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| Cardamom and saffron-laced Shrikhand |
Yoghurt is one of the oldest foods in human history.
Supposedly originating in Central Asia, it has been mentioned in ancient
Ayurvedic and Persian texts, and written about by Roman philosopher Pliny the
Elder and medieval Turkish intellectuals. Cultures from Greece and Central Asia
through to the Indian Subcontinent incorporate yoghurt into their cuisines, be
it cooked into dishes, prepared as a soup, or served alongside meals; many
cultures still enjoy yoghurt-based drinks for their refreshing taste and digestive
properties.
Back when we were children, I
remember my mother making fresh yoghurt almost every night; she would place a
stainless steel bowl of cultured milk to set in the boiler cupboard each night
before bed. As the years went by she grew lazy, and fresh yoghurt was replaced
with shop-bought fat-free natural yoghurt. This never bothered me because I
cannot say that I was the biggest fan of yoghurt as a child, always preferring
milk or ice cream. Yoghurt was too sour, regardless of what preparation it was
being used for. My sister on the other hand loved yoghurt, and I would watch
with distaste as she took second helpings of the warm yoghurt soup kadhi,
and dropped large dollops of thick yoghurt onto her rice.
It was on my extended trip to
India last year that I began to appreciate yoghurt. Having spent four months
there in order to complete a clinical placement for my Ayurvedic studies, I was
fortunate enough to travel up and down the country sampling the different
gastronomic delights. Starting in the South, at a dusty town between Bangalore
and Mangalore, I savoured the cool yet spicy tang of curd rice, and found
surprising comfort in freshly prepared yoghurt that was rich and unctuous with
a thick layer of cream on top. In Gujarat I discovered shrikhand, a dense
strained yoghurt sweetened with rock candy and flavoured with saffron,
cardamom, and pistachio. It was intensely addictive stuff, a kind that I had
never tasted before, almost a cross between Italian gelato and mousse. Of the
few that I had tried back home, all had this terribly sharp tang to them that
did not agree with my palette. And then there was Delhi, my beloved Delhi… I
could not get enough of the sweet lassi from Kamla Nagar. It was thick and
creamy, but still thirst quenching and light, with electric crimson rose syrup
at the bottom of the gigantic plastic cup and a generous layer of crunchy
clotted cream on top. I always rewarded myself after channa masala and kulcha
with two helpings.
I managed to spend a little time
with relatives in Jamnagar and Mumbai before my departure, and observed an
almost obsessive fastidiousness around the preparation of yoghurt and mealtime
lassis. Each culture, indeed each individual, has their own taste preferences:
Iranians prefer sour yoghurt, allowing it to set for at least 24 hours to
achieve the desired level of sharpness. In contrast, most Indians prefer a
milder, creamier yoghurt and allow between 4 to 12 hours for it to set,
depending on the season. I remember my cousin in Mumbai shouting at her maid
around lunchtime to enquire if the morning’s preparation of yoghurt had been
placed in the refrigerator. I had not understood why at the time. My aunt,
incidentally my cousin’s mother, in Jamnagar had been obsessive about hygiene
surrounding her own yoghurt, and lassi had to be prepared in a very particular,
rather rigorous way for the lunchtime meal.
In India, the Ayurvedic view of yoghurt
has only somewhat prevailed amongst its people. Contrary to popular opinion,
yoghurt is viewed as a heating food due to its sour taste and fermentation
process of production. It is often considered heavy to digest, and should only
be consumed in the colder months when digestion power is strong, never to be
eaten at night or on a daily basis by way of its heavy qualities. It increases
fat, and strengthens both the sperm and the body in general. Therapeutically,
yoghurt has been prescribed for anorexia, irritable bowel syndrome, and urinary
tract infections, whilst its improper consumption can lead to fever, skin
diseases, and anaemia. However, certain
foods possess qualities that balance those of yoghurt, making it more agreeable
to the body and the digestive system. These include mung bean soup, ghee,
honey, unrefined sugar, and amla (Indian gooseberries).
Rediscovering Shrikhand
Rediscovering Shrikhand
Shrikhand is mainly eaten as a
dessert around the winter months in the Indian states of Gujarat and
Maharashtra. At celebratory gatherings and social dinners it is served
garnished with bright green ground pistachio, rose petals, and silver leaf.
Unrefined sugar is used to lightly sweeten the yoghurt, and cooling,
blood-purifying saffron is added alongside mucous-mitigating cardamom for an
overall balanced sweet. The yoghurt is strained to remove all the liquid whey
and to produce that luxurious texture. The name itself poses some interesting
questions. Initially, because I was studying Farsi, I thought that the dish had
its origins in Persia: shir is the Farsi word for milk, and qand
is sugar. However, upon commencing my Ayurvedic studies, we had to take one module in
Sanskrit, and there I learnt that kshīr was also the Sanskrit word for
milk, with khānd meaning unrefined sugar. The prevalence of shrikhand
centres on Gujarat, a northwestern state close to Rajasthan and Sindh, and
where the Zoroastrians first settled centuries ago. Although strained yoghurt
recipes abound throughout western, central, and southern Asia, it has been
difficult locating any recipes similar to shrikhand outside of India.
