A Ray of Light

I have this strange affiliation with attracting the most absurd conversations around me at the most predictable places, these conversations find their way into my ears and before you know it I am part of it with a satisfying finale to the conclusion. Somehow I am beginning to think that I am unconsciously tuning into such revelations just so it fuels my desire to write about it or wrap up an explanation to what people presume to be the right way to live.

I was travelling out of town for the weekend, this time over work which involved a crucial understanding of a potential group at grass-roots level I was planning to work with. The two days were intense with ground level interactions and long hours of travelling to different farms, much in the remotest areas on the dusty outskirts of the city I was staying in. After two gruelling days, I decided to stay back on the Sunday instead of returning and was promptly invited to an evening soiree of sorts of the local political head honcho I had interacted with in the day. He was celebrating his prodigal son’s second homecoming from the big ‘A’ and had invited the well heeled of the city as well as from neighbouring metros. He was an integral part of my current scope and I decided, what the heck might as well network and in the bargain have a birds eye view of the social life of another city.

The finest of alcohol was free flowing and the food was impeccably delicious with the caterers flown in from a rich metro city, kitchen utensils and all. I had made myself comfortable on the host’s rustic Philip Starck wheelbarrow chair, which surprisingly was tuned in with the rural theme of his current agricultural office tenure (some people! I wonder who they hire as designers? Perfect.), when I was introduced to two fine specimen of what I would call ‘women in an alter-ego Picasso’ with grotesque features draped from head to toe in designer saris, block coloured with a medley of canary yellows, baby pinks and cobalt blues and bedecked in stones the size of a small bird’s eggs. The introduction was merely to conclude their unending desire to do ‘something’ for the poverty stricken farmers of our country and I was the man for it considering that my current fair trade project involved working closely with marginalized farmers ofIndia.

Before I knew it, I was caught in field of buzzing chatter about their experiences with farmers ranging from a helicopter ride to a remote farm in Andhra Pradesh to a tumultuous experience in the first class compartment of a train journey to the interiors of Maharashtra(oh! The dinner napkin had a spot of brown, must have not been washed) all of which was nothing but bull shit. The conversation veered to such an ugly side (yes, worse than their hideous baubles and attire) that I was disgusted with every word which spewed out of their mouths right from planning charity tea parties with strawberry macaroons for the collection of seed fund for strawberry farmers to a vegetable carving afternoon over martinis for a Go-Green initiative. I was suitably disturbed that such ignorance still existed in this day and age (ideally, I should not be surprised) but I had nothing to add to this but wait and watch what was needed off me.

They finally registered my presence and had verbally conveyed their next idea on raising the issue of rain water harvesting and donations for a water shed project with a dilemma of either having a sunny poolside party or a picnic by a lake. I had resigned my inner workings of a red hot desire to smack them with a spade (had I had one) when it dawned on me to teach them a fine lesson. I reached out and grabbed hold of my host who was oblivious till now of my one sided conversation and planted the fantastic idea of a collective farm visit on the Himalayas in the beautiful Nainital area which was in dire need of correct formulations for a water harvesting project. This was an attack with a double edged sword since a) they would never refuse the politicos intervention and excitement of a random but intriguing proposal b) they had no clue that to reach the proposed area it was only accessible by road (albeit they had already been dangled a charter flight to the outskirts by their daft husbands) and the path up was 80 miles of curvy mountainous vomit-inducing roads (which initially sounds picturesque till you take on the arduous journey) followed by a trek up 5 miles to the farm collectives.

It is a matter of time before I hear from them, since it was made to sound all realistically exciting with cool mountain air (less oxygen, difficult to breath), picturesque roads (yet vomit inducing) and fresh food off the farm (no position to stand let alone eat after the journey). I am sure they will come back with false stories to make it sound exciting but hearts of hearts they wouldn’t touch the subject of a social initiative with a barge pole after this experience.

On that note, I love my work, although a bit pampered in my growing up years, I did have a taste of this particular mountain air last year (although difficult but not completely undoable) and have made the best of friends in the farmers from there. Not only did my organizations and my efforts help them create a wider net for marketing their products but a ray of light was foreseen for their sustainable future. So much so that a particular group I was working with (and thus created a veritable market) remembered me and my preference for fine food and sent over a huge consignment of what they call “pahadi nimbus” or mountain lemons which are the size of ostrich eggs, pack copious amounts of sweet citrus juice and the surface which can yield a good quantity of fragrant citrus-bursting zest.

I still have a bagful of zest lying in my freezer which I use regularly to spice up my salad dressings and oven roasted dishes followed by a pitcher full of excess lemon juice which I converted into sun-kissed lemon squash (perfect for these summer months) and a large amount of juice and zest which I used to come up with this delightful sweet dish of lemon soufflé. A dessert which always reminds me of chirpy farmers up north, the light and air-headed women in alter-ego Picasso and their predicament and best of all the sweet success and raising of the farmers lives. This dessert is easy to make, bursting with fresh citrus notes and light as a feather to dig into (texture wise, calorie wise – don’t ask). Make this whenever you are feeling indulgent and do invest in fine Meyer lemons available in speciality grocery stores or if travelling up north – definitely look out for our own Pahadi variety.

Lemon Soufflé

Ingredients

• ¾ cup Milk
• ¼ cup Cream
• 1½ tablsp Plain Flour
• ½ tablsp Cornflour
• ¼ cup Lemon Juice
• ½ cup granulated Sugar + Extra for dusting
• 2 tablsp Butter
• 8 Eggs Separated + 2 Egg Whites
• 2 tablsp Lemon Zest (fresh)

To zest a lemon, peel with a vegetable peeler or a sharp knife only till the white part (do not include the white part as that is bitter). You may even use a lemon Zester easily available off market shelves. You can store these peels / zest in the freezer for months.

Preheat the oven to 190C and proceed to butter 6 ramekins in upward strokes. The upward strokes will help the soufflé rise better.

In a large circular bowl, start by whisking the egg yolks and sieving the flour into the mix, whisk well and add the zest and about half of the sugar. Whisk well till incorporated.

Place the milk and cream in a small saucepan and heat to a boil. Once boiling, in a thin stream pour the milk into the yolk mixture while whisking quick (you must ensure constant beating since the yolks will start cooking). Keep whisking till the mixture turns into custard (thick enough to look like hearty soup, this should take about 4 minutes). Strain and whisk in butter and lemon juice.

In another bowl, beat the egg whites until foamy. Gradually add remaining the rest of the granulated sugar plus another spoon or two for good measure (this I particularly do to add the extra bit of sweetness should the lemons get too tart). Keep beating till you get stiff peaks.

Proceed by adding half the white into the yolk mix. Once mixed in, with a rubber spatula, fold in the balance white till gently incorporated.

Take the buttered ramekins and pour the soufflé mixture till it reaches ¾ to the top. Complete all 6 ramekins and pour the remaining mixture (if any) equally in all the ramekins. With the spatula gently slice the top to even out the mix.

Bake on a steel wire mesh baking tray for 18 minutes (so the heat gets evenly distributed below as well) until the soufflés rise and have a golden crown.

Remove and immediately dust with powdered / granulated sugar with a sieve. Serve hot.

Nonchalant Note:

Soufflés are basically packed with a lot of hot air which is trapped inside, the soufflé should be served pretty immediately to your guests as it might tend to lose height a little on cooling. Don’t be disheartened if it starts falling flat on removing or turning cold, it tastes as good as it when freshly baked. If you want a full height soufflé to impress your guests, have the batter ready and poured into the ramekins and pop in a preheated oven somewhere along the main course so the dish is ready to be served straight out of the oven.