In the black

Proving cynics and naysayers wrong, Biswa Bangla, the West Bengal Government’s recently set-up high-end retail chain for Bengal products, is doing a rather good job. Brand Bengal at the swish stores covers premium items from fabric to food. But for me, the enterprise deserves kudos for placing on its shelves something I have wanted for a very long time: local black rice. Over the last few years I’ve been scouring high-end gourmet shops as well as village haats on road trips out of Kolkata in search of black rice. This dark rice — also known as purple rice because it acquires a strong purple tint when cooked — is delicious. Moreover, it’s super-food loaded with fibre and antioxidants, fights harmful cholesterol and may even prevent certain types of cancer.

In ancient China, it was the forbidden rice for commoners because every precious harvested grain belonged exclusively to the nobles. My research showed that Bengal has a long history of cultivating it too. Yet, somewhere down the line, the forbidden rice of China had become the forgotten rice here. So, of course, I was delighted to discover its availability at Biswa Bangla. And even happier to read articles in the local press that indicate the state government has woken up to the market potential of ‘heritage crop’.

I encountered black rice for the first time several years ago in a pretty Cambodian village, a few hours outside Phnom Penh. Dark and glutinous, it tasted like a very sweet, fermented rice pudding. I was in the country to review a rural microfinance programme designed to promote group savings amongst some of its poorest people. These were communities in which memories of the horrors of the Pol Pot regime still cast their noxious shadow.

The shimmering emerald paddy fields surrounding the stilt-hut villages I visited were once the terrible killing fields: Even today the threat of a long-buried mine exploding is horrifyingly real. To crush the possibility of rebellion, Pol Pot’s forces had used fear and intimidation to turn family members against each other, utterly destroying the social fabric of these once tight-knit communities. In village after village, I heard the same thing: the group savings was not just about financial health of the community, but testimony to trust being restored and social and familial bonds repaired. I relished the black rice and listened to my guide translating the moving speech of the villagers, and somehow the sweet, comforting preparation — like some exotic, soothing payesh ( kheer, payasam ) — became associated with healing and regeneration.

In Cambodia, black rice charmed me. But it was closer home a few years later, high in the mist-clad hillsides of Shillong, that the grain made a believer of me. My second encounter with the rice was at the house of courageous anti-trafficking activist Hasina Kharbih. After an exhilarating but long day, we regrouped at her beautiful family home, a traditional slant-roofed wooden cottage, situated on a steep and winding single carriageway road. Soft, melodious rain stayed with us all evening, and it was turning chilly. But in the cosy interiors of the cottage, helped by a fast-emptying bottle of Old Monk, we were warm and comfortable.

Hasina got busy in the kitchen and soon the table was groaning with local fare: there was bamboo shoot and ferns; local greens, pork and chicken; an array of pickles — vegetarian and meat-based; and bowls of piquant sauces and pastes. Each preparation was unique, the cooking light and done with the freshest ingredients and subtle use of herbs and spices. And at the centre of the table was a huge platter of black rice from a local farm, the deep purple-black grains filling the air with an earthy fragrance that at once made us realise how hungry we were.

That night I tried the rice with everything on the table, and while each preparation was delectable in itself, the rice enhanced every dish. It was the perfect resilient base for the meat curries; a delicate accompaniment to the greens; eaten plain, seasoned with the pastes and pickles, its nutty scent seemed to add another dimension to the notes playing out on the palate.

After that amazing meal, I couldn’t wait to experiment with it in my kitchen. But back home in Kolkata I discovered that it was virtually impossible to source.

Till now that is! And with a ready supply at hand, I’ve been happily tinkering with this wonder grain. I find the Bengal variety very similar to the Meghalaya one in texture, but with a more floral than nutty character. I’ve used it successfully to accompany light coconut-based fish and prawn curries (if you use lemongrass or gondhoraj lime in these preparations, the combination is outstanding); it forms a voluptuous bed for feisty chilli pork; and pairs beautifully with crunchy bamboo shoot that’s been lightly sautéed in salt, turmeric and red chilli.

But with temperature and humidity spiking, it’s black rice’s salad potential that I’m now mining regularly. Perhaps because of its eastern roots, I find that the seasonings from the store cupboards of Japan, Korea, and Thailand have an easy affinity with the grains — the subtly sweet wine notes of mirin, the punchy sharpness of wasabi, the complex umami of miso, the fermented accents of rice wine vinegar, the nutty flavour of toasted sesame oil, the marine richness of dried seaweed, the pungency of quality fish sauce, the sweet-sharp crunch of pickled cucumber.

Cooking the rice is easy: you just cover the amount you need with two inches of water and then let the water simmer off until the grains are al-dente. It’s important to keep a check on the water level and occasionally stir the rice so that there’s always some liquid till cooking is complete. Once done, fluff out the rice and let it cool. Just remember that you should prepare your salad before the rice is completely cold, so that it really absorbs the flavours of the dressing.

As for the dressing, just go where your creativity and taste take you. A miso and mirin base is good; or rice wine and caster sugar for a cleaner, sweet-sour hit. Throw in slivered red chilli for colour and scented heat; toasted sesame seeds speckle the black grains prettily while adding nutty notes; and if you can bear to steal a single sheet of precious nori from your sushi kit, shredding the seaweed into a mirin-white vinegar dressing will give it delectable ozone notes. As for the main ingredients, prawns and squid are the absolute winners. But tofu works really well too, as do thin strips of roast chicken, duck or pork.

Black rice salad with prawns and mango (serves four)

Ingredients

* 1 cup cooked black rice

* 10-12 large prawns, deveined, heads removed then gently poached in a water bath containing salt, a tablespoon of chopped spring onion, an inch piece of chopped ginger

* 2 ripe mangoes diced

* 1 red chilli thinly sliced

For the dressing

* 1/2 cup sesame oil

* 2 generous tbsp of rice wine/white wine vinegar

* 1 tbsp caster sugar (if you have mirin, use that and reduce the sugar to taste)

Fish sauce — start with 1/2 teaspoon then shake in more drops if needed

* Thin batons of cucumber (1 small one is enough) that have been steeped for about 30 minutes in a bath of vinegar, salt and sugar

* 1 sheet nori shredded (optional)

Method

1. Whisk together all ingredients except cucumber and nori (if using). Taste and adjust seasonings.

2. Stir in pickled cucumber and torn nori.

3. Pour over rice and use fork to ensure all the rice is evenly coated. Place on platter and scatter prawns and mango on top.

4. Shake some chilli flakes over the ensemble and sprigs of coriander. Serve cold or at room temperature

( Arundhati Ray is a Kolkata-based food writer)

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