Passport & Plate - Orange peel kozhambu
India | Friday, March 14, 2014 | 5 photos
Ingredients
orange 1, peeled (any loose-jacketed variety will do)
tamarind 1 lemon-sized ball
sesame oil 2 tbsp
mustard seeds 2 tsp
green chillies 3-4 small, diced finely
salt to taste
asafoetida 1/2 tsp
turmeric power 1 tsp
jaggery 20g
wheat flour 1 tsp (optional)
How to prepare this recipe- Peel the orange and keep the fruit aside. Wash the peel thoroughly, remove any stray fibres from it and dice into fine cubes.
- Meanwhile, soak the tamarind in a cup of water. Let it rest for 15 minutes or until the tamarind has soaked in the water and become soft and pulpy. Squeeze the pulp thoroughly and transfer the tamarind extract into a cup. Soak the pulp in a fresh cup of water and repeat the process.
- Heat the sesame oil in a heavy-bottomed pan and add mustard seeds. Once the seeds splutter, add the chopped green chillies and the diced orange peel. Add a pinch of salt at this stage and let the mixture cook for 2-3 minutes.
- After the peel has softened slightly, add the tamarind extract, the asafoetida and turmeric powder. Check for seasoning at this stage and add more salt to taste.
- Next, add the jaggery crumbled into small pieces.
- Cover the pan and let the mixture reduce on a high flame until all the ingredients have blended well. Keep a close watch on it. If it is too watery, dissolve a little wheat flour in water and add it to the kuzhambu to thicken it. Cook until it reaches a soupy consistency.
- Serve with chapatis or hot rice.
The story behind this recipeThis recipe originated in the village of Sithalavai, by the banks of the River Cauvery in the state of Tamil Nadu, India. My father’s grandmother handed it down to her daughter, as part of the arsenal she’d require to set up a household. When my mother married my father, my grandmother passed down this family heirloom to her, a way to forge a connection with a man — and a family — that she was barely familiar with. Growing up, I don’t think I ever noticed the nuances or depth of the vegetarian delicacies that graced our dinner table, and I was too unadventurous to appreciate the complexity of this tamarind-laced kuzhambu (a stew typically made of tamarind), usually eaten with steamed rice. It was probably the fruit peel that threw me off — what was it doing in a savoury dish?
It wasn’t until I was in my 20s, after years of having lived away from home that I began to develop an appreciation for the cuisine I grew up with. It was nostalgia that drove me to rediscover this recipe and I was blown away by its layers – the citrusy tang of oranges mixed with the unmistakable aroma of asafoetida, and the gentle bitterness of orange peel offset by the mineral sweetness of jaggery. It struck me that coming from a cuisine that traditionally shunned onion and garlic, this recipe was an astonishingly evolved one, loaded with umami long before the world had put a name to it.
I have never visited Sithalavai and I only met my great grandmother once, when she was too old to even remember who I was. But when I try this recipe in my kitchen, I feel connected to my lineage in a way that words could never express. I feel like I am finally capable of being the custodian of a precious family secret, imbued with the creative flair and attention to detail of the women who bestowed it to me. In the intensely savoury notes of this kuzhambu, I feel a sense of belonging that has eluded me all my life. Having scoured the world in search of my identity, I feel I have come home to find it.
