Culinary Chronicles
By Yasmin Rahul Bakshi
I am generally about as kid-friendly as a cactus, and twice as prickly about my personal space. I deeply value my pristine, aggressively childproof home and a sanctuary completely devoid of sticky fingerprints.
But right before I was set to leave Patiala, a tiny, polite voice completely shattered my carefully constructed, child-free equilibrium.
“Aunty, before you leave, can you cook mutton roganjosh for me?”
And just like that, my strict “no-kids” policy dissolved. To be fair, Dakshveer isn’t actually a child. He is more like a tiny, highly sophisticated 19th-century British gentleman trapped in the body of a twelve-year-old boy.
He completely won me over by being terrifyingly smart and shockingly mature. You can discuss literally anything with him. Bring up the global oil crisis, real estate investments or geopolitical shifts. He will provide a comprehensive, multi-layered financial analysis. He is a walking and talking encyclopedia, minus the dust.
Honestly, the only blind spot in his massive internal database occurred when he first learned about the dowry system in India. He genuinely had no idea that it existed. It was a rare, beautiful glimpse of actual childhood innocence inside a brain that otherwise operates like a super computer.
His manners are what really catch you off guard. During massive social get-togethers at my place where he is the only child invited because he actually passes the vibe check, he spends his time walking around, offering to help me host. Meanwhile, other kids of his age are buried three inches deep into an iPad or cellphone screen.
And his gifting game? Unmatched. The boy actually took the time to analyse my specific skin undertones and personal style before going out to purchase a custom set of lipsticks for me. I know full-grown, adult men who couldn’t pull off that level of emotional intelligence if their lives depended upon it.
Food is a deeply serious matter for Dakshveer. Recently, a director from his school’s management board asked him for some high-level feedback on how the institution was being run. Instead of complaining about the homework or hectic schedule, Dakshveer looked the gentleman dead in the eye and delivered a simple, deadpan ultimatum, “Please stop feeding us chickpea curry for lunch.”
He is also an aggressive future planner. Out of nowhere, he will casually suggest that his family and mine should pool our assets, purchase and retire in the mountains together just for the good weather and solid company.
So, despite my historic aversion to children, I found myself standing in a chaotic, half-packed kitchen today, rustling up a batch of mutton roganjosh just for him.
But when a kid that spectacular asks you for lunch, you pack up your cactus attitude and you make it happen.
Ingredients:
- Mutton (pieces) – ½ kg
- Crushed garlic – 2 tbsp
- Cloves – 3
- Green cardamoms – 5
- Black cardamoms – 2
- Turmeric powder – ½ tsp
- Pure Kashmiri chili powder – 2 tsp (or to taste)
- Mawaal (cockscomb flower) water – ¼ cup
- Saffron – 2 pinches
- Birista (fried onion) paste – 2 tbsp
- Desi ghee – 1/2 cup
- Salt- To taste
- Milk- 2 Tbsp (to dissolve saffron)
Method:
- Boil the mutton and remove the scum that rises to the surface.
- Add salt and turmeric to the pot and cook until the mutton is half-done.
- Strain the water, keeping the stock. Strain the stock through a fine sieve to ensure it is clear.
- Wash the mutton pieces in cold water and return them to the strained stock.
- Dissolve the Kashmiri chili powder in 1/2 cup of water.
- Dissolve the saffron in milk.
- Heat the ghee in a separate pan, add the cloves and cardamoms, then pour this mixture over the mutton.
- Add the dissolved chili powder, crushed garlic, and birista paste to the mutton.
- Cook until the meat is ninety percent done.
- Add the prepared mawaal water and the dissolved saffron, then cook until the mutton is absolutely tender.
- Rest the mutton for 4-5 hours before serving for best flavours.
Note: To prepare the mawaal water, boil 1 teaspoon of mawaal in 1 cup of water until the volume is reduced by half, then strain and discard the residue.
(Yasmin Rahul Bakshi is an accomplished senior consultant Chef and a food historian. A widely travelled Army wife from the Mussoorie hills with exposure to international cuisines & preserving recipes with the medium of food photography and digital content creation in the form of stories.)
