One summer, it was just me and my dad in India. We made our typical visits to family in Delhi, Chandigarh, and our village Bhikhi. And then he took me to several famous Hindu temples — a pilgrimage of sorts. His father, my grandfather, was famous in our family for making these trips to clear his mind and to come back with interesting recipes. I was a young adult and fought the idea of spending time on a religious excursion. I fumed about each spot that kept me from my newfound infatuation — clubbing in Delhi with a budding runway model. I know, I know. You just cannot make this up, and I promise that I'm not.
As we trekked high up into mountainous territory with a driver and my uncle, I grumbled, what now? And then we began the slow, winding climb higher and higher — until we were seemingly sucked into the clouds themselves. The air was clear and crisp, and suddenly everything looked brighter, more in focus. There were orange-robed, lean men, young and old, silently walking all around. Some prayed. Others cooked.
That night, they seated us in a tent for our first meal. It was as simple as it gets. A stack of rotis (flatbread) and Aloo Gobi (Cauliflower and Potato sabzi). I sat uncomfortably cross-legged on the floor like everyone else and nodded for them to ladle the food onto my stainless steel thali. I was a little irritated about how simple this meal was — would it be enough? But then I began eating. I pulled off a large piece of roti, scooped up the sabzi, and stuffed it into my mouth. I remember sitting, stunned, not wanting to reveal to my dad that he may have been right to visit this remote hilltop.
The food memory is seared into my mind and taste buds — the Aloo Gobi was perfectly cooked, not mushy, not tough. It was spiced so perfectly — at first simply fragrant, and then the heat chased that bite to sit on the back of my tongue. Balance. It was about balance. And, the dish was so perfectly dry. Zero water. Zero extra moisture. No tomatoes. Like I said, NO tomatoes.
Whatever moisture there was came simply from the vegetables themselves. I hope I've done my food memory justice with this recipe — I think I have. It's made exactly how Punjabi Aloo Gobi should be made and served — dry and fiery with tons of flavor. Make up your own stack of rotis to witness that magical combination. That day in India, I must have eaten ten rotis in one sitting. Let me know what you think.
xoxo Anupy
Not a curry (gravy), sabzi is a dish in Indian cuisine that is dry with little to no moisture. Typically vegetables, these dishes can encompass anything from okra to eggplant, and even watermelon rind! The last one was made famous in our family by my grandmother on my father's side. That story and recipe are for another time, but what you want to keep in mind here is that these dishes are very dry and rely on the natural moisture in the vegetables themselves. Some recipes do call for tomatoes, but for me, I prefer not to add tomatoes to my dishes — it's more authentically Punjabi to keep it as dry as possible.
If you want to give this recipe a try without investing a lot in ingredients, consider one of our spice kits! Each contains the exact spices you need for classic Indian recipes, including Aloo Gobi! Just purchase the fresh ingredients, and the rest is EASY AS PIE!
Makes: 4 cups
Prep: 10 minutes
Cook: 27 minutes
Total: 37 minutes
[[ recipeID=recipe-8ln1ujehf, title=Punjabi Aloo Gobi ]]
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by Anupy Singla, Indian As Apple Pie.
Servings: 4 cups
Keywords: Punjabi Aloo Gobi, punjabi, aloo gobi, cauliflower
This recipe is by Anupy Singla, founder of Indian As Apple Pie. If you share or copy this recipe, we’d greatly appreciate it if you let others know where you found it!