Having delighted in the tah dig
crust with a little too much gusto, my friend declined dessert, and I only
tried the shrikhand the next morning. Memories came flooding back. Delights to
the senses in Gujarat: the biting chill of the morning shade, cows cleaning
each other in the sun, the scents of freshly fried jalebis and gaathiya
coming from the bottom of the street, and strong masala chai wafting from the
kitchen. It was delicate, silky, and delicious! This one had been made with the
addition of fresh mango pieces, adding bursts of tangy sweetness to each
mouthful. Despite my attempts to savour the glory for as long as possible with
only two spoonfulls a day, by the third day I caved in and polished off the whole lot in one sitting.
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| Cows in love in Jamnagar, Gujarat |
Naturally, I set off to make my
own. Strained yoghurt could not possibly be that difficult. So I purchased a
tub of natural yoghurt from the local Turkish shop, poured it into a
muslin-lined colander, tied it up into a bundle, and set it over a bowl for the
liquid to drip away. A few hours later, I added some sugar, the required spices, and mixed well. Whilst the texture was acceptable,
the taste was completely off. Just like the ones I had tasted in my youth, this
shrikhand had that terrible sharpness that resulted in a mild smarting sensation on my tongue. Highly dissatisfied, I relayed the story to my friend and asked her advice. She informed me that her mother only used home made yoghurt to make shrikhand, and I
was instructed to allow it to strain in the fridge overnight. I had kept mine
on the kitchen table as I cooked dinner, so the surrounding heat must have
contributed to the yoghurt becoming increasingly sour.
Although I had put it off for a
couple of weeks, I was determined to make the perfect shrikhand. I sent my
cousin in Mumbai a message to enquire over her secrets for the best yoghurt. As
standard, I was to boil the milk, allow it to cool, and then mix in a little
amount of starter culture before placing it in a warm place
to set. But here was the trick. For the mildest, creamiest yoghurt, it had to
be carefully observed. As soon as the mixture came away from the sides of the
bowl, and a thin liquid had developed over the top, your yoghurt had set, and it had to be put straight
into the fridge to stop it from souring any further. So here is what I did:
Homemade Yoghurt
Ingredients:
1½ pints full fat organic, unhomogenised milk
1 Tbl Yoghurt
·
Preheat the oven to about 50°C.
·
Pour the milk into a large saucepan and bring to a
rolling boil over a medium-low heat. Make sure to stir the bottom regularly to
prevent any milk solids from sticking to the bottom of the pan. This process should take about 15 – 20 minutes.
·
Once boiled, take off the stove and allow to cool. At
this point, the milk can be transferred to a container of your choice. When a
finger can be immersed in the milk comfortably for 20 seconds, the milk has been
sufficiently cooled. A thick layer of cream will have developed over the milk.
·
Add the yoghurt and whisk well to make sure it has been evenly dispersed.
·
Place the container in the oven and immediately turn it off. In
about 3 – 5 hours, the set yoghurt will be coming away from the sides of its
container, and a thin film of liquid will be visible over the top. Transfer the
container to the fridge right away.
This method produces the most
creamiest, sweetest yoghurt I have ever tasted outside of India, with the cream
on top adding a layer of luxury. It is actually impossible to find anything even remotely similar in the shops, be it organic, fresh from the cow's udders, or made by devoted, golden hued farmers in Crete. Using this batch of yoghurt to produce your
next will only enhance
the quality of the yoghurt, so I am always careful to keep a couple of
tablespoons back to use as starter culture.
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| My home made yoghurt, complete with the layer of cream on top, courtesy of unhomogenised milk |
With the yoghurt perfected, it
was round two with the shrikhand. This time I made sure to allow the yoghurt to
strain in the fridge overnight, keeping a heavy weight over it. Sure enough, by
the morning I was left with strained yoghurt that had an almost solid consistency.
To this I added saffron rock candy that I had found at an Iranian shop nearby (nabat),
and cardamom. I mixed it well, trying to whip some air into it, and finally
sprinkled ground almonds and pistachios on top. And then to taste…
Yes! I found myself back in
Gujarat.
Shrikhand
(serves 2)
Ingredients:
250g homemade yoghurt
2 – 4 Tbls icing sugar, or ground
rock candy
3 – 5 cardamom pods, seeds
removed and ground to a powder
Pinch of saffron
2 Tbls pistachios, ground to a
powder
2 Tbls almonds, ground to a
powder
·
Pour the yoghurt into a colander lined with muslin and
pull up the sides of the cloth to tie into a tight bundle. Place the colander
over a bowl. A plate can be placed on top with a weight, such as a pestle and
mortar or a can of chopped tomatoes. Alternatively, the bundle can be hung and
suspended over a bowl, as is the traditional method.
·
Allow the yoghurt to strain for a good few hours in the
fridge, or overnight, until all the liquid has been drained. Squeeze tightly before
use.
·
Put the strained yoghurt into a bowl and add the
powdered sugar and spices. Mix well, whipping gently for a few minutes.
·
Taste and adjust the sugar if required.
·
Before serving, sprinkle with ground nuts and dried
rose petals. Dried and fresh fruits can also be stirred into the shrikhand for
flavour and texture.
NB: The drained liquid whey does
not need to be thrown away, and can be used in soups, cooking, and especially
in baking and bread making.
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| My own perfected Shrikhand |
