Anapakayi KuraOkay, confession time: once upon a time I used to use my pressure cooker only for dhal and rajma, rice and soups; all the boiling-type stuff. You can stop laughing at me now; I know that you most likely have been using your pressure cookers constantly in wonderfully versatile ways.

But I have caught on; I might be a late bloomer, but I learn my lessons well. See, I was always scared that I would damage the cooker in some way, and when I saw others serving up dishes from the pressure cooker, I would be amazed, but too timid to ask for the technique.

And then one afternoon almost ten years ago, browsing through Odyssey in Adyar, I found a little book that changed my life. It was called Quick and Exciting Pressure Cooking (Vegetarian) by Anuradha Sinha, published by Nita Mehta books. The book captivated me with its possibilities, and I could not leave the shop without buying it. But as we all know our relationships with cook books can be difficult; if you start off on the wrong foot, no amount of making up can ever erase that first bad impression.

Just as well then that the very first recipe I tried from the book turned out to be an absolute winner! It was titled "Ghia Lajawab" which I have translated (honoring the spirit if not the letter) as "Incomparable Bottle Gourd." It remains a standby dish for me to this day, and over the years I have changed very little in the recipe. This makes a great addition to a thali, or it can be served as a lighter meal with some raita and chapatti.

Today I have four different pressure cookers including a Western one - where the weight doesn't give a whistle, but rather a long, continuous hiss - that is stuck in the back of the kitchen cupboard.
Whenever we (or anyone else we know) go for a visit to India, we always bring back some new rings (gaskets) and spare safety valves, trying to nurse the pots along. If one gets to a stage where we think it might no longer be safe, we retire it from pressure duty and use it as just an ordinary pot; they have served me so well, I can't go so far as to throw them out.

I knew a guy whose name was Joshua, known to one and all simply as Josh. Online his nickname was Rogan. Just that. And it was only the desis (and to some extent the limeys) who got the wonderful pun: Rogan Josh! I still happen to think that's the smartest online name I have ever seen, but then I'm funny that way.

Sra from When my Soup came Alive posted a recipe she'd found in a cookbook for Vegetarian Rogan Josh. And so in honor of that pun, I decided to try it.

Now, this is one recipe where we just couldn't manage to follow the instructions - or even the ingredients. We tweaked it so much, I doubt it could even be called the same dish, so go on over to Sra's blog and check out the original recipe at the link above.

It starts with the fact that we didn't have red pumpkin on hand; we did however have bottle gourd, and given the fact that they are all part of the same extended family, we swapped that in.

Next came the fact of the proportions of the spices: we had to lessen the chilli powder or Angel Face won't eat it, reduce the percentage of aniseed powder since the flavor is pretty dominant, and substitute powdered asafoetida for asafoetida water. And as a final deviation, we substantially increased the amount of yoghurt.

What can I say? Sometimes the inner tweaker just takes over. And it was delicious. The yoghurt really separates with the oil rimming the edges. Depending on your preference you can stir it back into the dish before serving, or try and serve the pieces while catching as little oil as possible. Remember though that the oil serves as a vehicle to disperse the spices, so a lot of the flavor of the dish is in there.

The accompaniment for this is obvious: Kashmiri pulao of course. What was that? You don't have a recipe for that? Oh my goodness, I just might have to scratch around a bit and see if I can dig up mine again...

Suppose you have an Oreo cookie and a chocolate brownie. The Oreo is nice enough, right? Stuffing in the middle, chocolatey biscuit on the outside. But then you have the rich lush gooey, melt-in-your-mouth, sweet-behind-your-ears total yumminess of a good brownie. Can you picture that? (More importantly, can you taste that?)

Now, you might prefer Oreos, or you might be a brownie addict; whichever it is, you will agree that you cannot (and should not) call an Oreo cookie a brownie.

Good. Having got that straight, here's my problem with bhatura. The bhatura recipes that I have result in delicious-tasting stuff, but it is not bhatura. For me, bhatura are thicker and more "doughy" or "spongy" than puri (and in most cases much larger, but that is an externally controllable factor).

The recipe I use however results in a very crisp and brittle end-result. It is not doughy at all, and it bends only a little, so it is not easy to eat chole with it. It tastes very nice, but it is not the delicious full-bodied hotel bhatura that I crave.

I think part of the problem is that I have never actually cooked with a North Indian in the kitchen. I've cooked with lots of Telugu women obviously, some Tamilians and a few Kannadigas, but no-one from the north. I've never first-hand seen the dough, touched it to feel its texture and elasticity so that I can strive to reproduce it.

And then I am using the recipe of a southerner to boot! Most of us know and love the series of small books by Mrs. S. Mallika Badrinath. Most of her recipes are great basic jump-off points for all sorts of South Indian food. I personally use this particular book, "Tiffin Varieties" for many of its other recipes. But its bhatura recipe just does not yield bhatura.

So I am appealing to all of you out there in the blogosphere: please take pity on this poor confused woman, and tell me how to make those delicious spongy bhaturas! I will even do a mini "Bhatura Roundup" if you post them on your blogs; if you've posted a great recipe in the past, post the link to that to me.

This is not an event, it is sheer desperation, but I do want to acknowledge anyone who takes the time to help me out.

Below is the recipe from "Tiffin Varieties" that I am currently using. Try it - it is really very tasty - it should just be called something else!

Bhatura - III
2 heaped cups maida
3 pinches cooking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1.5 tsp oil
- blended together

1/2 cup thick curds
1/4 cup milk
- mixed

Knead liquid into dough. If necessary add more milk.
Keep closed for 2-3 hours

My husband has strong opinions about okra (lady's fingers): it should never have the slightest hint of sliminess. I can understand that, and I agree, but he is ever so slightly fanatic about it. He is very - shall we say "careful" - about eating any dishes with this in it. His favorite way (read "just about the only way he likes it") is sliced thinly and dry fried.

So, when about ten years ago I decided to try this recipe from Premila Lal's "Indian Cooking" he was really hesitant, but he wanted to be supportive of my early cooking experiments. Then, about halfway through this recipe it looks as if it is never going to work, and you start wondering whether you should order pizza delivery instead.

But then, all of a sudden, everything just comes together, and you realize that you have an exceptional dish here. Here's the basic concept: you make a rich gravy from ground onions and yogurt, to which you add fried whole young lady's fingers. If you follow the steps carefully in the right sequence, you will end with a delectable meal that will have everyone asking you for the recipe!