Tomato-Peyaj Posto/Tomatoes Cooked with Onions and Poppy Seed Paste

 

Around 3500-5000 BC, the ancient Sumerians called it Hul Gil (which translates to ‘joy plant’). Ask any native of West Bengal, India and seven thousand years later they will still vouch for the “joy” part of the name (and go into raptures). On a hot summer afternoon, a pile of white rice, a generous serving of daal and a side of potatoes cooked with poppy-seed paste is essentially the Bengali shortcut to the highest of the Seven Heavens. The charmingly named bhaat-ghoom siesta (rice-nap in my native language) which shortly follows that meal is equally coveted. Indeed, the career-minded Dr. Sen often laments that in his Faustian pursuit of science, his psyche sustained too much damage for him to enjoy a true bhaat–ghoom anymore.

Home-Grown Tomatoes

So what am I talking about? Papaver somniferum or the poppy seed plant is one of the oldest plants mentioned in written history (4000 BC). The Sumerians passed on their knowledge of growing poppies (and of the euphoric effects of the seeds) to the Assyrians, who in turn looped in the Egyptians. Kind of an ancient version of passing the crack pipe, I guess. Ancient pictographs show the Egyptians growing poppies, and dried poppy plants surrounded the sarcophagi of the great pharaohs as they lay waiting for the eternal afterlife. Later around 1300 BC, the poppy reached Europe via the Mediterranean Sea route. Due to a low-moderate content of morphine and codeine (the seeds do not contain these components but they are introduced as contamination while separating the seeds from the seed pods), poppy seeds, if consumed frequently and in a large quantity, can to induce some sleepiness (no doubt explaining Shurjo’s lost and lamented afternoon naps). Indeed, Somnos, the ancient Roman  god of sleep, held poppies in his right hand and gave the plant its scientific name (P. somniferum). After the fall of the Roman empire, Arab traders brought poppies to China and then to Asia. Contrary to its use in Bengali cuisine, the culture of eating the seeds as food was not really widespread. In Persian and Mughal kitchens, it was used as a sauce thickener.

Photo Courtesy:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poppy_seed

In more recent times, the British gave this neutral sauce thickener a distinctly non-neutral twist in its tail. China was originally a huge exporter of goods to Europe but hardly imported any European goods, which caused an international trade imbalance unacceptable to Napoleon’s “nation of shopkeepers”. As such, the British decided to fix this problem by exporting Indian opium to China. The Chinese had already been introduced to opium smoking by Portuguese and Dutch traders, but the British raised the use of this drug to the level of an epidemic by sending shiploads of opium and literally forcing the Chinese to buy their goods. It has to be among the great ironies of international trade that over two centuries later, China single-handedly destroyed the British steel industry (led by its Indian magnate Lakshmi Mittal) by dumping their own low-cost product on the world market. Three countries, two centuries, one lesson: karma is a bitch.

Anyhow, enough about world history, time for Bengali stories. Opium poppies were mainly grown in the dry-arid areas of the Bengal Province of the British Raj (mostly the present-day states of West Bengal and Bihar). Acre upon acre of agricultural land was transformed into poppy fields, watered with the blood, sweat and tears of the Indian farmers, who essentially had a simple choice between growing poppies and being hung from the nearest tree by the local sahib landlord. At this tragic cost, a small mercy came from the piles of  seed pods left over after opium extraction. Ever willing to experiment with food, the Bengalis found out that the tiny poppy seeds (posto in my native language) make a very good, rather neutral but appetizing ingredient to include in their otherwise mundane diet. My fellow food history enthusiast Pritha Sen wrote a pretty comprehensive article on this quirk of history where she explains the historical background of poppy eating culture among Bengalis.

Once India got its independence, Indian government clamped down on poppy cultivation and it became more regulated. The once abundant ingredient became scarce and prices shot through the sky. Soon, the ordinary middle class Bengali found this highly prized commodity beyond his reach for daily consumption. But, remember we are talking about an addictive substance here – even today, Bengalis stretch their wallet and keep it in their daily menu, even if that means cutting down on the fish or the meat.

My ancestors being from riverine East Bengal where the opium poppy was never a big crop, I was never a big fan of posto but am gradually beginning to appreciate its subtle, complex taste. Dr. Sen on the other hand is quite fond of potatoes cooked with posto (maybe as it was the only thing one of his favorite ex-girlfriends knew how to make). I still have reservations against some of the posto-dishes which other Bengalis go gaga over but this tomato-peyaj posto is lip-smackingly delicious.

