Masala Chai for Needy People

I've wanted to get back to this space but it's hard to be a foodie when you've lost your sense of taste and smell. 

January started off great. I had awesome things happening in my kitchen: there was a lot of cooking and experimenting going on, a bucket-list of food-related projects I wanted to do this year, a lot of early-morning baking and photography in the soft, lovely light in the playroom just off my kitchen. . . Then the flu struck me down. Followed by repeated, debilitating, episodes of allergic rhinitis. It was almost April before I could shake all of that off and be my normal self again. 

But I still can't smell anything. I get faint whiffs of things at times, but mostly nothing otherwise. My sense of taste is creeping back and food is no longer unappetizing. However, I can only tell that what I'm eating is sweet/salty/sour/hot. I don't get all the other subtle flavors. Not only has it been depressing to eat in this state but it has been that much worse to cook and never know what is really going on with what I've made. I can't always be sure if food is seasoned properly or, quite simply, if it even tastes good. I hold things close to my nose, inhale deeply. Nothing. 

It has been a hazard too:  I've forgotten pots of oats simmering on the stove some mornings while I dashed around doing other chores and only noticed the smoke rising from the kitchen when I (luckily) walked by much later . . . or I badly scorched things in the oven.. I once failed to acknowledge a rotting, rank head of cauliflower in the crisper for several days .. And then there are the things that I missed being able to breathe: the rain, flowers, the baby's skin, fresh bread, chocolate . . Without my sense of smell to rely on, I have been quite lost. 

After struggling with this for a few weeks I reminded myself: cooking is intuitive. I've discovered it's possible to trust my instincts and to rely on visual cues. Most of the time this works in my favor. During this phase I had stopped reading food blogs in addition to abandoning my own - what's the fun in reading about food that you can't truly experience? But I'm warming back up to it all. . . starting by hanging around on Instagram again. . scanning my Google Reader for all the interesting posts I've missed these months . 

And so I start out my mornings with a steaming cup or two of Masala Chai, consumed by the liter during the day, catching up on my reading. 

This isn't really a precise recipe, but it is how I usually make my tea. I play around with it most days, omitting one thing or the other. Never really knowing what this tea *really* tastes like, guessing instead by the zing of ginger on my tongue and the heat of the black peppercorns at the back of my throat. This Masala Chai is wonderful when you have a cold, or a sore throat. A thermos-full prepared by me often does the rounds of my neighborhood each time a friend feels under the weather. 

Masala Chai

(makes 1 cup of tea)

1 clove

3-4 black peppercorns

a few pieces of cinnamon bark

2-3 green cardamoms

a pinch of fennel seeds

2" piece of ginger

evaporated milk

Crush everything together in a mortar and pestle. Bring 1 cup water to a rolling boil and throw the spinces and ginger in. Simmer 2-3 minutes. 

Add 2 tea bags (black tea), tags removed, or cut open two teabags and add the loose tea to the boiling water. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep 3-4 minutes. 

Place back on the stove, uncover, add desired sweetener and evaporated milk. Heat through but don't boil, strain and serve. 

Shakarkandi (Spicy Sweet Potato)

Lahore, beloved. My adopted city. 25th largest in the world. Steeped in history. The food and cultural capital of the country, a city of crowded tree-lined roads and pulsating bazaars. Lahore gets under your skin, makes you fall in love with its faded elegance; winding, bumpy, messy streets, its shady gardens and even the noisy hum of its bazaars. 

Walking through the narrow, colorful alleys of dupatta gali in winter, your senses are constantly teased by the wafting, pungent aromas of samosas and masala chips frying or saccharine-sweet tea brewing as your ears adjust to the sounds of women chatting with their companions or bargaining with vendors over the loud and incessant sounds of electricity generators humming, filmi music blaring, and dozens of sewing machines buzzing in unison. As you stroll, stopping to glance at a fabric or a sample of embroidery, a vendor will call after you, "Would you look at this? Touch and feel how smooth it is .. it came in just yesterday .. I have the best price ..  but wait! At least look! You won't find this anywhere .. O Baji! (sister) Stop!". He may jog a short distance behind you, fabric in hand, convincing you to stop and consider. Or his pleas will be taken up by his competitors, "You want a Pashmina shawl? Is it winter fabric you want? I have this new Marina fabric ... just look!". You might stop, after all, curiosity getting the better of you. Or, if you are like me, you will want to get away from the dizzying bright displays of sequins and bangles, glittering embroidery and all that noise and step out to the street - wind your way between impatiently honking, stalled traffic and head over to where the smoke is rising from a thela (push-cart) displaying baked sweet potatoes and clementines decorated around a heap of hot charcoal. 

