Basmati Rice

Rice forms the foundation of every meal in Kerala, and as a second generation South Indian, I was subject to that culinary tradition growing up. Most nights my mom cooked a heaping cup of long-grain, parboiled rice. The nutritionally-rich staple provided the perfect counterpoint to the Spicy Fried Beef, Chicken Stew, Sambar, and thorans (sauteed vegetables) that she rotated on and off the table. My mom insisted that the cooked granules be taut, with one easily separating from the next.

There was always a 10-pound bag of basmati rice in the pantry. My mom used it to make pilafs for dinner guests and Chicken Biryani for family celebrations. It filled the house with an exotic, nutty aroma.

Parboiled rice is my go-to staple (surprise, surprise), but my husband prefers basmati rice. He often makes a pot from the 10-pound bag that we always have on hand. If you're looking for a gluten-free dish to anchor a meal, consider following suit. Basmati rice has exceptionally long and slender granules (pictured above front and center above) making it the Audrey Hepburn of the rice world. When prepared with care, it takes on a slightly toothsome texture that can elevate any meal. 

Tips for Making Rice

- Purchase basmati rice that has been aged. The aging process reduces moisture content, intensifying essential oils and boosting flavor over all. 

- Rinse the rice to remove excess starch before cooking. This helps prevent the granules from sticking. 

- If you have time, soak the rice for 20 to 30 minutes before cooking it. This helps hydrate the granules and produce fluffy rice.

- For added flavor, add spices, such as cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon, or saffron to the cooking liquid. It will be absorbed by the rice. Coconut oil also adds a lovely flavor. 

.BASMATI RICE

Serves 4

INGREDIENTS

1 cup basmati rice
1 3/4 cups water, broth, or other flavorful liquid
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon coconut oil (optional)

INSTRUCTIONS

Place the rice in a bowl and cover with water. Using your hand, swish the water and rice around. Drain water. Repeat until water becomes clear.

Cover the rice with fresh water and soak for 30 minutes.

Drain water.

Add 1 3/4 cups of water, salt, and coconut oil to rice. Stir. Bring to a boil. Cover and reduce heat to low. Do not stir the rice while it is simmering as it will cook unevenly and become sticky. 

Cook until the rice becomes tender, about 15 minutes. 

Remove from heat. Keep covered for 10 minutes.   

Fluff with a spoon before serving.

Lemon Rice

I started culinary school with a required course on classic French technique. It was led by a chef instructor who had worked for several renowned restaurants in Paris. A few weeks into the semester, Chicago banned the sale of foie gras. It became a topic of discussion, with the chef advocating for its reversal. Force feeding animals seemed inhumane to me. Nonetheless, I held back my opinion, taking cues from students who clearly felt it foolhardy to break rank. 

In the weeks that followed, we made sauces and soups that were invariably doused with dairy. I had never reached for so much cream and butter in my life. At home, I flavored my meals with a cocktail of spices that left me light on my feet. I found the dishes that we made in class numbingly filling, and worried that I might settle in for a nap after a marathon of tastings.

Towards the end of the course, the chef gathered us all around for another demonstration. When he reached for the cream, I found myself blurting out, “Chef, why don’t you just use some cumin?”

Humored by my outburst, he smiled, and muttered under his breath, “She wants me to use cumin.” 

Then he poured in the cream.

LEMON RICE

This spice filled vegan dish makes for a great meal on its own. If you’re sensitive to crunchy things, omit the channa dhal or wait a day before digging into it. By that time the channa dhal will soften. 

Serves 4

INGREDIENTS

1 cup uncooked parboiled rice
2 tablespoons olive or coconut oil
1 teaspoon brown mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon urad dhal
1 teaspoon channa dhal
1/2 teaspoon asafoetida
1 dried red chili
10 curry leaves
1/4 teaspoon turmeric
1 tablespoon minced ginger
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

INSTRUCTIONS

Place the rice in a pot. Cover it with four cups of water. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and cook until the rice is soft. Drain the rice in a colander. 

Place the oil is a skillet over medium-low heat. When it is hot, add the mustard seeds. 

Add the cumin, urad dhal, channa dhal, asafoetida, red chili, and curry leaves. Cook until the urad dhal turns golden brown, about 3 minutes. 

