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Taste of Rajasthan
Rarely has the world seen so rich a cuisine
from so little that was available from the land.
While the eastern region of the state has fertile
soil capable of crops of everything from wheat
and maize to millets and corn, for much part
the desert's dry terrain, prone to droughts,
was incapable of producing even basic necessities
of survival. Yet, live and eat they did, creating
an exotic cuisine from the soil that threw up
a few pulses, crops of millet, and trees with
beans that were dried and stored for use when,
in the summers, nothing would grow.

Communication
and faster means of transportation have brought
in a revolution in the choice of vegetables
and fruits that are now available throughout
the state, but this was not always so. Which
is why, for the village, his diet still remains
sparse, and consists of dairy produce, bread
of millets and accompaniment of gram flour and
sour buttermilk which, say dieticians across
the world, is a high-protein, low-fat cuisine.
Perhaps that is what gives the people of the
desert their erect gait and slender build.
Though
the Rajasthani kitchen was able to create much
from little, it had also to cater to different
communities with their own ritual observances.
The Rajput warrior, for example, was not averse
to shikar, killing game to put in his pot at
night. The Vaishnavs, followers of Krishna,
wer vegetarian, and strictly so, as were the
Bishnois, a community known for their passion
to conserve both animal and plant life. Even
among the Rajputs, there were enough royal kitchens
where nothing other than vegetarian meals were
cooked. The Marwaris, of course, were vegetarian
too, but their cuisine, though not too different
from the Rajputs, was richer in its method of
preparation. And then there were the Jains too,
who were not only vegetarians, but who would
not eat after sundown, and whose food had to
be devoid of garlic and onions which were, otherwise,
important ingredients in the Rajasthani pot.

To begin with the Rajput, then: as a hunter-warrior,
he often bagged his game, which is why the Rajasthani
repertoire has everything form venison and hare
to wild boar on its menu. However, since these
are banned by the government for fear of endangering
these wild species, the Rajasthani meal has
almost come to in imply mutton. The Rajput is
a recent, reluctant convert to chicken, and
even though to lakes abound in fish, it rarely
finds its way into his kitchen.
An important
feature of non-vegetarian cooking in the Rajput
kitchen was that it was-rarely cooked on the
main stove in the kitchen, and usually employed
the male head of the family as its chef. Essential
ingredients included, besides onions kachri,
which is part of the cucumber family, as a marinade.
The meat, first basted in the spices and then
roasted in a pot over a wood fire, was turned
into gravy and eaten with millet rotis.
Colonel
James Tod's treatise, Annals and Antiquities
of Rajputana, notes that 'the Rajput hunts
and eats the boar and deer, and shoots duchks
and wild fowl'. But though the Rajput is a meat-eater,
he is by no means a passionate one who has to
have mutton on his table for every meal. Vegetarian
food too forms a large part of his diet, Game,
in fact, has been a part of the creed of the
warrior: when out camping in the desert it is
what is available that forms the basis of the
next meal. And so too, when the rest of the
country follows strictly rigid vegetarian protocol
as during the celebration of Navratri, the festival
of nine nights, the Rajput offers his Devi a
goat as sacrifice, beheading the beast with
one blow of his sword. On all nine days, a similar
offering is made, and the cooked meat eaten
as consecrated food. In Rajasthan, most families
will arrange for at least one such sacrifice
during the festival, and sometimes goats are
specially reared in family backyards for the
ritual offering.
Shikar provided a meal for
the family, or for the village, or else expediton
members shared the spoils to take their individual
portions home. However, if there was more meat
than could be consumed, it was pickled for later
consumption. Venison and pork, especially, were
cooked in rich masalas before being preserved
in oil and vinegar. Pork fat, called sauth,
was kept for winter days, when it would be chewed
as prevention against colds.