You’ll find a very similar post I wrote a while ago on the history of posto but I thought I needed to be more expansive and write a bit more about it.

The original recipe belongs to my namesake who write her blog at eCurry. You’ll find her original recipe here.

Recipe:

Ingredients

Tomato (preferably very ripe): ½ kg/1.2 lbs.

White poppy seeds/posto/khuskhus: 1 tbsp.

Dry red chillies: 2 nos.

Turmeric: ½ tsp.

Sugar: to taste

Green chillies: 2 nos. (adjust according to taste)

Onion, chopped: 1/3 cup

Mustard oil: 2 tbsp.

• Soak the poppy seeds and the dry red chillies in water for 15-20 minutes.
• Chop the tomatoes.
• Drain the water and grind them together to a fine paste (I used my grinding stone but if you do not have one, make sure you grind it really smooth. The texture will be very different if the seeds are still grainy)
• Heat up one table spoon of mustard oil (don’t let it burn, you want that mustard flavor to be with you) and add the chopped onions.
• Sauté them until translucent and then add the tomatoes and turmeric powder.
• Cook the tomatoes until it becomes thick and sauce-y.
• Add the poppy seed paste and salt. Cook until oil starts leaving the pan.
• Check for seasoning and add salt (if it needs more) and sugar to taste. If my tomatoes are not very tart, I usually skip the sugar.
• Take it off the fire and add chopped green chillies to it. Mix it lightly.
• Drizzle another table spoon of raw mustard oil over it and serve it with white rice. Serving it any other way would be a blasphemy.

 

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Shorbet Adas: A humble lentil soup from a conflict world

As many of the ancient civilizations existed along major rivers such as the Nile, Tigris, Indus, Euphrates and Yellow River, commerce was often carried through the ports situated along the rivers. Gradually, as modes of transportation became more advanced, riverine trade was supplemented by sea and land routes and international commerce took a grander shape through the Silk Route. Gold, silver, copper, silk, bronze, gemstones, incense, ivory and wild beasts were heavily traded between countries, often through middlemen who made a good profit by linking the worlds of demand and supply while keeping the source a closely guarded secret.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phoenicians_and_wine

The Eastern Mediterranean coastal region which is modern day Palestine-Gaza, Lebanon and Northwest Syria was called Canaan (the Land of Purple) and later, Phoenicia. Before the Western world started producing silk, it was highly expensive and mainly imported from China, Asia Minor, Persia and Syria-Palestine regions. Among all the places producing silk, Phoenicians were known for their luxury goods and specifically for highly refined silk products. The port of Sidon in Phoenicia made a unique fabric by combining silk fibers with the local linen and then dyeing the final product with rare Tyrian purple dye, extracted from the shells of a tiny mollusk. On the other hand, weavers in Alexandria, another port in the same area, embellished their silk with golden embroidery. Apart from silk, Phoenicians were also known for their high quality cedar wood, used for building ships and for beautiful woodcarving structures, glazed earthenware, painted pottery, invaluable glasswork and metalwork. Beyond their highly valuable export goods, their geographical location also made countries in the Eastern Mediterranean pivotal points in the maritime trade. Palestine with two major ports, Alexandria and Antioch was very strategically located in between Syria and Egypt and served as a major connection between the Syria-Palestine coastal regions, Asia Minor and Rome. Palestinians were known as the ‘middlemen of the ancient world’; both for their commercial success, as well as for the cultural beliefs, myths and knowledge they spread to the countries that with whom they traded.

It took 10,000 molluscs to make a gram of dye. The dye was more expensive than gold for its equivalent weight. http://biologicalexceptions.blogspot.com/2013/08/life-is-elemental.html

http://www.ancient.eu/phoenicia/

What happened to the land of promise? What went so wrong for them, for them to have reached the point that they are at now? Did someone rip them off, or is it part of the natural evolution of nations? Whenever I think about this region, my mind wanders to the thought of caravans unloading valuable merchandise, silk being embroidered with golden threads by skilled hands, stained beautifully purple with Tyrian dye, and the air filled with a mixed aroma of spices and incense. A murmur of people talking in myriad different tongues and in general carrying on with life in a world where there were no ceasefires, no Iron Domes, no Qassam rockets, no bombing of historical monuments and no innocent kids dying. I refuse to see what that land has turned into now, I refuse to see more ruined buildings, roads stained red from blood and corpses lying around because there is no room left in the morgues, and the chaos from losing hope and life like no one cares. I refuse to accept it but who really cares. I guess no one. We are after all pretty disposable among a crowd of 7 billion similar animals.

