Meera Sodha’s vegan recipe for tarka dal

There’s a lot to love about ceramicist Maham Anjum. Her hands that move with well-practised grace on her pottery wheel, moulding large, unfriendly-looking boulders of clay into elegant bowls and biryani pots. Her rickety, wooden studio in the midst of an overgrown garden that’s filled in summer with hollyhocks, butterflies and a curious little fox.

Her work, of course, out of which we ate this heavenly dal. And the manner in which she introduced it: ‘I just put it all in a pot and stir it.’ It’s that simple, and now it is one of my favourite things to make and eat most weeks.
Maham’s dal

This dal, which has been photographed in one of Maham’s handmade bowls, is made with the very quick-cooking mung dal, which are the de-husked, split yellow insides of green mung beans – look for it in big supermarkets or Asian food shops. Since this recipe was first published in East, I’ve adapted it by cooking out the tomatoes and garlic first, though Maham just throws them into the pot with everything else.

Prep 10 min
Cook 45 min
Serves 4

Rapeseed oil
3 fat garlic cloves, peeled and minced
2.5cm piece fresh ginger, peeled and grated
250g vine tomatoes, (ie, 3 medium ones), chopped
300g mung dal
½ tsp turmeric
1 tsp chilli flakes
12 fresh curry leaves
1½ tsp salt
1 tsp cumin seeds
½ tsp black mustard seeds
1 green finger chilli, very finely chopped
1 handful fresh coriander, roughly chopped, to serve

In a large saucepan, heat two tablespoons of oil over a medium heat and, when hot, add the garlic and ginger, and cook for three minutes, until they turn a pale shade of gold. Add the tomatoes, cook for five to six minutes, then add the dal, turmeric, chilli flakes, four of the curry leaves and a litre and a quarter of water. Put a cocked lid on top of the pan and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat to a simmer, leave the dal to cook, stirring every now and then, for 30-40 minutes, until soft and fairly thick, then stir in the salt.

When the dal is nearly cooked, make the tarka. Heat two tablespoons of oil in a small frying pan over a medium heat and, when it’s smoking hot, add the cumin seeds, mustard seeds, green chilli and remaining eight curry leaves. When the leaves crisp up and the seeds crackle, which should happen within the first minute, take the tarka off the heat and pour into the dal. Stir to mix, sprinkle over the coriander and serve with freshly steamed basmati rice.

Meera Sodha’s vegan recipe for parsnip and carrot mulligatawny soup

The first time I ate mulligatawny, I was being watched by a man called Rudolph who was wearing stockings. In fairness to him, he was meant to be waiting the whole dining room at the hotel Windamere in Darjeeling, but I happened to be the only diner in it and the stockings were part of his “heritage British Raj” outfit.

So that we didn’t both feel awkward, I commented on the soup he’d brought in – “Tastes like it’s 200 years old” – and he smiled, probably out of courtesy. But I meant it. This heirloom of a recipe, which outdates any written records I have for my own family, tasted as if it could have only originated from some homesick Brit wanting a taste of home, but cooked for by Indian chefs. Not quite as soul-soothing, brave and committedly Indian as a dal, say, but still warming and elegant enough to sup with a silver spoon.

Although there are a thousand variations of the mythological mulligatawny, there are some things that most agree on: that it is made using a base of India’s finest trio – onions, ginger and garlic – with vegetables, spices (usually coriander and cumin) and red lentils, to thicken.

I have stayed true to that base here, but I’ve adapted it slightly to make it more homely. I’ve left it unblended, so the end result is more dal than soup, added some autumnal British roots for heft, and thrown on some parsnip crisps, which can be made while the mulligatawny cooks to make the overall experience more “busy kitchen” than “empty dining room”.

Parsnip and carrot mulligatawny
This hits the spot that a lot of soups fail to, in that it will fill you up, but if you’re sceptical, you could eat it (as many used to) with boiled rice spooned in for good measure. If you’re happy to multitask, make the crisps while the soup simmers. And do check that your vegetable stock is vegan-friendly: some contain lactose. Serves four.

3 tbsp rapeseed oil
1 large brown onion, peeled and diced
4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
3cm ginger, peeled and grated
1 green finger chilli, very finely chopped
2 carrots (250g), peeled and cut into 1cm cubes
2 parsnips (250g), peeled and cut into 1cm cubes
1 tsp ground cumin
1 ½ tsp ground coriander
150g red lentils, washed and drained
1¼ litres vegetable stock
Salt

For the parsnip crisps
1 parsnip
1 ½ tbsp rapeseed oil

Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Heat the oil in a deep-sided pan over a medium flame, then fry the onion for five minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent. Add the garlic, ginger and green chilli, stir-fry for a couple of minutes, then add the carrots and parsnips, and cook for six to eight minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions are sticky. Add a little water if the mixture is too dry, then add the cumin and coriander, stir for a minute, then add the drained lentils, stock and a quarter-teaspoon of salt. Stir, bring the mixture up to a boil, then turn down the heat to a whisper and simmer for 15 minutes, until the vegetables are tender. (If you’re blending the soup, now is the time to blend it, adding more water if you prefer a thinner consistency.) Season to taste.

For the parsnip crisps, top, tail and peel the parsnip, then use a vegetable peeler to shave off the flesh in long, thin strips. Lay these on an oven tray and coat with the oil (use your hands), then season, arrange the strips side by side on the tray and bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until pale gold and crisp.

To serve, ladle the soup into bowls and top each portion with a generous handful of the parsnip crisps.