Since men often
did the cooking themselves, and since expeditions
away from home for reasons of war rarely allowed
the luxury of well-equipped kitchens, a more
rudimentary method of barbecuing created its
distinctive style of desert cooking. When small
animals were bagged, such as desert hare, the
animal was cleaned, stuffed and allowed to cook
in a sand pit with a bed of live coals covering
it, often overnight. with large animals, this
was not possible, so the meat was marinated
using kachri to impart its distinctive tang,
and then this was barbecued over a bed of live
coals. This, called sula, is still considered
a delicacy, and has a tangy flavour on account
of the sour marinade.
The women, whether the
family was vegetarian or meat eating, has their
task cut out for them. They would dry the meagre
sangri and gwarphali beans that are eatable,
and store them for future use. They would also
make papads and endless other variations and
dry them, also for storage, later to be turned
into curries for the family. Once again, using
onions and garlic, and with mustard, red chilli
powder and a handful of other spices, these
would be put on the family pot in the kitchen,
with yoghurt for flavouring. Accompaniments
rarely changed over the region. Karhi, more
popularly known as khatta, formed- as it continues
today- a part of the staple diet. Made with
buttermilk (thin form of yogurt), it is mixed
with chickpea flour and allowed to cook with
mustard seeds and crushed garlic clover. The
longer it stays of the fire, the better its
taste. Usual vegetables are sangri and gwarphali,
beans stonred for the length of the year after
drying, and cooked in yogurt and masalas. Papads,
eaten roasted elsewhere in Indian, are also
gravied in Rajasthan, as is bhujiya, a popular
moth-lentil snack. Chickpea flour can be freshly
rolled out as dumling to make gatte-ka-saag,
while sundried moth-lentil dumplings are also
cooked as badi-ka-saag.
These are all eaten
with either bread consisting millet bread, cooked
over wood fires, or a porridge made using millet
gains and moth lentils cooked together with
water, a little spice and some ghee, to make khichra, a more filling, more potent version
of what elsewhere in India is called khichri
(though this uses rice as its base). Khichra,
the night mainstay of the state's farming communities,
is eaten with ghee, and accompanied by either
jaggery or karhi. The day's meal for the working
class consists of bajra rotis eaten with moth-daal,
or with a fiery red-chilli-and-garlic chutney
and washed down with raabori, millet flour cooked
in buttermilk, believed to be extremely cooling
in the summer heat of the state. Desserts were,
by and large, rare, though exotic concoctions
from vegetables were sometimes served. For most,
for festive occsions, these would consist of
seera, a halwa made of cooked wheat flour in
ghee, or laapsi, a porridge made with dessiccated
grains of wheat. Rice, a delicacy in Rajasthan,
was served as a sweet with the addition of sugar,
saffron and dried nuts and raisins. Many more
vegetables are now available in Rajasthan, with
even little towns made colourful with the produce
of vegetable vendors. Most of these vegetables
are cooked in the same way as its chichkpea
and lentil-based corries, and there are usually
no distinctive recipes that allow the taste
of one vegetable to differ from another.
The Marwaris, however, were considerably more lavish
with the inputs in their kitchen. A typical
meal for them could consist of pishta-lonj served
with a glass of milk laced with cream. Them,
puris fried in hot oil, made with both wheat
flour as well as with matter added to turn them
a lovely green. With it, tamatar-ki-sabji, a
tomato curry, at once sweet and sour and hot,
gatte-ka-saag with shvings of cashew added,
and sangri-ker-ka-saag with the oil oozing out,
and dahi-bhallas, of course. This would be followed
by sooji-ka-halwa, a pudding that's easy to
make but still a daily favourite, and perhaps
a glass of lassi at the end of the meal.
Marwari
food uses the same basic ingredients of the
state's Rajputs, but is a richer verion, with
more spices and herbs being added to the masala,
and cooked in more fat. The Marwaris eat two
meals, in the morning and at sundown. Both consist
of a great variety of rotis and puris puffed
in piping hot oil. There are a large number
of accompaniments by way of chutneys, some sweet,
others sour. Gatta, sangri and a tomato vegetable
curry are favourites, all of them cooked in
a good deal of clearified butter, the sour taste
of the flavouring ingredients cutting through
the fat to create its own distinctive taste.
Ker, a hard desert berry, is often added to
pickles, or sangri, or cooked on its own. The
amount of chillies used is somewhat more curtailed,
and mango powder (amchur) and rai (mustard seeds)
dominate. The Marwaris also prefer heeng or
asafoetida over the Rajput preference for garlic.
The Marwari sweet tooth is legendary, and since
they were traders, they had greater access to
the markets not only of India but also South-east
Asia. They were, therefore, able to store dry
fruits such as almonds, pistachios, cashews,
and together with poppy seeds (khus) were able
to use them in their puddings. Halwas, barfis
and ladoor are part of the Marwari repertoire,
along with til, sesame, which was used for both
sweets as well as main courses. Dairy has played
an important role in the economy of the desert,
especially since agriculture could never be
taken for granted. The consumption of milk,
and of buttermilk and yoghurt formed a part
of the main diet, but with the exception of
those regions with access to rice-growing areas,
the rice-rice, milk, sugar, clarified butter,
nuts, spices, dry fruits are blended and cooked,
attendants at the shrine jump into its scalding
centre, to serve it as a holy offering to the
pilgrims, the contents dramatically diminishing
as the waiting crowds consume it as prasad.
This, of course, is an occasional offering.
Most days, the large tureens serve a mixture
of rice, meat and lentils- a meal in one go.
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