Shorabet adas is a common soup eaten in that part of the world. Countries in the region name it differently but it pretty much boils down to the basic lentil soup with some vegetables thrown in. I really hope they find peace and commonality just like this soup. Everything thrown in one pot with a beautiful result shared by everyone.

If you really liked this article, you might also want to read this one.

Recipe:

Ingredients:

Red lentils/masoor daal: 1 cup
Olive oil: 4 tbsp.
Yellow onion: ¾ cup to one cup finely chopped
Garlic: 3-4 fat cloves of garlic finely chopped or mashed with the back of a heavy knife/spoon
Celery stalk: ½ cup-3/4 cup
Carrots: ¾ cup
Butternut squash: ¾ cup cubed/chopped
Chicken stock/vegetable stock: 7-8 cups

Turmeric: 1 tsp.

Cumin: couple tea spoons, lightly roasted and ground to a fine powder

Cilantro/parsley (traditional is parsley): a handful chopped fine

Aleppo pepper/chili flakes: to taste

Few wedges of lemon
Salt to taste

• Wash the lentils, drain and set aside.
• Heat up two tablespoon of olive oil and add the garlic. Let the garlic sizzle very gently in the oil to flavor the oil. Do not burn the garlic.
• Add the onions and sauté them until translucent.
• Add the chopped carrots, squash and celery. Sauté until fragrant.
• Add the lentils and then sauté them well while mixing everything.
• Add the turmeric, salt and the chicken stock (I usually warm up the stock in the microwave). Mix everything well.
• Bring the whole soup to boil and then reduce the flame to medium.
• Once the lentils and the vegetables are cooked, turn the heat off.
• Let the soup cool down a bit and then blend everything to a smooth puree.
• Bring the whole thing back on the stove top and adjust the consistency. If it’s too thick, add more stock/water. Reduce it if it’s too thin. Adjust seasoning too.
• Serve in individual bowls, drizzled with olive oil, pepper flakes, parsley/cilantro, cumin powder and lemon wedges.
• The best way to eat it is with toasted pita or any Arabic bread.

Mug-mushurer daal/Mixed lentil soup with butternut squash

In between sessions of intense research, my nerdy husband often takes a break (from the experiments, not from the nerdiness) and Googles random stuff. Some of these things are so random that he comes up with results even more inconclusive than his scientific data. For example, he knew the words Sagina Mahato but had no clue about what they might mean (it’s a Bengali movie made in the 70s). Then he realized that he knows the word khagina but again had no clue about it. Isn’t it random? He will always say “Google is your friend” or sometimes if I ask him something and he is not in a mood to answer, he’ll say “GIYF”, which infuriates me. Anyway, from “sagina” his neurotic brain went to “khagina”, which he Googled and for a change came up with something beautiful, which was a recipe for anda/egg-bhurji aka khagina on Shayma Saadat’s blog spicespoon.com. He liked the recipe (and was blown away by the looks of the blogger) and sent the link to me.

It was love at first sight. I loved her blog and after reading couple of her stories and recipes, I loved it even more. A very funny thing happened when I saw the khagina recipe on her blog. A few months ago I had almost nothing at home to eat, only leftover daal in the fridge. Usually I fry an egg to eat with the daal, but this time I made a bhurji instead, and threw in a few random things to mix with the egg. To my surprise, it was almost the exact same recipe written on her blog. How could it be possible? I didn’t even know the name khagina, never Googled it and nor had I seen the egg-bhurji recipe on the internet. I am very surprised and have no clue how to explain it. Maybe it’s a true coincidence. The day I made the bhurji, my husband liked it very much and found it very unusual. I never made it again and had no plan to make it in near future. It was a makeshift recipe for no-food-in-the-fridge days. I didn’t anticipate that my husband’s random Google searches would link me to back to my haphazardly constructed anda-bhurji in this strange way. Life is full of surprises.

I was browsing around trying to find something easy and quick to try from her blog. Finally I found this daal and decided to try it. I love daal and try to cook it every possible way. I liked the recipe soon after I read it. I liked the story behind it even more. It’s beautiful and I can literally visualize the story. If you read the recipe, please read the story….it will make the daal taste even better.

Recipe: (adapted from Shayma Saadat of Spicespoon and my mother’s recipe)

I have used both cumin and Bengali five spice as seasoning and both of them taste equally good. So, feel free to use any of them.