Photo Credit: www.dawn.com

"Dass rupay ki Shakarkandi (10 Rupees worth of sweet potato)", you request the thela-waala (peddlar/street hawker) and then watch as he dumps a sweet potato into the mound of coals, pokes it a few times, digs it out and places it on a layer of torn newspaper in his left hand while he quickly slashes it with his right one, cubing it, he shakes a zesty spice mix over it and drenches it with a few generous squeezes of clementine juice with his coal-blackened, sooty hand. He then sticks a toothpick or two into the cubes of the steaming sweet potato, wraps the newspaper around them and hands the package to you. Throwing caution and all thoughts of hygiene to the wind, you dig into the unbelievably delicious Shakarkandi, mouth burning. What a high. 

For me, Shakarkandi is synonymous with freezing, foggy winters in Lahore when the sun doesn't shine for days and days: this simple little snack chases all the blues away.

One quiet morning, as I moved around my kitchen in silent nostalgia while I prepared vegetables to steam for the baby's meals that day, it hit me: It's so easy to make Shakarkandi at home. Why had I never done this before in all these years? There is no long list of ingredients. All you need is: sweet potatoes, clementines, chaat masala. The latter is not a fancy ingredient, it's a simple spice blend that you might easily find at your local South Asian store. If not, here's a recipe to make your own.








 

Wordless Wednesday

Heidi Swanson's Bran Muffins

I loved the ease of having the kids home for the holidays. The days blended into one another and three weeks flew by too fast because we were busy moving and settling into a new house. With so much to do, the lazy mornings I had envisioned and looked forward to just didn’t materialize most days. However,But it was so good to be able to wake up just a little later than my usual 5 a.m. and peacefully enjoy breakfast in the quiet hour I got to myself before the others started waking up. There were no early morning chastisements, hurried breakfasts, rush to catch the school bus. No trails of strewn clothes left behind or balled-up pyjamas found on top of beds. No realization a split second later (and the ensuing anxiety) that either child forgot a water bottle, a book-bag, library book, a hat, money for field trip/school photo/book order. Because they leave for school at 6:40 a.m. and are up and maddeningly chirpy at 6:00, the kids go to bed fairly early on weeknights. Usually they are already asleep before 7 p.m. which means we have to wait until the weekend to eat dinner together as a family. At least holidays change all of that. So accustomed we are to not seeing each other past 6:15 p.m., there is much giddiness and meal-times are loud, messy, exciting.  It’s sad when all of that comes to an end. But, to be honest, by the end of three weeks I was a little twitchy. So overwhelmed with all the things I still needed to sort through without the kids (finally) underfoot, yet excited to reclaim a few hours of relative under-stimulation each morning.

The night before the first day back in school, I stood in the kitchen with my copy of the beautiful Super Natural Every Day  by HeidiSwanson propped up on my messy kitchen counter, laid open to page 47, Bran Muffins. Working with what I had on hand I whisked eggs, yogurt, coconut oil and maple syrup together while I conversed with the man (husband) and a visiting friend, a sleepy baby balanced on my left hip. When I felt I needed the use of both hands the baby would be passed to the others – seemingly happy, her droopy eyes belying the frisky, jerky movement of her hands and limbs. Back and forth she went, observing every movement as I scooped the thick-ish batter into the muffin tin and, before I popped them in the oven, dotted a few with a teaspoon of strawberry jam, some with chopped dates and left the rest as they were. Not expecting these muffins to be very palatable (come on, bran = blah most of the time) I assumed they would need embellishments. How wrong. These muffins were moist, delicious, and hearty with just the right amount of sweetness and a faint crunch (the crunch from the crushed cereal in the batter lasted only up to a day but the muffins were very moist three days later). No embellishments needed. Perfect with a tiny smear of barely-salted butter (for me), and for breakfast-on-the-go for the kids. These muffins saved me this week.

