Calcutta style Chicken Rolls

I had set a record for unabashed gluttony at 5. I seemed to have accomplished more at 5 than I did at 25. Apparently, and I swear I have no real memory of this incident, a mother-daughter duo, friends of my family, had come home to spend an evening. I remember them though, they used to come home regularly and we visited them often, until they shifted to Australia a decade ago. Anyway, so they were home and since chicken rolls were the daughter’s weak spot that was what was brought for evening snack. It seems I had been making innumerable trips to the kitchen ever since the rolls arrived and were kept on the kitchen counter. Then one of the helps caught me sneaking out a piece of chicken from one of the rolls in the casserole and the nincompoop didn’t know better than to scream her lungs out. She had the option to merely ask me out politely, but no she screamed.

One slap later, I settled down for a while. Finally the rolls were served. And then, as the family legend goes, there was no stopping me. I stared at the daughter’s plate so hard, much to my mother’s dismay, she finally offered me a bite. At that point I conjured the most surprised look a 5-year-old possibly could and turned to my mother, with that “what should I do now, should I say no, what is the polite thing to do ma?” look. By now the daughter was insisting I take a tiny bite at least (tiny?) and my mother said “go ahead” in that sweetest voice that would usually terrify me. But now I had a bite of chicken roll to think about. If my mother thought that the embarrassment was over for the day, she couldn’t have been further from reality.

Once I had taken a bite of the daughter’s roll, I made my way to the living room upstairs, where the mother was enjoying her egg chicken rolls. My aunt was keeping her company. So, supposedly, I go into the room, pick a spot, park myself and the staring starts again. But the mother wasn’t as sensitive as the daughter you see. She seemed to not notice how a little girl, deprived of the goodness of street food, was staring at her plate. She carried on about her Nigerian daughter-in-law (I am sure that’s what she was talking about, she always did). And as I saw the size of the roll diminishing, I could no longer leave things to chance. So I decided to act. I asked, “How do you like your roll?” She said, “Oh they are wonderful, thank you.” And then I said, just as my mother stepped into the room, “Your daughter shared hers with me.” The incident scarred my mother for life I think. She decided she had failed at raising me well. But come on food is my weakness, has always been, will always be.

Yes I do not remember the incident, but my father will not let me forget it either. At every family get together, every other night at the dinner table, every time new guests come home, every time a conversation shifts to me, my father narrates this incident, in the same set of words, with minor alterations. I think he thinks that narrating this incident is imperative to introducing me to anyone. Yeah, it’s embarrassing, and I can’t begin to imagine what a thrashing I must have received that night, but I have learnt to laugh along. It’s boring now, hearing it over and over again. But dad seems to enjoy it so much, I don’t mind.

Yes rolls are my weak spot too. As a child my mother supervised everything I ate and she didn’t allow me the indulgence of street food as long as she could. So, I was for a long time only an onlooker while everyone around me feasted on that street-food wonder that is my city’s pride, but when I started eating rolls there was no looking back. Ah those juicy, spice morsels of meat wrapped in a crispy paratha. I do not like sauce in my rolls, just lots chilies and lime juice. And yes I like the paratha crisp mostly, and my rolls well endowed, lots of meat that is. 

I live in New Alipore in South Calcutta, and  for the longest time a majority of the residents of the area’s M, N, O, P blocks (quite a large area, I tell you) swore by the rolls from Mayuri roll centre, which went by the name of Rabi Da’r Roll. The original owner of Mayuri is no more, and in recent years Mayuri is no longer the same, but to me talking about rolls would always invoke memories of Rabi Da’r roll. Yes I love the legendary Nizam rolls, and there are a few other places in the city that make great rolls, but when I tried making chicken rolls at home, my inspiration was Mayuri, of course the Mayuri of yesteryears.

Ingredients 

(makes 4-5 rolls)

For the filling

Boneless chicken cut into 2 inch cubes – 500 g

Ginger paste – 1 tbsp

Garlic paste – 3/4 tbsp

Juice on 1 small onion (grate the onion and squeeze out the juice really)

Coarsely ground black pepper – 1 tsp

Salt to taste

Juice of 1 lime

Garam Masala Powder – ½ tsp

Roasted cumin powder – 1 tsp

Roasted coriander powder – 1 tbsp

Turmeric powder – ½ tsp

Red chili powder – ½ tsp (or more if you want heat)

Vegetable oil – 2-3 tbsp

For the paratha

Flour (Maida) – 300 g 

Vegetable oil – 4 tbsp

Water as required 

Salt to taste 

Sugar - 1/2 tsp 

Other ingredients

Thin sliced onions – 2 large

Finely chopped green chilies

Lime wedges

Salt and pepper

 

Method

Marinate the chicken with all the other ingredients listed under “For the filling” except the oil, for 3-4 hours.  

