At the Coorg table, you can immerse your tastebuds into a dark, tangy fish curry, with spice tones reminiscent of the famous pandi curry, but thinner and sharper. No coconut here — just ground onions, garlic and a few grains of raw rice as a thickener, a faint, pleasing bitterness from fenugreek seeds, dark roasted spices. Sharp, clear flavours emerge from the earthenware cooking pots. For a land locked, hill people, we eat a lot of fish in Coorg. The streams and rivers offered a generous supply of fresh water crabs and fish, like the sweet-fleshed bare meen.

Fishing trips had a touch of the theatrical — fire-lit or lamp-lit men, balancing along the mud embankments of the fields, or river-banks, to spear or trap fish. Bamboo traps were laid in cold, swift flowing streams. In season, the flooded paddy fields were full of crab and the prized, tiny koile meen.Fresh catch from the sea was just a day -trip away and, centuries of trade with the Malabar coast established a tradition of fresh and dried fish finding their way into Coorg homes, in sawdust-lined tin boxes, carried by Mapilah traders, to be haggled over in backyards. Salted fish was set aside for the monsoon months, or pickled in a thick layer of spices, immersed in baranis (earthenware jars).

To the fish and crustaceans of the sea and their own highland streams, the Coorgs brought their typical spice mixtures that added beguiling flavours. Whole mackerel, sardines, or slices of sweet-tasting river fish were lightly marinated in red chilli powder, turmeric and the indispensible kachampuli (Coorg vinegar), dipped in rice powder, and fried crisp on cast iron tawas. The contrast of the crunch of crisped exteriors, the lingering levels of spice in the firm flesh and a squeeze of lime was always perfect. There were plump morsels of pickled fish, and curries and pickles of prawns. Some days, an estate worker would come by with a catch of slender, flashing fish, a couple inches long, from the paddy fields. Fiddly to clean of the grit and mud, we spent ages rubbing slippery mounds with ash or salt for curry, or my favourite — clusters of koile meen, mixed with spices, for ‘cutlets.’

Fresh crab, caught in streams or fields were quick fried, or curried with finely ground coconut into a sour-spicy curry. Served with hot akki ottis and melted ghee. As we sat around a small, dining table, crunching crab claws and sucking out tender meat, my mother-in-law would explain which phases of the moon brought the crabs heavy with meat and, the knack of catching live crabs without receiving a painful pinch. I would nod enthusiastically, but left that particular task to the experts.

RECIPE
Coorg Fish Curry
Ingredients
* 1kg fish (seer works very well) cut into ½ inch thick steaks
Grind together to a fine paste
* 4 large onions
* 1 inch ginger
* 8 pods of garlic, peeled
* 1 ½ tsp jeera
Dry spices
* Red chilli powder to taste
* 2 tsp coriander powder
* 1 level tsp turmeric

For seasoning
* 1 tsp mustard seeds
* 2 green chillies
* 2 onions, sliced thin
* 8-10 curry leaves

For the roasted masala
* 1 tsp whole cumin (jeera)
* 1 tsp mustard seeds (rye)
* ¼ tsp fenugreek seeds
* ¼ tsp raw rice
* ½ tsp black peppercorns kachampuli, or malt vinegar

Slow roast the above spices separately on a hot tawa until they release their aromas and change colour. Allow them to cool, and crush to a powder, separately, and then mix.
* Salt to taste
* ½ cup oil
* 2 cups hot water

Method
Wash and dry the fish fillets or steaks.
Mix the kachampuli (or malt vinegar), the turmeric, chilli powder, salt into the fish, and set aside.
Heat the oil in a deep pan, or kadai, add the mustard seeds. When they begin to splutter, add the curry leaves, the sliced onions and the green chillies, and fry gently until softened.
Add the coriander powder, chilli powder, and ground paste of onions. Cook slowly, until the raw smell disappears.
Add 2 cups hot water, or more according to gravy required, and when simmering add the fish, and cook uncovered, until almost done.
Add the dry roasted, powdered spices, and simmer until done.
Optional — you can thicken the curry with a small amount of tamarind paste too.

