[one year ends and a journey begins] seviyan

“Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels. There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one’s belt buckled.”
- Frederic Raphael

If you've ever read this thing before, you'll know that I have an obsession with food. A rather obvious obsession with food. That's why I started this thing, really: to publicize my gastronomic antics in an outlet much preferable to texting friends miles away about a phenomenal slice of cake eaten at such-and-such restaurant, or sending camera-phone photos to my mother every time I bake something new and enthralling.

Granted, I still do occasionally resort to the texting method aforementioned, to friends who'd appreciate those antics without raising an eyebrow too high in question, if I've eaten something particularly delicious. It's just a love that should be shared, I think.

Anyway, that was 1 year ago. Exactly 365 days. 365 days since I first signed onto blogger and made this silly old thing. But it's grown to be more than just a silly old thing.

Still silly, of course, but more meaningful to me than I originally thought it'd be. Perhaps in my subconscious mind, it's a vain attempt at self-preservation. Perhaps it's a method of escaping from the trivialties of the day-to-day to a place where I don't feel obligated to do anything, really, and can stop thinking about the stresses of university. Perhaps it's because it's become way to learn, not only about baking and photography, but about life and about myself.


Or perhaps I just really, really, really like food.

No matter the reason, I'm happy to be here. I thought I'd keep this up for a few weeks, a few months at most, but it's become bigger than that. It's become a source of comfort, something I know will always be here for me to come to when I want to stop thinking. Something to remember things by, from vibrant photographs of blackberry flaugnarde to the lingering taste of apple pie on the tongue. Something that makes me appreciate Farmer's Market tomatoes and coffee dates with friends, espresso and lemon pound cake on the table.

I'm just...happy to be here, honestly. Not much more to say than that.

Aside from thank you, to you wonderful people. You wonderful people who read this silly old thing. And put up with my antics. And hopefully walk away with something afterward. A way to pass time in a dull lecture, a growling stomach, a new recipe, or maybe even a new perspective on something as ordinarily beautiful as food.

But enough of the sap. Cheese is for eating, after all. [shutup Sabeen]


Not only is today the 1-year anniversary of this blog, but it also happens to be Eid. So, obviously, as if I weren't already going to bake something in celebration, I knew it had to be something special. And so I decided to take a drive home for a bit, spend some time with mom, reminisce about Eids past [back when I could actually be home to celebrate], and cook some seviyan.

I really just love this stuff. Could eat it by the pot. Easily. I won't even notice how much of it I've eaten until there's none left, and then all I feel regrettable about is the fact that there was hardly enough for me. I've been downing this stuff since I was born, basically, and it's one of my all-time favorite sweet treats. Still, it's something mom only makes on special occasions, so when I was home this weekend for an early Eid celebration, I knew I wanted her to finally teach me the trade.

Granted, a lot of the weekend was spent cursing Irene for a loss of electricity, but therein lies the beauty of gas stoves.

Interestingly, mom says that a Pakistani woman is only considered of marriageable material if she can cook a good pot of seviyan. Wondering if I should be proud of myself for successfully accomplishing this supposed feat, or terrified of being married off in the near future.

Seviyan
Adapted from mom's recipe book

You'll need:

• half a gallon of whole milk
• 1 cup crushed vermicelli noodles
• 1 14-oz can sweetened condensed milk
• a pinch of ground cardamom
• 1 drop of kevra, if available [alternatively, 1 drop of rosewater works as well]
• chopped pistachios or almonds to garnish

In a large saucepan over medium flame, heat milk until just boiling. Lower the temperature to a gentle simmer. Stir in the crushed vermicelli noodles and stir. Keep stirring at a simmer for 40-50 minutes, until milk has thickened some. No need to stir continuously, but return frequently [every 5-10 minutes] as to make sure milk isn't boiling or burning. Be vigilant about scraping the sides and bottom of the pan.

After milk has thickened a bit, add in sweetened condensed milk and combine. Finally, add in kevra [or rosewater] and ground cardamom. Stir for another 5-10 minutes, to allow the sugar in the condensed milk to thicken the pudding further. Remove the pan from the heat and let rest for 5 minutes. Spoon pudding into serving dishes and top with ground nuts of choice. Be sure to do so before the skin forms on top of the pudding [which, by the way, is the best part]. Let pudding cool to room temperature, at least, before serving. Pudding tastes best after a few hours in the fridge, and will stay good, covered, for up to 5 days.