Heat oil in a pan and toss in the marinated chicken pieces.

Fry until chicken is tender and all the juices dry up, and oil separates.

In a bowl add lime juice, salt and pepper to the sliced onions and green chilies and keep aside.

In the mean time knead soft dough with the flour, oil and water. Roll out into thin, round disks. Shallow fry the parathas on a hot griddle or tawa. Actually, first bake the paranthas on both sides, and then spoon in oil, little by little, just enogh to give the parathas a crispy skin. We don't want the parathas to be too greasy.

You have to work fast here, actually. While the paratha is piping hot, line the chicken pieces a little off the centre of the parathas, top it with the onions and green chilies, add a squeeze of lime if you want to and roll them up.

Wrap one end of the roll in tissue or butter paper, and tuck the open ends into the hollow of the roll. This is necessary to keep the chicken pieces from tumbling down.

Serve on the go. Rolls need to be piping hot.

NO YOU WILL NOT HAVE KETCHUP WITH IT. DOESN'T MATTER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE KETCHUP 

Hara Gosht: No onion, garlic or ginger

Mum and Dad are away for the weekend. So my brother and I have this part of the house to ourselves. A potentially dangerous situation, I respect my parents' risk-taking potential.They don't take such a risk often, only sometimes. And those rare occasions mostly make theme regret. But that's another story. This time around, it's been 36 hours since they left and yet everything is just fine I mean nothing's broken, the kitchen looks clean, reasonably clean, no ones had to try to breakdown doors or no passerby has stopped in their tracks bewildered by anguished shrieks coming through the second floor window. We've been good children. We haven't quarreled, he hasn't hung by my hair nor have I sat on him threatening to throttle him under my weight. No name calling eitheis. This is when Mum smiles a proud smile. To top it all I made this delectable mutton dish last evening on my brother's request and he complimented me on it. Unbelievable...true but. However I was so happy with the outcome of last evening's kitchen feat, I could wait to share it with you guys.

The dish is alled Hara Gosht. Yes because it is green in colour. It has no onions, garlic or ginger. A few spices. Loads of green. And some khoya to give it a beautiful creaminess. I loved it. And I am sure so would you. In fact, if you haven;t planned your Sunday dinner yet may be you should try this tonight.

Ingredients

Mutton: 750 g
Mustard oil
Asafoetida (Hing): 2 tsp
Coriander powder: 1 tbsp (heaped)
Fennel seeds (coarsely ground) - 11/2 tbsp
Vinegar: 2 tbsp
Minced raw papaya: 2 tbsp
Coriander leaves : 250 g
Mint leaves: 100 g
Green chilies: 5-6 (or according to taste)
Khoya (grated): 2 tbsp
Salt to taste

Method

Marinate the meat with minced papaya and vinegar for two hours.

In a mixer, make a paste (with little or no water) of the coriander and mint leaves and green chilies.

Heat oil in a pan and once it begins to smoke, reduce heat and a few seconds later add the fennel seeds and the asafoetida.

Once fragrant, toss in the meat, turn up heat and fry the meat until it turns brown. Also add the coriander powder at this stage.

Add the coriander-mint-chili paste and keep frying on high heat. Add salt too. Scrape out any bits sticking to the bottom of the pan.

Finally add 200 ml hot water, bring to a boil, reduce heat and let it cook covered until meat softens. You can also pressure cook the meat for about 25 minutes and then simmer till they are tender.

Finally add khoya, mix well and let it simmer for another 5 minutes or so.

Murg Dahi Kofta

I was perhaps 5 or 6 when Iqbal Mama first came to our house on a winter morning with his huge trunk crammed full with exquisite pashminas, shawls embellished with intricate gold thread-work, ponchos and pherans in lovely shades of lavender and pink and lemon yellow with elaborate, embroidered flowers I knew not the names of. I remember my mother and aunts sitting in the living room browsing through his treasure trove and my mother's strict instruction that I shouldn't touch a thing. Iqbal Mama had laughed and told my Mum that it was okay. Before leaving he had gifted me a black poncho with white and pink flowers on it. Initially I called him shawl-wallah uncle, later Mum said it was rude and I should call him just uncle. Iqbal Mama said I should call him Mama.

