Cherries of the night are riper
Than the cherries pluckt at noon
Gather to your fairy piper
When he pipes his magic tune:
Merry, merry,
Take a cherry;
Mine are sounder,
Mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter
For the eater
Under the moon.
— ‘Cherry-Time’ by Robert Graves
We drove up to Puranikoti near Mashobra, an hour beyond Shimla, for the most relaxing three-day weekend imaginable. The weather was perfect, bright and clear in the day, and cold and crisp when we were safely snug in bed. Nature was good, but man was better — we were a group of such old friends, with such similar beliefs, that even the then impending election caused no conflict. On the contrary, it was a time when we could all breathe easy, confident of basic agreement.
The only arguments were about where to head for a walk, whether the parathas at breakfast should be filled with potatoes or cauliflower, whether they should be spread with one spoon of butter or two, if the sun had set could it be considered sundown or was it better to wait for darkness, and whether, if kababs were eaten now, they would affect our appetite for dinner.
The crucial issues had been resolved earlier: politics decades ago and the menu weeks before. Emails were written and a WhatsApp group started, with food and drink the prime focus. Hundreds of messages flew back and forth, with much volunteering and details. The menu for three days was finalised and while those of us driving or flying in carried what we could, Deepak and Dhanu, our hosts, organised everything, from local vegetables and fresh trout from Barot right down to tea leaves of different origins.
Navel gazing
The idea of a picnic was mooted but shot down, because for us plainspeople, the home itself, Inaayat, was picnic enough. Going into “town” (Shimla?) was suggested, and no one reacted to it. So while some eager beavers did strenuous 10 or 15 kilometre walks up and down, some of us just sat there and contemplated our navels.
People brought mutton and chicken curries, stuffed parwal, dhokar dalna , kababs , bread, cheeses, chocolates, jams, pickles, crisp savoury nibbles, khasta kachori, miniature quiches, fruit... the list is endless, but then we were 13 people with no other aim but indulgence. And I know that a few dishes don’t make a meal and a memorable few days. Deepak had anticipated every minute comfort, and the larder and cellar of Inaayat picked up all the slack. A table d’hôte had been tacked up on the kitchen wall.
On popular request, one lunch was made up of khichri, laden with so much hot ghee that the khichri itself squelched fatly at the bottom of the tureen, as if in a well of molten ghee. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was an accompanying bowl of crushed dry red chillies fried in more ghee. And another, of cold ghee, which One Person ate with a spoon and later forgot about, so that later when They had no appetite for dinner They blamed the wine. Another house favourite was kadhi, simmered for hours the day before, so the spices and aromatics had infused its every ladleful.
There was so much over-provision that when the hordes departed, Dhanu was left not just stripping beds and organising laundry, but deploying the detritus of the visiting hogs: kilos of vegetables and namkeens and mithai and 13 frozen trout! This was after we had already dined — I don’t know how they had calculated how much to procure. One night we had had grilled trout for dinner, accompanied by crunchy walnut bread, and a crisp, colourful salad of lettuce, cherry tomatoes, celery and herbed feta cheese marinated in olive oil. Utpala, the Mistress of Spices, supervised the cooking of the fish and I learnt from her how to do it.
Cherry quest
There were desserts at Inaayat, but desserts don’t mean as much to me as cherries do. On the way up we kept a lookout for them, and for peaches and plums, even though it was too early for stone fruit. Early June is when they make an appearance, and the end of the Solan bypass is usually a good place to find stalls. Four days later on the way down, though, we saw several stalls selling cherries in different stages of ripeness. I tasted all — the yellowish pink, the red, and the maroon. They were fresh, yes, but so tart that they were difficult to eat.
Yesterday, I bought some in Delhi, and they were marginally sweeter, but not yet the best. So I made clafoutis. Clafoutis, reputed to be originally from the Limousin region of France, is basically a plain sponge batter baked in a layer on top of pitted cherries. It looks very posh, but is easy to make and so sturdy that one can’t really go wrong. This dessert is only a small cherry on the top — the abiding sense of the trip is of sweetness, the luxurious comfort of real friends and shared history.
SUNDAY RECIPE
Cherry clafoutis
Serves 8
Cherry clafoutis
Ingredients
Sponge batter
4 eggs
100 g sugar
1 tsp vanilla essence
¼ tsp salt
1 tbsp dark rum
100 g all-purpose flour
350 ml milk
400g cherries, stoned
Oval oven-proof dish, about 13 x 6 inches
1 tbsp softened butter for greasing
1–2 tsp icing sugar for decoration
Method
1. Preheat oven to 180°C (350°F).
2. Beat eggs and sugar until frothy. Add vanilla, salt and rum. Stir in flour with a whisk, and, when well combined, stir in milk.
3. Grease dish with butter and spread cherries on bottom. Top with sponge batter and bake for 40-45 minutes, until toothpick inserted in centre comes out clean. Dredge with icing sugar and serve hot or at room temperature.
4. Cherries are the traditional filling, but ripe plums or peaches can be used too.
Grilled Trout
Serves 3
Grilled trout
Ingredients
2 trout, cleaned and gutted, about 400 g each
Juice of 2 limes, 1–2 tbsp
1 tsp salt
1 tsp powdered sugar
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp butter
Pepper, freshly cracked
Method
1. Wash the trout well, inside and out. I use detergent but am careful to wash off all traces. Stand edgewise in a colander and drain. Wipe dry. Cut long diagonal gashes into fish, about 3 on each side.
2. Stir together lime juice, salt and sugar, until salt and sugar dissolve. Rub mixture inside cavity of fish and on the outside. Keep flat, refrigerated and covered, for about 2-3 hours.
3. In a shallow grill-pan large enough to fit the fish, heat oil till very hot but not smoking. Gently place fish in pan and add butter around the fish. Keep on high heat.
4. When the underside has browned, flip over gently. Keep on high heat till the second side has browned. Each side will take about 5 minutes.
5. The skin will turn crisp and the meat flaky and white. Check by piercing the thickest part with the tip of a knife. If the fish is undercooked, cover with a large lid and cook for a couple of minutes. Crack pepper over, and serve hot.
From the once-forbidden joy of eggs to the ingratitude of guests, the writer reflects on every association with food. vasundharachauhan9@gmail.com
