in praise of sardines

Congratulations to the lucky winner...

...of the Kashmiri Cooking Kit: Sandy Der!

Over the weekend, Pim held the much anticipated raffle to choose the winners of the many generous prizes donated by the food blogging community to raise money for A Menu for Hope II. Among the many people who selected the box I donated of special Kashmiri and Indian spices, teas, oils, and rice, Pim drew Sandy's name. Way to go, Sandy!

Sandy, as soon as you read this, please contact me by following the "email me" link in the right hand column of this web page so we can arrange shipping of your new Kashmiri Cooking Kit.

Before scrambling over to Pim's site to see if your name is amongst the  list of raffle winners of one of the many other prizes, take a moment to bask in the warmth of your generosity, knowing that you participated in the campaign that raised over $17,000 for UNICEF's efforts.

Your donation has already helped to ease the suffering of the victims of the devastating earthquakes that struck the Kashmir region of Pakistan and northern India 3 months ago. To further understand the value of your kindness, check out the moving story and short video on the UNICEF website about how donations are helping to keep the children warm during the cold Himalayan winter.

I salute every one of you who participated in this wildly successful fundraiser! I especially want to give a big standing ovation to Pim of chezpim for organizing A Menu for Hope II!

Today, we are all winners!

OK, now go and check to see if you won a prize!

Food|and Drink|Menu for Hope II|Kashmir

In praise of Kashmir: Rogan Josh

In my lifetime, I have made many versions of what is commonly referred to as lamb "curry." Of them all, this Kashmiri Rogan Josh is the new undisputed champion.

To me, the genius of Indian cuisine is the way it highlights the role aroma plays in whetting our appetites. While other cuisines, notably French and Japanese, have taught us that we eat with our eyes, Indian cuisine reminds us that we also eat with our noses. In fact, compared to our schnoz, the tongue is deaf and mute as a taster. Something like 90% of our ability to taste comes from our olfactory senses, which is why we can't taste much when we have a cold.

This version of Rogan Josh is probably the most aromatic dish I have ever placed under the old sniffer.

Each inhalation of its heady aroma reminds me of all that we have learned about the Kashmiris these past 2 weeks. I cannot avoid thinking about Kashmir's central position on the ancient Spice Route that flowed between China, India, and the Middle East. The combination of fennel and ginger brings to mind Chinese star anise, while cinnamon and smoky black cardamom brings me squarely back into the Malabar coast of southern India.

I do not exaggerate when I say that no dish is more emblematic of Kashmiri cuisine than this recipe for Rogan Josh. It features the favorite meat of the Kashmiris, mutton and lamb, and it is braised in yogurt, in the fashion typical of the region. In addition to the spices I already mentioned, the dish includes ample amounts of Kashmiri chili powder, which contribute its scarlet color, gentle heat, and the name of the dish, as rogan literally means "red."

This recipe for Rogan Josh comes from the Hindu Brahmin community, or pandits, of Kashmir. It is a dish that undoubtedly often found its way onto the tables of the family of Jawaharlal Nehru, who was of Kashmiri lineage, as well as that of his daughter, Indira Gandhi and her son Rajiv Gandhi. True to what we learned in my post on the Kashmiri kitchen, this Hindu version of Rogan Josh uses asafetida, a pungent tree resin, instead of garlic and onions.

In fact, you won't find any of the members of the "Indian mirepoix" of onions, garlic and fresh ginger in this recipe. Neither will you find any of the spices and herbs commonly used in "Indian cooking," like cumin, coriander, black mustard seeds, turmeric or cilantro.

If you are accustomed to the heavy, cream laden dish that goes by the name "rogan josh" in almost every Indian restaurant, you will be as surprised as I was by the complexity and subtleness of the version presented here. I hope you enjoy it as much as N and I did.

This is my last post on Kashmir, her people, and their cuisine. I hope you have enjoyed reading this series as much as I have enjoyed writing it! I had fun becoming acquainted with the people of Kashmir through learning about some of the tasty treats that bring them joy.