– The writer is an anthropologist and independent author based in the city, who delves in to food, wine, travel and heritage. She is also behind A Gourmet’s Table In Coorg (http://coorg.com), a blog exploring the fascinating traditions of Coorg cuisine, food lore and special meals.

source: http://www.DeccanChronicle.com / Home> Channels> LifeStyle> Dine o Mite / by Kaveri Ponnapa, DC / September 06th, 2012

Mumbai:
After grabbing a great response from ‘ FALTU’, Jacky Bhagnani is thrilled about his upcoming flick ‘ Ajab Gazabb Love’. The actor admires his co-star Nidhi Subbaiah for her tremendous performance in the movie. The actor who had done three films with every fresh faces stated that he would love to romance Angelina Jolie.

Jacky stated that, “I would want to romance Angelina Jolie also, but I have just done three films till now and I am happy romacing Nidhi in this film.”

He also added that he is also a fresh face of the B-town and doesn’t mind romancing any actress.

The actor said, “Off-screen rapport is very important with an actress to make the movie look realistic. People want to see real friendship even if it’s a filmy film.”

source: http://www.aajkiakhbar.com / Home> Entertainment . by Abhayank Tiwari / Thursday, August 31st, 2012

For the better part of my teens, I was vegetarian by choice. Not dramatic, under normal circumstances, but since I am a Coorg, it led to many interesting situations. Most often, when we visited relatives, my announcement was met with loud cries of shock and protest, followed by expressions of sorrow and disbelief. An aunt even questioned my suitability for marriage, vegetarian that I was.

My grandmother would ask me, every day of the holidays, out of deep concern and affection, “What shall I make for you?” and exclaim, triumphantly, “Potatoes!” Somehow, the vast number of vegetarian dishes on her extravagant table remained invisible to her. I soon grew accustomed to the sound of an omelette being hastily and violently beaten up in the kitchen, wherever I went, as compensation for all the meat I was going to miss. I could never figure out what all the fuss was about, because we had such a wonderful vegetarian repertoire of the freshest flavours possible, most of it sourced from the kitchen gardens attached to every home.

As it was, there were golden curries of pumpkins, cubed and cooked with tender skin still on (kumbala curry), faintly sweet and garlicky. From the back garden came deliciously fat, creamy double beans (avare), which were curried with ground coconut. Kuru curry was thinner, and ran to the edges of your plate, carrying a lovely contrast between fresh green shells and terracotta coloured local French beans. There were lively, stir-fried greens, like kake thoppe, or chonde keere thoppe.

The leaves were garden fresh, and all it took was an onion and a few green chilies to make a stir-fry, perfect in its simplicity. Tiger striped Mangalore cucumbers were fried soft and velvety, and given a fillip with a little jaggery. And I would wait for the day when a pale, thin curry of ash gourd in curd appeared on the table. Delicate flavours, tender cubes of ash gourd and a mound of rice — it was all the lunch I needed that day. Comfort food meant thoge, a homely blend of vegetables cooked in a thin base of toovar dal.

In season came a parade of delicacies: wild mushrooms, tender bamboo shoots and enticing little mangoes that were made into a hot and sweet curry with a touch of jaggery. A large glass bowl on my grandmother’s table alternated between plain, solid curd and a selection of pachadis, made with cucumbers, the famous Coorg bitter oranges or sweet mangoes. And there was much more. Of course, things have changed. Going vegetarian is popular now, but we still hesitate, doubting ourselves. Take me for instance — my mother-in-law suddenly turned vegetarian; when she came to stay for several months, I rushed out and bought a huge tome on vegetarian cooking and, abandoning this entire legacy, cooked for her from its pages.

The writer is an anthropologist and independent author based in the city, who delves in to food, wine, travel and heritage. She is also behind A Gourmet’s Table In Coorg (http://coorg.com), her blog that explores the fascinating traditions of Coorg cuisine, food lore and special meals.

source: http://www.DeccanChronicle.com / Home> Channels> Lifestyle> Dine o mite / by Kaveri Ponnapa, DC / August 03rd, 2012