Milk (33 page)

Beat the egg whites to stiff peaks with a pinch of salt and fold them into the
yogurt batter in two or three increments. Spread the batter in the pan. It will make a flat layer just about covering the bottom. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until lightly browned.

Remove the cake from the oven and instantly cut it into 16 squares—or if you are good at geometry, diamonds. Pour the cooled syrup over the hot cake, which will be swimming in syrup. Let sit at room temperature for 4 to 6 hours; the syrup will be gradually absorbed. Garnish with the optional chopped pistachios and serve with the kaymak or cream.

All peoples who make yogurt—indeed, soured milk generally—also drink it in some form or other. The oldest traditions belong to the many lands making up my imaginary “Yogurtistan” (the ex-Yugoslavia to Central Asia). The richest traditions, however, developed on the
Indian subcontinent. In most places where yogurt is a drink, it is a savory one flavored with nothing but salt and perhaps some dried mint. But in India and neighboring parts, people took to mixing drinkable forms of yogurt with a fragrant spectrum of other ingredients, both “salty” (meaning savory) and sweet. Though I find cold unsweetened yogurt drinks more refreshing than the ones with sugar or fruit, I would like to see all the traditional kinds, in their delightful diversity, earn a larger place in American diets.

Americans, who are by and large little acquainted with any of the real yogurt-drinking traditions, tend to be confused by the many different names and approaches. It is easiest to begin not with the remarkable world of Indian yogurt drinks but with the simpler and more ancient kind known throughout Yogurtistan: plain yogurt thinned with a little water and flavored with a dash of salt and (often) a little mint. The name most familiar in this country is the Turkish
ayran,
or
airan.
Some parts of the Arab-speaking world also call it ayran, but more often it has no name of its own other than “yogurt” (laban). In Iran and Afghanistan, where it is commonly made with carbonated water, the usual name is
doogh,
or
abdoogh.
By whatever name, it is a lovely restorative.

N
ewcomers to yogurt traditions may be puzzled by the instruction to thicken yogurt by draining the whey and then thin it by adding water. But to harp again on a crucial point, the draining step really changes the character of the yogurt, especially delicate, newly made yogurt. It is fresher-tasting this way, and the salt and mint register more brightly.

From ancient times, yogurt for drinking has been made with the milk of any and all local dairy animals. If you can find sheep’s- or goats’-milk yogurt, give them a try (for using goats’-milk yogurt, see Variation below). Greek yogurt from a combination of sheep’s and goats’ milk is excellent.

YIELD:
1 serving

Mix the yogurt, salt, and optional dried mint in a prechilled bowl and gradually whisk in the water. Serve in chilled glasses, poured over ice cubes or crushed ice. Alternatively, whip until frothy in a blender with crushed ice and serve garnished with a mint sprig.

VARIATION:
For goats’-milk ayran, be sure to use goats’-milk yogurt (about 1¼ cups per serving) made without any of the thickeners added to most commercial brands. As explained on
this page
, unadulterated goats’-milk yogurt (I use Yo-Goat) will be thin enough to drink as is. Skip the added water, stir or blend in the seasonings, and pour it over the ice.

Where culinary terms are concerned, the United States and English-speaking India certainly are two nations divided by a common language. Take “
buttermilk,” sometimes given as a translation of the Hindi word
lassi
as well as counterparts in several other Indian languages that you may find on the menus of regional Indian restaurants in this country. The thing meant here is not at all identical to American commercial cultured buttermilk. For reasons explained in the discussion of cultured buttermilk and the organisms used to make it (
this page
), diluted plain
yogurt comes closer to the taste and texture of Indian buttermilk than our cultured version. Of course, there’s no reason that people who prefer American buttermilk shouldn’t use it.