All of you who have supported Pim's Menu for Hope II campaign with your donations to UNICEF should be proud of yourselves. You have made a difference in the lives of the survivors of the earthquake that struck the Kashmir region of Pakistan and India. I just learned that we have raised over $15,000!

There are still a few hours left to buy a raffle ticket for a chance to win the Kashmiri Cooking Kit (pictured below) or any of the brilliant gifts that my fellow food bloggers have donated to the Menu for Hope II campaign. To help you decide which gift tickles your fancy, check out Pim's visual menu with pictures of all the prizes and links to their full descriptions.

I wish you all the best of luck. Cheers!

Edited on Dec. 30th: I forgot to mention when I posted this that my recipe for Rogan Josh is my contribution to Meenakshi's (of Hooked on Heat) inaugural edition of "From My Rasoi." The theme this month is appropriately "winter" and I cannot think of a better dish to take the chill off.

In praise of Kashmir: touring the Tandoor-loin

An unusual incident sparked my interest in Kashmir. It occurred about 5 years ago while dining at Shalimar, a perpetually packed Indian/Pakistani dive in San Francisco.

One evening, N and I stopped by the restaurant to get our fix of kababs. Shalimar is like a small breakaway republic with inscrutable Byzantine rules that only the initiated can comprehend. One of the rules states that diners cannot place their orders until they secure a place to sit. Thus, the grease and smoke stained dining room becomes a Darwinian game of musical chairs, where only the most obnoxious and lucky survive.

This day, however, with the dining room hopelessly crowded, one of the bussers mercifully took on the role of host. After a brief wait in the longest line I have witnessed at Shalimar, we were surprised when this "host" asked us to follow him. He led us away from the dining room, down a narrow, unlit corridor along the side of the building. Out of the darkness we stepped into a brightly lit room, where people were sitting on sofas and chairs with plates of food on their laps as if they were at a friend's house.

Our host escorted us to the only table in the room, which we discovered was an office desk. N sat regally on a leather office chair at the desk, while I sat along the side on a folding chair. The restaurant was so crowded, they were seating customers in their office!

Under a layer of glass, there was a map proudly displayed on the desktop. The map was of Kashmir, except the Line of Control that divides the region between Pakistan and India was missing. The map was of a united Kashmir. Unfortunately, I can't recall if it showed the nation as independent or as a part of Pakistan. From that point on, we have referred to this office as the Shalimar War Room.

Today, as part of my "In Praise of Kashmir" series (with the hope that my posts will help raise awareness of the survivors of the earthquakes and encourage my readers to buy raffle tickets to donate to the Menu for Hope II), I am taking you on a field trip to the few blocks surrounding Shalimar, a seedy part of San Francisco's Tenderloin District. In an article that appeared in the Chronicle 2 years ago, local writer Sandip Roy dubbed the area that centers on the intersection of Jones and O'Farrell Streets the "Tandoor-loin," due to the high number of Pakistani tandoori restaurants found there. We won't find any Kashmiri restaurants here (as far as I know that aren't any in the Bay Area), but the next best thing are these Pakistani-owned dhabas.

As readers of V.K. Narayanan's blog My Dhaba know, a dhaba is a quick-service roadside restaurant found in Northern India that serves tandoori meats, naan and strong chai to truckers, cabdrivers, and the like. A decade ago, Naeem Mohammad opened Shalimar on Jones Street near O'Farrell, because he correctly perceived that San Francisco's many Pakistani cabbies needed a dhaba where they could grab a quick bite. He named his restaurant after the famous Shalimar Garden that Mughal Emperor Jahangir built for his wife Nur Jahan in Srinagar, the largest city in Kashmir.

Mr. Mohammad's timing couldn't have been any better. Shalimar's opening also coincided with the Dot-Com boom. Many South Asian engineers, who had left their countries to seek their fortunes in the Bay Area, grew homesick for the taste of dhaba-style street food. When word of Shalimar's existence got out, these engineers, along with other South Asians and adventurous "chowhounds," headed there from all over the Bay Area.

