Food is an interesting thing when you lose a loved one. Eating it, thinking about it, writing about it – it all seems trivial compared to the loss. On the other hand, my connection to food is so deeply grounded in my relationship with and memories of my Dad.

Food was my Dad’s language of love.

My Dad learned to cook out of necessity. He spent much of his adolescence as an orphan – my Dad’s mother died when he was a toddler and his dad died when my Dad was in his 20s. He learned over that time to become proficient at South Indian cooking.

My Dad made me after school snacks of buttered lima beans, cheesy broccoli spears and peppery green peas while he and my mom made South Indian meals that we ate each night. As a mom, I see the value in the healthy eating habits he set for me. And I have to hold back when my daughter complains that we’re eating Indian food “again” (my response: WE’RE INDIAN. We eat INDIAN FOOD.).

Family weekend outings were to the international farmers market and Indian grocery store. A farmers market, Asian grocery store or even the international vegetable section of the FreshDirect app still gets me excited in a kid in a candy shop kind of way.

As a college student, my trips home were met with all of my favorite foods. My bags always contained goodies to take back. When Rajat met my Dad, they bonded over Rajat’s love of South Indian food – dosas, idlis, gun powder, rasam (even if he did drink it from a bowl!) and dahi vada. It was the foundation of not only my Dad’s love for Rajat but my mom’s too.

The language of love through food spread to my daughter, Surya. Dad would send me recipes for making kohlrabi, noting that it helped breastfeeding moms produce more milk. He also sent that recipe to my sister and brother who pointed out that while they were thankful for the information, they were not breastfeeding mothers!

Surya quickly learned that visits from her ThaTha (my Dad) and Avva (my Mom) also meant ThaTha okra was on its way and that he would ensure Avva made her crispy potatoes, dosas, lemon rice and magimum (curd rice) with homemade lemon pickles.

My Dad has stopped cooking as much in the last few years. Our pestering about reducing sodium and fried foods took some of the fun out of it for him. But my Mom stepped right in and picked up where he left off making his and our favorites. 

Food is powerful. It not only nourishes our body, but it brings families together, kindles memories of loved ones and allows us to carry on traditions and cultures. It showers love upon family and friends.

Earlier this week, I was missing my Dad. I made a simple tomato garlic rasam, a daily staple that that my Dad would make in a minute. He relished it for the rich tangy, spicy garlicky taste. He would prescribe a peppery version for a cold, a lemony version to soothe a sour tummy and a soar throat and so on.

Later that night, over a bowl of garlic rasam and crispy potatoes, Surya, Rajat and I remembered my Dad fondly and laughed together over my his love of those foods and the times we shared them together. Funny enough but we have done that a lot since my Dad passed away.

#FoodstoRemember

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In loving memory of my Dad, Gopalakrishnan Balasubramanian (September 11, 1940 – July 21, 2018).

I added this Toasted Coconut Tadka to split yellow lentils but you can toss it in with any other lentil type or even green beans.

Tiny tufts of toasted coconut. Velvety warm lentils with just a bit of a bite. Whole crunchy spices. Little nuggets of garlic. Spicy strands of ginger
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Stone soups?  Don’t you remember that book from elementary school?  It’s the story about two hungry travelers who trick the villagers into donating ingredients to their “stone” soup.   A little bit of carrot.  A few potatoes.  A fistful of seasoning.  One bundle of leafy greens.  An onion.  A cupful of creamy beans.  Topped off with some crusty bread.  Stone soup.  Also known as, a clean out your fridge and pantry recipe.

One of the few upsides to winter (ok it’s really just fall) is that it gives me a good excuse to make a vat of warming stone soup.

Stone Soup
About 6 Servings

A beautiful whole habanero pepper adds smoky heat to this soup.  Perfect for blustery weather.  A leftover rind of parmesan cheese would be great thrown in with the broth in step 4.   I didn’t have any lurking in the freezer, so I sprinkled parmesan on top instead.  Also, I didn’t have any “good” leftover bread for making the croutons you see in the picture.  So I just used the white Pepperidge Farm bread that I keep on hand.  And it was a delicious topping.  For the beans, I used Rancho Gordo Mayacoba Beans.  They are white and creamy but hold their shape with some bite and chew.  Canellini beans or another white bean would be a good substitute.

