Keerai thoran - Red amaranth stir fry

Sometimes, the most mundane of things can help bring forth the most pleasant memories. Very often, it is not the thing itself that we crave, but the fond memories associated with it that the heart yearns for.
I recently learned this profound truth when I spotted red amaranth leaves in the local farmers' market. While I have always loved the simple, earthy taste of a stir fry made with these leaves, it is only now, in the wake of having recently lost my grandmother, that I have realized how closely tied in this leaf is to my memories of her.

Some of my earliest memories as a child include her, impeccably dressed in her nine yards madisar podavai, walking to our front yard with a plate filled with tiny black seedlings. I would assist her in scattering these seeds around our coconut trees and then sprinkling water over them. I would check and water the seeds in the days to follow,my entire child's being thrilled to see the tiny shoots sprouting out of the ground. A few weeks down the line, my grandmother would harvest her crop of red keerai (red amaranth/malabar spinach) and hand them over to my mother to be cleaned and chopped. Once that was done, she would put her cheena chatti (wok) on the stove, heat some coconut oil in it, put in a simple seasoning of broken red chilli, urad dal and mustard seeds and then the chopped spinach leaves. These would cook remarkably quickly  in their own steam on a low flame. A garnish of grated coconut ground with green chillies was the final touch she added to the dish and then, knowing that this was my favourite way of eating it, she would mix it up with hot rice and ghee on a plate and hand it to me.
I now know that it is not the dish alone that I am so fond of, but the heaping helping of love with which it was made and served that I long for.

What you need:
Amaranth leaves/malabar spinach - 1 bunch (Any variety of leafy greens can be used but I am partial to the red amaranth leaves that grow particularly well in Kerala)
Oil - 1 tsp
Urad dal - 1/2 tsp
Mustard seeds - 1/2 tsp
Broken red chilli - 2
Grated coconut - 1/4 cup ground coarsely with 1 green chilli
Salt

Wash the leaves well and chop finely. Heat oil in a pan. Season with dal, mustard and red chilli. When the seeds start to pop, reduce the flame to low and stir in the chopped leaves and salt. Cover and let it cook in its own steam until wilted. Add in the ground coconut. Stir well and heat uncovered until the moisture evaporates.
Serve with hot rice and ghee.

Roasted peanuts

There is no person who does not wish to relive childhood, to go back to that golden age where everything was fun and frolic. What makes childhood so special, irrespective of the circumstances that you grew up in? I believe that memories have a large part to play in this. There are so many pleasures of childhood that we forget as we grow up.........we no longer have time to just be - to 'stand and stare'.

 
I was just transferring a newly bought packet of peanuts into a jar when I suddenly remembered the kappalandikkaran (literally translates into peanut man) who used to be eagerly awaited every evening. He was a wizened old man who came on the dot at five every evening, pushing his peanut cart. A bell on the cart, rung every now and then would alert all the kids in the households that he was on his way. The cart was set up with everything that he needed to supply freshly roasted peanuts to eager, shiny eyed kids. There was a stove on the end closest to him. On top of it was a large, broad pan filled with sand. On top of the sand was a thick, heavy iron kadai on which he tossed and turned peanuts with a little bit of salt sprinkled on top. Next to the stove was a bunch of old newspapers cut into neat squares. These would be deftly rolled out into cones even as the kids looked on with glee, and filled with hot, sand-roasted peanuts. All this for 50 paise. Time went on and the old man couldn't be seen on the streets anymore. He probably fell ill or passed away. I had all but forgotten about this simple eat that had given me so much happiness as a child.

Luckily, at some point, I started thinking about all this and even told my daughter about this treat that my grandfather would buy for me every evening. And then, while she watched, I put my kadai on the gas stove, threw in a handful of peanuts, sprinkled some salt over it and toasted them over a slow fire for 12-15 minutes until they were well browned. Then, she rolled some old newspaper into cones and I filled them with hot peanuts for her.

As I type this, she is munching on those peanuts.....and making happy memories.

Check out the Blogging Marathon page for the other marathoners doing BM#16.
This post goes to Smitha who is hosting Kids' Delight this month 

Vishu memories

Vishu is a festival celebrated by the people of Kerala during the first day of the Malayalam month Medam. Contrary to what most people think, this is not the Malyali New Year 'coz the Malayalam calendar begins in the month of Chingam.
To me, Vishu is an incredibly beautiful festival which is made even more beautiful by the memories that I've carried with me since childhood.
The vishukkani is something that is set up in the puja room on the previous night. The colour yellow plays a very important role in the kani. Fruits and vegetables that are usually abundant in this season are used. A brass tray or an uruli is placed on a kolam in front of Krishna's picture. Ripe mangoes, kani vellari (a kind of golden orange coloured cucumber), ripe bananas, and jackfruit are placed in it. In addition to these, I added some non-traditional fruits and veggies like apple, orange and padavalanga (snake gourd) to my vishukkani.Rice and uncooked parippu (dal) are also placed in front of the deity. A small silver cup is filled with coins (increasingly being replaced with notes) and placed in the kani as well. A large mirror is placed behind the arrangement so that the entire kani is reflected in it. Gold, usually in the form of a necklace or bangles is also part of the kani. The whole arrangement is then bordered by the beautiful vishu konna flowers (yellow flowers). In the morning, a lamp is lit, casting its golden glow on this simple, yet beautiful arrangement.
The predominant memory that I have of Vishu is that of being woken up at a really early hour and being led with my eyes closed, by my mother, to see the kani. The belief is that if you wake up seeing the kani, the rest of the year will be good for you.
Vishu kaineetam is an inseparable part of Vishu. The elders in the family give money (it used to be coins, but that has now been replaced by notes) to the younger ones. It was a good way to supplement pocket money, and I used to visit lots of relatives on Vishu just to receive kaineettam. Kaineettam is given not just to kids - any person can give kaineettam to someone who is younger than them.
No Indian festival is complete without food, and no mention of a festival in Kerala is complete without the traditional sadya. Check out my sadya pics here, and here. Sambar, rasam, thoran, pachadi, olan, koottu curry, avial, papadum, payasam and manga kari are usually made for the Vishu sadya.
Now, in our family of three, it is my turn to lead my daughter to the kani in the morning. We had fun setting up the kani together at night, with her wanting to eat all the fruits right then and there.
Here's wishing all those who are reading this a very happy and prosperous Vishu.