in the mood for celebrating. So this means everyone ends up at the night carnival in the centre of town.

Sure, there are bright lights, games, rides and music, but more than anything it's a chance to mingle with the locals and visitors from all around the island.

Or at the very least perfect the art of people watching. Young men strut through the crowds in a way that would make Danny Zuko and the greaser gang proud. Children run around people's legs trying to get to their mum or dad. And families sprawl across large picnic blankets waiting for the next act to appear on stage.

In contrast to the day of sightseeing, I didn't run into any western tourists at the carnival. They may have been out there, but the numbers were simply insignificant compared to the huge number of Sri Lankans who visit this one site at this time of year.

SURRENDER YOUR SENSES TO THE STREET FOOD MARKETS

Just outside the carnival you'll find a road that is closed off for the longest street food market you've ever seen. But to be fair, there are people selling everything from little knick-knacks, to sarees, to kids toys, but food carts and candy stalls are everywhere.

Samosas, vegetable curries and halva (or muscat as it's called in Sri Lanka) are some of the most common foodie items on offer, but my favourite is kottu rotti. You'll hear this dish before you see it. It's like a noodle stirfry which is then chopped in theatrical fashion to an unintentional rhythmic beat over a hot griddle. It's an exciting way to serve up dinner and a popular street food among locals and tourists, alike.

The one superfood Sri Lankans can't live without

madamemahsa — Mon, 6 Jul 2015 23:56:00 GMT

If you're a foodie chances are you've tried (pfft, led) most of the recent superfood trends. A kale smoothie for brekky? Or perhaps you fancy a quinoa salad for lunch? For most Sri Lankans though, there's just one superfood ingredient they rely on – the tropical coconut – and their traditional island fare is all the better for it.

On my first day in Sri Lanka I travelled with Bala, my local guru, to the north west coast of the island to learn about home-style cooking from a seemingly ordinary Sri Lankan family. Turns out the region, much like the family, were far from mundane.

Chilaw is coconut heaven. Coconut plantations are ubiquitous in this part of town and for many locals in the region (known as the Coconut Triangle), growing coconuts is their livelihood. But it wasn't until I stepped out into this family's backyard that I realised just how much coconuts meant to this local Chilaw clan.

There was a coconut 'station' at every corner of their land.

At one end, a young woman was feeding coconut fibres through a twisting machine to make hundreds and hundreds of metres of coconut husk rope. I wanted to get close enough to see all the rope action (yep, rope machines are kinda cool) but Bala stopped me from doing anything stupid, like touching something and ending up as twisty rope myself.

When I looked up I noticed the machines were housed under a handmade shelter also made from coconut tree leaves. Across the other side, there was another shelter, housing a wood fire station. A large cauldron filled with the sap from the coconut tree was bubbling away, turning the liquid into a coconut syrup.

And then there was this guy.

The family tapper. A scrawny, limber old man wearing loose-fitted clothing and sporting what looked like a plastic shower cap on his head, whose job was to scale the coconut trees to collect the natural sap from the young coconut flower. I'd seen locals scale trees for coconuts before, but not like this; not so Circus-slash-Tarzan-esque. Before I could snap anything but a blurry picture of him, he'd moved up the tree to reach his first destination, collected the pot that was filling up with sap, carefully but swiftly walked across a tightrope to the next tree to collect what he could, and scaled down the tree back to us mere mortals.

I tried the sap, fresh from the tree. it was a white liquid that was sweet and lukewarm. I thought it was a little tangy as well. Once fermented, the drink turns alcoholic and is known as toddy, a traditional beverage in Sri Lanka thought to date back 2000 years.

Inside, I was given a quick demo on how to shave coconut flesh with a manual coconut grater, and watched on as the family made traditional rotti and pol sambal, which is a heavenly shredded coconut and chilli side dish.

Sri Lankan cuisine isn't complete without coconut cream and milk, and this is made by squeezing shredded coconut meat or flesh with some still water. The first extraction is called the 'first milk', which is creamier, and used as a thickening agent in curries. The second extraction contains more water and added to anything from curries, to milk rice dishes, to desserts. There's no waste in the Sri Lankan kitchen, so any leftover coconut shavings are fed to cows or used as a cleaning agent.

You'll also find that the streets of Sri Lanka are lined with kiosks selling the orange 'king' coconut, which produces sweeter tasting coconut water. The locals are quick to tell you that the king coconut has medicinal benefits and Sri Lankans guzzle down a few of them every day. The green and mature coconuts, on the other hand, are more commonly used in cooking.

While many travellers will head across to Kandy or down south to Colombo and Galle, it would be a foodie sin to miss out on experiencing some of these highlights in the coconut triangle yourself. So, if you want to get off the beaten track and taste the local fare be sure to make time for Chilaw and the north western provinces of Sri Lanka.

