Chillies Burn.
But when you?ve loved the spice all your life, the burn is sweet.
A comfort that complements nearly every morsel you put into your mouth.
I have loved Chillies ? in every form and preparation ? ever since I can remember.
You taste a little bit of heaven every time your tongue is set on fire.
In fact, I?ve always wondered why Hell is the sole emitter of flames.
My Heaven would certainly be a hot one.
I often joined mum on her mornings at the market. Primarily, to lug home bags full of groceries. When I did a fair job of being a beast of burden, I found a treat tucked away into one of the bags. My favourite find was a bunch of Chillies. One colour or many. An assortment was the equivalent of a rainbow in my palm.
What was it about Chillies? It was probably their versatility. The thrill of being able to cook and savour them in several preparations. The fact that they could be thrown in with anything and that they could be eaten all by themselves when I was craving pure, raw, unmistakable spice!
My spice of life found me on a visit to Gir, in our home state of Gujarat in India. It is the home of Lions and definitely the lionhearted if you choose to sit at a table with the locals to ingest some real spice. Just about an adolescent back then, I was high on having spotted my first ever Lioness in the wild. And what better way to celebrate than with mum and Marcha (Chilly) in a Dhaba (A very basic, traditional Indian eatery, cooking and serving local food, that one would come upon across the country).
This particular Dhaba, situated on the outskirts of the forest reserve was run by tribals (conceivably, inhabitants of the forest) known as Maldharis. They served us hot food with warmth. And while it was humbling and grounding for us both, a standout, never-before-eaten pickle nourished our high.
We were digging luxuriantly into this pickle, prepared with a combination of Chillies ? Red and Green ? with coal-fire cooked Bajra Rotis (Millet Bread). An enormous glass of chilled Chaas (Buttermilk) was placed at the ready, by our plates, to cool off our tongues when they got too fired up.
I saw a familiar sight at the entrance of the Dhaba that day:
A stall of sorts, selling locally grown produce.
Two large baskets, not very different from the ones I would see at the market back home, held the very Chillies ? Red and Green respectively ? components that made up a third of our meal. Those colours lifted me. Some visuals do. Bright Red, bright Green, contrasted with the fairly dull, time-worn beige of a cane basket. It was a painting right before me. And I could never get enough ? not back home; not here.
This piercingly piquant (nevertheless pleasing) pickle, the sight of that fresh produce, the high from witnessing a Lioness in the wild, the humility with which that meal was served to us ? simple food but a taste so distinct and delicious, it made my heart and my burning lips smile.
I couldn?t reproduce the taste of that pickle, on that day, in that setting, even if I tried.
The compassion with which the Maldharis cook and feed is incomparable.
My mum explained it had a lot to do with their simple, self-sufficient living and a limited and primitive but deeply fulfilling existence.
An effervescent, old tribal woman sitting by the coal-fire that our Bajra Rotis were cooked to perfection on, generously passed on her beloved Marcha recipe to us. Perhaps she had sensed that it was no longer beloved solely to her. And so, she bequeathed it with unassuming charm.
We sat there beguiled, listening, and learning how to craft the pickle that had taken us by storm, into another realm. But first, into the little but large lives of the Maldharis.
These were her instructions:
If you were working with 300gms of both sets of Chillies ? Red and Green,
You would begin by washing them thoroughly and chopping off the top ends.
Then, cut them lengthwise as well as horizontally into half and deseed them.
In a bowl full of the chopped Chillies, add:
One teaspoon of Haldi (turmeric)
Three tablespoons of Salt
5 tablespoons of Lemon Juice
Mix it all very well and let it rest for a couple of hours.
When the mix has rested,
Remove the Chillies and drain them off of the excess Salt, Haldi and Lemon liquid.
And proceed to dry the Chillies on a cloth for a few more hours (perhaps, four or five) to remove all the excess moisture.
In a pan, heat four tablespoons of oil to just about hot.
In a separate bowl, place:
6 tablespoons of coarsely ground Rai na Kuriya (split Mustard seeds), leaving a little space in the centre for half a teaspoon of Hing (Asafoetida).
Add the hot oil to this and mix well.
Now, add the Chillies to this mixture along with
One and a half tablespoons of Variyali (Aniseed),
One teaspoon of Salt and
The juice of half a Lemon.
Again, this must all be mixed very well.
Keep this aside for a day in a cool place.
On the very next day, stir everything once more and store your preparation in an airtight glass jar before refrigerating it.
The pickle lasts a good three months, on average.
Dipping into it, with a Bajra Roti always takes me back to that Dhaba after a fortunate day in the forest, sitting across that benevolent old tribeswoman by the fire who gifted another one of our senses with its taste and soon after, allowed us to inherit her creativity with Chillies, preserved in her mind, for the ages.
What is it about Chillies? It?s the Heaven you discover on your tongue and inside the hearts of those that will give away their craft with a smile and all the spice!