Ingredients:

Mushur daal/masoor daal//red lentils: ½ cup

Mug daal/yellow lentils: ½ cup

Onion:  2 tbsp. finely chopped

Turmeric: ½ tsp.

Garlic: 2 cloves

Tomato: One medium, ripe and juicy, finely chopped

Cilantro: a handful, finely chopped

Jeera/whole cumin seeds/panchphoron/Bengali five spice: 11/2 tsp.

Butternut squash/pumpkin: 8-10 nos. cut into ¾-1 inch cubes (optional)

Green chilis: 2-3 nos., slit length wise (optional)

Dried red chilies: 2 nos.

Mustard or any other oil: 1 tbsp.

Salt to taste

• Wash the lentils with several changes of water and then drain.
• Start boiling enough water to cook the lentils in a deep bottom pot.
• Once the water starts boiling, add the lentils. Let the whole thing come to a boil again.
• Turn the heat to medium.
• While boiling the daal, spoon off any scum arising on the top of the lentils.
• Add turmeric and let the lentils get almost cooked.
• Mix the lentils with a whisk until they form a uniform consistency.
• Add the chopped tomatoes. Let the tomatoes get cooked.
• Add the butternut squash (if using) and boil for several more minutes until the squash is completely cooked and the soup reaches its desired consistency. Add water if the soup looks too thick by now. Add the green chillies too.
• Add salt and mix well.
• In a separate pan, heat up the oil. Once hot, turn the heat to low and add the garlic. Let the garlic infuse the oil.
• Turn the heat to medium and then add the jeera/cumin/Bengali five spice next and let them sizzle a bit.
• Follow with the dried chilies and let it go one shade darker.
• Add the chopped onion and sauté it for few minutes. Once you get a nice aroma of all the sautéed spices, add the whole thing to the boiling daal.
• Quickly cover the pot and turn the heat to low. Let it be like this for 5-10 more minutes.
• Add lots of chopped cilantro and serve with plain rice.
• Definitely sprinkle a generous amount of lemon juice while eating.
• Goes well with a side salad.

Falafels/Chickpea fritters

A thought has been bugging me for a while, are we losing the balance? Losing balance to live a healthy yet happy life? Probably yes. As I write about food, I’ll keep it food related. After I came to this country (USA), it took me a while to adjust to the abundance and wastage and also the culture of fried chicken and humongous portions at restaurants. I wasn’t used to it. I have seen my Maa saving every last grain, not because we were poor, but because she thought it’s wrong to waste food. She didn’t pour a gallon of oil in her pot to cook something. She knew how to make food taste good without soaking it in oil. I couldn’t be like her. Rather to put in another way, I am not there yet. We Indians eat a lot of fried food, but when I was growing up, we were taught to live in moderation. It’s called ‘Bengali middle class culture’, rather ‘Indian middle class culture’. People were not super thin like the malnourished fashion models who have unfortunately become the stereotype of female beauty. Bengalis were proud of their ‘bhNuri’/potbellies and didn’t mind at all being a little on the heavier side of the weighing scale. I don’t know if it was right or wrong, may be neither right, nor wrong.

Now things are rapidly changing. I can see two distinct mentalities, both being far from the reality. One section of society is willing to accept anorexia to achieve the Victoria’s Secret look while another is breaking the weighing scale. Some people freak out even if they hear the sound “deep frying”; others indulging with saturated fat almost in every bite they eat. I suppose both extremes have always existed but the number of people at either end seems to be increasing. I am seeing people going to such an extreme that they see everything unhealthy. They lose the fun of eating good food. Being suspicious of every grain they consume, or do not consume. On the other hand some people seem to have lost all semblance of self-control and are completely comfortable with their extreme obesity.

Although I am nowhere close to my “ideal weight” (read model like), I do try to maintain a middle path. I don’t want stick thin legs and skinny arms. I also do not want to go XXXL. I believe in moderation. It’s ok to indulge yourself with deep fried food like these super delicious falafels if you crave them occasionally. Eating ice cream and skipping the gym once in a while is not going to kill you. The perfectly flat tummy you are trying to achieve is going to rob half of the happiness from your life. So, people, find the happy medium. Whole grains and bacon, gluten-free and artificially flavored, GMO and organic, fast food lovers and locavores, farm-raised or Wal-Mart bought can all be on the same plate…but just in the right amounts.