And now, this recipe leads me to my big blog project for the year [Two years? Three years? Deadlines have yet to been set, saying how it's unlikely they're to be met. But I digress].

So, I like to bake. Obviously. But more than that, I like trying new things. It's why I joined the Daring Bakers back in January; it gave me an excuse to bake things that I normally wouldn't have a reason to.

And now that this is the end of one year, and the beginning of another, I thought, "what better way to keep myself entertained during my third/fourth/post-grad year of college than to impose some sort of unreachable culinary goal that will inevitably leave me wondering why I've decided to undertake the challenge in the first place?"

Thus, I dub today the commencement of my blog project, Around the World in 50 Sweets. What am I going to do, you might ask? And did I really need to select such a corny title? Well, I am going to take a culinary tour around the world, starting in South Asia and the Middle East, traveling east through Asia and the Pacific Islands, Down Under, across the sea to South America, up north through Central America and the Caribbean to the good old' US of A, a short trip up to Canada, a boat ride across the Atlantic to Africa, a scenic backpacking trip through Europe, and finally through the Chunnel to the glorious United Kingdom. Fifty desserts to give myself and you all a taste of our world, one both enormously large and strikingly small, full of fantastic people with fantastic recipes to match. All with nothing but a whisk, mixing bowl, and a bag of sugar by side.

[Okay, so I'll have some flour and almond extract from time to time, but the above sounded more poetic. And yes, the title is staying.]

Is this crazy? Probably. Is this going to but an enormous dent in my bank account? Most certainly. Am I actually going to finish this by the end of my third year, as was my original vision? Hugely unlikely. Am I going to end up regretting this?

...well, that goes without saying. Mostly for my thighs. But at least the journey will be fun.


And so, I bring to you today journey number one, the place where my story begins, all told through a bowl of seviyan: Pakistan. Jasmine trees, Great Illustrated Classics, henna tattoos, calls to prayer, grandmothers and grandfathers, noisy rikshas, dusty streets, afternoon ceiling fans and hot summer nights. A homage to my parents. Childhood familiarity. My beginning.


A good place to start, I think.

coconut burfi

Sitting with my laptop outside in 60 degree weather? In the middle of February? What sorcery is this?!

...I'll take it.

I've been basking in the glory that is the sun for the past few days. A welcome change after frigidly cold January weather. Reading Bécquer for lit courses, being distracted by birds whilst in philosophy, drinking iced coffees in between classes without feeling like an idiot for ordering an iced coffee in the middle of winter; it's all so poetic. Or perhaps I've been reading too much post-romantic Spanish literature.

In any case, the main point is that I love this weather. I love being able to enjoy my ten-minute walk to work without my hands numbing over to the point where I can't even tell if they're still attached to my wrists. I love being able to sit outside during my one-hour break between classes instead of wishing ill upon every person who opens the door to Starbucks and lets the draft in. I love not having to borrow friends' sweatshirts [and failing to return them in a timely fashion...sorry, Matt] because of being absurdly under-dressed for the chill.

I am extremely cold-sensitive, in case you were wondering.

Luckily, Cville has been blessed with gorgeous weather this week. And how better to enjoy the weather than by doing something charitable?

Tomorrow evening, the MSA is hosting a Pakistani Cultural Bazaar to raise money to help rebuild the lives of the flood victims. I knew I wanted to help out as best as I could, so I offered to make something of the food variety. [Will also potentially be providing my services as a henna tattoo artist if need be, but that has yet to be solidified.] Anyway, at first I wasn't quite sure what to make. Cookies? Brownies? Cake balls? Oreo truffles? ...nah.

This is a cultural event, after all. A time to appreciate, what for most people are, foreign customs and values, to think of those who are severely under-assisted and need our help and support, and be unified by shared compassion and humanity. I wanted to make something that showcases the FOB within me, that will bring a little bit of Pakistan to everyone who attends. And that can only mean one thing:

Mithai. Specifically, coconut burfi.

Burfi is one of my favorite Pakistani desserts. Plain burfi is basically condensed milk cooked over medium heat with sugar until it solidifies into a dough. The dough is poured into a pan and left to set, then cut into small pieces and devoured. Burfi comes in a variety of flavors, and can be prepared with fruit [usually mango or coconut], spices like cardamom, or nut flours [almonds or pistachios]. I will never in my life be able to replicate the burfi my uncles buy for me from the mithai shops in Karachi, which is probably be a good thing because I can eat that burfi by the pound, but nevertheless, I can attempt.

