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The Midnight Meals Series: Dadpe Pohe

By Aakash Karkare


Most of us have at some point in our lives been regaled by stories of the struggle involved in the poverty-ridden and deprivation-stricken childhoods of our parents. Often these memories are linked with the kitchen and food. One of my favourite literary depictions of this kind of parental sharing appears in The Adventures of Dennis by Soviet children’s author Viktor Dragunsky. In the children short story collection, the titular character’s father vividly recounts to his children the taste of the juicy flesh of the watermelon slice he had enjoyed from the street after one had exploded on the ground after falling off a goods truck passing by during a famine in Soviet Russia.


Interesting side note: The Adventures of Dennis was published by Raduga Publishers, I think, and in the 1950s at the height of the cold war when the US and Russia were angling for soft power in India was part of a slew of Soviet-era books that became popular in this country. As recently as 2016, The Adventures of Dennis was translated into Marathi and Hindi from the original Russian for the first time. On Amazon the English version is no longer available but Marathi and Hindi versions are. Some say it is because the Russian tales seemed closer to Indian realities than more Western imports particular in its depictions of deprivation, familiar relationships and relationships to food.


Tales of a similar nature were oft-recounted in my own home. Serveral were sights I had observed as a kid only to later realise were part of this grand narrative tradition of Indian parent such as taking off the cream stuck to the side of the patela (or tapela or bartan or what-have-you) of milk before it was licked off the tip of a finger. 


I have often come to think it is only when there is deprivation that food tastes best. No mango has ever been more delicious than when I was a young boy and got access to one, maybe two at most crates of mangoes during the entire summer. No Cadbury more precious than the one I got from the occasional ten rupees I sneaked out of the grocery budget. 


Which is why I have such a fondness for Dadpe Pohe - a hearty meal composed of oil, onions, poha and whatever fresh items one might have at hand. Even though I was never fond of pohe while growing up, this is a meal I frequently return to when I have all the fresh ingredients at hand and I am hankering for a spicy, crunchy, multi-textured meal in the late night hours. The oil coating the dry poha and the bite of the raw onion and cruncy peanut is enough to send me to food nirvana.



Dadpe Pohe

Cooking Time: Half a podcast or two pop songs



Ingredients

Poha (handful or as hungry as you feel) 

Grated Coconut (Depends on the mood but so much that every bite contains a few slivers)

Lime Juice (Enough to soak the poha but not make it totally drenched)

Onions (based on quantity of poha and depending on personal taste but as finely chopped as you can make it)

Green Chilli (finely chopped into thin round slivers)

Garlic (if you like it but not part of the traditional recipe)

Salt to taste

Red Chilli Powder to give a bite

Curry Leaves (one or two stems worth)

Peanuts (about a handful and more if you are not minding calories)

Hing 

Turmeric

Cumin Seeds Mustard seeds 

Coriander (this is also a recipe to use up all your coriander before it goes bad)



Two-minute version

Now since this was a midnight meal my father made for himself to go with late night TV viewing after coming home from work he just mixed whatever ingredients he could find into a bowl. There were no fancy ingredients and elaborate preparations. Usually this was oil, onions, lime juice, salt, chilli powder and poha and mixed together for as long as he had the patience for it. 


Gourmet version:

Dry roast the poha then mix it with lime juice, a teaspoon of oil, onions, grated coconut and salt. Let it rest for ten minutes if you have the patience or one or two minutes at least. “Dadap” in Marathi I think is meant to mean to press down so keep something heavy on the poha while it rests in these various juices and flavors. Make a phodni or tadka or chonk with cumin, mustard, curry leaves, green chilli, red chilli powder, hing and turmeric. Fry the garlic and peanuts separately so they don’t burn. Mix all these together and voila you have yourself a fiery, crunchy, satisfying and more-ish midnight meal to wash down with a glass of cold water (or a cold beer if you are feeling groovy).


Additional tips for taste:

Although I never do so people do add a sprinkling of nylon sev and pomegranate and jaggery and sometimes even mirgunda ( a papad made from poha but that would be like stuffing chicken with more chicken so I refrain).


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