For years after and until recently Iqbal Mama came to Calcutta from Kashmir every autumn with hundreds of other Shawl wallahs and for me meeting him was a winter ritual I eagerly awaited. Soon, he had turned into a friend of the family, we were invited to his wedding and he would attend our family functions. We couldn't attend his wedding though because of the condition in Kashmir back then but we had in our hearts the very best wishes for him.

While in Calcutta he stayed with some of his fellows from back home in a house with blue walls in a narrow lane off Ripon street, 10 or 15 of them. Once Iqbal Mama had invited us over for dinner, we went. Mum couldn't for she was unwell but I accompanied my dad, uncle and aunt to his place. And that evening we were served a meal I still remember.

We were seated in a room and some of the guys were introduced to us while the others I only heard voices of. I have hardly ever seen such hospitality, they all seemed to be ready to go out on a limb to make us comfortable. And after the initial cheek-pulling and name-asking I was given two tins of chocolate cream biscuits which I could finish all by myself, they said. There were more for the elders they assured and that I could have as much as I wanted, but my aunt was already giving me THE LOOK. The elders chatted for hours, as far as I can remember the discussion revolved around Kashmir and what the people were facing there. One of these men had lost a family member to militants. I somehow still remember a few strands from the conversation. I was only ten, or nine perhaps, and so I can never be sure but I clearly remember him mentioning a severed hand.

Everyone was so engrossed in the discussion and for good reason that they didn't quite pay heed to the fact that discussions about bullets through the head and severed hands could freak out a ten year old just a little. Thank God my mind was elsewhere, elsewhere implying the kitchen,  that I am not scarred for life. The aroma wafting in from the kitchen was too much to handle.

A white sheet was spread on the ground and the plates were laid and the then food started coming. And it's one of the tastiest meals I have ever had. There were enormous pieces of paneer in a thick tomato gravy, there was meat cooked with saag, there was another dish of tender, melt-in-your pieces of meat in a creamy white gravy and there were enormous koftas in a soupy white gravy. I didn't know the names of any of these dishes back then, I think I do know most of them now. But what I still crave and often are the Aab Gosht and the Gushtaba. Many a time Iqbal Mama had promised to teach me how to make them but somehow we didn't get around to doing it. He has not been coming for a couple of years now...

Anyway, I am finally planning a trip to Kashmir in May and I am super kicked. The last week or so has gone into planning and making bookings and for innumerable times during this time I have thought about that sumptuous dinner many winters ago. Yesterday I had brought some minced chicken home and trumped up this dish which is definitely not Gushtaba, (come on it's chicken!)but definitely inspired by it. So, I am calling it Murg Dahi Kofta. Hope you'll enjoy it!

 Ingredients 

For the chicken kofta 
Finely minced chicken
Finely chopped onions - 1/2 cup packed
Garlic paste - 1 tbsp
Ginger paste - 1 tbsp
Chopped raisins - 2-3 tbsp
Chopped mint leaves - 3 tbsp
Chopped coriander leaves  - 6 tbsp
Salt to taste
Finely chopped green chilies - 5-6
OR Red chili powder - 1 tbsp 
Breadcrumbs - 5-6 tbsp

For the gravy

Ghee - 100g

WHOLE SPICES
Bay leaves - 2-3
Green cardamom - 6-8
Cinnamon stick - 2 inch
Cloves 5-6
Black peppercorns - 6-8
Nutmeg powder  - a pinch
Javitri - 2-3
Black Cardamom - 1 (big)

Garlic paste - 1 tsp
Ginger paste - 1 tbsp
Cumin powder - 1 tsp
Coriander powder - 1 tbsp
Warm water 7-8 cups
Yoghurt - 200g
Fresh coarsely ground pepper - 1 tbsp
Fresh cream - 50 ml
Salt to taste
Sugar 

Method

For the kofta mix all the ingredients together and roll them into balls the size of ping pong balls!Keep aside.

 In a bowl whisk the yoghurt with half a cup water so that it is smooth, creamy and slightly runny.

