Spiced Yogurt (Morum Vellam)

When we traveled to India as a family, we landed in Cochin during the summer monsoon season. Torrential rains soaked the ground, and although black umbrellas were pulled out to protect us, our chappals were often engulfed in a wave of water. At night, lightening blazed across the sky as if competing with the candles that were lit when the electricity went out. Thunder erupted with the force of what felt like 1,000 tons of TNT, occasionally jolting me out of sleep.

The heavy rains were accompanied by highs of 90 degrees and oppressive humidity. At the time, no one had air-conditioning, and the muggy air, which moistened the back of my neck and lower back, was circulated around the room by high-powered ceiling fans.
 

No matter where we went, piping hot tea was offered to ward off the heavy-handed heat. It was combined with whole milk and a very generous quantity of sugar. Sari shops and jewelry stores handed it out in a ceramic mugs mid-way through a sale. Snack vendors poured the scalding drink from one steel cup to another to produce a froth before serving it to customers who they had beckoned with their rhythmic call. "Chai, chai, chai, chai!!!”

 

At some point, I’d start to complain about having to drink so much tea as it never seemed to quench my thirst and, worse yet, forced me to frequent the bathroom. In response, my parents would buy me a bottle of Thums Up or Campa Cola from a snack stand en route to a relative’s house. They would also stop the car for tender coconuts that had been harvested and scalped with a sharp machete for their fresh, rejuvenating water. Afterwards, my parents would eagerly scoop out the tender flesh, which giggled like a soft boiled egg. At the time, I thought they were crazy.

When I complained to my aunts about having to drink so much tea, they would make me a glass of sweetened lime juice or morum vellam (spiced yogurt). Both drinks were perfect for battling Kerala’s tropical heat. 

SPICED BUTTERMILK (MORUM VELLAM)

Serves 2 to 4

Morum Vellam is a comforting drink any time of year. If you’re sensitive to heat, I suggest removing the seeds and ribs from the serrano pepper before adding it in.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup organic low-fat yogurt
2 cups water
10 curry leaves
1/4 cup finely chopped shallot or red onion
1 tablespoon roughly chopped ginger
1 small serrano pepper, sliced lengthwise - hot
3/4 teaspoon salt

INSTRUCTIONS

Crush the onions and ginger using a mortar and pestle.

Put the yogurt and water in a blender. Blend them together until fully incorporated. Pour into a pitcher. 

Add the curry leaves, ginger, pepper, and salt. Stir together. 

Chill for 4 to 6 hours. 

Strain liquid to remove curry leaves, ginger, and pepper.

Limeade

Inside family photo albums, you’ll find pictures of me as a child playing on the grounds of the Taj Mahal. There are snaps of me posing shoulder-to-shoulder with my sister beneath a carved archway at Rambagh Palace. Turn the page and you’ll see shots of us with our parents seated and smiling next to 2-feet-long dosas at the Kovallam Beach Hotel. 

Those were moments of unparalleled luxury and relaxation. And yet, they constituted a tiny fraction of our travels to India.

During our sojourns in the seventies and eighties, most of our time was spent en route to the homes of a myriad of relatives. The visits began with my parents’ many siblings. Then they moved on to a parade of their great aunts, favorite uncles and distant cousins whose names I was expected to produce when asked the dreaded question: “Do you know me?” Each morning after filling up on idlis or poota and hot tea, we would pack into a black Hindustan Ambassador operated by a driver capable of circumventing the hulking lorries, gaggles of school children, and stray dogs that shared the road. I was always crammed in the backseat with my sister, my mom, my paternal grandmother, and at least one other relative or friend who had decided to join us last minute.

We would crank open the windows to temper the tropic heat, but the unrelenting humidity left our necks, foreheads, and temples layered with sweat. When raindrops began to fall, as they always did during monsoon season, we would be forced to roll up the windows and cut off all airflow. Torrents of water blanketed the windshield slowing our pace, at times, to a standstill.  Inside, the car became an oven and sweat pooled on our backs until they seemed suctioned to the car seats. 

It was time for a cool drink.

Back in southern Illinois, in the dump-and-stir era, Kool-Aid was the beverage of choice all summer long.  Several times a week, my sister or I would stir water, sugar, and "lemon” flavored crystals together in a Tupperware tumbler to make "fresh" lemonade.

With little processed or packaged food in India at the time, Kool-Aid was not an option. Instead, at the homes we visited each day, we were served a snack, such as sliced mangoes, fried jackfruit, dhal fritters and gulab jamun and a hot cup of tea. Imagine that eight times a day. By early evening, I felt crazed by too much caffeine and the perpetual need to pee. If I complained enough, my dad would direct the driver to stop by a roadside stand lined with plain soda water, Thums Up, Campa Cola and  Limca. He would buy us several bottled beverages to share. Although the drinks offered variety, they didn’t really quench my thirst.

What I needed was my Aunt Iysha’s limeade. Crisp and elemental, it called for three simple ingredients: water, lime juice, and cane sugar. When we arrived at her home, I knew she would graciously serve me a glassful. 

LIMEADE

Serves 6

INGREDIENTS

3/4 cup lime juice

1/2 cup cane sugar
5 cups water

INSTRUCTIONS

To make simple syrup, heat 1/2 cup cane sugar and 1/2 cup of water over medium low heat. Cool completely. 

