Some recipes are learned. Some are inherited. And some, like my mother's Methi Lot Waalu Shaak are lived, says Rishika Shah/Rediff
My mother Mamta Shah didn't grow up in the kitchen. At a time when most women were expected to master cooking early, she was working, making ends meet at home for her parents and four siblings, and only vaguely familiar with food.
She got married at 32, which, in the 1990s, came with its own set of expectations, and among the biggest of them was knowing how to cook.
When she entered her new home, she didn't just inherit a family; she inherited a kitchen ruled by precision. My Kaki and my Baa, her sister-in-law and mother-in-law, became her first teachers.
My Baa, especially, was a force. She was meticulous, particular, and unwavering in how things should be done. It wasn't always easy to be around her. But in that discipline, something extraordinary was built.
My mother learned. Then she practiced. Then she perfected. And somewhere along the way, she became an even better cook than my Baa.
Today, my relationship with food is, in many ways, a reflection of my love for her cooking. I've always love eating out, but my heart belongs to home-cooked meals by my mother.
As a child, my dabba was famous in school; everyone would eat from it, but I would never eat from anyone else's. Not even a bite. And that hasn't really changed. When I would go over to my friends' places to play, their mothers would complain to mine about me not eating anything.
Take bhindi (lady's fingers/okra), for example. I love it, but only when she makes it. I've tried it at restaurants, seen it on menus, and been offered it in other homes. But I don't eat it anywhere else. Because I already know, it won't taste like hers.
The same goes for her Methi Lot Waalu Shaak, a dish made with methi (fenugreek) and channa atta (chickpea flour). It's not something you'll easily find anywhere, especially in a restaurant. And methi, let's be honest, isn't everyone's favourite. It's slightly bitter, not the most inviting vegetable on its own.
But in my mother's hands, it becomes something else entirely. It's a dish I keep asking for, again and again.
Even today -- after my life has changed because I don't live at home the same way anymore -- some things haven't. My best meals still come from her kitchen as she sends me my lunch at work.
I have always been a picky eater, but my lunch plate at home was fixed: A chapatti, a sabzi, dal, rice and a glass of buttermilk, to end it with. And sometimes with her signature garlic chutney on the side.
It's been over 20 years of this routine, and I wouldn't change a thing because in every bite, there's familiarity and love.
Maybe that's why her name is Mamta -- that is the secret ingredient she adds to every dish she makes.
Mamta's Methi Lot Waalu Shaak
Serves: 2-3
Ingredients
- 2 cups finely chopped fresh methi or fenugreek leaves
- Oil, about 1 tbsp
- Pinch hing or asafoetida
- ½ tsp haldi or turmeric powder
- ½ tsp brown dhania or coriander powder
- ½ tsp Kashmiri red chilly powder
- Salt to taste, about 1½ tsp
- ½ cup water or a little more
- 4 tbsp channa atta or besan or chickpea/gram flour
Method:
- Heat the oil in a kadhai over medium heat.
- Add the hing and let it sizzle.
Now add the finely-chopped methi and sauté well, stirring frequently.
Add the turmeric, coriander powder, red chilly powder, salt and mix.
Pour in the water and let it come to a boil.
Add the chana atta, stirring rapidly to avoid lumps or sticking -- this step is key.
Cover and cook over low heat for about 5 minutes more and take off heat. - Serve hot with chapattis, and if you're lucky with a side of garlic chutney and a whole lot of Maa ki Mamta!
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