Add the ginger, turmeric, and salt. Cook until the ginger softens, about 5 minutes. 

Remove from heat and stir in the rice. 

Sprinkle in the lemon juice and stir to combine. 

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Mom’s Chicken Biriyani

By mid-December, I feel deeply vexed by the commercialism that threatens to swallow up Christmas. To cope, I meditate on places that are deeply meaningful to me: my parent’s kitchen, a friend’s comfy couch, a peaceful aisle at the public library. I also ponder places beyond my reach. High on that list is my grandma Amachi’s prayer room. 



Counting all the family trips we took to India and the one time she visited the states, I spent a year with Amachi at most. She was a boxy woman with soft, doughy cheeks. When anyone leaned in for a kiss, she gently inhaled as if trying to breath in their essence. Like other women of her generation, Amachi fastened her hair in bun and wore a white chatta and mundu which seemed to glow when she moved about her kitchen and other dimly-lit spaces.



Since Amachi never learned English and I spoke Malayalum like a toddler (‘patti’ (dog), ‘poocha’ (cat), ‘kozhi’ (chicken)) our communication rarely involved words. We pantomimed. We nodded. We laughed. We frowned. 



During our trips, I came to know Amachi best by observing her gentle, rhythmic ways in the kitchen and watching her undetected in the prayer room. By mid-afternoon, she began boiling water for tiffin. Around 4 p.m., she covered a section of the expansive table she had used to nourish 14 children with perfectly steamed plantains, unda rolled from avalose podi, and hot, milky tea. Even now, when I eat a ripe plantain I think of the safety of her kitchen
.


Amachi’s prayer room was the size of a walk-in closet. It had a Syrian Christian cross (with curly ends) and a large statute of Mother Mary with the Christ child, arms open wide. On occasion, I walked by it at night, having misplaced a book or a hairbrush. In shadowy light, produced by the bouncing of candles, I would see Amachi’s outline: head bowed, hands clasps, lips moving in prayer. 



Mom's Chicken Biriyani

Serves 6 to 8

Biriyani is a richly-flavored Muslim dish commonly prepared with lamb or mutton in Kerala. We always serve it at Christmas (swapping in chicken) and for other meaningful occasions. The ingredient list is admittedly long, but friends that’s what it takes to eat like a Mughal Empress.



For rice:

½ cup butter
10 cardamom pods
10 cloves
1 (2-inch) cinnamon stick
2 onions, finely chopped
2 cups basmati rice
4 cups water
Pinch saffron
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3/4 teaspoon salt

For chicken:

3 tablespoons coriander
1 tablespoon fennel
1/8 teaspoon turmeric
8 cardamom pods
10 cloves
3 teaspoons canola oil
1 cup finely chopped onions
2 teaspoons minced garlic
2½ teaspoon minced ginger
1 medium jalapeno, cut in half lengthwise
1 (2-inch) cinnamon stick
¾ cup chopped tomatoes
1 pound chicken, preferably bone-in
3 tablespoons yogurt
1/3 cup water
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon lemon juice

For garnish:

3 tablespoons butter
½ cup thinly sliced onions
¼ cup roughly chopped cashew nuts
3 tablespoons raisons

INSTRUCTIONS

For rice:

Soak the rice in water for 30 minutes. Rinse until the water becomes clear. Drain. 

Melt the butter in a medium-sized saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the cardamom pods, cloves, and cinnamon. Cook for 1 minute.

Stir in the onions and cook until they just begin to caramelize, about 10 minutes. 

Add the rice and stir to coat it with butter. Cook, stirring frequently, until the rice granules separate and begin to look opaque.

Add the water, lemon juice, salt, and saffron, pinching it to release its essential oils. Stir. Bring to a boil. 

Reduce the heat to low. Cover and cook until the rice is tender, about 15 to 20 minutes. Do not stir the rice while it is cooking. 

For chicken:

Blend the coriander, fennel, turmeric, cardamom pods, and cloves in a spice grinder.

Place the onions, garlic, ginger, jalapeno, cinnamon, tomatoes, chicken, yogurt, water, salt, lemon juice, and ground spices in in medium-sized stockpot or a Dutch oven. Stir together. 