Photos: Sri Lanka: Anuradhapura

madamemahsa — Sun, 5 Jul 2015 16:37:00 GMT

Photos: Sri Lanka: Chilaw & Coconuts

madamemahsa — Sat, 4 Jul 2015 17:26:00 GMT

Photos: Sri Lanka: Jaffna + Chena Farm

madamemahsa — Wed, 1 Jul 2015 21:24:00 GMT

Photos: Passport & Plate - Fesenjoon (Pomegranate & Walnut Chicken Stew)

madamemahsa — Mon, 2 Mar 2015 17:09:00 GMT

Ingredients
280g walnuts
2tbs olive oil
1 medium brown onion, diced
2 chicken breasts, diced into small pieces
150ml pomegranate molasses or syrup (available from specialty stores; don’t use juice)
1tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
2tbs sugar

How to prepare this recipe
1. Crush the walnuts using a meat mallet or pulse 1-2 times in a food processor. You should end up with very tiny chunks rather than a fine meal.
2. Heat 2tbs olive oil in a large saucepan and add the chicken pieces. Cook on medium heat until golden brown.
3. Add onion to the saucepan and stir until it softens. Reduce to low heat.
4. Add walnuts, cinnamon, salt and pepper to the pan. Stir for 1-2 minutes.
5. Pour 2 cups of water to the mixture and bring to boil. Reduce heat to low, place lid and cook for 30 minutes.
6. Pour pomegranate syrup and sugar into the stew, mix well and replace lid. Continue cooking for another 25-30 min. The sauce should gradually thicken and turn a dark brown. The ideal flavour is a perfect blend of sweet and sour. If you find it’s too tangy, adjust the flavour with a little more sugar.
7. Serve over Persian rice.

The story behind this recipe
I've just landed at Tehran airport, at 8pm on a warm September night. I'm hot and sticky, and nervous about meeting relatives for the first time. The sweat dripping from my hairline alerts passers-by that I'm a foreigner who's tied her hijab too tight -- I should've listened to Mum when she was teaching me how to wear a head scarf; instead, I'd learnt how to tie a noose. I look across at my brother with his free-flowing hair, and I curse at him under my breath, merely for being a boy. I'm hungry and sleepy, and I start day dreaming about Mum's Persian cooking. I wonder if Nan's Persian food tastes the same. Later, when we arrive at my grandparents' home, I'm amazed to see the 30 metre Persian rug in the hallway, lined with plates, spoons (the proper utensil for eating Persian rice), and hundreds of Coca Cola drinks in mini glass bottles. Along the middle, there are pots of Persian khoroshts (stews), bowls of aromatic rice, and platters of mouth-watering salads. Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed. The rest of the night becomes a blur of emphatic hugs and kisses from oversized women and hairy-armed men. I try reaching for familiar foods but before I can say, "which relative are you, again?" one of the women pours fesenjoon stew onto my plate. I can't tell what's in it, but fearing that any hesitation will be interpreted as just plain rude, I quickly take my first bite. I taste a delicate balance of sweet and sour flavours, and experience a surprising texture across my tongue. The woman tells me the dish, made up of creamy chicken, which has been slow-cooked in a broth of pomegranate molasses, and perfectly balanced by the crunch of hidden walnut pieces, is reserved only for the most special occasions. Suddenly my senses awaken -- the intense flavours don't just merely satisfy, but sate my foodie appetite. In that moment, I realise I may not be home, but I'm somewhere truly special.</br></br> About Me Last year, I left a promising career in PR and marketing and took out a personal loan, to carve out a new path in food / feature writing and photography. It was a big step to take, especially with no shortage of bills to pay, a recent and unexpected dental surgery, and a University HECS debt. But while everyone else my age was trying to climb up the corporate ladder, I longed to turn my hobby into a career. Ever since that trip to Tehran (described above), where I experienced fesenjoon stew and met my relatives for the first time, I've wanted to travel around and create new memories, which could be connected with stories about food. I started a food blog (www.mamanskitchen.com), where I try and test recipes from my childhood, and I taught myself food styling and photography. Unlike my previous career, there's no promise or allure of 'big money', but I'm not tempted to give up. I'll move back in with my parents (GASP!) if I have to. I hope by now I've been able to convey to you how much this opportunity would mean to me. But if you're still not convinced, let me tell you this: As much as I love fesenjoon stew (the flavours and aromas speak for themselves), it's not the most photogenic meal. Just google 'fesenjoon' images to see what I mean (please do it!). Anyone who can make this stew look appealing in photos, like I have, should be awarded a culinary prize! #justsayin'