Vegan

Indians love raw onion rings with their kebabs, just as Americans like a slice of onion with their hamburgers. Browned meat and raw onions—it is a marriage made in heaven. The Indian rings are different, though. They are made from smaller onions and are cut paper thin. To temper the sharpness, they are soaked in cold water and dried off thoroughly in a towel. The rings separate, leaving a mound of tangled rings.

There were many salad-like dishes made with seasonal fruit that my mother served with our lunches. If guavas were in season, they were pressed into service; it could also be star fruit, bananas, peaches, green mangoes, whatever was available in abundance. The seasonings in these salads did not vary much—salt, pepper, ground roasted cumin, Indian chili powders, made from red chilies and sometimes yellow chilies as well, sugar as needed, and lime juice. My mother made the salads herself, not in the kitchen but in the pantry and at the very last minute, just as we sat down to eat, so the fruit would not start “weeping” and get all watery. The seasoning amounts given in this recipe are approximate, since the taste of fruit can vary so much. Keep tasting as you go, adding more or less of the seasonings, as desired.

My North Indian family called this salaad, or salad, but similar salads with varying seasonings are known in some parts of India as cachumbar. These salads generally contain onions (our Indian red onions), cucumbers, and tomatoes but, according to the seasons, we in Delhi could find radishes or kohlrabi in them as well. In some parts of India, barely sprouted mung beans and peanuts could be added. This fresh salad was always at our table at every meal in some form, with the simplest of dressings added at the last minute. There was never any oil in this dressing. Instead, there was fresh lime juice, salt, pepper, chili powder, and ground roasted cumin seeds. We just put a generous dollop on our plates (or side plates) and ate it with everything.

In much of India, a fresh salad is present at every single meal. This kind of cucumber salad was something that my mother threw together moments before we sat down to eat. Cucumbers with tiny undeveloped seeds have the best texture, but when cucumbers are growing wildly in my garden and some that hid themselves too successfully among the leaves have grown beyond the best picking size, I pick them anyway, peel them, and scoop out their seeds. They still make good eating. (Whenever I pick a particularly large, overgrown cucumber, I can never throw it in the compost heap because I think of Inder Dutt. At the age of thirteen, he came down from a poor village in the Himalayan mountains to try to eke out a living in the plains. In Delhi, he somehow managed to get into a cousin’s household where they taught him how to do odd jobs and eventually even how to cook. He became so adept that my cousin brought him to New York as her cook. Every now and then he would come over to our apartment to help out. I could never get enough of the stories about his childhood. He had spent the snowy mountain winters without shoes, huddling in the floor above the animals to stay warm at night. In the summers, he had to go work in the fields. When he got very thirsty, he would just pick the largest cucumber he could find, snap it in two, and quench his thirst with its juicy flesh.)

Throughout southern India and Sri Lanka fine, homemade, steamed rice noodles are often served at mealtimes instead of rice and are known as idiappam (or string hoppers) in India and idiappa in Sri Lanka. Since making them is somewhat cumbersome, requiring a special mold and steaming equipment, I do the next best thing: I buy dried rice sticks from East Asian grocers and reconstitute them. These noodles could be served at breakfast with a little sugar and cardamom-flavored coconut milk and at major meals with curries—though in Sri Lanka I have had them with fish curries for breakfast to my great delight, and with fiery fish curries in Kerala for dinner.

This South Indian–style dish may also be made with shredded cabbage. Dried rice sticks are sold by East Asian grocers. You will notice that a little raw rice is used here as a seasoning. It provides a nutty texture. Serve with a lamb or beef curry or grilled meats.

South Asians do not really eat brown rice, but many people in South India, western coastal India, and Sri Lanka enjoy a very nutritious red rice. The grains have a red hull that is only partially milled. This is eaten plain and also ground into flour to make pancakes and noodles. This recipe works for all the brown rices available in the West, and may be served with all South Asian meals.

Bulgar, a wheat that has been cooked, cracked, and dried, is used in parts of the Punjab (northwestern India) to make a variety of nutritious pilafs. The coarser-grained bulgar is ideal here. Serve as you would a rice pilaf.

