MAD LOVE Big Flavors Made to Share, from South Asia to the West Indies Devan Rajkumar A COOKBOOKCopyright © 2023 by Devan Rajkumar Recipes are chef tested. 23 24 25 26 27 5 4 3 2 1 All rights are reserved and no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise, except as authorized with written permission by the publisher. Excerpts from this publication may be reproduced under license from Access Copyright. Cataloguing data is available from Library and Archives Canada ISBN 978-1-77327-232-0 (hbk.) Design by Naomi MacDougall Photography by Suech and Beck Prop styling by Andrea McCrindle Food styling by Melanie Stuparyk Editing by Michelle Meade Copy editing by Pam Robertson Proofreading by Breanne MacDonald Indexing by Iva Cheung Photos on pages 4 and 8 were provided by the author. Printed and bound in China by C&C Offset Printing Co. Distributed internationally by Publishers Group West Figure 1 Publishing Inc. Vancouver BC Canada www.figure1publishing.com To my brother Jai, who inspired me to be better, take risks and follow my dreams. I trust we will break bread again in some way, shape or form. 106 FEATURE: CHOP, CHOP, CHOP! HOW TO BUILD A BETTER SALAD 108 MEAT & POULTRY A CUT ABOVE 136 FEATURE: HOT, HOT, HEAT PEPPER SAUCE 142 DRINKS & DESSERTS KEEP IT CHILL 164 PANTRY ESSENTIALS BACK TO BASICS 180 METRIC CONVERSION CHART 183 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 184 INDEX 192 ABOUT THE AUTHOR 6 INTRODUCTION 10 HOW TO USE THIS BOOK 13 CHEF DEVAN’S “EAST × WEST” PANTRY ESSENTIALS 16 PUMP UP THE JAM 18 SHARED PLATES GOOD FOOD, GOOD FRIENDS 38 BRUNCH THE WEEKEND 50 FEATURE: MAYONNAISE MAYO REMIX 54 BREADS ALL RISE 68 VEGETARIAN ROMAINE CALM 88 FISH & SEAFOOD A SHORE THING CONTENTS6 Oh man... my own cookbook. In 2016 I was traveling the world, satiating my appetite for travel and culinary knowledge. I needed to explore and learn, despite the fact that I was a nearly broke (not broken) couch surfer and couldn’t tell you where I was headed. Every day rewarded me with discoveries— beautiful, deep-rooted traditions and stories that went into every meal, the people behind those dishes, and the endless variety of flavorful ingredients from the world’s terroir. I always wanted to be a chef, but it was met with some resistance. In my culture and family, a traditional career path as a professional in a white-collar role promised financial security and career stability. I sensed disappointment from my father due to my pursuits to become a trained chef. He worried that the challenges of kitchen work and the grueling hours in a high-pressure environment might eventually take a physical (and mental) toll on me. I was determined to prove him wrong and make my parents proud. For the longest time, my goal was to be an impeccable, top-rated chef with a flawless game and all the answers. I worked hard to become the executive chef for a national company and appeared on magazine covers and on television. My confidence was through the roof. I knew who I was and where I wanted to be; I thought I knew everything there was to know about food and cooking. It didn’t help that I had surrounded myself with people who were gassing me up. Ask me anything, and I had an answer for you. Oh, did I have it all wrong. I can’t explain why I had such an ego. Maybe it was because of the endless hours laboring in the kitchen with late nights fueled by endorphins. Perhaps I was asserting a persona to overcompensate for a sense of guilt or validate my life decisions. I can’t answer that. But I have learned that this age-old adage rings true: “Arrogance is the surest path to failure.” Early into my career, I had a calling to travel and explore the world. As I spent more time making discoveries in food, recipes and culture, the paradigm of my purpose shifted. The exposure to new foods and different ways of cooking left an impression—each country, region and, in some cases, city boasted unique ingredients. For instance, in India, the cuisine and ingredients changed every 100 km (62 miles). This was what you might call a rude awakening. Those experiences and a journey of self-discovery led me to where I am today, in a constant state of curiosity. I am frequently humbled by how much exists in the food world and how much I have yet to learn and conquer. I no longer desired to be at the helm of a world-renowned restaurant; instead, I found greater purpose and joy in educating myself about the provenance of food and ingredients and sharing that knowledge with anyone interested. I remain a student and forever keep a beginner’s mindset. If you ask me today about my exciting food experiences, it’s difficult to answer. My appreciation of a dish derives from its flavors, preparation and origins. These days, I spend more time asking questions, allowing curiosity about ingredients and people to guide my greatest career pursuits. THE BACK STORY I was born in Canada into a Guyanese household, and we frequented a local Hindu temple in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA). We were a close-knit family with an appreciation for our traditions and culture. We were heavily involved as active members of the broader West and East Indian community in the area. My grandmother “Ma,” who lived with us, adored me and lovingly called me “Little Polkaroo.” (A term of endearment inspired by INTRODUCTIONPHOTO FROM ANCILLARY SHOOT?intr oduction 9 with antipasti: fennel salad, olives, meats, cheeses and assorted finger foods. Then they’d roll out the dishes. Oh boy. The pasta. The meat. The dessert. My uncle cured salami, and I have vivid memories of him slicing it up for us kids. My brother and I were raised Hindu, and my mom would give the look of death when we reached for it and savored the flavors. Enjoying cured meats was an act of rebellion back then. Soon after, we began having finocchio (fennel) salad, eggplant Parmigiano-Reggiano and cheese boards at home. As a child, I followed my mom around the kitchen. The aromatics, sights and sounds hypnotized me. Since I was so small, I would utilize a stool to give myself a better vantage point. And it helped me fulfil the requisite role of taster! To this day, my mother continues to inspire me. My childhood in the kitchen and at the dining table have helped define my approach to cooking and recipe development. And the more I dig into Guyanese food and its history, the more I lean on my mother, who has become my greatest ally and supporter. My maternal grandmother passed away when I was ten years old, so when my mother passes down a recipe she learned from her mother, I feel an instant connection to my family’s heritage, and it warms my heart. My grandmother would be so proud to see me sharing roti (page 56), okra (page 83) and dhal (page 79) recipes with the world. a mythical character on a children’s TV show called Polka Dot Door .) Although located in South America, Guyana is considered part of the Caribbean West Indies. When the British colonized India in the 19th century, Indians were transported across the Caribbean to become indentured servants. This history makes my story unique. While I am Guyanese, Caribbean and West Indian by heritage, I assimilate and feel at home in South Asian culture—after all, that’s where my ancestry lies. This book proudly features everything from a classic Guyanese Pepperpot (page 127) to a Saffron Kheer (page 157), as I identify with both worlds. I’ve advocated for my culture for decades, presenting our food traditions in the best light and elevating them. After spending countless years working with other culinary styles (French, Italian, Mexican, Japanese), my path took an extraordinary turn when I realized the importance of my culinary roots. My mom is a phenomenal cook who would always test new recipes and take inspiration from her surroundings: things she saw on TV, through her travels or at someone else’s home. (Remember, they were living without the internet back in the day.) She would then incorporate elements into the home-cooked meals she prepared for us. For example, we spent many evenings with my Uncle Joe and Aunty Maria. (They weren’t biologically related to us, but they were like family and the terms are used as a form of respect—it’s cultural.) The long table would be full of gloriously authentic Italian dishes. And it was here, as a kid, that I had my first Italian feast. We would start ← Some of my favorite shots from my travels.Next >