A plate of Pulihora

Reading time ~ 5 minutes
Recently our homestead had Pulihora for a birthday (not mine).  It was finished up by evening.

Pulihora

Pulihora can be plain or extra flavored with raw mango or with crushed roasted sesame or with ground mustard.  I make ours mild with slight changes to suit our lifestyle and taste, such as: soaking the peanuts overnight- it makes them more nutritious and less allergy inducing. Using oil sparingly while cooking but sprinkling with olive oil in the end- has never affected the taste.  Using Basmati rice- less starch per serving and looks nicer.  I use tamarind from India, especially for special dishes because the one over here is dark and gives a strong blackish-brown color.  Interestingly, the batch I now have is organic, is exceptionally good and the juice exudes all the goodness of bioavailable vitamin C.  The ginger use is heavy without overpowering- it  can certainly fulfill the daily requirements of an adaptogen even for a T-Rex!  Lastly there is  lots of  turmeric- oozing all the goodness of the antioxidant value it carries.

No feast or festival is complete without the Pulihora in AP, whether in Kosta, Rayalaseema or Telangana.  Dainty and delicate, it is a favorite of all age groups.  Though sometimes frowned upon because of its omnipresence, it is certainly appreciated after one leaves home.  Oh, and it is different from the Puliyogare, its other south Indian cousin. 

***
Some tides, summers and supernovas ago, the in-laws had visited for the first time.  We all went out for the day on a Saturday.  It was late in the evening when we stopped for dinner at an Italian eatery.  It was a first with this cuisine for two people in our group.  Fettucini Alfredo, which can be unusual to the palate of coastal town-ers of AP, was tasted by the Fa-inlaw.  After the first spoonful his eyes searched and spotted the black pepper on the table.  He sprinkled it so that the creamy white Fettucini Alfredo became...... black!  We were all tired and intent on food so after eating-

Umm, I think it is unusual to sprinkle that much pepper... I said, sort of.

He was genuinely surprised.  Why, is it wrong? he asked, concerned.

No, no, nothing wrong, I replied

Just that it is somewhat nice to eat a cuisine in the way that culture would perhaps like us to. My reasoning sounded weak even as I said it.

A few days sprinted.  One day, I went to an Indian graduate students potluck lunch.  After I came back I casually mentioned to the Mo-inlaw that I saw another girl (wife of a fellow student who was Gujarati) help herself to Pulihora on a plate and earnestly pour Sambar over it before eating.

The Mo-inlaw was shocked.  Her jaw dropped.

Now I understand. Now I understand, she declared.

What what what? I asked, surprised

What you were saying then- it is nice to eat each cuisine in their own way!

She was still stunned at the unintended sacrilege of the mighty Pulihora when she said to the Fa-inlaw-

No sprinkling with pepper like that again, ok? If they make their food bland like that, we will have eat it like that only.

Even after some summers and moons had passed, the Fa-inlaw still chuckled about the time he made a black Fettucine Alfredo.

*****

Summer is Here!

Reading time ~ 15 minutes 
Fruit bursting with color arrive in summer.  They are an antidote to the hotness of the season.   The sun-ripened freshness melts in the mouth in an instant and replenishes with enzymes, minerals, vitamins and other nutrients.

The Silicon Valley was a fruit orchard haven until the 60's or even the  early 70's.  Quaint pictures of the bustling orchards and packing stalls are now a decor of a few area coffee-houses.  

National Semiconductor was one of the first microelectronics company to stand out.  The orchards slowly disappeared as semiconductor technology and the collateral infrastructure boomed.  Hereabouts we still have the Olson Cherry Farm and the Orchard Apricot Farm.  Ironically, there is little Silicon left in the valley, as most of the actual handling of Silicon as in development and manufacturing of integrated circuits has moved out of the area.  Before that, orchards and fruit were the mainstay of local economy.  The climate seems ideal for growing fruit.

I have heard old timers recount how the area was filled with orchards as far as the eye could see.  Here are some pictures of the local Blenheim Apricot Orchard.

When immersed in water for washing, the Blenheim apricots glisten with pearls on their skins, which I imagine is because of strong hydrophobicity.  Both the fruit and jam from the stand are heavenly.

*****

Within a season, the cherries first ripen.  Then the plums get ready.  Then  the  entire range-  apricots, peaches and pears, all types of berries from the mountains and oranges from the groves hit the fruit stands.  Grapes come in August. The queen- the persimmon, arrives in October.  Even non-local fruit (like melons) are fresher than in other seasons.

Fruit trees are aplenty in our neighborhood.  A fruit filled tree, ripening fruit by fruit, screaming, live now! is the best witness of summer.  A fruit reaches the peak of ripeness within a few hours.  If unused, it falls to the ground and becomes a stained, sticky puddle for the bugs to feast.

We have a small peach tree in the yard.  The neighbor's plum tree branches into our yard.  So does a lemon branch on another side.  The plums are ripest right now.  My favorite is our large persimmon tree, which likely needs a separate, dedicated post.  Here is our peach tree with the growing peaches.

*****

On a sidewalk in my daily walking route are two fruit trees, like twins.  I do not know the names of these trees or fruit, I have never seen them in the market.  They are ripest around the 4rth of July and offer a tasty mid-walk snack. 

*****

In South India, the mango is the king/queen fruit of summer.  Multiple varieties ripen in a short space of time and hit the fruit carts in lively yellows.  The first monsoon rains signal the end of summer and bring a decline  in  the fruit.

Two small guava plants were among some such brought by the Mater from one of her trips to coastal Andhra.  She brought them from the cornucopia of the finest fruit and flower, the Simhachalam hills.  The guava trees brimming with fruit all year-round, attracting flocks of restless parrots and a Jamun tree which was seasonal, grew up with us.  I heard stories of the Pater's childhood where summer meant a room filled with mangoes to be eaten at will.  They were brought in every year by his grand-uncle from their maternal village, a tiny one nestled in the coast, to the grand town of Vizianagaram.  When our time came, we measured the quantity not in rooms anymore but in kilos.
 

*****

Summer fruit reminds me of Blackberrying, a fine poem by Sylvia Plath.  Please  open the link and read. 

The abundant caressing quality of nature lazily turning around and showing its brutal side is as only poetic expression can describe.  The longing when she writes 'they must love me', 'protesting, protesting' and 'they believe in heaven' is at once, at and away from the happening while she is in and out of herself.
The feelings tilled out in what I imagine was a casual walk through a grove and held in a suspension even while minding her children, until she went home and typed up the story speaks of her state of mind.  It must have been hovering between realities.  Another line, 'These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt' can live on its own.

For poetry non-readers who skipped reading the poem in the link, allow me to somewhat explain.
One small way this poem can be understood, is say, you are watching a graceful maiden albeit with  unkempt hair walking away from you, towards another and then gently reaching to smooth his hair and... just as her hands reach his neck, she happens to turn around and Bam! you see her teeth poked out as in a vampire that go on...biting, biting.

So read the poem now.  And take fresh fruit.
On the other hand, if you are a poetry fan and somehow did not fancy my explanation, that is too bad.  No fruit for you.