We counted eight dogs, a cat, a turkey—yes, as in gobble, gobble, gobble—four guineafowl, rabbits, two sheep, a cow and sundry free-running poultry. With a menagerie like that, it was hard to be bored at Georgia Sunshine Village, an aptly named home stay of 10 rooms cradled by the lush farmland of southern Karnataka’s Mandya district.
There was Tyson, the big, black Labrador who took to following us around. Rocko, the gentle once-abandoned Rottweiler, who lives happily ever after with Georgia and Leonard Hatherell, our hosts. Four bossy dachshunds and two frisky Lab-retriever puppies made up the canine brigade. It was enough to keep my five-year old entertained for the 24 hours we spent with the Hatherells, who settled down here, amid rice and corn country, 16 years ago.
The wife and I have always been big on travel. Our most memorable trips were a month-long drive down the Konkan coast, stopping wherever the day ended—under coconut palm or isolated beach; and a three-month round-the-world trip with backpacks. After becoming parents, we travel, just not as much as we once did and certainly not enough by road. The wife is the restless soul, I guess I have become more domesticated, so every now and then she has to cajole me to discard domesticity. After a morning of gentle driving, we tumbled out of the car at the sunshine village, greeted first by a raucous dachshund, who feared we might have brought a dog along to disturb the equanimity of Georgia and Len’s eight-pack.
Within minutes of meeting our welcoming, bustling hosts, it was clear we had a lot in common: dogs and food. We were the only three guests at the home stay, but a generous buffet was rolled out at every meal, made distinct by the fact that it felt and tasted like a home-cooked meal: three vegetables, two meats and sundry salads and accompaniments.
It rapidly became clear that Georgia’s repertoire was vast and hesitation over our culinary proclivities stopped her from trotting out her speciality—pork biryani. “Had I known you ate pork, I would have made it!” she said, explaining how some guests especially requested the great melange of spiced pork and rice.
We had to have the recipe. The wife may be vegetarian, but she knows pork is my favourite meat, and she will go to great lengths to ensure I have it—however infrequent that may now be, after my cardiac blip of 2014. “Will you send us the recipe today?” she asked Georgia, who understandably looked doubtful, since the home stay was scheduled to fill up as soon as we left. But Georgia was a trooper and before we reached Bengaluru, the pork biryani recipe was on my phone, via SMS.
Georgia emphasized that the key to the biryani—more of a pulao, I figured, as I tried my hand at it later—was Shan masala, a brand favoured by many home cooks. However, I had two problems. First, I am bad at following recipes closely. I imbibe their spirit more than their instructions. Second, the day I decided to make the pulao, I did not have Shan masala. I have never used it, and I tend to avoid pre-packaged spice mixes.
The wife had thoughtfully arranged for pork in my fridge, so when my parents’ 53rd anniversary dawned this week, I figured there could be no better present than a porky pulao. The good thing about Georgia’s pulao is that it needs very little oil. The pork fat lubricates the rice nicely and infuses the whole dish with its warmth and flavour.
Instead of Shan masala, I evolved my own, roasting and grinding a few whole spices, a process that took no more than 10 minutes. As the pressure cooker lost the last bit of its steam and swivelled open, I inhaled with some trepidation. This was only the third time I was making biryani/pulao. The first was a lamb biryani for a South African friend in the American Midwest, 21 years ago. The second was a fish biryani, which I wrote about in this column last month.
I was lucky again. We ate well. My five-year-old’s eyes lit up, right after she suspiciously sniffed the pulao, my parents said they approved, and the wife—struggling to stay downwind—smiled indulgently. “Eat well, travel often,” the saying goes. Travel often and you will always eat well.
Georgia’s pork biryani (with a Halarnkar masala)
Serves 3
Ingredients
Half kg pork with fat, cleaned
2 onions, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
Half cup curd
1 and a half tsp ginger-garlic paste
1 tsp turmeric
2 flat tsp coriander powder
2 heaped tsp pulao masala
1 (coffee) mug basmati rice, washed
3 tsp sunflower oil
Salt, to taste
For the ‘pulao’ masala
3 byadgi chillies
6 green cardamoms
6 cloves
2 leaves star anise
1 tsp cumin (jeera) seeds
Half-inch piece cinnamon
1-inch piece mace (javitri)
Method
First, make the masala. Roast the whole spices in a cast-iron pan, until the cumin seeds start to pop and the chillies start to smoke. In a food processor, grind the spices to a powder.
In a pressure cooker, heat the sunflower oil. Add onions and fry until light brown. Add the ginger-garlic paste and sauté for a minute or two. Add the turmeric and coriander powder and the ground masala. Add a little water if needed. Sauté for a minute and add the tomatoes. Sauté for 3 minutes, adding dribbles of water if needed. Add the pork, mix well with the masala, add salt, cover, lower flame and cook for about 20-25 minutes. Open, add rice and curd, mix well. Add three-and-a half cups water, close the cooker. Turn the heat to medium, wait for two whistles, then turn the heat on low for 7-8 minutes. Allow the pressure to dissipate before opening the cooker. Serve hot, with chopped onions and lime juice tossed together.
This is a column on easy, inventive cooking from a male perspective. Samar Halarnkar also writes the fortnightly science column Frontier Mail for Mint and is the author of the book The Married Man’s Guide To Creative Cooking—And Other Dubious Adventures. He tweets at @samar11.
Also read | Samar Halarnkar’s previous Lounge columns.
