Of bountiful gardens and Vāzhaipoo Vadais
Today, we bring to you the recipe for a weekend special – vāzhaipoo vadai, delicately spiced crunchy lentil dumplings enriched with the goodness of painstakingly cleaned banana florets. Perfect as an accompaniment for lunch or a pre-dinner appertizer or even better as a party snack.
Every time I see an Indian vegetable that I’ve lost track of, like the banana blossom, I’m reminded of Ayah and Aiyah’s gardens - they loved their greenery and ensured that, rented or bought, their home always had a green patch. This was one of the reasons they deplored apartment dwellings and grumbled about visiting me for more than a week at a time in Singapore. The Kitchen Master too has inherited their love for greenery and has quite the green thumb - many a discarded seed took firm root in the Muthiah gardens. Apparently that green thumb now extends to persimmons and nectarines and other such interesting fruit. My thumb, however, is persistently a rather dull brown, as my rather scraggly potted plants are witness to. Thankfully for the plants, my littlest one is showing signs of an inherited love for gardening, so they may still have hope…
The colour of my thumb aside, the gardens of my childhood hold a special place in my memories. My earliest memories are of the house in Shastri Nagar, with a huge front yard filled with the Ashoka trees – yes, the same ones that made it to our living room as pseudo-Christmas trees. The back yard was filled with a variety of fruits and vegetables - drumsticks, ladies fingers, brinjals, lemon, kodukapuli (apparently known as Manila tamarind), custard apple (seethapazham / seethafal), tomatoes, spinach etc, and yes it was home to a snake or two as well. An oft heard story was the one about Ayah’s battle with a bunch of caterpillars that got tired of feeding on the drumstick leaves and made their way onto her sari, causing an unpleasant allergic reaction resulting in days of swollen and itchy hands. Needless to say, the gardens were minus drumstick trees thereafter – but every time I come across one, especially in Singapore where every Indian home seems to have a few, I’m reminded of the story. And then there were the frangipanis or temple flowers, the oleanders (arali poo) and the blue pea flowers (sangu poo), all of which made it to the prayer room. It is only recently that I realized that blue pea, sometimes called butterfly pea, flowers are quite popular as a colouring and flavouring agent in Asian foods – ever seen a lavender-coloured rice served with Nasi Lemak? Well, the colour comes from the nutrient rich blue pea flower, which is also used to make herbal teas and lemonades. At some point in time, I believe we also had a cotton plant. Oh, what fun we had in that garden – there were trees to be climbed, plants to be watered, fruits to be stolen, vegetables to be harvested, flowers to be picked for prayers, and, of course, it was a fascinating place to play hide and seek provided the snakes and caterpillars didn’t get to you first!
As we moved homes, over the years, while the selection of plants changed, the tradition of rich gardens continued. There was the slimy vine spinach (pasalai keerai) that made its way into soups, the guavas that Aiyah painstakingly guarded from the birds so that they could make their way to Singapore for my brats to enjoy (the Indian version, seeds and all, apparently tastes better than the seedless but rather tasteless version that abounds here) and papayas and bamblimās (pomelos) which made their way to the breakfast table. Then there were the coconuts and betel leaves, the jasmines and the heavily scented pavalamalli (night flowering coral jasmine), all of which made it to the prayer room.
Ayah’s pride and joy though was her banana patch, as prized for its stems (vāzhaithandu) and flowers (vāzhaipoo) and leaves (vāzhai ilai) as for its fruit either in raw (vāzhaikkai) or ripened form (vāzhaipazham). Maybe her special affection for the plant was because it was a story on the regeneration of life – it was never without a young plant in sight - and the root-to-shoot philosophy. Anyway, Ayah, and after her, Aiyah, kept track of the patch and whether it was fruit or leaf or stem, the bounty was generously distributed to friends and family. Every time Ayah set eyes on a vāzhaipoo, you could be sure it made it to the table as either vāzhaipoo vadai or vāzhaipoo ayira meen kuzhambu. I’d never attempted either because the cleaning of the blossom is rather involved and labour intensive; however, with some encouragement from my mother-in-law and the family cook, Shanthi, I managed to test both recipes successfully. In the process, I learnt from my Filipina helper, who herself is an expert in cleaning the banana blossom, that it is rather popular as an ingredient in many dishes native to the Phillipines. It is also an important part of other South East Asian cuisines and often makes its way into soups and salads. So, next on the agenda is to learn how to make these dishes. While I do that, here is the recipe for vāzhaipoo vadai – the recipe for the Ayira Meen Kuzhambu is to follow soon. May it bring some cheer in these hard times.
