This eggplant dish is: Rich. Nutty. Tangy.
Word on the street is that the many names the eggplant acquired during its travels came from the same word iterated differently. Now we are well acquainted with the usual suspects, Eggplant, Aubergine and Brinjal but between them exist a string of names, one setting the base for the other – how they came to be will help us trace its esplanade. Brinjals were first grown in northeast India by the Mundas. The story wasn’t so rosy initially, or maybe it was because its precursor was a prickly funky tasting fruit, it took many years before it could be cultivated for consumption. The Mundas identified it as vartaku in their language and when the Indo Aryans migrated to India, it became vrintaka and vatingan in Sanskrit. From vatingan branched regional names like baingan (in the north), vankaya (in Andhra Pradesh) and begun (in West Bengal). When the Persians came for the fruit (yes), they put their spin on baingan, badinjan is what they called it while the Arabs called it al-badinjan – al is a common prefix in Arabic used to denote ‘the’. The Arab traders then took it to Europe where it became beringela in Portugal, berengena in Spain and aubergine in France. And when the Portuguese colonized India, the word came full circle, the recurrent use of beringela became brinjal for the locals. In India, brinjal is more of a blanket term, within it exist a whole bunch of linguistically tied names depending on the region you find yourself in. Gutti Vankaya comes from the Rayalaseema region of the south Indian state of Andhra Pradesh. The vernacular here is Telugu, so you see, brinjal is referred to as vankaya.
Gutti Vankaya
Serves 5-6 people
For the masala:
2 tbsp white sesame
1 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tsp cumin seeds
7-8 dried red chillies
2 cloves
A small stick of cinnamon
½ tsp fenugreek seeds
A little more than ¼ of a cup of peanuts
For the gravy:
8 small brinjals
2 tbsp oil
½ tsp mustard seeds
½ tsp cumin seeds
A handful of curry leaves
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 tsp ginger garlic paste
1 tbsp of tamarind soaked in water
¼ tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp Kashmiri red chilli powder
Salt as required
2 cups of water
1 tbsp jaggery, powdered
To make the masala:
1. In a pan, on medium heat, dry roast the sesame for a minute. Repeat this individually with the coriander seeds, cumin seeds, red chillies, cloves, cinnamon, and fenugreek seeds. Ensure that the spices are constantly moving to keep them from burning quickly.
2. Once the spices are roasted, begin to roast the peanuts until they form a brittle dark brown skin.
3. Grind the roasted spices and peanuts once they have cooled. This powder forms the masala for Gutti Vankaya.
For the gravy:
1. Make 3 incisions on each brinjal and stuff a thin layer of masala inside each incision. Make sure you use only half of the masala, we will be needing the rest later. Cut their stems and set them aside.
2. In a deep pan, on medium heat, add oil, mustard and cumin seeds. Once the spices begin to pop, add curry leaves and the onions. Sauté until the onions turn soft.
3. Add ginger-garlic paste, stir.
4. Squeeze the water out of the soaked tamarind and add the water to the gravy along with the masala we reserved earlier. Give it a stir.
5. Add salt, turmeric powder, Kashmiri red chilli powder and jaggery. Stir.
6. Carefully drop the aubergines one at a time and add 2 cups of water. Stir well and close the pan. Let it simmer for 30-35 minutes on low flame.
7. You will know the aubergines are cooked when the skin looks like it has lost its luster. If you are still not sure, use a toothpick to check its softness.
8. Ladle calmly into a serving dish, be careful of splattering gravy. Some of us learn it the hard way.
Serve with basmati rice or chapatis.
Some side notes: The curry will look oily. This is okay, because the oil comes from the peanuts.
It is quite rich, so be wary of drowning your rice in it.
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