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Sesame seeds not only lend a nutty flavour but also subtly change the texture of the dish THERE are a few ingredients of food that are placed at the top of the heap almost all over the world. Honey springs most readily to mind. From the pre-historic times, man has valued it for its nectar-like sweetness and nourishing properties. Cave paintings in Bhimbetka, near Bhopal, document despoiling of honeycombs in the forest more than 20,000 years ago. The National Geographic documentary on honey gatherers in Nepal or the Discovery programme focussing boatmen in Bangladesh engaged in the same task make us sit up and think about what all goes behind the scene to bring to our table the divine stuff. We are talking about the real stuff, not the synthetic product yielded by sugar-fed bees in captivity. Madhu as honey is called in Sanskrit, is considered the food of gods. It has long been used in ritual offerings and as a base for traditional medicines. We just love it and can’t have enough of it. If we had our way, we would use it instead of sugar all the time. But as the adage has it: "If wishes were horses ...". There are problems. Honey doesn’t let itself to cooking easily. Exposure to high temperature ruins it very fast. Only a few drops in steaming herbal tea or a spoonful as garnish is all that can be safely tried by the uninitiated. The Chinese recipe that has inspired the current offering substitutes (unabashedly) sugar dissolved in vinegar to lick the problem! Pairing ‘honey’ with sesame, too, follows in the footsteps of the Asian giant with whom we have a love-hate relationship that seems to describe a pattern of crests and troughs. There are a few Indian and Nepali dishes that make ample use of this beloved oil seed that not only lends a nice nutty flavour to the bite but also subtly changes its texture. Nepali alu ka achaar relies on sesame seeds for its magic and you may well try this recipe with parboiled potatoes.
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