For aaloo, for basil

A writer-turned-full-time mommy sticks her tongue out at shapeless mounds of unappetising baby food and opts for Nigella Lawson's Linguine and Master Chef-esque Baby Potatoes in Thyme to feed her two year-old. Here's a "new mom's" account of how dip on the face can be a toddler's first unsteady step to becoming
a certified gourmet

Ever since Nigella Lawson, Jamie Oliver, Kylie Kwong, Master Chef and others set foot in our homes, the food coming out of my kitchen has morphed from the dal-chawal-roti-sabzi into something else altogether. For me, besides hunger management, food now plays another vital role -- it needs to seduce with the way it looks.

This held true, even more after I became a mother, as I was trying to introduce my son to the world of flavours and textures, having found baby-food too demeaning to keep him on it. I mean why should babies eat a pureed mush when they are actually ready for more?

Luckily, Rehaan, even at six months thought so too.u00a0u00a0It all started from his squeal of delight at seeing his purple palms stained with beetroot puree. I had decided that his first exploit with solids would be the vibrant beetroot instead of the more staid pumpkin. So I mashed up a boiled one and presented it to him. He dug his whole palm in it and was excited with the results. Soon, he was beetroot painting his face and mine.

Before he turned one, he exhibited all the signs of a potential gourmand, grabbing soup-sticks in restaurants, dousing Idlis in molagapodi (a spicy powder mixed with oil and served as an accompaniment -- it's also known as gun powder, rather fittingly) and chomping on one, besides helping himself to a mixed lettuce salad with vinaigrette dressing.

I knew I had birthed a foodie and raised the bar for myself. So I did what any sane mother would do. I bought him an Ikea kitchen set, complete with colanders, saucepans, cookie cutters, ladles, rolling pin, and even a gas range, while I went about perfecting my culinary art.

Baby potatoes in thyme
A for Aloo is probably what they should teach at preschool, since in India, no matter which region you come from, your child's relationship with potatoes runs deep. Aloo was also Re's favourite vegetable of play, with him tossing them into real cauldrons (mine) and pretending to stir fry, or sometimes pierce them with a fork.

While I continued to render Aloo Parathas, crispy Aloo Sabzi or Aloo Raita, I found myself wondering what else to do with potatoes that looked good enough for Re to eat them whole. Mashed potatoes were not goodlooking enough, hash browns needed an accompaniment, roasted potatoes were great but difficult to master consistency with, and Dum Aloo lacked dum.

Then one day, a bag of Baby Potatoes arrived and he looked at them suspiciously, wondering perhaps, "Who shrank the potatoes?" It took him a while to get friendly with those babies thoughu00a0-- he still preferred their more robust, adult versions. The trick was to find a stand-alone Baby Potato dish that could win him over, qualify as finger food, be appealing to the eye, and that I would enjoy as much.

My Baby Potatoes in Thyme won on all counts. Simple, non-fussy and elegant with no extra work (it helps to choose evenly-sized potatoes but that's not an imperative). It's the one thing I always make when we have friends over. It looks good, and makes me look good, too.

Here's how it's made:

Ingredients:
One packet baby potatoes (or 250 g)
One tablespoon butter
Dried thyme, pepper
Salt to taste

Method:
Boil the baby potatoes enough to be able to peel them, and set aside. In a shallow pan, throw in the butter. Heat enough to melt the butter, then throw the thyme and pepper powder and then the potatoes. Add salt to taste, but remember that the butter is already salted. Toss it all around to mix thoroughly and roast on a slow flame till the potatoes are evenly brown.

Tabouleh salad

I often give Re real vegetables to play with, like onions, potatoes, beans, peas or lady fingers. It makes him feel like a real chef, making an important contribution to the daily spread. One afternoon, he set his hands on a box of cherry tomatoes in the fridge and set about using them to create something. He first bit into every cherry tomato and then threw the rest into a pan. Some, he just ate. It actually reminded me of the iconic "thoda khao thoda phekho" scene from Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron.

Very soon, there was a small heap of half-bitten tomatoes and the thrifty me couldn't let it go to waste. So, I decided to teach him the art of creating something out of waste. Soon, the heap found its way into a Tabouleh salad, made with couscous.