1 yellow onion, diced
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
2 medium size potatoes, peeled and chopped
2 Tofurkey sausage links, quartered (optional)
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1 bunch kale, washed and chopped
1-2 cups white beans, (if dried beans soaked overnight)
3-4 cups vegetable broth (I prefer low sodium)
1 habanero pepper
Salt to taste

Breadcrumbs:
Olive oil
Cubed pieces of bread with crust cut off
Sprinkle of salt and grated parmesan cheese

1. In a large stockpot, heat about 1 tablespoon olive oil on medium heat.  Add the onion and garlic and cook until soft and glassy.  Don’t let the onions brown.
2. Add the carrots and potatoes and cook about 5-8 minutes until softened.  Add the tofurkey sausage and cook for 3-4 minutes if using.  Sprinkle in the Italian seasoning.
3. Add the  kale and cook for about 5 minutes or until wilted.
4. Add the broth and white beans.*  Add the habanero pepper.  Cover and simmer for 45 minutes to an hour or until the beans are soft.
5. Salt to taste.  Sprinkle with parmesan cheese and serve with toasted breadcrumbs or crusty bread.

The whole habanero will continue seeping a smoky, hot flavor into the soup while you store the leftovers, so if you want to limit the heat, remove the habanero before storing the leftovers.

*At this point, before adding the habanero pepper and salt, I removed some of the soup and pureed it for the baby.  She loved it!  I also freezed some in her ice cube trays for later.

To make the breadcrumbs:
1. Heat about a tablespoon or so of olive oil in a skillet.  Add the breadcrumbs in one layer and coat with the oil
2. Sprinkle with salt and parmesan cheese.
3. Toast until golden.  Splash with a little more olive oil if needed for extra crunch and sizzle.

First up, some beautiful dried black eyed peas.  Smooth tan exteriors with symmetrical black moons.  Nutty, soft white insides.  Low in fat and sodium, no cholesterol, high in potassium, iron and fiber and protein.  And a creamy addition to Indian food to boot.  How could I let these go to waste?

I wanted something quicker and lighter than this creamy Black Eyed Peas and Potato curry.  A few hundred Hoppin’ John recipes later, I came across this post from Smitten Kitchen and a link to this Black Eyed Peas in Spicy Goan Curry in the San Francisco Chronicle.  Spicy enough to satisfy my Indian hankering but light and fresh enough to not overwhelm on a hot day like the ones we’ve  been having in New York.

My pantry cleaning also left me with a a “few” other things…I could use some help figuring out how to use them up:

• King Arthur Unbleached Whole Wheat Flour – just used some to make these addictive chewy chocolate chip cookies
• Poha, flattened rice – any ideas other than Aloo Poha (love it but wondering what else you can do with it)
• Red lentils
• Moong daal skinned and whole*
• Moong daal unskinned and split*
• Moong daal unskinned and whole*
• Lupini beans
• Suji (semolina) – I normally use this for upama but other use would be great!
• Cracked wheat

Any suggestions?

*My rat pack approach to pantry stocking is not to blame for the many varieties of moong beans. I think my mom bought all of them while I was in a post-partum fog.

This craving has translated into lentil soups.  They are easy to make, require very few ingredients yet have layers of flavor and fill you up with protein.  I made this Red Lentil and Smashed Garlic Soup the night before while I was making seitan tacos.  It was a real treat to open up fridge the next day and warm up a bowl of this soup for lunch.

Red lentils are the result of skinning and splitting masoor, a greenish-brown disc shaped lentil.  These lentils boil and fall apart easily because they have been skinned and split.  This is a real plus because there’s no pre-soaking required, which means no pre-planning required (something I’m always bad about but particularly bad about when sick).  As you can see from the picture, they become a brownish, yellow color when cooked.

Two huge events have happened in my life within the last week.  First, I snuck away to have a baby.  Our beautiful baby girl, Surya, arrived last Thursday and we have been completely preoccupied with loving on her ever since.  Second, I’ve turned over my kitchen to my mother for the next three weeks.  Fortunately, I put my -pre-delivery “nesting” instincts to good use and wrote up a few posts before Surya arrived, so hopefully you won’t even notice that I’m gone.

Have you ever tried to describe the taste of a bean?  I’ve been asking around, and my 8 year old niece came up with the best answers so far.  Her first was “beany” and her second was “nothing.”  After giving this question some thought [yes, I’ve actually been sitting around thinking about this question, asking people their thoughts and searching on the internet for an appropriate description], I think her second response is close to accurate.  Is it true that beans and lentils have no taste on their own and are just conduits for the spices and flavors they are cooked with?  Or do they have a flavor by themselves and, if so, what flavor is that?

When I think of beans and lentils, I think of tastes like buttery, salty and savory, nutty and creamy.  But a bowl of unseasoned lentils is like a mouthful of chalk.