The Scent Of Cardamom

 It's been about two weeks since I returned from a truly amazing trip to India with K. After being assailed at every turn by sights, sounds, colours, the warmth of the people, the vibrancy of the food, the chaotic traffic, the wealth and the abject poverty - in short, the full force of life played out right before your very eyes - it was an utter contrast to return to the relative calm and greyness of London in January. Throwing open my suitcase the next morning, I was immediately hit by the heady floral aroma of cardamom wafting out to greet me. As cliched as it sounds, I was immediately transported back to India.

I've always liked the taste of cardamom, but more often than not, it's just something I throw in a pilaf to flavour the rice. In India, however, it's in everything. From our very first morning to our last, cardamom accompanied us like a faithful friend on our trip through the teaming streets of Mumbai and then down south to the lush coolness of Kerala. It started when, to ease us out of our jetlag, our dear friends Kamal & Reva (K's cousins & his wife) made us steaming cups of milky chai infused with freshly ground cardamom, holi (basil) and plenty of sugar - it worked a treat, but I would come to crave it every single morning.

After one particularly hot morning pounding the streets of south Bombay, we headed for a late lunch at the Britannia cafe - one of the last remaining 'Irani cafes' in Bombay. Stepping into the shady coolness of the cafe whose interior hadn't changed for over eight deacdes we were warmly greeted by the 88 year-old owner Boman Kohinoor, who suggested the house specials: Iranian berry pulao (a secret recipe), "two cold lime sodas to cut the Bombay heat" and, to finish, caramel custard. The generous plates of pilaf arrived quickly, speckled with Iranian berries, which looked and tasted like tiny cranberries, and cashew nuts. The basmati rice was strongly fragrant with cardamom and had a hint of cinnamon and cloves. I wolfed it down.

Another afternoon, Kamal kindly surprised me by bringing back some ras malai, a well known dessert of milk dumplings, from Tewari Bros, a local sweet shop famed for the dessert. The dumplings were delicately floating with pistachios in a sweetened milk flavoured with saffron and cardamom and served warm. Everyone laughed as I embarrassed myself by groaning after every spoonful but quite frankly I didn't care - it was divine.

Then down south to Kerala, where cardamom, which is native to the hilly Western Ghats, is known as the "queen of spices". We stayed at Camelia Haven in a wooden cottage set in the verdant greenery of a misty cardamom plantation. For dinner we had an aromatic vegetable curry flavoured with cardamom followed by several games of ping pong before bed.

The next day, we drove through endless banks of tea bushes to take an elephant ride, made a quick pit stop for a creamy pistachio and cardamom kulfi, and then went on to an ayurvedic spice garden where we learned about the the holistic uses for a wealth of different spices. I especially loved the on-site hives where the bees would feed on flowering cardamom bushes and the honeycombs harvested by spinning them in a metal bucket with a turn-handle. The honey is extracted by centrifugal force - leaving the honeycomb intact and the resulting honey deliciously scented with cardamom. It was here that I bought generous bundles of sweet vanilla pods and a large bag of cardamom for a couple of quid (which I later stashed in my suitcase) - the smell was so vibrant and the hue a vivid green so unlike the slightly anaemic specimens gracing my spice shelf at home.

Our last day in Kerala was spent floating idyllically down the backwaters of Alleppy on our very own houseboat. Moored for the night by an expanse of paddy fields, we were cooked an amazing meal of chargrilled peppered king prawns and several vegetable dishes consisting of potato, aubergine and greens - all simply cooked but again all flavoured with cardamom. To end the meal we were offered a couple of fresh cardamom pods to chew to help sweeten the breath and aid digestion.

So you'd think I'd be over cardamom by now or at least need a lengthy break from it - but actually I'm missing it. Last week I felt really cold - the sort of cold which chills you right to the bone. I needed something milky and comforting and then I thought of kheer - a soothing Indian rice pudding infused with cardamom and rosewater. It's traditionally served chilled as a dessert but at this time of year I prefer eating it warm - in fact I had it for breakfast at the crack of dawn yesterday before teaching an early morning yoga class and it was the perfect start to my day.

Kheer

Serves 3-4

• 3 tablespoons of basmati rice
• 600 ml full fat milk
• 3 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
• 1/2 - 1 tablespoon of sugar
• A generous tablespoon of rosewater (trust me it really makes a difference)
• Optional: chopped pistachios

Soak the rice in enough cold water to cover it for at least half an hour, then drain in a sieve. This helps to soften the rice so it cooks down nicely.

Warm the milk in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, and then add the rice and cardamom. Bring to the boil then turn the heat down to a very low simmer for 30 minutes. Stir every couple of minutes to prevent the rice from sticking.

When ready remove from the heat and fish out the cardamom pods. Add the sugar according to taste and then stir in the rosewater.

Eat warm or leave to cool and then chill in the fridge for an hour or two before eating. If you wish sprinkle with chopped pistachios.

In Season | Figs

As far as I'm concerned, the fig season is all too short, so come autumn I'm always on the lookout. I picked up these beauties from Brick Lane after work on Sunday morning, and at five for a pound they were an absolute steal.

I like to eat them as they are - fresh. But not everyone in the household finds them as palatable this way. So rather than gorge on them all by myself (a tempting thought), I find baking them with some honey and spices and serving them with a dollop of Greek yoghurt and a sprinkling of toasted hazelnuts (also in season) a simple way to share the love.

Baked honey-spiced figs

Serves 2

4 figs

4 knobs of butter

2 tbsps runny honey

1 cinnamon stick + 2 star anise (or a teaspoon of ground cinnamon if you don't have whole spices handy)

Greek yoghurt

Handful of shelled hazelnuts

• Preheat oven to 180 C/350 F
• Cut a criss-cross in the top of each of the figs to about about halfway down the fruit, and open them up slightly.
• Arrange the figs snugly in a small baking dish, and add a knob of butter to each.
• Nestle in the whole spices (or sprinkle over the ground cinnamon), drizzle over the honey and add 2 tbsp water to the dish.
• Bake in the oven for 15 mins. 5 mins before the end of cooking time, spoon the cooking juices over the figs and pop the hazelnuts onto a small baking tray or piece of foil to toast in the oven next to them.
• Remove the figs & hazelnuts from the oven. Spoon more of the hot syrup over the figs and set aside - I like to wait until the figs are warm rather than piping hot before I eat them. In the meantime roughly chop the hazelnuts.
• Serve topped with greek yoghurt, a spoonful of the rose-coloured buttery syrup and the toasted hazelnuts.