Seeing the crowds at Shalimar, other imitators quickly followed. Tandoori dhabas sprouted like mushrooms within a two minute walk from Shalimar. Naan n' Curry, Pakwan, Lahore Karahi, Chutney, Shalimar Garden and Little Deli opened their doors, all with menus similar to Shalimar's, but slight differences in atmosphere. Chutney, for example, is a little cleaner and fancier. The cooks at Lahore Karahi added saucier dishes to the formula. These dishes are cooked in a kadai (also spelled karahi), the cast-iron wok-shaped pot favored by north Indian and Pakistani cooks.

Shalimar and some of the imitators have gone on to open multiple locations in other parts of the city and Bay Area. In fact, because a couple of these new dhabas are closer to my house, with a Naan n' Curry in the Sunset and a Pakwan in the Mission, I rarely visit the Tandoor-loin, having lost the impetus to battle for first a parking space and then a table at Shalimar.

In praise of Kashmir: chai, Kashmiri style

Every morning at the crack of dawn, the first order of the Kashmiri day is to light the coals which will heat water for the samovar, the ornate spouted vessel which holds the family tea. What kind of tea, or chai, the family makes seems to divide along sectarian lines, Muslim or Hindu. The two teas couldn't be any more different from one another. Their uniqueness also beautifully illustrates the regional nature of Indian cuisine. Today, I will share recipes for both types of Kashmiri chai.

But first, I have to get something off my chest. As my favorite local slam poet, Shailja Patel, is fond of pointing out, chai is not "a beverage invented in California." The Hindi/Urdu word chai simply means "tea."  "Chai tea" is a redundancy. Uttering the phrase "chai tea latte," the drink sold by Starbucks/Tazo®, should be a criminal offense. The three word phrase, strung together from the languages of three countries with unique culinary traditions, is a symbol of all that is wrong with globalization. Starbucks describes its drink as a blend of "exotic spices and comforting vanilla." The flavor bears more resemblance to a pumpkin pie than to the bracing cuppa sold by every chaiwallah at railroad stations throughout India. (Don't get me started on the "chai eggnog soy latte" I spotted on the Starbucks website).

Kahva

If you were to peer into the samovar in a Hindu pandit's kitchen, you may be surprised to discover green, not black, tea leaves. There is also no milk in this tea, which goes by the name kahva (also spelled kahwa). Kahva is usually served sweet and is infused with crushed almonds, green cardamom and sometimes cinnamon. On rare, very special occasions, a few strands of saffron may be added as well.

As a green tea drinker and a fan of anything with cardamom in it, I was extremely excited to learn about this lighter alternative to masala chai. I talked to a Pakistani halal butcher/grocer in town to find out what variety of green tea is used to make kahva. Kashmiris call it "Bombay tea," but in the tea trade here it is known as "gunpowder," named after the way the more mature tea leaves curl up into pellets when dried. The tea, grown in Sri Lanka or China, is available in any store that specializes in Middle Eastern groceries, where it is simply labeled "green tea."

I enjoyed the uplifting combination of flavors and plan to make kahva often, especially during the winter months. It makes an excellent post dinner digestif as well. I have not yet tried the kahva with saffron, as my wife doesn't care for saffron.

Sheer chai

Judged on appearance alone, it would be difficult to tell apart the milky tea favored by the majority Muslim population of Kashmir from the iconic railroad station masala chai. Both are made with black tea, milk and, sometimes, spices. One taste, however, and you'll know you're not in Delhi. Sheer chai or noon chai (noon is Kashmiri and sheer is Persian for milk) is salty, containing no sugar. For this milky brew, Kashmiris use a type of tea similar to Darjeeling called pahari (literally "of the mountain"). When Hindu pandits make sheer chai, they typically add a masala of some combination of green cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, black peppercorns, poppy seeds, and crushed almonds. Traditionally, tea makers also add a pinch of baking soda, which turns the tea a pinkish color.