Recipe:

As I didn’t grow up eating falafel, I have no secret family recipe. I have adapted (rather followed it religiously) the recipe from here. I am copy-pasting the original recipe only with one or two minor changes. Go to the link if you want to see step by step pictures. It’s a no-fail recipe if you follow it carefully. It’s also a crowd pleaser and very easy to make.

Ingredients:

• 1 pound (about 2 cups) dry chickpeas/garbanzo beans
• 1 small onion, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
• 3-5 cloves garlic (I prefer roasted)
• 1” piece of fresh ginger, roughly chopped
• 3-4 green chili peppers
• 1 1/2 tbsp flour
• 1 3/4 tsp salt
• 2 tsp cumin
• 1 tsp ground coriander
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
• Pinch of ground cardamom
• Vegetable oil for frying (grapeseed, canola, and peanut oil work well)

• Pour the chickpeas into a large bowl and cover them by about 3 inches of cold water. Let them soak overnight. They will double in size as they soak – you will have between 4 and 5 cups of beans after soaking.

• Drain and rinse the garbanzo beans well. Pour them into your food processor along with the chopped onion, garlic cloves, ginger, green chilies, parsley, flour, salt, cumin, ground coriander, black pepper, cayenne pepper, and cardamom.
• Pulse all ingredients together until a rough, coarse meal forms. Scrape the sides of the processor periodically and push the mixture down the sides. Process till the mixture is somewhere between the texture of couscous and a paste. You want the mixture to hold together, and a more paste-like consistency will help with that… but don’t overprocess, you don’t want it turning into hummus!
• Once the mixture reaches the desired consistency, pour it out into a bowl and use a fork to stir; this will make the texture more even throughout. Remove any large chickpea chunks that the processor missed.

• Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1-2 hours.
• Note: Some people like to add baking soda to the mix to lighten up the texture inside of the falafel balls. I don’t usually add it, since the falafel is generally pretty fluffy on its own. If you would like to add it, dissolve 2 tsp of baking soda in 1 tbsp of water and mix it into the falafel mixture after it has been refrigerated.
• Fill a skillet with vegetable oil to a depth of 1 ½ inches. I prefer to use cooking oil with a high smoke point, like grapeseed. Heat the oil slowly over medium heat. Meanwhile, form falafel mixture into round balls or slider-shaped patties using wet hands or a falafel scoop. I usually use about 2 tbsp of mixture per falafel. You can make them smaller or larger depending on your personal preference. The balls will stick together loosely at first, but will bind nicely once they begin to fry.

Note: if the balls won’t hold together, place the mixture back in the processor again and continue processing to make it more paste-like. Keep in mind that the balls will be delicate at first; if you can get them into the hot oil, they will bind together and stick. If they still won’t hold together, you can try adding 2-3 tbsp of flour to the mixture. If they still won’t hold, add 1-2 eggs to the mix. This should fix any issues you are having.

• Before frying my first batch of falafel, I like to fry a test one in the center of the pan. If the oil is at the right temperature, it will take 2-3 minutes per side to brown (5-6 minutes total). If it browns faster than that, your oil is too hot and your falafels will not be fully cooked in the center. Cool the oil down slightly and try again. When the oil is at the right temperature, fry the falafels in batches of 5-6 at a time till golden brown on both sides.
• Once the falafels are fried, remove them from the oil using a slotted spoon.

• Let them drain on paper towels. Serve the falafels fresh and hot; they go best with a plate of hummus and topped with creamy tahini sauce. You can also stuff them into a pita.

Troubleshooting: If your falafel is too hard/too crunchy on the outside, there are two possible reasons– 1) you didn’t process the mixture enough– return the chickpea mixture to the processor to make it more paste-like. 2) the chickpeas you used were old. Try buying a fresher batch of dried chickpeas next time.

Curried (chick)peas/ghugni: Happy Diwali/Dipabolir shubhechcha and a journey down the memory lane

Being a small-town girl, I had to commute everyday to Calcutta for work. It might be a frightening thought to those who are not used to that kind of travel, but it was fun to many of us. We took the same train every day and became like friends and family. The hour-long train ride use to be really fun and exciting. Trust me, every morning I used to look forward to the morning commute. In the evening it wasn’t that enjoyable. Everybody was already tired from the day’s work, the Calcutta heat and traffic and sometimes if you were unfortunate enough, the added hassle of an aborodh (mass protest by blocking public transport, a Bengali specialty which can last for hours). But, if you were lucky, you got to catch the train you wanted, the heat wasn’t too bad and your daily passenger friends not once but twice a day.