Mom made these for the Eid party we threw back in the fall, and since then I've been pestering her for the recipe. She graciously [read: finally] obliged my request, and showed me how to make them when I went home last weekend. The recipe is, to my surprise, extremely easy, and extremely quick. Cook time is about 15 minutes total. Cool time is a bit longer, about 2 hours, but if you're like me, you'll just stick the pan in the fridge once it's cooled for like half an hour and eat it after 15 minutes of refrigeration.

 Coconut Burfi 

You'll need:

• 1 tsp butter
• 2 cups whole-milk ricotta cheese [never use skim or fat-free dairy when baking, unless specified; it throws off the texture]
• 1 heaping cup of granulated sugar
• 1 pound unsweetened coconut [note: This is not coconut flour, nor is is shredded coconut. It's as if you ran unsweetened shredded coconut through a food processor and pulverized it into a powdery crumbs. Can be purchased in any international super market.]
• 2 drops kewra [can substitute with 2-3 drops coconut essence]
• food coloring, as desired

Line a 9x13-inch pan with aluminum foil and set aside. In a medium, shallow pan over medium heat, melt butter. Add in ricotta and sugar, and stir until melted. Add in kewra and food coloring. Reduce heat to very low and add in coconut. Stir until coconut absorbs all the liquid, 10-15 minutes. Be sure to stir frequently to prevent coconut from burning. The coconut mixture should be firming up. Once all the liquid has been absorbed and coconut has had time to cook some, pour the dough out onto lined baking sheet. Press dough evenly across the pan and flatten out with the back of a spatula [or your palm]. Leave burfi out to cool and set, at least 45 minutes. Cut burfi into small diamonds and serve.

Burfi will stay good for 3-5 days in an airtight container. If refrigerated, will stay good for up to a week.

I suppose it's not necessary to color your burfi, but I think it gives it a unique touch. For this batch, I went with about 5 drops of green food coloring. Also, the reason I ended up using 3 pans was because I used a total of 24 oz of coconut rather than 16 [and adjusted the ratios accordingly].

What I love about this recipe is that it's not overly sweet, and the coconut is not overpowering. It's a relatively light dessert, as far as mithai goes [which is pretty much on the opposite spectrum of "light"], and very palatable for people who aren't huge coconut fanatics. I am, though, which means that I am one happy camper with this recipe.

Here's to hoping that tomorrow's Bazaar is a success!

kheer

I love South Asian and Middle Eastern desserts. Like, LOVE. I can't even express.

Imagine the most amazing dessert you've ever eaten in your life, multiply it by a thousand, and that's almost how delicious Pakistani and Indian desserts are. Almost.

I, personally, am no expert in making such desserts. They're super time-consuming, often very easy to destroy, and very difficult to find authentic recipes outside the realm of family. But earlier this week, on Eid, I decided I had to try one. Not being home, I don't really have access to good recipes, and I don't trust Indian cookbooks for reliable dessert recipes, so I spent the week pestering my mom, via email, to jot down her amazing kheer recipe for me. Which she did, and which I was extremely excited to try.

Now, kheer is a very traditional Pak-Indian dessert made by boiling rice or broken wheat with milk and sugar, and flavored with an array of possibilities [cardamom, saffron, pistachios, almonds, to name a few]. Sounds simple, yes?

Not so.

This is a very delicate recipe, and one that requires your constant attention. For over an hour.
Believe me when I say that I pulled up a chair, plopped down next to the stove with my laptop and PSP, and kept myself entertained for 75 minutes while stirring the kheer. But it was well-worth the effort, because it turned out almost as well as mom's.

Kheer

You'll need:

• 1/2 cup basmati rice
• 1/2 gallon whole milk
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 3 pods of cardamom, cracked, or a generous pinch of ground cardamom
• 1 drop of kewra or rose water [the two are not the same, and both cannot be used]
• 1/4 cup raisins, if desired
• ground almonds and pistachios, to garnish, if desired

Soak rice in warm water for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, In a large pot, heat the milk on medium-high heat until warm. Drain the water, and puree the rice with about 1/4 cup of the milk in a blender. Add the pureed rice to the warm milk and increase heat as to allow the milk to come to a boil, stirring constantly to prevent rice from forming clumps. Continue stirring until milk boils, and immediately reduce heat so milk does not overflow. Allow milk to simmer for an hour, stirring every 5 minutes. Once milk has begun to thicken, add sugar. Continue stirring on and off for 5 minutes. Taste for sweetness and add more sugar if desired. Toss in cardamom and kewra or rose water, and stir until blended. Toss in raisins, if desired, and stir. Turn off heat.

