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.

Back when Angel Face was two years old (she just turned seven on Saturday!), she was in tears one day when picked up from daycare. One of the kids there had white-gold hair that shone in the light, and some truly remarkable large bright blue eyes. After some probing, it turned out that several people had come to visit the daycare that day, and every single one of them had made a big fuss about this boy's beautiful blue eyes. And Angel Face was crying her heart out because she only had "ugly brown eyes."

With a lot of gentle discussion, she was made to see that she was extra-special, because she had "chocolate eyes," and chocolate is the yummiest thing on earth; she ended up being thoroughly consoled by this. To this day, if you ask her what color her eyes are, she would say "chocolate" or perhaps "chocolate brown."

She also happens to be highly intrigued by black-eyed peas for the same reason, and so this recipe was prepared especially for her.

My husband selected the recipe while browsing through Jyothsna's wonderful blog, Curry Bazaar. It is a traditional Punjabi dish, and we played around a little with the cooking method for the pulses, and the spicing. Black-eyed peas are not a staple in our house, but it makes for a wonderful variation in the diet.

One thing that became clear is that the recipe scales really well; we used one cup to feed four people, serving it with rice, a bottle gourd curry, plain curds and some avakayi.

Well, the blog's name is Hunger Pangs and hunger pangs are indeed what we were suffering last night. I had to work late last night, and 6 p.m. the phone rang at my desk.

Me (after checking the incoming number on caller ID): "Hello darling."
Him (sounding forlorn): "Still working, hmm? Any idea how long it will still be?"
Me (in a tired voice): "I still have a few things to finish up; hopefully not too long now."
Him (sounding desperately hungry): "Any ideas for supper?"

Which is when Rajitha came to the rescue! I had just commented on her blog earlier that day, and had been working on an idea in my head (inspired by her entry) on the Gujurati restaurants I've been to that had the best food (you'll have to wait a bit for that post, I am afraid) and so, while desperately thinking what to feed my hungry family, her entry on Dhal Banjari jumped into my mind.

Now, let me tell you, this is a wonderful recipe. I asked my husband to start pressure cooking the dhals, and to take out some frozen corn (that recipe will follow a bit later). This meant that by the time I reached home, the dhal was ready for the rest of the recipe - perfect timing.

We left out the cinnamon stick, and we used whole urad, so after everything simmered together at the end, I used my power stick sparingly - dipping it here and there into the dhal and "zirring" it for just a moment, resulting in a lovely mix of some creamy consistency with still lots of whole urad. Right before removing it from the heat I stirred in some cream (you could use a little rich curd as well) to ensure it was liquidy enough and to give a little richness to the dish.

It was finger-licking good - thanks Rajitha for the rescue and the recipe!

If you are wondering what it is that I served it with (remember the corn?), you will have to keep watching the blog.

Ours is a Telugu household; in short, that means that you cannot speak of a "proper" meal if there is not some rice and some kandi pappu (toor dhal) on the table. There's more to it than that, of course, but those two are a staple requirement.

This version is a very common one, a firm favorite with us, and fortunately extremely easy to make. The short version of the recipe is: Put the dhal and the vegetables in the pressure cooker. Make a tempering. Combine and eat.

There, that wasn't so difficult, was it? As always though there is some art in the composition of the tempering, the detail of the method. That is the piece that is so hard to capture when you are trying to write down the recipe that an experienced cook is demonstrating for you.

I think the biggest tip I can give here is to assemble the bits and pieces for the tempering first, before you even start heating the ghee. I measure out the seeds and the dhals together in a small bowl, and in another I put the broken red chilli and the stripped curry leaves. Then, when I turn on the heat for the ghee, I measure the methi and stand with it in a spoon, waiting for the ghee to reach the right temperature.

Once I start making the tempering, it is only a life-threatening situation that would interrupt me, and then only after I had placed the whole vessel in the sink; I would rather start over than burn the house down!