Servings
6 servings
Region
Odisha
Community
Chakotia Bhunjia tribe
Category
Main Course
Readers’ response to my food blogs confirms what I had long suspected: my talents may be better suited to culinary affairs than to creative writing! Whenever I fancy myself as a chef, create a dish, and share my undisguised delight with select readers, those who never bother to even acknowledge my blogs on assorted subjects (myths, epics, nature, travelogue, etc.), not even with an emoji, generously shower praise and offer brief or not-so-brief comments.
After reading my mahua recipes, a reader asked, ‘I thought it makes desi daru; how do you know that mahua flower is edible?’ How could I not know, since I spent my childhood in Khuntpali, a small village in western Odisha where everyone knew all about mahua, nature’s bounty providing food, fodder, and fuel?
I knew of mahua liqour, toddy, and ganja sold at Shundhi ghar (house), the village bar where the tipplers sat on their haunches in the open courtyard, and of the incorrigible alcoholic Manbodh Seth, a fisherman who had his house in front of ours. After his morning catch, he headed straight for Shundhi ghar while his wife Uma handled the sales, home and hearth, and their many children. When he returned home stone drunk, Parvati berated him for wasting all his income on booze upon which Manbodh showered choicest, unprintable abuses on her, and often resorted to violence. A few others (Kanidhamna’s sons Ghasia and Baragulia) also drank daru, mostly on festivals like Puspuni (Pausa Purnima), but there wasn’t another like Manbodh, his elder brother and neighbour Purna being a teetotaler.
Mahul, the name for mahua in Sambalpuri/Odia, was gathered, sun-dried, and stored in every home, and while it was mostly used as cattle-feed, every housewife knew how to make chakel, podapitha (for which the village potter made telen- a clay cooking-pot with a thicker gauge and highly polished to ensure the baked podapitha didn’t stick to the pot when scooped out), kakra and other delicacies with mahul as a sweet, nutrition supplement, particularly in the lean season. Chandrashekhar Sahu from Nagenpali near Bargarh, and my classmate in George High School recalled that mahul sijha (dried mahul boiled with a little gud) was easy to make and a popular delicacy.
Our village home was filled with the sweet fragrance of mahua flowers during March to June, the floral notes changing with the various stages of processing – fresh, pale-yellow, soft flowers to semi-dried to fully-dried. The fruits (tol or tori) arrived during Jun-Jul, heaped in a corner of the open courtyard, seeds separated from the outer cover, broken one by one with a piece of stone by a little group of women and children, after which the inner shells were ready to go to the teli who would cold-press it with his traditional wooden ghana or oil-expeller moved by a bullock or a pair.
Mandia Tikhri
Yesterday, on my request Sanjukta made mandia[i] tikhri (that’s the name in Sambalpuri/Odia); you may call it ragi pudding, though it is more a soft, flat cake than a pudding. I was not sure she’d like my idea of a fusion dessert, so I kept it to myself, and when she was finishing the dish after sweating for more than thirty minutes in the kitchen (no AC there!), I requested her to lend me a portion for my unique dessert: Mandia Tikhri with Mahul. No longer surprised with my crazy inspirations, she hid her frown well while ladling out a portion on a flat bone-china plate on which I had put a bed of moist mahua flowers, which now lay buried under the hot thick tikhri and would be cooked just right while cooling. After cooling, I put it in the fridge, and after a few hours cut slices and plated.
Here’s what I got:
Front-view
Back-view, after flipping
Plating (Chef needs to improve his skill!)
Serving Idea (Can be more artfully served!)
Sanjukta’s Recipe
I have never made mandia tikhri myself since Sanjukta makes it so very well, and generally prohibits me from entering her kitchen. On my request, she shared the recipe. Next time, I can make it on my own, I guess.
Ingredients:
| Ingredients | Quantity |
|---|---|
| Mandia (Ragi) powder | 200 gm |
| Milk | 1 ltr |
| Gud | 100 to 200 gms, as per preference |
| Assorted dry fruits | cashew, pista, kismis – 100 gm |
| Elaichi powder | A tea-spoonful or less |
Procedure-
- Soak mandia powder in 2 cups of water for 4 to 5 hrs and then drain the excess water
- Boil the milk, add gud, let the gud mix well with no lumps left
- Put flame to medium
- Add ragi slowly, and keep stirring to make sure no lumps form at the base
- Cook for 20 to 25 mins, keep stirring
- Add dry fruits and cook for 10 mins, still stirring.
- Add elaichi powder
- Once the mix is thick (not too thick) and easy to pour onto a plate, it is ready
- Grease with a little ghee a steel plate with rim, or a glass bowl to have the pudding about half-inch thick
- Pour the tikhri or spread it evenly with the ladle
- Allow it to cool
- Put it in the fridge (not deep-fridger!) for 2 hrs
- Cut it in squares, rounds, triangles, or strips as per your plating and serving preference.
- Best served a little chilled. Even at room temperature, it’s fine.
- Stays good in the fridge for 2-3 days; you may cut it into pieces and store it in a glass or plastic box.
- Enjoy!
Note (in case you’re lactose intolerant, and prefer a healthy, lightly sweet pudding): Mandia Tikhri, often made without milk and dry fruits, also tastes great, and looks better – a shining rich brown – bringing out the natural hues of ragi and gud. Visually more appealing, in my view.
About The Author
Prasanna K. Dash
Prasanna K. Dash is an author of eleven books including short story collections, poems, essays, and stories for children. Some of his notable books are – Tell a Tale and Other Stories, Invisible Poet and Other Stories, The Mysterious Ladies and Other Stories, Kathapur Tales, River Song, O Krishna, O Son: Yashoda’s Sublime Song of Sorrow. ‘Treasures of Lakshmi: The Goddess Who Gives’, Edited by Namita Gokhale & Malashri Lal includes a piece by Prasanna Dash.