Cover and cook on medium-low heat until the chicken flakes when pulled with a fork, about 20 to 25 minutes. If there is more than 1/3 of a cup of gravy, remove the chicken using a slotted spoon and cook the gravy to reduce it to 1/3 of a cup. 

For garnish:

Heat 2 tablespoons of butter in a small skillet over medium-low heat. 

When it melts, add the onions and cook until they begin to caramelize. Transfer to a bowl. 

Melt the remaining tablespoon butter and add the cashews and raisins. Cook until the cashews turn golden, stirring frequently.

You’re almost there (!):

Place a layer of rice in a large casserole dish (or one medium-sized casserole dish and a small casserole dish). Remove the cardamom pods, cloves, and cinnamon stick. 

Top with a layer of the chicken. 

Add another layer of rice, removing the rest of the cardamom pods and cloves. 

Add another layer of the chicken.

Top with the cashews, raisins, and onions. 

Bake at 400 degrees for an hour. 

Serve with cucumber tomato salad and lentil wafers.

Tomato Rice

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

My mom shared the gloomy prediction on a sunny day in June.

"Lucille used to say that the first frost falls six weeks after the cicadas begin to sing." Unwilling to ponder the possibility, I tucked the information in the far reaches of my mind.

About a month later, I heard their first chorus. It had a pulsing rhythm that seemed mechanized. Summer after summer, I had been fascinated by the ebb and flow of the cicadas' melody. So much so that when I lived in Japan my sister sent me a recording on cassette tape. But that day I felt terrorized by it. Hadn't summer just started?

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

By early August, my rabbit began shedding her coat. I found tufts of strawberry blond fur on the couch, the carpet, and in the windowsill where she loves to perch. "Great???," I thought. "It seems, Honey is in cahoots with those noisy insects!"

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

Unable to cope with the onset of fall, I began sharing the prediction with my neighbors.

"Did you know that it's supposed to frost six weeks after you first hear the cicadas?"

"Really, when did they start?"

"In the middle of July."

They would shoot me a look of disbelief that quickly gave way to weary acceptance.

"That's Chicago for you."

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

Thankfully, the six-week point came and went without the appearance of ice crystals. The sun kept shining. The cicadas kept singing, and Honey sported a shabby spectrum of blond.

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

Last week, I asked a flower vendor at the farmer's market about the cicadas and their foretelling of fall. He gave me a big smile, and in a humble voice said, "There's no way. The first frost coincides with the full moon and won't be here until the end of September."

And in a few simple words, he redeemed the buzzing creatures.

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

MOM'S TOMATO RICE

This recipe is wonderful with fresh summer tomatoes. (Be sure to store them on your counter top, not in the fridge where they get mealy.) It starts with a saute of onion, ginger, and garlic, the "Holy Trinity" of Kerala cooking, and calls for turmeric, another very commonly used spice added in "dashes". The hot pepper rounds out the flavors, and I think of it as my mom's secret weapon. Remove the seeds to dial down the heat. Lastly, the women in my family swear by Riceland Extra Long-Grain Rice.Serves 6 to 8

INGREDIENTS

2 teaspoons olive oil
1 cup diced onions
1 1/2 teaspoon minced ginger
1 1/2 teaspoon chopped garlic
1/2 - 1 jalapeno, slice lengthwise (depending on the heat)
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground cumin
Dash of turmeric
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups diced tomatoes
1 cup extra long-grain rice
2 cups water
1 teaspoon lemon juice

INSTRUCTIONS

Heat the oil in a medium saute pan on medium heat.

Add the onions, ginger, garlic, and jalapeno. Saute until the onions become translucent.

Stir in the cumin, turmeric, and salt. Cook for 1 minute.

Add the tomatoes. Cook until they begin to soften, about 5 minutes.

Add the rice. Stir until thoroughly combined. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add the water and lemon juice. Stir. Bring to a boil.

Reduce the heat to low and cover. Cook until the rice is tender, about 15 minutes.