Notes:
1. The banana blossoms in this recipe can be sustituted with spinach to make spinach (keerai) vadai. To make keerai vadai, blanch the spinach (palak), squeeze out the water, finely chop and substitute.
2. This recipe freezes well - any unused vadai mixture can be frozen for up to 3 months. When you want to use, defrost, squeeze out any excess water and use again on another day.
Ingredients:
½ cup channa dal (kadalai paruppu / split Bengal gram dal)
¼ cup toor dal (tuvaram paruppu / pigeon peas)
4 dried red chillies
1 ½ teaspoon fennel seeds (saunf / sombu)
2 cups of vāzhaipoo (banana flower)
1 tablespoon yoghurt
¼ teaspoon asafoetida powder
¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt to taste (~ 1 ½ teaspoons)
1 small onion or 5-6 Indian shallots, minced
1 sprig curry leaves, minced
Optional: 1 tablespoon grated coconut
Oil for frying (~400-500 ml)
Method:
1. Soak the channa dal and toor dal for about 2 hours, along with the dried chillies, broken in half, and the fennel seeds.
½ cup channa dal (kadalai paruppu / split Bengal gram dal)
¼ cup toor dal (tuvaram paruppu / pigeon peas)
4 dried red chillies
1 ½ teaspoon fennel seeds (saunf / sombu)
2. While the dal is soaking, prepare the vāzhaipoo:
(i) Remove the purplish outer leaves of the banana blossom and take out the individual florets.
(ii) Bunch the florets in one hand and rub the top of the floetss gently to open them up.
(iii) Each floret will have a one stamen, a darker coloured matchstick like stick in the centre of the flower – pinch this off from the bottom and discard, as this is what makes the flower astringent.
(iii) At the bottom of the floret, you will find a small tongue like petal – remove this and discard too, as this makes the floret stringy.
(iv) Keep doing this for all the layers of the banana blossom, until you get closer to the heart where the individual flowers become too small to clean. When they do, just remove the flowers and use as is.
(v) Mix a tablespoon of yoghurt in a bowl of water to make a dilute buttermilk. Once the flowers are cut, put them into this water to prevent oxidisation.
2 cups of vāzhaipoo (banana flower)
1 tablespoon yoghurt
3. Cut the banana florets in half and pulse a few times in the blender until it is roughly chopped. Do not overblend as it will become a paste. Alternatively, chop the flowers finely and lightly smash them using a mortar and pestle – this helps to remove the astringency.
4. As soon as the florets are chopped / pulsed, transfer them to the buttermilk and store until ready to use.
5. Once the dals, chillies and fennel seeds are soaked, drain and transfer to the blender. Add the turmeric, hing and salt to the mixture and close the blender jar.
¼ teaspoon asafoetida powder
¼ spoon turmeric powder
Salt to taste (~ 1 ½ teaspoons)
6. Pulse a few times, without water, until coarsely ground. There will be a few pieces of whole dal – don’t worry, this is what gives texture to the vadai. DO NOT use the blend option as you will get a paste and this is not what we want. Remove the dal mixture from the blender.
7. Drain the chopped banana flowers and squeeze out all the liquid. Add this to the dal mixture until mixed in fully. Sprinkle some water, about 2-3 tablespoons until you get a consistency that will allow you to shape the vadais. Be careful when adding water as we don’t want too runny a mixture.
8. To the vadai mixture, add the minced onions, curry leaves and grated coconut (if using) and mix in.
1 small onion or 5-6 Indian shallots, minced
1 sprig curry leaves, minced
Optional: 1 tablespoon grated coconut
9. Heat the oil in a deep frying pan. Once the oil is heated, pinch a small lime sized ball of the vadai mixture and flatten it to make the vadai shape. Makes sure it is rather flat else the centre will not cook well.
10. Transfer to the hot oil and fry on a low flame, turning it over midway, until golden brown on both sides. Depending on the size of your pan, you can fry about 3-4 vadais at a time. Once ready, remove and drain on a paper towel lined plate. Break one open to make sure it is well seasoned and the centre is cooked - adjust seasoning and cooking time. Continue until all of the mixture is used up.
Oil for frying (~400-500 ml)
11. Serve hot as a lunchtime accompaniment or as an appetiser before dinner or with a piping hot cup of chai.
Makes: about 20 vadais
Apprentice Rating: Hard
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