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Creamy Cauliflower Pakora Soup — When Mustard Seeds Were Enough

Week two of lockdown. The numbers are climbing — cases in New Jersey doubling every three days. The hospital is filling. Raj comes home later and later, his eyes above the mask tired in a way I've never seen. Anaya doesn't understand why Paati can't come. She stands at the front door every morning and says "Paati come?" and I say "Not today, kanna" and she accepts it because she's twenty months old and trust is still her default. I FaceTime Amma twice a day now. Morning and evening. She cooks while we talk — I can see her kitchen, her stove, her hands moving through the screen. It's the closest I can get to being there. "Show me the sambar," she says, and I angle the phone so she can see my pot, and she squints at the screen and says, "More tamarind" or "The color is wrong" or "That's fine," and we are two women cooking the same dish in two kitchens connected by a phone signal and thirty-five years of love. Appa is managing. He's seventy-one and suddenly responsible for all the things Amma used to handle and Priya used to supplement: groceries (delivered now — Arvind set up an account), medications (I call the pharmacy and coordinate), meals (Appa is cooking, which is a sentence that would have been unthinkable two months ago). He makes rice. He makes dal. He burns everything else. Amma supervises from the living room. I'm cooking three meals a day, seven days a week. No breaks. No restaurants. No takeout. The kitchen is a production facility now — breakfast at 7, Anaya's lunch at 11:30, dinner at 6. Between meals: work calls, medication reviews, Anaya's "activities" (which consist of her destroying the living room systematically while I pretend to supervise from the kitchen table). I made Amma's comfort food this week — curd rice, the pandemic version. Rice, yogurt, mustard seeds. The food of not-having-the-energy-for-anything-else. The food that says: today was hard. Tomorrow will be hard too. But this is cool and tangy and alive with mustard seeds. The mustard seeds pop. Anaya says "pop!" The world is terrifying and my daughter learned a new word from the sound of spices in hot oil. We continue.

The curd rice got us through the worst of it — that cool, tangy simplicity that asked nothing of me and gave everything back. But on the days I had just a little more in me, just enough to stand at the stove and let the spices do their work, I turned to this soup. The mustard seeds still pop the way Anaya loves, the turmeric and garam masala are the same ones Amma’s hands have reached for her whole life, and there’s something about a blended pot of cauliflower pakora soup — warm, golden, impossible to mess up — that felt like the bridge between surviving and cooking again. I made it for Raj on a Tuesday. He didn’t say much. He just finished the bowl.

Creamy Cauliflower Pakora Soup

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 large head cauliflower, cut into florets (about 6 cups)
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 tablespoons ghee or neutral oil
  • 1 teaspoon brown mustard seeds
  • 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
  • 1 teaspoon ground coriander
  • 3/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
  • 1/2 teaspoon garam masala
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
  • 4 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
  • 1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk
  • 1 teaspoon fine salt, plus more to taste
  • Fresh cilantro and lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

  1. Bloom the seeds. Heat ghee in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Cook, stirring, until the mustard seeds begin to pop and the cumin is fragrant, about 1 to 2 minutes. Keep the lid nearby — they will jump.
  2. Build the base. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and lightly golden, about 6 minutes. Add garlic and ginger and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
  3. Toast the dry spices. Add coriander, turmeric, garam masala, and cayenne. Stir constantly for 1 minute to bloom the spices in the oil — the mixture will smell deeply fragrant and the color will deepen.
  4. Add cauliflower and broth. Add the cauliflower florets and pour in the vegetable broth. Add salt. Stir well to coat everything in the spiced base. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered until the cauliflower is completely tender and collapses when pressed, about 20 minutes.
  5. Blend until smooth. Remove the pot from heat. Use an immersion blender to blend the soup directly in the pot until very smooth and creamy, about 2 minutes. Alternatively, carefully transfer in batches to a blender and blend, then return to the pot.
  6. Finish with coconut milk. Return the pot to low heat. Pour in the coconut milk and stir to combine. Simmer gently for 5 minutes. Taste and adjust salt and cayenne as needed.
  7. Serve. Ladle into bowls. Top with fresh cilantro and a squeeze of lime. Serve with warm flatbread or plain rice if you have it — or just as it is.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 200 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 510mg

Priya Krishnamurthy
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 209 of Priya’s 30-year story · Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.

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