Ghee Daal — Buttery Lentils

I can eat Daal every day — lunch, dinner and even brunch. It is oh so stretchable; like Jane Fonda’s spandex, Daal wraps itself around virtually anything you choose. Indeed, there are so many varieties of Daal, and as many if not more, ways of cooking, that I’ve had to force myself to focus on just one recipe today, an ode to my Dhaka roots: Ghee Daal — Buttery Lentils, a silky smooth delicately spiced dish, garnished simply with ghee, and whole fresh chillies  – not for their heat, but for their subtle flavours. This recipe is so easy that I’m not kidding you can make it while you’re reading the rest of my post.

So what is Daal? Here are some fun facts about this food group.

Daal is the name of both the raw produce, and the cooked dish. (It is pronounced with a soft “d” as you’d say in “that” –but I shan’t nitpick). Although generally referred to as Lentils, technically speaking, Daal belongs to a family of foods called Pulses. A Pulse is an edible seed harvested from a pod and includes lentils, beans and peas. Pulses are full of nutrients, with minerals, iron, vitamins and double the amount of protein compared to rice and other grains.  

The way I understand it best is that (unlike other pulses) most Daals don’t have to be soaked for a long time. So take chickpeas for instance, called Chana in South Asia. In their original state, dried chickpeas can’t be cooked until you’ve soaked them for several hours, right. Well, when treated and split, they become Chana Daal, or Yellow Split Peas, (one of my top three favourites kinds of Daal), and can be cooked straightaway. My other two favourites are Split Red Lentils, or Masoor Daal, which happens to be the most popular kind of lentils globally, and Moong, which is actually a green bean; when husked and split, the inner seeds become an aromatic Moong Daal or Yellow Split Moong Beans. 

Daal is versatile, nutritious, delicious, and especially when served with plain boiled rice, Bhaat-Daal or Chawal-Daal, it is comfort food par excellence. Cook it with rice and it becomes kichree, which can be like a thick broth, or fluffy, like a pulao (not to be confused with a sadly mutilated colonial derivative called kedgeree, I must add). Daal is also a stuffing for various flatbreads: Dal Puri, a delicacy so exquisite that it has travelled around the world marking identity and flavours in more ways than one. What I love about this dish is that it’s not an acquired taste. You won’t have people curling their noses up and saying, I don’t like Daal, it has a fishy aftertaste; or Daal is far too sour for my taste buds; or it has a glutinous texture to it that I can’t appreciate. I mean, who does not like Daal. 

But here’s a paradox, Daal is considered ordinary, somewhat pedestrian, if you will. Ghar ki murghi, Daal barabar is a popular figure of speech (in Urdu) that alas runs down women and lentils in the same breath. It’s like saying, she’s as homespun as dishwater (read: lentils), if you’ll forgive the mixed metaphor.  One reason perhaps, and this is also the beauty of Daal, is that it’s affordable. So the world and its mother can eat it, and they do, especially across South Asia.

Growing up, I have beautiful memories of Daal that are to do not so much with my mother, but with my dad, abbu. He was a man of exceedingly simple but discerning tastes. Abbu loved a cupful of Daal with dinner, on the side. In a typical South Asian household, this was unusual. Daal normally goes on your plate, not in a bowl or cup like a soup. My mom would not actually roll her eyes but it was implied nonetheless. It was all part of his pukka sahib elegance, which, if you knew him would not surprise you at all. Decades later, after he’d retired and, I now realize, must have been pretty underfoot around the house, he would also like to eat a cupful of Daal at 11 a.m. To say that my dad was a stickler for punctuality would be an understatement. You could set your watch to his schedule: at three minutes before the hour, he’d come out of his room, sit himself down in the den, in his armchair, glance meaningfully at my mom, clear his throat, and wait. Ammi, my mom, would signal for the Daal to be brought out. It needed to be piping hot. I remember watching him enjoy the first sip, his taste buds and expressive eyes appreciating what he often called a “poor man’s meat,” ostensibly referencing its nutritious components, not his standing with his wife, of course.

Eons later, there’s another memory to do with Daal that’s etched in my mind. It is the early 1990s and I’ve landed with two sons and loads of optimism in Toronto, Canada. The last two decades have been in the UAE, where our live-in cook Inta has spoiled me rotten. So much so, that I cannot cook Daal. First and  foremost, which Daal do I pick? Or, to put it another way, I head to this large mainstream store called Loblaws in uptown Toronto and when I ask for Daal, the grocer gives me a blank look and says, Dhaal? What is that? (Okay, I said I wouldn’t nitpick about how it’s pronounced, but really? Is it that difficult). Also, just to be clear, I first asked for lentils but all they could offer was lentils in a sad looking can. 

My recipe for Ghee Daal has been tried and tested, starting off from way back in the 1990s when I hightailed it out of Loblaws, called up an incredibly helpful cousin in Scarborough who introduced me to my first South Asian grocery store; I also wrote to my mother, quite an anxious SOS as I now recall, asking her plaintively ma how on earth do you make our everyday Ghee Daal and she replied calmly with a simple recipe and two very important tips:

1) Soak, wash, rinse Daal well with cold water before cooking
2) Season with salt after it softens, not at the start of cooking

As I’ve mentioned, what makes Daal incredibly enjoyable is that you can tweak it to suit your taste. My recipe is for a Ghee Daal that stands on its own, yet blends to the will of other main dishes on your table. It is the perfect accompaniment to a whole range of mains. Here’s hoping that you like my recipe and find it easy to follow. I am planning to post at least another Daal recipe before you’ve had time to digest this one!

Likely Questions:

1. Where can I buy Daal? Online, wherever you shop, (I like Amazon.ca – very easily available in different sizes, organic options as well). Or, if you have a South Asian grocery store nearby; most mainstream stores.
2. How many types of Daal should I buy? I actually love these three -Masoor/Split Red Lentils, Moong, and Chana/Yellow Split Peas. 
3. Does the Ghee Daal recipe work with one Daal? Yes! If you want to use only one kind, I suggest Split Red Lentils. 
4. Do I need a blender? Yes, for Ghee Daal. I recommend an immersion hand blender, just because it’s less messy but a countertop blender is fine too. If you don’t have a blender, your Daal will taste fine, but won’t have a smooth, silky texture. 
5. Is Ghee Daal hot in a spicy sense? No. You add fresh chillies (whole) at the very end, as a flavouring, or garnish – you’re not supposed to bite into them; though desi machismo may cry out for a challenge, you do so at your peril!

Easy steps to making a simple Ghee Daal:

Photo Credit

All Photos by: Almas Zakiuddin SOME RIGHTS RESERVED