Not a Gift Guide

Instead, two gifts for you, Dear Reader

Every December, I realize anew that gifts are not my love language. (Upon my exasperated pronouncement to this effect in the group chat, my best friend tartly asked, “What is your love language though?”) Gift-giving for anyone over the age of 10, particularly when ritualized into a frenzy and proselytized through thousands of lists and guides, is just not enjoyable.

And yet. Today is winter solstice. It snowed in New Jersey last night. We woke up to spotless blankets of white covering the roofs and chimneys, as well as the backyard behind our apartment where the Ecuadorians play nightly games of volleyball. After putting two children tuckered out from playing in the snow down for their nap, I made myself a cup of chai. I rarely have chai anymore, having sold myself out to the more razor-sharp addiction of coffee, which means I am usually in a particular kind of mood to brew a cup. Right now, I feel mostly thankful that what has been a brutal year is drawing to a sleepy, cheerful end, that everyone I know and love is safe and happy and healthy. The late afternoon clouds are hanging low over the Newark sky, tinged indigo and grey. The baldness of every branch outside my window is a particular sorrow, and yet, trees look more majestic empty, each branch stark against the sky like a defiant vein.

I want to use my last newsletter of the year not for any grand thoughts—I am tired of reading everyone’s thoughts, as, most likely, are you—but to give you, my dear reader, two small gifts. One of them is a short story that I reread at least once a year, ever since my beloved teacher and mentor, Julie Buntin, introduced it to me during my time in Michigan. It is called “Pet Milk”, it’s by Stuart Dybek, and it’s possibly my favourite short story in the entire world. It starts with the image of snow, which is why I usually reread it in the winter months. It is about being young, and in love, about Europe, and longing a lot, and drinking a lot. What I love most about the story is that it doesn’t play games. There is no coyness to it, no gotcha moments. It is simply, albeit quirkily, told. Below is the first page, along with a pdf of the entire story. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Dybek, Pet Milk

23.8MB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

My second gift is a recipe for mutton pulao that I make every few months, and which, any time I am able to nail it, gives me an incontestable answer to the pulao vs biryani debate. I access the recipe through a YouTube video by a wonderful Punjabi aunty, Shazia, but my gift to you is a translation of her Punjabi-flecked Urdu into English. When I make it, my kitchen fills with the smells of cardamom and star anise, cinnamon and cloves. It’s the perfect winter dish—10/10. If you try it, please do tell me—it will make me very happy.

Recipe for Mutton Pulao

Ingredients:

For the yakhni (broth)

Mutton pieces : 1/2 kg

Salt : 1 tsp

Onion : 1 medium, roughly chopped

Garlic : 8-10 cloves

Ginger : 2 inch, cut into chunks

Cumin Seeds : 1 tbsp

Fennel Seeds : 1 tbsp

Coriander Seeds : 1 tbsp

Black cardamom : 3 pieces

Star Anise : 3 pieces

Black Pepper : 1/2 tsp

Clove : 1/2 tsp

Cinnamon Sticks : 3-4 small pieces

Water : 1 + 1/4 Litre

For the pulao

Ghee/ Oil : 1/2 cup

Onions : 3 chopped

Ginger Garlic Paste (or equal parts chopped up ginger and garlic) : 1 tbsp

Green Chillies paste : 2 tbsp

Tomatoes : 2 (pureed in a blender)

Salt : 1 tsp

Red Chilli Powder : 1 tsp

Broth : 700 ml

Black Pepper : 1/2 tsp

Basmati Rice : 1/2 kg (soaked 30 minutes in advance of being added in)

Method

In a large sized pot, add the mutton, salt, onion, garlic, ginger, cumin seeds, fennel seeds, coriander seeds, black cardamom, star anise, black pepper, cloves, cinnamon, and 1.25 liters of water. Cover the pot and cook on high for 5 minutes so that it comes to a boil. Once the water has begun to boil, cover and cook on low heat for 30-35 minutes. Sieve the meat and aromatics from the broth and reserve both.

In the same pot (or a different one if you’re trying to do things at the same time), heat up the ghee or oil. (Side note: Shazia says half a cup; I find 1/3 cup sufficient for a glistening pulao). Fry the onions until golden brown, about 8-10 minutes. Add the ginger garlic paste, green chili paste, and pureed tomatoes. Fry until everything is mixed together and the raw smell of garlic and ginger has disappeared, about 3 minutes. Add salt and red chili powder, and mix for 1 minute. Put in the reserved meat and aromatics. Raise heat to medium-high, and, mixing constantly, cook everything together for 10 minutes (I find this part the most tedious; you really have to mix constantly, otherwise it sticks to the bottom, but this is a critical step, not to be half-assed). Add 700 ml of reserved broth and bring it to a boil. Add the black pepper and mix. Then add the rice (pre-soaked and strained) and gingerly mix a couple of times, being careful not to break the grains of rice. Keep cooking until most of the broth has evaporated, and only some liquid remains on the sides. Then cover the pot and turn the heat to low.* Cook on low for 12-15 minutes, and don’t dare pick up the lid to check. Then uncover the lid, fluff the rice with a fork, and serve. A simple salad of cucumber, tomatoes, and thinly sliced onions is the best accompaniment. Plain yogurt and South Asian pickles are always great too.

Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a wonderful New Year!

Love,

Dure

* At this stage, Shazia takes a heated griddle and puts the pot on top of it over the stove for even heating. If you have an electric stove, the heat is even anyway. If it’s a real stove (lucky you, I’m jealous), you can use a griddle if you have one. I also do the traditional “dum” method of covering the lid of the pot with a clean cloth towel to soak in excess water, and then I put a weight on top to stop any moisture from escaping (usually a mortar), because that’s what I grew up doing.