Local veggies, global salads

Till a few years ago, the monsoon and post-monsoon months, right up to the first cool breezes of October, would be tedious ones for mealtimes. Despite the hilsa, the fish roe, plump gourds, and succulent local greens that fill the stalls at the markets in this period, salads remained a daily challenge. The hot, sultry months make one long for cold soups and salads for dinner or lunch. But unwilling to spend a fortune on the lettuces, zucchini and coloured peppers being flown in from across the country and abroad (and mindful of the carbon footprint involved) I was restricted to using cucumber, eggplant, sprouts and tasteless tomatoes for salads.

My mum-in-law, an incredible cook who is also the most innovative person I know in the kitchen, would give suggestions and then on one occasion, I suspect because she got so tired of my grumbling, she said she would serve a Saturday lunch which was a Monsoon Menu featuring small eats and salads built exclusively on local seasonal produce.

Now our weekly family Saturday lunches are always surprises because we never know what to expect only that the meal and menu will be always delicious, always unique. This time I was especially curious, wondering what she would be doing about monsoon salads that we hadn’t had already. I kept pressing her for details but with no luck. Saturday came around and true to her word, mum-in-law had produced an incredible spread sticking to her brief of seasonal produce all sourced from her fresh food vendors at Beck Bagan Market and New Market.

We began with taramasalata — egg roe emulsified with extra-virgin olive oil, lemon juice and generous amounts of garlic and chilli that we ate with crackers. Then we moved on to delicious smoked hilsa, the fine bones painstakingly removed with tweezers, served on homemade wholewheat bread; and chilled refreshing curried apple soup sprinkled with mint; and an entire sideboard covered with salads. Unbelievably, without a leaf of lettuce in sight.

There was batabi lebu (pomelo) with water chestnuts and tiny shrimps peeking out of this pink bed. Fish sauce in the dressing gave the cool, citrus salad a warm depth. A bowl of glass noodles had been tossed with mauve-tinged matchsticks of thor — the pith of the banana stem — with a pleasant crunch and a mild nutty taste.

There was a large platter of grilled baby eggplant, green pumpkin wearing their striped coats, crunchy kundru (ivy gourd) and barbati (snake beans) tossed with a garlic-infused dressing and sprinkled with chopped basil and crumbled smoked Bandel cheese.

And the biggest surprise of all: what looked like young stalks of asparagus but were actually the tender green pnui dnata (stalks of Malabar spinach) served with small creamy-white diced plantain.

Remarkably, without exception, each salad had been created out of the gourds and greens, stalks and stems that flourish in the heavy air of these moisture-laden months, basking in the sultry weather, drawing on the sun’s blazing humid heat to plump out into nutrition-rich produce.

Familiar everyday vegetables that appear on the table as charchari , ghanto and the generic sabzi , now transformed yet holding their own in their new avatar as salads. What immediately struck me was that each vegetable had retained its inherent identity and at the same time been subtly altered so that it carried off the olive oil, vinegar and soya with as much ease as its customary dressings of mustard oil and paanch phoron, turmeric, methi, kalo jeera (nigella) and mustard seeds. The global makeover undergone from kadai to salad bowl has been effected elegantly and easily.

It was a truly memorable lunch and it ended, appropriately, with another seasonal favourite, stewed guava.

***

Over the years — and with many invaluable tips from mum-in-law — I’ve learnt the watch-points that ensure tasty, unusual salads. First, few of these “native” vegetables can be used raw but make sure you don’t overcook them. Gourds such as pumpkins (red and green) and kundru respond best to steaming; plantain, on the other hand, needs to be cooked in its skin for at least 15 minutes (this way it doesn’t get discoloured) so that it reaches the stage of being soft but retaining a bite. Stalks of the pnui and barbati need only a quick blanching in boiling water. Thor too is best cooked this way but it needs to be soaked in water for two hours ahead of preparation.

The other important step is to dress these vegetables while they are still warm. This allows the flavours of the dressing to permeate, fusing with the typically strong tastes of these tropical items to create something subtle and new and unique.

As for dressings, I’ve found that a regular French dressing (olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, a little honey) works like a dream. But you can also experiment with Southeast Asian accents. After all, so many of these vegetables are used abundantly in the cuisines of Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia, Cambodia and so on. So combine the olive oil with a little roasted sesame oil, use soya and fish sauce for salt and unbeatable umami, substitute lemon juice with rice vinegar if you have any and sweeten with a combination of honey and mirin. This dressing, when used in moderation so that it doesn’t drown the flavours of the delicate thor , works magically with a salad of banana stem pith and shrimps.

It’s also great for a barbati -based salad — especially when the snake beans are combined with red pumpkin or cucumber (and you might want to sprinkle roasted sesame seeds as a finishing touch).

Recently, I added a little mayonnaise to a pnui dnata and plantain salad and was delighted with the result. The mayo added just that touch of creaminess that brought together the firm green stalks and smooth waxiness of the plantains. But again, resist the temptation for mayonnaise overkill.

The sultry months don’t fill me with despair. My salad bowl brims over with the variety of produce brought into city markets from local growers. And every shopping expedition is an adventure as I spot something seasonal untried and untested in salad form: shapla (water lily stem that’s now just starting to appear), pumpkin shoots and flowers, greens so local that some barely have a name. And I’ve also learnt that some things just don’t work: for instance, despite many attempts and several different combinations, kolmi shak (water spinach) resists my cajoling it to don a salad garb, tasting unpleasantly of soaked tea leaves.

In fact, as with anything in the food department (at least with me) experimentation is the key. Be bold and creative, think outside cookbook recipes, be guided by your instinct and what you know about your ingredients (taste, texture and so forth) and innovate. There will be some disasters but put that down to experience and get on the road again — your next glocal salad will be a super hit.

Salad of Malabar spinach stalks and plantains

Three bunches of short-stemmed young Malabar spinach or pnui shak

Four plantains

Some pumpkin flowers if available, otherwise a handful of toasted pumpkin seeds will do just as well

3/4 cup French dressing made by whisking together olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper and honey

1 tbsp mayonnaise (preferably homemade)

Method

1. Place the plantain with their skins in a big pot of boiling water and let them cook for about 15 minutes. When cooled enough to handle take out of skin and dice.

2. Strip the leaves off the pnui shak so that you are left only with the stems. Wash thoroughly, put into a large strainer and immerse them in a pot of boiling salt water for a couple of minutes. Set aside to drain.

3. If you are using pumpkin blossoms just give them a quick stir fry in olive oil and keep aside.

4. Make your French dressing and add the mayonnaise to it, whisking till smooth.

5. While the ingredients are still warm (not hot) assemble your salad: in a bowl combine diced plantain and pnui stalks, toss with dressing (at this point, taste it; if you feel the dish could do with a little more mellowing add some more mayo but do this incrementally). Just before serving strew with pumpkin blossoms or sprinkle with the toasted pumpkin seeds.

Arundhati Ray is a food writer based in Kolkata

COMMENT NOW