On the train, entertainment also came from itinerant vendors who sold everything starting from food to underwear. If you were a daily passenger, you could pay in installments, all on trust. Someone knew someone and that someone knew someone else who knew the vendor who then extended credit without question. Amazingly, it always worked out. Among the zillion vendors, some were my favorites. These were usually the ones who sold food, jewelry or clothes. There was one old man we called ‘ghugni dadu’ (elderly man who sells curried chickpeas) who used to board the returning train two stations before my town. He carried his daily batch of ghugni in a large aluminum hnari (pot) with a loose-fitting lid. It was freshly made every day and would still be hot when I was going home on the evening train. On the top of the lid, he would put all the accompaniments like chopped onion, cilantro, green chilis, tamarind water, black salt, roasted spices (bhaja moshla) and red chili powder. Even the thought of it still tickles my taste buds so many years later. As I had very little time left on the train and used to be starving, I looked for him eagerly and the moment I saw him, I would literally shout from the other side of the compartment to get the first serving.

Till date, his ghugni was the best I ever had. It was really a mush, a clump of overcooked motor (yellow peas) dumped on a shaal-patar baati (bowls made from Shal leaves), but it was just delicious. Try as I might, I’ll probably never reproduce the same ghugni that dadu sold on that hot crowded train in my air-conditioned US kitchen, even with freshly ground spices and best ingredients available. I can only close my eyes while eating the ghugni below and pretend I’m on the 8.45pm Bandel local train with dadu about to climb on at Bhadreswar.

Ghugni recipe (cooked by Maa):

Not in a mood for savory? Try this.

Ingredients:

Chickpeas/yellow peas: 1 cup

Onion: 1 large, half finely chopped and half paste

Ginge paste: 2 tbsp

Red chili powder: 1 tsp.

Coriander and cumin whole: 1 tbsp each (grind them to a paste)

You can use cumin and coriander powder as well. Just mix the powders along with the red chili powder with the ginger paste and leave them for few minutes.

Turmeric: ½ tsp

Tomato: 1 small

Oil: 1 ½ tbsp

Garam masala (clove-cinnamon-cardamom ground together): 1 tsp

Garnish:

 

Green chili: 2-3 nos.

Cilantro: a handful chopped fine

Tamarind water/lemon juice: as needed (soak a lemon size tamarind in water for few minutes and them squeeze the juice out of it. Discard the pulp)

Chat masala/roasted coriander-cumin powder: as needed (dry roast 1 tbsp. each of whole coriander and cumin and one dry red chili. Cool and then grind them to a fine powder)

• Drain the chickpeas and wash them with two-three changes of water. Drain again.
• If you are using dry yellow peas, soak them with three cups of water and leave them overnight. Drain the water and use it the next day
• Mix the cumin-coriander-red chili powder together, add it to the ginger-garlic paste and mix together.
• Finely chop the tomato and try to reserve the juice as much as possible.
• Heat up the oil in a pan, add the chopped onion and the onion paste and sauté them until translucent.
•  Add the ginger-coriander-cumin-red chili paste and sauté for few more minutes.
• Add the tomato and turmeric powder and cook the paste for several minutes until oil leaves the side of the pan.
• Add the yellow peas and cook in the spice paste for few more minutes. The masala/spice paste should get rid of the raw taste/smell.
• Add around three cups of water and salt to taste.
• Mix well and transfer the content to a pressure cooker.
• Turn the heat to medium and let it whistle once. Turn off the heat and let the steam come out naturally. Uncover and check for seasoning. If the peas are not cooked yet, boil them until cooked.
• If using a regular pot, let the whole thing come to a boil and then turn the heat to medium. Cover the pot until the peas are cooked.
• If you are using canned chickpeas, do not add the chickpeas to the spice paste. Instead add water to the spice paste and let it come to a boil.
• Boil it for several minutes until the raw taste of the spices are gone.
• Add the chickpeas and stir gently.
• Cook them for another 5-10 minutes.
• Check for salt.
• When done, add the garam masala powder and cover the pan.

Serving suggestion: Top the chickpeas with little bit of chopped cilantro, finely chopped onion and few chopped green chili (skip it if you are not a fan of hot peppers). Drizzle a little bit of either lemon juice or tamarind water. Sprinkle a little bit of chat masala/roasted coriander-cumin powder and serve. The toppings serve an essential part of the dish, but if you do not have everything in hand, just sprinkle a dash of lemon juice and throw in a little bit of chopped cilantro and it will still taste great.