With Diwali being close to a weekend this year, most of us took advantage of the surprise long weekend with festivities prolonging just a little more than usual. From family and friends who came down to be together during this time, the chaats and mithais that overflowed, to the excitement of card parties that began almost two weeks prior to the festival to now everyone returning to the monotony of everyday life – the lull that follows this festive period feels like a silence that is so loud that in engulfs you.
To me, Diwali always signifies the beginning of good times – the approaching winter season, and the way Delhi adorns this mellow golden hue, even with its hazardous air! I was recently at the subzi mandi and couldn’t help but notice the winter produce slowly replacing the summer gourds – the plump and pink radish, bundles of fresh methi, palak and mustard leaves, the red carrots stacked neatly, the slender white radish and cauliflower that is so fresh and pearly white.
Winters are knocking at our doors, with a slight nip in the morning and evening breeze and the markets adorn a beautiful vibrant colour too. These markers of the seasonal change surround us and point towards the exciting winter menus that will now be drawn up in every household.
“Iss time pe subzi bechne mein maza aata hai,” exclaimed Chottu, our neighbourhood subziwala, pointing at the fresh, varied winter produce that floods the market at this time of the year. In turn, this also attracts eager buyers to haats and mandis—many still look at seasonal produce as being better-sourced from markets, rather than from mundane online stores.
Growing up, I’d help my grandmother spread the batons of carrots, cauliflowers and turnips under the winter sun, in order for these vegetables to be dried and then pickled to make the quintessential Punjabi favourite, gajar-gobhi-shalgam achar, an annual tradition and a fantastic way to preserve and bottle up a season, I feel.
In Bihar this seasonal shift would be visible as excitement in households grew at the sight of fresh and sweet green peas. Dishes like chura-matar, matar ki ghugni and matar ka paratha would become a mainstay.
Similarly, my husband and his Bengali brethren enjoy the fluffy koraishuti’r kochuri with alu’r dum made with season’s fresh baby potatoes or ‘notun alu’, as they call it in Bengali. In this dish, the peas are steamed, mashed and enhanced with masalas to make the stuffing for this maida-based kachori, which is then deep-fried and served with a spicy preparation of potatoes. A delicacy that is largely saved for the winters to be savoured.
Even in my Punjabi household, peas make their way into almost every dish - gajar-matar ki subzi, aloo-matar, matar-pulao, methi-matar and more such. In Uttar Pradesh, it is the matar ka nimona that tugs everyone’s heartstrings.
Believed to have originated in the Gangetic plains, this stew is made by frying a paste of peas with masalas and newly-harvested potatoes, with wadis. Those from the state in particular swear by it, and would often happily regale you with a nostalgic story or two about their childhood run-ins with the dish.
Amid all of this, as the bazaars turn definitively wintry for all of us, the two key themes that we can spot everywhere are bold colours and robustly unique flavours that we otherwise miss in our everyday menus. The produce of the season further highlights the need for warmth in what we eat, and the influx of organic produce startups, as well as the idea of farm to table concepts, further help us expand the variety of our everyday consumption patterns.
Winter is also the perfect time to experiment with a broader range of food and produce, since it leaves us with more scope for trying out new items. With passing generations, more households today go back to trying out heirloom recipes that were once staples in our diet—which can further help us retain our old eating habits, as well as a long-established crop cycle.