In a large pitcher, stir together water, lime juice, and simple syrup. 

Serve over ice. 

Ginger Lemon Squash (Syrup)

When we left for my cousin Mithu’s wedding, hostas were just starting to wrangle their way out of the ground in Chicago. I was relieved to see their twirly tips after slogging through a record-breaking winter.  Two thousand  miles away, we found bay leaves bordering my uncle’s front door and ruddy roses sunbathing in the garden. A large lemon tree stood in the backyard. My aunt suggested that we harvest some of the fruit. So I slipped my hand into the packed brush and pulled out several lemons. They were so voluptuous that I held them with a half open grip. 

My aunt mentioned making ginger lemon squash, which seemed like an odd combination to me. I envisioned a toothsome curry with a spicy-citrus kick, and wanted to suggest whipping up a batch of piquant lemon pickle or a dense, rich pound cake.

As we moved from house to house to visit family, I saw more lemon trees and heard more talk of ginger lemon squash. But before I could ask for a recipe, the conversation invariably switched to another topic. The recounting of a bad date by one cousin morphed into the story of a recent trip to Kerala by an uncle or an auntie’s detailed description of an earlier family wedding.  

Before leaving California, I packed my suitcase with a bag of bay leaves (pictured up above) and a pound or so of  organic lemons. I was determined to solve the ginger lemon squash mystery when I got home and to make a batch of it, one way or another. 

A week later, I learned, with the help of my Aunt Regina, that I had been foiled by the British and their crazy use of English once again! (Much more on that later).  It turns out that squash is simply the British word for a concentrated syrup flavored with fruit – in this case lemon (and ginger because Indians are so ga-ga for the spice).

GINGER LEMON SQUASH

Like many other cordials, this recipe is very easy to make. The ginger loses its zing once boiled and, offers a surprisingly subtle citrus flavor. The final drink, which calls for combining the syrup with water, is much less cloyingly sweet than the lemonade I grew up on. (My mom prefers a much higher sugar to water ratio!) Add more lemon juice if you want a stronger lemon flavor. 

Two tips before you get started:
- To get the most juice out of lemons, roll the fruit against the counter before you cut and squeeze them.
- If you end up with more lemon juice than you need, freeze it in an ice cube tray (like pesto). When another recipe calls for lemon juice, simply melt a cube or two. 

Makes 1 1/2 cups

INGREDIENTS

1/4 cup chopped ginger
3/4 cup water
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup lemon juice

INSTRUCTIONS

Place the ginger, water, and sugar in a saucepan. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat to low and simmer for 5 minutes. 

Cool completely. 

Stir in lemon juice. Strain out ginger.  

To make a cup of lemon juice, mix together 8 ounces of water and 1 1/2 tablespoons of cordial. Add ice. 

It Won't Last Strawberry Lemonade

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

STRAWBERRY LEMONADE

(2011 Cardamom Kitchen LLC All Rights Reserved)

This recipe was inspired by a drink I had at Holy Trinity High School in Wicker Park. I stopped by the school in April to see how Chef John Boundas and his staff are innovating Chicago's school lunch program, one meal at a time. At the end of the visit, a woman handed me a glass of the strawberry lemonade they stir up with frozen berries from the commodities program. The blush-colored drink had a fruitiness, a tang, and a touch of sweetness that would outshine any processed beverage. It is proof that John and his staff really do perform miracles in the kitchen.

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

Tip: Two years ago, I visited my Aunt Regina who lives just outside of San Francisco. At the time, her lemon trees were heavy with fruit. She taught me to pour extra lemon juice into an ice cube tray to store it for later use. Use this tip if you end up with more lemon juice that you need for the strawberry lemonade.

Makes about 1 1/2 quarts

INGREDIENTS

3 1/2 cups water

3/4 cup sugar

1 1/2 cups coarsely chopped strawberries

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 4 lemons)

INSTRUCTIONS

Combine 3/4 cup water and sugar in a sauce pan. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook until the sugar dissolves. Set aside to cool.

Using a blender, puree the strawberries with 3 tablespoons of lemon juice. Push the juice through a sieve to filter out the seeds.

In a pitcher, combine the sugar syrup, strawberry juice, the rest of the water, and lemon juice. Stir.

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

Treat your valentine

Hot chocolate is a divine pleasure (and so simple to prepare). 

- For two servings, finely chop 3 ounces of your favorite bittersweet chocolate. I prefer a bar with 72 percent cacao.
- Put it in a sauce pan with 1 1/2 cups of whole milk.
- Bring to a simmer, whisking continuously until chocolate melts.
- Turn off the heat.
- Stir in sugar to taste and a splash of your favorite extract, such as vanilla, peppermint, or almond.
- Serve.

Fine Cooking's recipe for pasta with tuna, lemon, and fried capers pairs well with a decadent dessert. I replaced the fettucine with heart-shaped pasta from Italy.  http://www.finecooking.com/recipes/fettucine-tuna-lemon-fried-capers.aspx.

For a unique twist, flavor buttercream frosting with a touch of rose water rather than vanilla and pipe a dozen roses.