Here's how it's made:
Ingredients:
One cup couscous (or burghul wheat, or lapsi)
One packet of cherry tomatoes
Small bunch (3-4 stalks) parsley
Two spring onions (with leaves)
One tablespoon olive oil
Salt, pepper/paprika to taste
Juice of one lemon
5-6 black olives, sliced

Method:
Take the couscous (or lapsi) in a shallow bowl, pour enough just-boiled water to cover it, and let it sit. Chop the olives, and the cherry tomatoes into halves. Also chop the spring onions and parsley fine. When the couscous has absorbed all the water and swollen up and looks dry, break it with the help of a fork, clearing lumps if any, so that you get an even, powdery mass. Add the tomatoes, olives, parsley, spring onions, lemon juice, paprika (or pepper), salt and olive oil, mixing well, breaking any lumps.

Nigella's Linguine with fresh Pesto and Beans

Almost every afternoon, Re and I stare wistfully, sometimes in awe, at Nigella Lawson in Nigella's Kitchen. We watch her transforming the mundane into the seductive. Her lazy, effortless way of cooking is something that I am trying to adopt, although I definitely don't sound as convincing when I say, "When I am in the kitchen, I'm happy", yet.

Pasta was always a favourite for Re, ever since I saw a strand of spaghetti making its way from my plate to Re's mouth at nine months. It was made in a tomato-based sauce with bell peppers, mushrooms, and aubergine, and he picked out the yellow and red bits and ate them too.

He's ready for world cuisine, I thought to myself. Nigella's Linguine with pesto, potatoes and beans, however, is a green pasta with oodles of texture and hidden beans. Not only is it an exciting break from regular red pastas, it also offers us an option to white, cheesy sauce. Off I went shopping, and set up a play date with the screechy girl next door, who for once called me auntie, instead of Lalita, and said at the end of the meal, "I really like this. I really like you!"

Re signed off with an impersonation of Nigella, eating the linguine with both hands, sinking it into his teeth as if it were dental floss, and pulling it on either side. It was classic. I love you, Nigella.

Here's how it's made

Ingredients:
250 g linguine
A medium sized bunch of basil (or two packets from the supermarket)
Parmesan (100 g)
Extra Virgin Olive oilu00a0-- one tablespoon
Two medium sized potatoes
100 gm French beans, destringed (around 15-20 beanstalks) and halved (or whole, if small)
Four cloves of garlic
Salt to taste

Method:
(Pesto sauce) Blend the basil, parmesan, garlic and olive oil to a coarse mixture with a little salt. You can add some of the pasta stock (water in which pasta has been boiled) to the blend to make a good puree.

(Pasta) Chop the potatoes and add them to a large pot of water and bring to boil, adding a little salt. When the potatoes are half done, add the linguine to the same pot, mixing well. Five minutes later, add the beans (whole, preferably) to the mixture, mixing well to ensure the potatoes, the pasta and potatoes are evenly cooked.

When the beans are cooked to a crunch, switch off and drain the pasta. Transfer the pasta to a large bowl and mix the pesto with it. (You can use some of the pasta boiling water to the pesto to give it a better consistency).

Mix the pasta with the pesto well with a large fork. You will notice that the potatoes would crumble in, adding further texture to the pesto sauce and ensuring you get an even mix.

Tzatziki

At nine months, I would wonder whether Re was ready for adult food. Then, at a house party, I served up Tzatziki as one of the dips on a platter with lavash and soup sticks. Initially, Re began to dip in, using a soup stick. Then, as he realised that none of us were really noticing him, he decided to abandon the soupstick and dig into the Tzatziki with his fingers. Soon he was wearing a mask of dip, and my guests stared at him open-mouthed.

"Is he ready to eat dips?" someone asked, tentatively. He bloody well was. The Tzatziki was the first sign that Re found baby-food and its mushy, gooey avatars disrespectful to his sensibilities. He was ready for the real thing.

Dips are a great way to legitimise frequent snacking. All you need are some crackers, lavash or baguette slices, pav or carrot and cucumber sticks, a bowl of Tsatsiki or Hummus or Guacamole, and you can dig in any number of times a day.

Here's how it's made

Ingredients:
Two small cucumbers (or one large one), grated
One medium tub (400 g) of dahi
One small bunch of dill (3-4 stalks) with the stalks removed
Juice of one lemon
One tablespoon olive oil
4 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
One small teaspoon of paprika (you can also use pepper)
One teaspoon of honey (optional)
Salt to taste