I have always felt a little Maharashtrian.
For that matter, I've even felt a little Manglorian, Gujrati, Punjabi, and Goan. In fact, I can work my way from one tip of the country to the other and honestly say that I have felt a little like every kind of people India is home to.
Perhaps it was growing up in Bombay (and then in Mumbai) that makes one feel this way. You grow up in the midst of such diversity. Your friends hail from different parts of the country and you spend your childhood sharing rituals and religions, festivals and food.
Of course, food was most important - the one thing that bound us all.
Truly. It did.
Whats more it wasn't even the fancy delicacies we craved, it was the every day stuff. Simple delicious dishes which your friend brought to school for "tiffin" and traded with you for your own lunch (that is provided your own Mum had packed you something of value).
My Mother worked full time and then some, so my lunch box often featured Bread, Butter, and Jam.
I probably don't need to tell you this, but BBJ has very low trade value. So when the recess bell rang and the floor was open for business, my lunch was passed over like bad stock no one wanted to touch with a ten foot pole.
Then there were those kids whose lunches seemed packed by airline caterers. Their food came packed in insulated, compartmentalized boxes. I swear, sometimes there was more than one course - for a 20 minute recess! I was moderately jealous of these kids, but the ones that almost done me in were the hot homemade deliveries. Not only were these lunches piping hot, they were hand delivered by mothers in crisp cotton sarees, smelling of food and talcum powder. I was always so jealous. And let me tell you, jealously makes a BBJ sandwich even harder to swallow.
At this point, I want to tell my mother (if she ever reads this) that I appreciate everything she did and does for me, that I love her, and that I know whatever I might have felt it was infinitely harder on her to leave me and go to work everyday, but she needed to because we needed the money. And that if we were rich, she would have never left my side. I know Amma, and I love you.
Anyway, back to my story, which eventually leads to the recipe and my initial ponderings on my multicultural-ness.
I had a friend back in school Kanchan Phadke. Kanchu was the sweetest thing. She came to school in pigtails and a neatly ironed dress, she wore glasses and was prone to colds. Kanchu also had one of those crisp cotton saree, talcum powder mothers who brought piping hot lunch to school on occasion. And on one such occasion, Kanchu and her mother shared a certain crisp pancake like thing with me which had me drooling for more in every class after recess. I went home and tried to explain it to my mother...
... It is like a chapati, but its a lot harder and thicker
... you can't tear it like a chapati, it breaks
... it has onions and green chillies in it
... I ate it with curd...
... please make it for me amma!!
My dear mother tried in vain but couldn't decipher the dish and over time, I forgot about it completely.
Until I was 21 years old and doing research at the National Institute for Research in Reproductive Health, Mumbai when I sat down to lunch during a PCR run and was handed the same - like chapati but harder and thicker with onions and green chillies by Shilpa Pathak.
"What is this??? What is this called??" I pounced on her.
"Thalipeeth" Shilpa said, taken aback.
"I love this stuff"
She laughed and sat back, letting me devour it, "Eat, I'm not that hungry... besides, I had the same thing for breakfast."
I returned home and told my mother - "Thalipeeth!! Amma, it's called Thalipeeth!!"
She looked perplexed.
I explained, and since then she must have made it for me dozens of times.
I can now honestly say that I really do know lots about The Peeth (as my husband and I call it) so I can tell you about it.
Thalipeeth when literally translated means plate (thali) and dough (peeth). It is quite possibly one of the simplest Maharashtrian preparations and one of their most nutritious staples at that.
In many ways Thalipeeth is nothing more than a multi-flour pancake with onions, green chillies and some spice, but goodness is it delicious or what! The only challenging thing as far as I can see about making it is patting down the dough on a hot skillet... I suppose it takes some amount of being tolerant to heat to do that.
Here is how you make it...
Blend together the following flours:
1/2 cup of Garbanzo bean/ Chick-pea flour (besan)
1/4 cup of Black Gram/ Urad Dal flour
1/4 cup of Moong Bean flour
1/2 cup of Whole Wheat flour
1/4 cup of Millet flour
1/4 cup of Rice flour
2 tbsp Cream of Wheat/ Rava
1 tbsp Cumin Powder
2 tsps Coriander Powder
1/2 heaped cup full of very finely chopped onions
Chopped green chillies - you decide how hot you want it
1/4 cup chopped Cilantro/ Coriander
A few mint leaves chopped
Salt
1. Mix all the different kinds of flour in a bowl and add the chopped onions, green chillies, cilantro, mint, salt and spices in.
2. Add water and knead with your hands till you get a very stiff dough.
3. Heat a pan/ skillet and grease it slightly with oil, ghee or butter.
4. Take a small handful of the dough and pat it on the skillet. Spread it around.
5. Drizzle some more oil/ghee/butter on top of the pancake and flip it over.
6. Press down on the cooked side so the side you patted down gets evenly cooked, this side is bound to have some indentations from your fingers.
Eat it hot... with chutney and yogurt.
As for me, I think of Kanchan and Shilpa every time I make this. And of course, I celebrate the little Maharashtrian in me.