Lassi is most often associated with the Punjab, where people regard it with the sort of patriotic local pride that Buffalonians bestow on chicken wings. It and its variously named Indian cousins generally are made with more emphatic and varied seasonings than ayran and company. Even the simplest “salty” and sweet versions of lassi are usually stamped with such flavor accents as cumin in the savory or rosewater in the sweetened kind. Fruit purées, most often mango or banana, often figure in sweetened lassi. So do mustard seeds, cardamom or coriander seeds, peppercorns, fresh ginger, curry leaves, cilantro, and/or chile peppers in “buttermilk” drinks of southern India. You can and should experiment with any flavors that take your fancy. There is no “wrong” way to make lassi as long as the yogurt is good.

Lovers of special cooking tools may want to try mixing lassi with the traditional churning stick (
kavvam
or
madhani,
sometimes sold in Indian grocery/housewares stores) instead of a blender or processor.

I
ndians swear by the combination of “curd [yogurt],” salt, and cumin as an antidote to torrid summer heat, and believe that hot spices help you cool off by making you sweat. I couldn’t agree more. Nothing is more blissfully restorative at summer’s worst than salt lassi in any version.

I like to drain the yogurt before adding water, but it is not necessary. Just don’t try to play calorie games by substituting nonfat yogurt, which gives no idea of the right consistency. (In India the yogurt or buttermilk used for this purpose most often comes from
water buffaloes’ milk, which is much richer than cows’ milk. Indians living here sometimes even spike the yogurt with a tiny bit of cream for more body.) Cumin, either the regular kind or Indian black cumin, will add more flavor if you briefly toast it in a small heavy skillet and grind it yourself. If you can find Indian “black salt” (a unique kind of rock salt, really pink when ground), its distinctive sulfur flavor is wonderful in lassi. Use slightly less black salt than plain salt.

The following is a very simple salt lassi. Start with the smaller amount of yogurt, and add more to taste if it seems to need it.

YIELD:
1 serving

Whisk ½ cup yogurt smooth in a small pitcher and start adding
seasonings and water a little at a time—more yogurt as well, if you like—until the taste and consistency are close to what you like but on the concentrated side (the ice will dilute it slightly). Most people prefer lassi somewhere between the thickness of heavy and light cream. Pour the mixture into a blender or food processor, add the ice, and process until smooth and frothy. Serve at once in a tall chilled glass.

VARIATIONS:
The fun begins when you elaborate on this minimalist formula by adding other seasonings, which are usually de rigueur in the regional kinds known as
chhaach, neer
(meaning “water-thinned”)
moru,
and
majjiga.
You can start by experimenting with some coarsely ground black pepper or toasted and ground coriander seeds, and go on to a pinch of ground asafetida; small fresh chile peppers (slivered); fresh ginger (grated or slivered); or a tarka of South Indian seasonings made by heating a little ghee or oil in a small skillet and adding a large pinch each of Indian brown mustard seeds and cumin seeds, a few lightly bruised curry leaves, and, if desired, a couple of tiny dried red chile peppers and sizzling them in the ghee until the mustard seeds pop; you then whisk the whole thing into the yogurt. Or if you have a favorite version
(commercial or homemade) of garam masala or the tarter
chaat masala,
try adding a pinch.

Fresh cilantro or mint leaves, pulled from the stems and lightly bruised or chopped, are a delightful final addition to all forms of salt lassi.

P
unjabis, who love lassi with proprietary zeal as the fruit of native Punjabi genius, often use milk rather than water to thin the yogurt. (You can try this in salt lassi as well.)

YIELD:
1 serving

Proceed as for Salt Lassi, but begin by whisking the yogurt as smooth as possible with part of the sugar, then adding the rosewater and more sugar to taste a little at a time. Serve at once in a tall chilled glass, garnished with the optional mint or rose petals.

VARIATIONS:
Other essences and extracts are also popular in sweet lassi. If you can find
kewra
(screwpine) or sandalwood essence at an Indian grocery, try adding it a drop at a time. Or make an infusion of a few saffron strands in a tiny bit of hot milk and strain the fragrant saffron milk into the sweetened yogurt. Orange-blossom water and genuine vanilla extract are, as far as I know, quite inauthentic, but delicious.

T
he favorite version in Indian-American restaurants. In all honesty, frozen mango pulp is better than many of the fresh mangos sold here.

YIELD:
About 3 cups