This is such a soothing rice dish—slightly sweet and salty, with just a hint of black pepper. (Do not eat the peppercorns. Push them to the side of your plate. They are just for flavoring.) As the dish is South Indian, I have made it with jasmine rice, which is closer in texture to the shorter-grained rices commonly found in that region. I love to serve this with northern lamb and chicken curries, thus breaking tradition and combining north and south in an exciting new way.

We eat this very nutritious rice dish a lot and frequently serve it to our guests. It is almost a meal in itself, and may be served simply with Karhi, a yogurt sauce, and any vegetable you like.

One of the oldest Indian dishes and continuously popular these thousands of years is khichri, a dish of rice and split peas. (Starting around the Raj period, the British began to serve a version of khichri in their country homes for breakast: they removed the dal, added fish, and called it kedgeree.) There are two general versions of it: one is dry, like well-cooked rice, where each grain is separate, and the other is wet, like a porridge. Both are delicious. The first is more elegant, the second more soothing. This is the first, the dry version. Serve it like rice, with all manner of curries.

Jasmine rice is very different in texture and taste from basmati rice. It is more clingy, more spongy, and more glutinous and, at its best, has a jasmine-like aroma. On some days it is exactly the soothing rice I yearn for. It is certainly closer to the daily rice eaten in South, East, and West India, where basmati rice is reserved for special occasions only. Look for good-quality jasmine rice, usually sold by Thai and other Oriental grocers. Sadly, price is often a good indication of quality. I usually do not bother to wash it, as I enjoy its slightly sticky quality.

Not only does this rice look colorful and taste delicious but the turmeric acts like an antiseptic inside the body and the sesame seeds add a good deal of nutrition. You can almost eat this by itself. Add a dal, perhaps an eggplant dish, and a yogurt relish, and you have a fine vegetarian meal. Or serve with kebabs of any sort and a salad for a light, non-vegetarian meal.

The Indian split peas, arhar dal and toovar (or toor) dal, are closely related. Both are the hulled and split descendants of the pigeon pea. Arhar, the North Indian version, is milder in flavor, whereas toovar, used in West and South India, tends to be darker and earthier. Use whichever you can find. If you cannot find either, use yellow split peas. Serve with rice or Indian flatbreads. Add a vegetable and relishes to complete the meal. Non-vegetarians may add meat or fish, if they like.

I have only eaten this slightly sweet and slightly sour dish in Gujarat, and how good it was, too. It isn’t just corn grains that are cooked in the dal but the cob itself, lopped off into reasonably sized rounds. The woody part of the cob flavors the dal in mysterious ways. You just cannot pick up these corn pieces with Western cutlery. Hands are required to eat the corn off the dal-and-spice-flavored cob sections. If you cannot find toor dal (also labeled toovar dal and arhar dal), use any other split peas that you can find easily, such as red lentils or yellow split peas. Just remember that red lentils cook faster than toor dal. This dal is put into individual serving bowls and served with rice or Indian flatbreads. A selection of other vegetables and relishes are also included in vegetarian meals. Non-vegetarians might add fish or chicken.

Basmati rice is easy to cook if you follow these simple directions: Buy good-quality rice with unbroken grains. The rice should have a pronounced basmati odor. Wash, soak, and drain the rice. Cook it with a light hand without heavy-handed stirring, as the grains can break easily. This could be an everyday rice when served with a simple dal, vegetable, and relish, or a party rice if served with a fish or meat curry.

This delicious dal curry may also be made with moong dal or an equal mixture of red lentils, masoor dal, and moong dal. Serve with rice and fish.

An everyday dal to be served with rice, vegetables, and curries. (In Bangladesh, the curry would often be made with fish.)

For vegetarians, these refreshing lentils, accompanied perhaps by Yogurt Relish with Okra and a bread, Indian or crusty Western, could make an entire meal. For non-vegetarians, meats or fish curries may be added.

There was a time when the easy-to-use canned chickpeas came in such a tin-tasting liquid that they needed not only draining but rinsing as well. The liquid was unusable. Lately, I have found canned organic chickpeas that are in a lovely natural liquid, quite similar to what I get when I boil my own. This is a giant leap, indeed. Look for them. The chickpeas may be served with Indian flatbreads or rice. Eggplants, greens, and relishes would complete the meal. Meats may always be added.