A couple of months ago I stumbled on Amrita’s Fat Free Brainwave Blog while researching a project in India. Ever since I am following her cooking skills of her native cuisine; Bengali Cuisine. But what really surprised me is that Amrita, like me, is a self confessed chocoholic and knows her fix of chocolates. With this I like to introduce Amrita and Fat Free Brainwave.

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I’m guest blogging for the first time and I’m a nervous wreck.

I’m sitting with my fingers hovering (and obviously frozen) a few inches from my keyboard, at a loss for words on food. On food, out of all the things I’m crazy about. I’m starting with the weather.

Tell-tale signs of autumn have started appearing all over. The constant downpour has reduced to the occasional drizzle and the leaves of certain over-eager trees have finally started turning pale. Its still early though. Fall takes this part of the Indian peninsula mostly at the end of September. But then, most trees are still in full bloom. And purty as ever.

For those of you in the know, skip this part. For the rest, I’m a true-blooded Kolkatan from West Bengal, India and yes I usually scratch and bite the hell out of anyone that comes between me and my meals. Given that, it goes without saying that I have an incredible capacity to down a considerable amount of seafood. I grew up accommodating a vast variety of sweets and desserts in my diet and also a large amount of lead-laden air in my cardio-thoracic system, all thanks to Kolkata’s larger-than-life sweet tooth and her attendant problem with pollution.

Oh, and I also grew up with the habit of running behind the State Transport buses. They stop for nothing and no one. 

Bengali food grabs you with its subtlety and variety. We are as much in love with our vegetables as we are with freshwater fish. We don’t even compromise on our junk food, whether its the all-time favorite phuchka (semolina puffs stuffed with spicy potato mash and served dunked in tamarind sauce) or the must-in-the-evening tele bhaja (thin slices of eggplants and potatoes smothered with a chickpea flour batter and deep-fried in mustard oil).

It is rare for a Bengali family to sit at the table for a meal and end it without having heated discussions about past and future meals, along with the ocassional squabble over football and politics. Kolkata wraps you in a bear hug, breathes down your collar, squeezes the life out of you and leaves your tummy bursting with gorgeous food. The food reflect in the soul of the city, in the eyes of true Kolkatans and in their stature. And also in their loud, mustard-laced burps.

Which brings me to mustard. Not the French kind, or the English. But our very own Bengali kind.

Mustard features heavily in Indian cuisine, but Bengalis have managed to take it to another level. Most Indians would drop a handful of mustard seeds in hot oil and wait for them to crackle before continuing with their lentil curry or sabzi. We, however, being fans of throaty-irritation that raw mustard usually causes, use it in almost everything. Almost. Dal, sabzi, the quintessential fish curry, chicken preps, shrimp, crab and we use it in some of our lamb dishes as well. We steam fish in pungent mustard paste, wrapped in banana leaves. We baste meat in it. We brutally squeeze all the oil out of the seeds and fry up vegetables and fish in it. We oil our children with it. And in winters we smother our nostrils with the damn thing.

And I am so not kidding.

The Marathas, the Rajasthanis and Gujaratis, the Punjabis and South Indians make their mustard seeds crackle. We, however, can make mustard sing, prance and even perform a tabletop strip number. The magical mojo that makes this spice powerful is its versatility. It works in peace with other spices and condiments and can also work on its own.

The simple dish of shrimp in a spicy mustard sauce, could easily precede a meal as an appetizer. The heat from the red chilies compliment the pungency of the ground mustard paste and is balanced out by a smattering of white sugar.

Shrimp in Chili Mustard Sauce

Ingredients:

• 500gms medium-sized prawns
• 1 tablespoon of mustard oil
• 150gms mustard seeds
• 2 cloves of garlic
• 2 red chilies
• 1 teaspoon turmeric powder
• 1 teaspoon coriander powder
• Zest and juice of 1 whole lemon
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Coriander leaves to garnish

How-to:

Grind the mustard seeds, two fat cloves of garlic and 1 tablespoon of water, into a paste. Conduct a taste check; if the paste seems much too pungent or bitter, add a little more water and strain out some of the liquid. This will dilute the strength and pungency. Heat oil in a pan. Slit the chilies half-way through and add to the oil along with the prawns. Cook for a minute before adding the mustard paste, turmeric powder, coriander powder and zest and juice of a lemon. Coat the prawns well and add sugar along with a tablespoon of warm water, if the mixture starts to turn dry. Chop a handful of coriander leaves and add half of it, keeping aside the other half as garnish. Cook on medium heat for about 8 minutes or till most of the liquid evaporates before seasoning with salt and pepper. Sprinkle the rest of the coriander leaves on top and serve as an appetizer or side dish!