Although I admittedly disliked the saltiness and the chemical flavor imparted by the baking soda, I may feel differently if I were sipping this after a trek through the Himalayas. The Tibetan peoples who dwell in neighboring Ladakh (technically a region within Kashmir) favor a similarly salty brew. They infamously include a dollop of rancid yak butter in their tea.

All of these teas and spices are included in the Kashmiri Cooking Kit (more than $60 worth of spices, food and recipes ), my donation to Menu for Hope II.

As a bonus, the winner of my prize will also receive the ingredients and the recipe to make masala chai, as taught to me by N's Bollywood socialite aunt. Aunt Geeta renowned throughout Mumbai (Bombay) for her masala chai.

Click the button below to be taken to the donation page where you can buy a raffle ticket for yourself or, as Sam of Becks & Posh suggested, as a gift to others on your holiday shopping list. Remember, whether you win or lose, all of the money raised will be donated to UNICEF to aid the victims of the massive earthquake that struck Kashmir in October. Thank you.

The complete recipes for the two Kashmiri-style chais are found below the jump!

In praise of Kashmir: the Kashmiri kitchen

A dozen years ago to the date, N and I were in the midst of the journey of a lifetime. For two months we traveled by rail throughout much of India. Because we share the tendency to view life from our stomachs'-eye view, the focus of our honeymoon trip quickly switched from visiting palaces and temples to tasting pullaos (pilafs) and thalis (set meals).

As we traveled through a country as vast in area as Europe, I learned that it is as absurd to talk about "Indian cuisine" as one entity as it would be to attempt to describe a single "European cuisine." There are more than a dozen major languages and hundreds of dialects spoken by the billion people who call India home (and far more languages when you add the other countries of the subcontinent, including Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal and Sri Lanka). Each region has its own distinctive cuisine.

Since we were strict vegetarians at the time, we probably would not have enjoyed sampling the cuisine of Kashmir, a region which we were forbidden from visiting due to political unrest and violence.

Through my reading this past week, I've learned that all Kashmiris adore eating meat, even the area's Hindu Brahmins, the high priestly class. The Brahmin "pandits" (from which we get the English word "pundit") are the only Brahmins in India who are carnivores. They are the minority group amongst the predominantly Muslim population of Kashmir, but both share many of the same culinary preferences.

Some spices, which are common to the kitchens of both Muslims and Hindu pandits, distinguish Kashmiri cooking from that of other regions of India. Fennel and ginger, especially powdered dried ginger, find there way into nearly every dish. When cooking meat dishes, both Hindus and Muslims also like to add the smoked black cardamom pods, which in the local tongue are called "big cardamom," because they are far larger than the more common green cardamom (see picture, right). They contribute a haunting smokiness to meat dishes.

Kashmiris cook with a type of dried red chili pepper that is unique to the region. The pepper is mild and lends its bright vermilion color to many of their most famous regional specialties, like rogan josh (lamb braised with yogurt and spices which we will cook together in a few days).

Two locally grown flowers are added to many Kashmiri delicacies. Saffron, which comes from mauve crocuses that have been grown in the region for more than 2,500 years, is used only on the most special occasions. The other flower, called maval in Kashmiri and "cock's comb" in English, is mainly used by Muslim cooks to color dishes a pinkish maroon.

One group of ingredients in particular seems to distinguish Hindu from Muslim cooking in the region. Local Hindu pandits abstain from consuming any members of the allium family, such as garlic, onions, and the unique local cross between a shallot and a spring onion called praan. They believe these pungent vegetables raise "base passions." Perhaps to substitute for the missing flavor, Hindu cooks add asafoetida, a rather stinky tree resin that James Beard once compared favorably to truffles. Muslim cooks rarely if ever use asafoetida.