Now heat ghee in a large pan, once it reaches smoking point reduce heat and add all the whole spices and let them release their mind-blowing aroma.

Add the garlic paste, ginger paste and the cumin and coriander which you must dilute in a little water before adding. Fry the spices for a minute or two, make sure you don't burn them.

Now add the warm water and bring it to a boil. Lower heat and add the yoghurt stir continuously and vigorously so that the curd doesn't curdle. Let is all simmer for a few minutes.

Now strain out the whole spices, turn up heat and once the broth comes to a boil add the koftas one by one, carefully.

Let is cook for about 20 minutes or until the koftas are done. Keep an eye.

Finally, lower heat, add the black pepper and cream and take it off heat. Serve with rotis or steamed rice. It is delicious.

Sesame-Crusted Golmirch Chicken: Luck by chance!

December before last I took off on a 10 day trip to Delhi. This was suppose to be a reunion of sorts with two of my best friends from university — Chetna Desai and Jhumki Dutta (now Jhumki Dutta Kashyap). They have been my family during my stay in England, the source of warmth that helped me deal with the cold and grey English weather and the repercussions of staying thousands of miles away from home. Oh the times we have shared — walking in the woods, exploring the Downs, coffee at Starbucks, window-shopping at Churchill square, beer on the Brighton beach, tea at 3 in the morning, arguments, tears, hugs, memories, losses, happiness...I love these women to bits. And the idea was to spend some great time with the two of them. I had another secret plan though — I wanted to explore Delhi's food scene, which I had heard had undergone a sea change in less than a decade. I mean I was more than familiar with the the kebabs and paranthas and chaats and chola bhaturas but I wanted to check out the newest places in New Delhi.

Now who knows one better than their friends. The first thing Chetna (she is a development professional) said on seeing me walk out of the airport was "You have to check out this Bihari restaurant I ate at last week, it is brilliant!" I knew right away that this was going to be a good trip.

With Chetna

With Jhumki

We went to the Pot Belly Rooftop Cafe on the third day of my stay — Chetna, Jhumki and I. Now Chetna is a vegetarian and I had assumed we were going to a vegetarian joint. But I was happy at the thought of wolfing down a preposterous amount of Teheri and feasting on litti chokha. The almost perpendicular climp up to the fourth floor rooftop was rather taxing on my legs and morale but I managed and boy was  I glad I did. I did little jig on seeing meat and fish on the menu and settled for a Golmirch chicken among other stuff. Now what I was expecting was a dark, peppery gravy or something dry on the lines of a stir fry what I didn't expect was succulent, melt-in-your-mouth pieces of chicken in a buttery creamy sauce flavoured with fresh ground black pepper. I was in love with the dish.

The spread at Pot Belly. (Left, front) Golmirch chicken served with Parantha, chokha, sabudana vada and salad. I wish I had a better picture. But at that time, I had been like "Picture? What picture? Dig in!"

Ever since my return I have contemplated recreating the dish but never got around to doing it. In fact a few weeks ago I was craving Pot Belly's Golmirch chicken and thought that I had probably forgotten the taste by now. I decided a trip to Delhi was necessary and how.

However, last evening I trumped up a chicken preparation merely with a few things lying in the fridge that needed to be used and the dish took my breath away....I was transported back to that wintry night in Delhi when I polished off an entire bowl of the creamy golmirch chicken....this was almost identical, except it had my own little twist, a golden sesame crust. This, this is SERENDIPITY.

 
Ingredients 

Chicken (Boneless)- 1 kg
Hung Curd - 100 gms
Fresh cream - 100 ml
Garlic paste - 1 tbsp
Almond - 25-30
Cashew nuts - 15-20
Coarsely ground black pepper (fresh) - 2 tbsp
White oil - 4-5 tbsp
Salt to taste
Pinch of sugar 

Method:


In a mixer make a course paste of the almonds and cashewnuts together.

Marinate the chicken with all the ingredients (including the nut paste), except the sesame seeds and keep for an hour.

Preheat oven at 160 degree centigrade. Pour the marinated chicken into a baking tray and spread it out to form a single layer.

Now spinkle the sesame seeds generously on the chicken.

This is how it should look when it goes into the oven

Bake at 160 degree for 60-70 minutes. For the last five minutes change oven settings to heat from the top to get a golden crust, faster.

Serve with Parantha or Naan Bread.