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

The Versatility of Rice

The smell I find the most comforting is the one that filled my mom's kitchen - starchy steam rising out of a pot of parboiled rice. Nearly every night, she would scoop a heaping cup of granules from the 25-pound bag in the pantry and boil it in a pot of water (much like Italians prepare pasta). While the rice cooked, she moved on to more daring feats like chopping onions in her palm and whacking open a coconut with a frightfully large cleaver. My mom insisted on two rules when it came to rice: it should never be sticky and it always had to be served hot. So. when she placed the plump granules into a colander to drain, I knew it was time to set the table.

Jolly Auntie's Iddiyappam, Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

Rice forms the cornerstone of the Kerala table. So much so that when you want to know whether someone has eaten, you ask, "Choru undo?" which literally translates to "Have you eaten rice?" On most days, we consumed Uncle Ben's parboiled rice paired, which paired, like a blank canvass, with other highly spiced dishes. However, rice takes on numerous other forms in Kerala (making the region a gluten-free paradise).

I savored many rice-based dishes on my recent trip. For breakfast, I sat down to servings of putu (rice flour steamed with fresh, shredded coconut) paired with chickpeas and iddyappam (steam rice noodles) formed with a copper press. My auntie paired the noodles with boiled eggs that she cooked with coconut milk, coriander, and a mix of other spices. When we took day trips, my relatives and I lunched at vegetarian cafes. At Mummy's Restaurant, we ate ghee roast dosas prepared from a rice-based batter. The dosas were cooked on a large griddle and layered with a pepper-onion chutney. We also enjoyed steamed idlis (rice buns) served with sambar (vegetable stew) and coconut chutney, which added zing to the meal.

Mummy's Ghee Roast Dosa, Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2001)

My Auntie Iysha tracked down toddy, an alcoholic beverage prepared from the sap of coconut blossoms, and used it to prepare kallappam. A Syrian Christian specialty, the fluffy pancakes get their lift as the alcohol ferments in a rice-based batter.

Iyshakochamma's Kallappam (Susan Pachikara COPYRIGHT 2011)

Iyshakochamma (kochamma means aunt) also introduced me to pidi. Together, we stirred up a rice-based dough, set aside a pinch, and rolled the rest into an army of one-inch circular dumplings. We seasoned a large pot of water with shallots, curry leaves, coriander, and salt, and thickened the broth with the rest of the dough, which had been liquified with coconut milk. Then, we set the dumplings in the broth to boil. When they firmed up, each of us rounded up a plate full and smothered them with chicken coconut stew for a mid-day snack.

Iyshakochamma, (Abe Pachikara COPYRIGHT 2010)

When people ask me to describe Kerala, my memory takes me to the plush paddy fields that once covered the region's fertile plains like a vast ocean. Unfortunately, the low profit margins associated with growing rice has made it untenable for many farmers. So, many have receded. However, rice continues to dominate the table in one form or another.

RICE PILAF

(COPYRIGHT CARDAMOM KITCHEN 2009)

Serves 6-8

This pilaf features my favorite spice trio: cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon. Their flavors become weak in the knees yummy when combined with basmati rice. (So, you can skip the saffron if your jar is empty.) I use basmati rice from the foothills of the Himalayas, which has more floral flavors than any domestically produced rice I've come across. Be sure to let the onions soften completely. Also, take time to "fry" the rice as it helps to keep the granules from sticking. This pilaf pairs beautifully with fish mappas, and will appear again in a recipe for chicken biryani.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup Indian basmati rice

3 tablespoons butter or canola oil

1 cup diced onion

4 cardamom pods

4 cloves

1 stick of cinnamon

2 cups of water

1 teaspoon of lemon juice

Pinch of saffron (optional)

1 teaspoon salt

INSTRUCTIONS

Soak the rice in water for 20 minutes.

Rinse the rice until the water becomes clear. Drain. Let it sit for another 20 minutes.

Heat the butter (or oil) in a saucepan on medium low heat. Add the cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon. Saute for 1 minute.

Stir in the onions and cook until they becomes translucent.

Add the rice and stir to coat granules with butter. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly to "fry" the rice.

Add the water, lemon juice, saffron, and salt. Stir. Bring to a boil.

Reduce the heat to low. Cover and cook until the rice is tender (10 to 15 minutes).

Remove the cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon before serving.