Lemon Posset

The weather's been behaving all funny. Just when you thought this monsoon was an under performing one, it came out with all guns blazing in it's last few weeks to shut everyone up. And then just when you thought you could look forward to cooler days, it's been like Summer redux and you know that doesn't make me happy at all.

But, the markets promise me otherwise. The greens (spinach, dill, fenugreek, mustard) are back after a hiatus all monsoon. Green garlic has made it's appearance alongside the spring onions. Sweet, fat radishes with a undertone of heat have come, soon to be followed by deep pink carrots that will replace the pale orange ones that you usually find. A mound of bright red fresh chillies sit alongside a pile of sweet potatoes. The peas have arrived but I'm told I must wait a little while longer when they will flood the market with peas so sweet that you will eat them straight from the pod. Knobbly fresh turmeric will soon appear along with the deeper hued ginger. And of course, those tiny, green limes have given way to the more, robust yellow lemons. So, yes, the markets are beginning to sing and that could only mean cooler days will come.

Cooler days, of course mean I usually spend or mean to spend more time in the kitchen. But, until then I have discovered a charming little dessert to make with those lemons that have made their way to the market. 

Possets were an ancient English drink made from curdling milk with alcohol that is having a big comeback today as a quaint, dainty dessert. Don't worry there's no curdled milk involved in it's new avatar. It is simply a dessert made from heating cream with sugar and then stirring in some fresh lemon juice. 

I'll admit when I first read Nigel Slater's recipe, it felt a bit counter-intuitive. Everything I know about cooking and admittedly that's not much, told me that introducing lemon juice to hot cream will cause it to split. But, then every recipe that I found on the Internet followed the same technique. I guess, something about heating the cream with the sugar must alter it in some way so that the lemon juice does not bother it.

Anyhow, this took me all of ten minutes right from locating the lemon to pouring this dessert into small glasses. It is such a simple dessert but it is just so lovely and delicate and quaint and charming, yes charming. The texture is that of set cream that you can cut through and flavour is all lemony and beautiful. 

Of course, this dessert must be served chilled. It's all cream so a little is all you need. Nigel serves his with some raspberries. I served mine with some pomegranate to introduce some freshness but the beauty of this dessert is in what Slater calls 'unadorned simplicity',  serving just as it is, without any embellishments. Not overly sweet but lemony enough to freshen your palate after a heavy meal. It was unexpected how something so simple and so little of was all you need to finish things off. It takes so little of you to make that you must give it a try. You will be as a pleasantly surprised as I.

Today morning felt cooler than days before and I can't wait for our tropical Winter. Anyone else looking out for cooler days..aren't we all though?!!?

Mava Cakes

The funny thing about a city you've grown up in is that while your eyes take in all that is changing in the city, your heart always looks out for all that was. And while change remains the only constant in life, you can't help feel that odd twinge when facades change, people move out and institutions close down. 

And over the past few years, Irani cafes and bakeries, the quintessential Bombay institution, look vulnerable to the relentless march of time that we've all learned, waits for no one. Whilst a few of these family run enterprises bravely continue till date, a large number of them have shut shop, taking with them a time of this city that will never come back. 

Step into any of the surviving Irani cafes and it is to enter a place that has somehow defied time with its trademark black, bent chairs and tables covered with red checkered cloth, rows of glass jars filled with goodies, that no-nonsense instruction board and of course, that heady aroma of fresh baking that calls out to every passerby. But, to enter these places was also a chance to meet the everyday Mumbaikar, who go about their daily grind relentlessly with a spirit that makes the soul of this city.

Like the couple sitting in the corner snatching a few moments alone in a city where privacy comes with the highest premium. Or those two old men whose conversation alternates between reminiscing about the good ole days and discussing the latest neighbourhood gossip. The young man sitting alone while he contemplates on how this city that promises to fulfil all your dreams takes an awfully lot from you before it even allows you a whiff of those dreams. The group of middle aged men stepping in for a mid-work break while they discuss the inevitable travails of life. Or simply the mother stopping by the bakery shelves to pick up some much cherished after-school treats from a place that has not only withstood time but also inflation to a large extent. Much like the maximum city, there's always place for everyone and maybe that's why they have endured for so long in a city whose character is constantly being reshaped by the people who live in it. 

I think we all have an enduring Irani cafe memory. It could be bun-maska and omelette or a plate of berry pulao or one of those biscuits from those glass jars be it the sweet nankhatai or the savoury, flaky khari biscuits or vegetable puffs or mutton samosas or my personal favourite, mava cakes.

Much before fancy bakeries opened shop, there were Irani bakeries and their signature madeira cakes and mava cakes. Mava cakes for the uninitiated are these small, crazy sweet, no frills, dense, buttery cakes that could be found either in a slab form or as I remember them, in these plain white cupcake liners topped off with half a cashew. This is your familiar butter cake desi-fied with mava and cardamom to superlative effect. 

Over Diwali, I had access to some freshly prepared mava (which is a kind of evaporated milk solid and is a key ingredient in many Indian, traditional sweets) and decided to have a go at making them at home. The recipe is thanks to a well connected blogger network. I first saw the recipe on Helen's beautiful blog, Tartelette who incidentally got it from Bina, a dear friend who I've gotten to know through her generous and lovely blog, 'A Bit Wholesomely'. 

The recipe was easy and worked a charm. Although take a tip from me and bake them in cupcake liners because hot out of the oven, they are incredibly soft and can be a bit fiddly to take out. Liners were my original plan till I realised I didn't have any at home.

And this is one cake where you want them to completely cool down before you bite into them. Warm out of the oven, they were very moist and soft and seemed a tad too sweet to my present palate. I wondered if these matched what I remembered of my childhood mava cakes. But, then I let them cool completely and it was everything I wanted from my mava cakes. Cooled down, the mava had given them that characteristic denseness and richness that you expect from these cakes along with that fragrant hit of cardamom that hits all the right spots in the memory bank. Although, when I make these again, I will reduce the sugar a tad bit even if Ma said it was just fine. 

Oh Bombay, you inspire and you disappoint, you demand and you bestow, you anger and  you exhilarate and you do it all in your unique, mad, brutal, chaotic and beautiful way that somehow continues to cast it's spell, despite the ravages of time and man.