Is it raining? Bring the pakora to soothe the pain

SLOUGH, ENGLAND:

Is there anything more magical than flashing hot oil? I’m not talking about bathing in this of course. I’m talking about bathroom distressed things in this one. And then watching that hot oil work its magic as it transforms these battered things into crispy, crunchy bites of heaven.

With the rainy season firmly stuck in Karachi, it’s time to stop – if only for a while – drowning in grief over wet clothes, oceanic roads and leaky roofs. It’s time, instead, to turn to the one thing in life that can never let you down: a plate full of crispy pakoras. With a bottle of ketchup on the side.

Have you always been a pakora lover but never dared to be a prominent pakora maker? Do not worry. It doesn’t matter if you’re allergic to hard work, because an awesome starter pakora requires minimal work. With a cup of besan, a pinch of salt (or two – taste as you go) and whatever spices you enjoy, all that’s left to do is add water to make your batter runny enough to slide off a spoon, along with whatever you have left kicks in your fridge that need to be used up. Got some sad carrots in the vegetable drawer? We rub them and put them in the batter. Got a handful of spinach, half a pepper and two green onions left over from last week? Chop or thinly slice and slide those in too. Waste no, I don’t want.

If you’re one of those rare species that doesn’t host a variety of homeless vegetables, find an onion or potato, slice it thinly, and toss it into your batter. Thinly slicing results in crispier pakora. If you prefer a besan flavor, be careful when adding the filling. Otherwise, pour as much as the batter will cover.

Fill your pan with enough oil to submerge your pakora. Forget using your deep fryer, because the combination of rain and pakoras does not mean health and nutrition. Years of bitter experience have taught me that it is best to turn up the heat so that the oil is very hot before you start frying. Wave your palm over the pan. if you can feel the heat, it’s hot enough.

With a fork (or spoon), drop the pakora batter into your hot oil. Turn it over gently with a fork when the edges look brown. Remove from the pan when your pakora looks a nice golden brown on each side. Take out the ketchup bottle and enjoy it while it’s still hot and crispy, although if I’m being completely honest, it doesn’t even need to be crispy. It just needs to be warm and drenched in ketchup, and for a few seconds, you can forget about the leaking roof and the clothes that are still outside languishing in the rain.

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