For that matter, I've even felt a little Manglorian, Gujrati, Punjabi, and Goan. In fact, I can work my way from one tip of the country to the other and honestly say that I have felt a little like every kind of people India is home to.
Perhaps it was growing up in Bombay (and then in Mumbai) that makes one feel this way. You grow up in the midst of such diversity. Your friends hail from different parts of the country and you spend your childhood sharing rituals and religions, festivals and food.
Of course, food was most important - the one thing that bound us all.
Truly. It did.
Whats more it wasn't even the fancy delicacies we craved, it was the every day stuff. Simple delicious dishes which your friend brought to school for "tiffin" and traded with you for your own lunch (that is provided your own Mum had packed you something of value).
My Mother worked full time and then some, so my lunch box often featured Bread, Butter, and Jam.
I probably don't need to tell you this, but BBJ has very low trade value. So when the recess bell rang and the floor was open for business, my lunch was passed over like bad stock no one wanted to touch with a ten foot pole.
Then there were those kids whose lunches seemed packed by airline caterers. Their food came packed in insulated, compartmentalized boxes. I swear, sometimes there was more than one course - for a 20 minute recess! I was moderately jealous of these kids, but the ones that almost done me in were the hot homemade deliveries. Not only were these lunches piping hot, they were hand delivered by mothers in crisp cotton sarees, smelling of food and talcum powder. I was always so jealous. And let me tell you, jealously makes a BBJ sandwich even harder to swallow.
At this point, I want to tell my mother (if she ever reads this) that I appreciate everything she did and does for me, that I love her, and that I know whatever I might have felt it was infinitely harder on her to leave me and go to work everyday, but she needed to because we needed the money. And that if we were rich, she would have never left my side. I know Amma, and I love you.
Anyway, back to my story, which eventually leads to the recipe and my initial ponderings on my multicultural-ness.
I had a friend back in school Kanchan Phadke. Kanchu was the sweetest thing. She came to school in pigtails and a neatly ironed dress, she wore glasses and was prone to colds. Kanchu also had one of those crisp cotton saree, talcum powder mothers who brought piping hot lunch to school on occasion. And on one such occasion, Kanchu and her mother shared a certain crisp pancake like thing with me which had me drooling for more in every class after recess. I went home and tried to explain it to my mother...
... It is like a chapati, but its a lot harder and thicker
... you can't tear it like a chapati, it breaks
... it has onions and green chillies in it
... I ate it with curd...
... please make it for me amma!!
My dear mother tried in vain but couldn't decipher the dish and over time, I forgot about it completely.
Until I was 21 years old and doing research at the National Institute for Research in Reproductive Health, Mumbai when I sat down to lunch during a PCR run and was handed the same - like chapati but harder and thicker with onions and green chillies by Shilpa Pathak.
"What is this??? What is this called??" I pounced on her.
"Thalipeeth" Shilpa said, taken aback.
"I love this stuff"
She laughed and sat back, letting me devour it, "Eat, I'm not that hungry... besides, I had the same thing for breakfast."
I returned home and told my mother - "Thalipeeth!! Amma, it's called Thalipeeth!!"
She looked perplexed.
I explained, and since then she must have made it for me dozens of times.
I can now honestly say that I really do know lots about The Peeth (as my husband and I call it) so I can tell you about it.
Thalipeeth when literally translated means plate (thali) and dough (peeth). It is quite possibly one of the simplest Maharashtrian preparations and one of their most nutritious staples at that.
In many ways Thalipeeth is nothing more than a multi-flour pancake with onions, green chillies and some spice, but goodness is it delicious or what! The only challenging thing as far as I can see about making it is patting down the dough on a hot skillet... I suppose it takes some amount of being tolerant to heat to do that.
Here is how you make it...
Blend together the following flours:
1/2 cup of Garbanzo bean/ Chick-pea flour (besan)
1/4 cup of Black Gram/ Urad Dal flour
1/4 cup of Moong Bean flour
1/2 cup of Whole Wheat flour
1/4 cup of Millet flour
1/4 cup of Rice flour
2 tbsp Cream of Wheat/ Rava
1 tbsp Cumin Powder
2 tsps Coriander Powder
1/2 heaped cup full of very finely chopped onions
Chopped green chillies - you decide how hot you want it
1/4 cup chopped Cilantro/ Coriander
A few mint leaves chopped
Salt
1. Mix all the different kinds of flour in a bowl and add the chopped onions, green chillies, cilantro, mint, salt and spices in.
2. Add water and knead with your hands till you get a very stiff dough.
3. Heat a pan/ skillet and grease it slightly with oil, ghee or butter.
4. Take a small handful of the dough and pat it on the skillet. Spread it around.
5. Drizzle some more oil/ghee/butter on top of the pancake and flip it over.
6. Press down on the cooked side so the side you patted down gets evenly cooked, this side is bound to have some indentations from your fingers.
Eat it hot... with chutney and yogurt.
As for me, I think of Kanchan and Shilpa every time I make this. And of course, I celebrate the little Maharashtrian in me.
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