The main cooking fat in the region is mustard oil, which is pressed from the seeds of the plants whose yellow flowers carpet the hills in the spring. The golden oil is similar in flavor to extra virgin olive oil. Kashmiri cooks characteristically fry their vegetables in mustard oil before they add any other seasoning. Mustard oil is sold unrefined and unpasteurized. When it is called for in a recipe, it is important to heat it to the smoking point before using it (otherwise you may get ill...trust me, I know from experience). Clarified butter, ghee, is called for in some local specialties.

Another common ingredient that distinguishes Kashmiri from other Indian cuisines is the abundant use of yogurt. Local cooks use it to thicken the sauces of nearly every dish. Kashmiri chutneys usually consist of yogurt combined with mint, pumpkin and even walnuts. To replicate the taste of Kashmiri (or really any north Indian food), use whole milk yogurt, preferably one that has been drained of excess liquid in a cheesecloth for a couple of hours. Thick Greek or Russian style yogurt, such as Total Greek Yogurt made by FAGE, works beautifully.

The superb local long-grained Basmati rice is served with every Kashmiri meal. Borrowing from the Persian method of cooking (via the Mughals), Basmati rice is typically made into a pilaf (pullao in Hindi) infused with cardamom, cinnamon, black cumin and sometimes saffron. The exquisite wheat flatbreads of the region, including kulcha, are cooked by professional bakers in clay ovens and closely resemble the breads of Afghanistan and Central Asia. These breads typically accompany morning and afternoon tea.

In praise of Kashmir: Kashmiri history 101

Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere
With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave
Its temples, and grottoes, and fountains as clear
As the love-lighted eyes that hand over their wave

As illustrated by this passage written by Thomas Moore in 1826, the beauty of Kashmir has captivated the imaginations of visitors and invaders for centuries. Today, we're going to explore this beautiful region to get a sense of its geography, and then we'll peer back into its history. My aim is to paint a backdrop that will help us understand the factors that have shaped the area's people and their rich cuisine, which will be the subject of my remaining posts on Kashmir. I can't wait to share some of the fun and interesting stories I learned about these brave people!

The disputed territories that make up what I am referring to as "Kashmir" are located at the junction of India, Pakistan and China, with portions in each of these countries. In other words, today Kashmir is not an independent nation. It is a country divided by politics and border disputes, but unified in the hearts of the people who speak the Kashmiri language. I will explain how this situation has come into being shortly.

First, let's explore the geography of the region. Kashmir lays at the western edge of the Himalayas, so its landscape is dominated by mountains that are punctuated by fertile valleys, lakes and rivers.

The heart of Kashmir is the breathtakingly gorgeous Himalayan valley that Moore described above, the Vale of Kashmir, which lies at an elevation of 5,500 feet. This valley, in the area under Indian control, has often been compared to Switzerland for its abundance of meadows, lakes and streams surrounded by dramatic snow-capped mountains. Prior to 1990, Srinagar, the principal city in the region, attracted over 700,000 visitors annually. For the international tourist, a trip to India without visiting Kashmir was as unthinkable as missing the Taj Mahal.

I love the story of the origin of Kashmir. According to mythology, a Hindu sage drained a massive lake by displacing all the water with gold coins. A bunch of greedy children madly dug for the coins, which then created the major rivers in the area. Geological surveys partially corroborate this legend, telling us that the valley was indeed submerged less than a million years ago, but they tell us that earthquakes rather than coins drained it.

The history of Kashmir is rife with invasion, conquest and occupation. Turks, Persians, Mongols (Mughals), Afghans, Sikhs and the British have all spent time in this "Paradise on Earth." In the third century B.C., Indian leader Ashoka the Great established Buddhist universities in what was then a mostly Hindu region. In the 14th century, many Hindus converted to Islam, paving the road for Kashmir's eventual conquest by the Mughal emperor Akbar two centuries later. From that point on, Islam has been the dominant religion of the Kashmiri people.

