Jam paan and other stories

Originally Posted on lady-grouchalot on Thursday, August 8, 2013. Edited and reposted.

I had jam paan today.

Nostalgic food. Brings a smile to my face everytime.

The last time I had jam paan, I must have been about 6 years old. Jam paan those days were these weirdly shaped coarse buns (to be quite honest, they looked like oddly shaped feet to me) filled with these chemical tasting red coloured jam (that awfully synthetic melon-strawberry jam) which sort of reminded me of cough syrup. I didn't like it much those days but today, my colleagues and fellow foodies at work were talking of getting kimbula banis (croissants Sri Lankan style) that I suddenly got reminded of jam paan. So that's the story of how I got to gobble down jam paan today. 

So after about 20 years today, I had a jam paan. Well, half of it to be honest as I couldn't finish one whole. I had expected the size of the jam paan to have gone down with our shrinking economy but apparently it hadn't affected the size of the jam paan as much as I had thought it would. But it had definitely affected the amount of jam that went into the paan. The jam to paan ratio was just sad. There was an awful amount of paan but a tiny amount of jam inside.

However, the bread was much softer, much delectable. There was sugar sprinkled on top which made the experience all the more nicer. The taste of the jam had changed too over the years. It didn't have the strong, chemicallish taste that it used to have before. And the jam paan somehow didn't look like a gnarled foot anymore. It was scalloped but more neatly so. It was jam paan nevertheless.

Another favourite of mine only to be found in our paradise isle but once here, found in every nook and cranny, petti kade and seedy bakery is the famous tea banis. A soft, round, slightly sweet and airy bun with a plum or two inside that once bitten into, give you a loud burst of sourness that is immediately cocooned with the doughy light sweetness of the bun surrounding it. Perfect with a banana or as I like to have them, split in two, the two halves sandwiching a generous dash of butter and an equally generous sprinkle of sugar. Perfect for tea times and hence the name tea buns, locally known as banis. There are many kinds of banis as well; seeni banis (sugar buns) with a sprinkle of sugar on top and therefore a little sticky, jam banis with a small well filled with a melon jam and gal bani (stone like banis) a hard sugary bun. Out of this, the tea banis wins hands down.

All in all, with regards to culinary creativity, I'd give the Sri Lankans a 10/10.  We may have learnt to make bread from the Dutch but regular bakery delicasies such as Kimbula Banis, jam paan and the like - essentially Sri Lankan.  

I regret not having any good pictures of these goodies to post here. Will post some when I get myself a jam paan or a tea bun next time. 

    

Jack the Fruit - Home cooked :)

Extracting jack fruit segments is quite meditative. Now, we do not have a jackfruit tree in our garden and if we did, extracting the segments from the fruit itself would be hard work which requires some serious muscle. So, like most people who like the taste of the humble vegetable/fruit every once in a while, we buy our jackfruit at the Sunday fair from women sit around surrounded by these humongous prickly lumps and their yellowish white innards scattered all around them. They sell segmented jackfruit by the bag (not quite clean) and my mother usually buys a bag or two which she makes into beautiful dishes for us.

The yellow flesh has to be separated from the hard outer husk and the lighter coloured ribbon-like innards have to be removed. When doing this, one must apply some coconut oil on to their palms to avoid the super sticky gum from sticking on to your hands. Once seperated, the segment is deseeded (the seed has various other uses or can be chucked into the dish itself) and cut into thin stripes. Then it is chucked into a pot of water with a pinch of salt (seeds go on the bottom of the pot) and boiled till it softens. Meantime, combine freshly grated coconut (about a cup) with pepper, tumeric, Maldive fish finely diced, finely sliced onions, finely sliced green chilly, a little bit of finely minced garlic and ginger, curry leaves and mustard seeds and keep aside. Once the jackfruit is half way boiled, the grated coconut is added to the jackfruit, mixed together and left to simmer on low heat, lid closed for the jackfruit flesh to absorb all that beautiful flavour until soft.

This, is a dish in itself. Beautifully soft and moist, each mouthful is a burst of flavour in the mouth. The coconut adds a certain milkiness to the somewhat solid doughiness of the jackfruit while making it pleasantly chewy at the same time. The onions are crunchy and gives that sense of acidity that perfectly balances out the dish while little seeds of mustard go pop in your mouth amidst the wonderful mushy-crunchiness sending tingles of sensation up the spine. The curry leaves deepen the subtle nuances unique to this dish reminding us that this truly, is a dish of the soil.

I don't know if anyone else prepares jackfruit in such a way as I know most boil it plain with a little bit of salt to eat it with a dried fish curry and kiri hodi - a spiced milky broth made with coconut milk, but this is how my mother has been preparing it for us all these years. And I much prefer this version too and it is among the list of my all time favourite food. I'm sorry I couldn't take a picture of the dish for the blog, firstly because I was too impatient to dig in and secondly, fingers were too sticky from desegmenting the jackfruit to hold the camera. Nevertheless, here is a picture of our Jack the Fruit in all its glory just for you :)

Woodapple jam - Everyday bread, butter & jam of childhood

I was munching on a woodapple jam sandwich the other day and contemplating on the many banalities of life when it suddenly dawned on me the dexterity of what I was eating. Its easy to take for granted what has been part and parcel of what you eat on a daily basis I suppose, and its easy to take as granted those little things that are staples of your household refrigerator. Woodapple jam! That tangy sweet taste from childhood and that acrid smell that gets some people running for the hills while others embrace the fragrance with fondness.

If Sri Lankans had ever bestowed a condiment of sheer genius, this has to be it. Woodapple is a fruit of the common man grown in abundunce here in Sri Lanka and found in abundunce fallen in the ground fragrant and ripe. When unripe, it has a greenish colour whereas the ripe woodapple takes on a dark brown colour. Another way to find out whther the fruit is ripe is to shake it. And if you can feel the flesh of the woodapple shake inside its shell, you can It has a hard outer shell that must be cracked to get to the soft mushy center freckled with seeds which can be either eaten as it is with a pinch of salt and sugar, or as a thick sweet and sour juice. The unripe woodapple is brilliant as a pickle (achcharu) with a bit of chilly powder, salt and a pinch of salt. Woodapple is wonderful in so many ways. Not to mention the many medicinal qualities that are found within this thick brown shell of this beautiful fruit.

Anyways, the jam. Yes, sheer prodigy.

Woodapple jam comes under many production lines in Sri Lanka but I believe the pioneers have been MD. This thick sweet concoction is absolutely ambrosial on bread, roti or anything else as a spread with a bit of butter. The natural tartness of the fruit combined with sweetness create a magical sensation on the tongue, sometimes raising goosebumps on the skin (yes, it is that good). Some even use this jam in desserts and cakes with the aim of giving it a certain tartness that would cut the sweetness and bring that fine balance between the sweet and the sour. 

For me, woodapple jam brings out fond memories of childhood. Simple as that.