To serve, use a ladle to pour kheer into bowls. Sprinkle ground almonds and pistachios on top, if desired. Kheer can be eaten either hot or cold, and keeps well in the fridge for up to 5 days.

So in my kheer, I used essence of kewra instead of rose water, though both can be found in any international market. Kewra is an extremely fragrant species of shrub with flowers that is widespread in southern Asia and is used as a perfume, aromatic oil, or fragrant distillation. Essence of kewra is also very common in many South Asian desserts. Just one drop gives the dessert an explosion of flavor. I can't imagine kheer without it, though, so it's a must-have for me. I can't describe the fragrance at all; it's unlike anything I've ever smelled, but believe me when I say that it's irreplaceable.

Luckily, the international market here in Cville sells it, as well as rose water, so now my spice cabinet is fully equipped to suit all of my Fobby needs. In fact, it may be time for a bit more kheer soon...

In other news, Thanksgiving is less than a week away and I cannot WAIT. I've got my menu totally planned out, and it's going to be epic. Mustafa, Murtaza, and Ali will be joining us, as always, so it has to impress. Not to mention Yusra will be helping me out in the kitchen, so it's going to be a ton of fun.

Mom's probably praying that our house won't burn to the ground. I'm still deciding whether or not this is a legitimate fear.

gulab jamun

Today was Matt's 20th birthday. Of course, I had to do something. Normally I bake some type of dessert bar for my friends on their birthday, but Matt isn't just any old friend. Aside from being one of my bests, Matt is pretty much an honorary desi. And one of his most favorite desserts in the world happens to be one that I've grown up with: gulab jamun.

Now, I don't really know how to describe gulab jamun well, but it's basically balls of dough (charmingly called "waffle balls"), deep fried, and soaked in sugar. Honestly, you can't go wrong.

Though, I like to pride myself on having one of the best gulab jamun recipes out there. And believe me, I've had a lot of gulab jamun in my time.

Before I type the recipe up for you guys, let me be clear. As traditional and old as this dessert is (it was introduced to the Indian subcontinent by the Arabs during the Moghul Empire), my ingredients are rather...unconventional, for lack of a better word. Gulab jamun is normally made from milk solids (usually khoya) mixed with flour. Mine? Well, here's the recipe. Mom and I have been trying to perfect it for years, and I think we've finally gotten it right.

Gulab Jamun

You'll need:

• 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons pancake mix (I use Bisquick or Hungry Jack)
• 1 cup dry milk powder
• 1/3 cup canned table cream
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 1/2 cups water
• 1/2 tsp cardamom (or 2 pods, cracked)
• drop of kewra or rosewater, if available

Prepare 2 saucepans, one large, one small, each over medium heat. In the large saucepan, combine sugar, water, and cardamom  (and kewra or rosewater, if using) to make a simple sugar. Bring mixture to a boil, then lower temperature and let simmer gently. In the smaller saucepan, fill it about halfway with canola oil. Keep heat on medium.

Meanwhile, prepare the dough. Thoroughly mix pancake mix and milk powder with a fork until well blended. Pour cream slowly, while stirring dough, until dough starts to combine. Use your hands and knead mixture until it comes together as one uniform lump of dough. Break off small pieces of dough and roll into balls, as smooth as possible (they should be about 1-inch in diameter). You should get 15-18 balls.

Gently lower 4 or 5 balls into the oil, and let fry until  they turn a deep brown. Make sure they don't burn; if they start browning too quickly, they are not cooking thoroughly enough and you need to lower the temperature of the oil. Once browned, use a slotted spoon to transfer the balls into the simple syrup. Let soak syrup for at least 10 minutes, if not for half an hour to an hour.

Gulab jamun keep well at room temperature or fridge in an airtight container for up to two weeks.

So delicious. I do like them a lot with the pancake mix; I think it's because they turn out lighter than they would if I were to use flour.

Plus, pancakes are delicious.

And these things are called "waffle balls" anyway, and that's basically the same thing, right? Right.

After Matt's had cooled down, I sprinkled them with a bit of shredded coconut and ground almonds, just for some texture (and feigned professionalism). Unfortunately, I forgot to pick up some decent containers from Kroger when I went grocery shopping yesterday, which was the entire reason I went to Kroger in the first place, so I had to resort to Tupperware to "gift-wrap" them.

Still, I'd say a treat from the homeland beats cupcakes any day.

(yes, I still hate cupcakes.)