Kashmiri culture thrived under the rule of the three successive emperors - Akbar, Jahangir and Shah Jahan - whose rule in the 1600s marked the height of the Mughal Empire. Muslims and Hindus more or less coexisted in peace.

Emperor Jahangir was particularly captivated by the beauty (and cool climate) of the region and spent much time there, saying "if heaven be on earth, this would surely be it." He built many floating pleasure gardens, including the famed Shalimar, for his gorgeous Persian wife, who he renamed Nur Jahan, meaning "the Light of the World." Nur Jahan effectively ruled the Empire when Jahangir became addicted to first alcohol then, after his doctors made him give that up, opium. Incidentally, the successor to Jahangir, Shah Jahan, so deeply loved Nur Jahan's niece, Mumtaz, that he was inspired after her death to build the Taj Mahal in Mumtaz's memory.

In praise of Kashmir: a Menu for Hope

I have two pieces of exciting news!

First, you and I are going on a journey! For the next two weeks, we are going to explore and celebrate Kashmir, the disputed territory that is split between two countries, one half in India and the other in Pakistan. From now until December 23rd, "in praise of sardines" will essentially morph into "in praise of Kashmir."

Second, I am giving away a fantastic prize to a lucky reader!

What's going on here? Why Kashmir? What prize?

In answer to the first question, I am participating in A Menu for Hope, a charitable event hosted by fellow Bay Area food blogger Pim of chezpim to raise money to support the efforts by the U.S. Fund for the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) to aid the victims of the devastating earthquake that struck Kashmir in October, killing at least 90,000 people and leaving more than 3 million homeless. I am asking you to donate by buying raffle tickets to win the... well, I'll get to that just as soon as I finish telling you how to buy your tickets.

Each ticket cost just $5 and gives you one chance to win my tasty prize. You can securely purchase as many virtual raffle tickets as you want through this page of the First Giving website. With your donation, be sure to specify that you want to win my scrumptious prize (I promise, I'll tell you very soon) that I'm offering by including my name, Brett, and/or the name of this website, "in praise of sardines," on the donation page.

The drawings will be held December 23rd and winners will be announced January 1st at Chezpim.

It would be fantastic if each of my readers bought at least one ticket! Of course, the more tickets you buy, the better your chances of winning my delicious prize. Whether you win or lose, though, 100% of the money you donate will go directly to UNICEF.  No money will pass through my hands. Every cent you donate will help to shelter and feed the Kashmiri children and families who are already starting to confront the freezing temperatures of winter.

I thought it would be fun to use the opportunity presented by this fundraiser to become acquainted with the people of Kashmir, the way they lived before the earthquake struck and before the region was besieged by war. And the way they will live once again. In my experience as a traveler, one of the best windows through which we can gain a glimpse of people from cultures different than our own is through their cuisine. As Brillat-Savarin quipped nearly two hundred years ago in his gastronomic masterpiece, The Physiology of Taste, "Tell me what you eat, and I shall tell you what you are."

As many of the readers of this site know, my wife's family comes from India, specifically from Gujarat, a region southwest of Kashmir. Although we were unable to visit war-torn Kashmir during our honeymoon/"culinary tour" of India a dozen years ago, N visited the region, one of the most beautiful in India, as a child. I've asked her to share with us during the next few weeks some of her beautiful memories from that trip.

Since I myself haven't visited the region, I'm inviting you to come along with me as I explore the rich culinary traditions of the Kashmiris, to glimpse how they live, eat and celebrate in better times. I will share with you everything I learn from my collection of dozens of South Asian cookbooks, travel guides, history books, Salman Rushdie's novels, and the internet.

With me as your guide, we'll cook Kashmiri dishes (like one of my favorites, the famous rogan josh, a spicy dish of braised lamb), open some of the spice bottles in the Kashmiri pantry, and even take a couple of field trips to Indian and Pakistani grocers and restaurants in the Bay Area.

So, at long last, let me describe the prize I am offering to the lucky winner!