A few days ago I had cheerfully uploaded this photo on instagram. The caption said, “Kids back in school. Enjoying the quiet this morning”. How presumptuous and audacious. Of course that was an invitation to jinx myself forever.

Just when I thought I was going to unpack our last few boxes in peace and then put up my feet and read a book, maybe: everyone got sick. Including me. Falling like dominoes, starting with my girl, ending with me. So, this week was all about sleep-deprivation and exhaustion. I feel a bit like a wrung-out mop. Or dish-rag. Whatever is worse. But at least these muffins kept me nourished while, according to my boy, we (he and I) were “living the life” today i.e. sitting up in bed convalescing reading and chatting.

If you’d like to make these muffins, here’s the recipe. I used things I had on hand so I substituted coconut oil for the butter, a blend of whole wheat and all-purpose flour for the whole wheat pastry flour, and yogurt for the buttermilk. I’ve made quite a few things out of this book over previous months (more blog posts to follow) and I find Heidi’s recipes very easily adaptable. The recipes themselves contain suggestions for substitutes and I’ve found that I can use seasonal fruits, a blend of flours and different alternatives for butter without my alterations compromising the end-result. I’m excited to try more recipes from this book over the next few weeks as part of my target-one-cookbook-a-month plan for this year.

Bran Muffins

Makes 12

(Mildly adapted from the original recipe) Super Natural Every Day by Heidi Swanson, Page 47

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 cup plain, full-fat yogurt

½ cup coconut oil

¼ cup maple syrup

½ cup oat bran

1.5 cups plain, unsweetened bran cereal, crushed (I poured it into a zipper bag and crushed it with one hand while I carried the baby)

½ cup wholewheat flour

½ cup all purpose flour

¼ cup natural cane sugar

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp fine sea salt

Preheat the oven to 400F. Generously butter a standard 12-cup muffin pan.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, yogurt, coconut oil and maple syrup. Sprinkle the crushed cereal and the bran on top, stir, and allow the mixture to rest for five minutes.

Stir the dry ingredients together in another bowl and sprinkle them over the wet ingredients, stirring till just combined. Scoop the thick-ish batter into your muffin pan and bake 18-22 minutes. Cool in pan for 5 minutes before turning the muffins out of the pan to cool on a wire rack.

Rose Levy Beranbaum's Perfect All-American Chocolate Butter Cake

"Someone I loved once gave me 

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand 

that this, too, was a gift" 

The Uses of Sorrow by Mary Oliver

I have a hard time saying goodbye. But I'm not sad that 2012 has reached its bittersweet end.

It was a challenging year, on the personal front, for both the husband and myself: a bad year for friendships, a year of some very tough trials and of facing harsh truths about certain loved ones . . . focusing on the positives I'd say I may have lost a few illusions but I gained a lot of perspective. It was a year of testing my limits and finding that I still do okay. That things may overwhelm me at times but I stand strong enough to see them through. I learned a lot this past year.

Life tends to be wonderful and infuriating at the same time. A lot of great things have happened too: it was a rewarding year as parents, a year of big (and good) changes, being blessed with new friendships and many, many wonderful moments . Through all the tumultuousness food has been constant and consistent in its ability to make me feel calm and grounded. Whether I'm standing in my kitchen chopping vegetables to add to a steaming pot of soup, coercing egg-whites into shiny whiteness to make the perfect meringue cookies, rolling out discs of dough that sizzle on a hot, oiled griddle, or breathing in the aromas from the tray of warm, freshly baked banana muffins that I've just placed on a cooling rack: the soothing repetition of these rituals I perform as I move around my kitchen is a healing balm.

Increasingly, baking and cooking are the only things I really, really love to do. I can't always get in the kitchen for baking marathons any more but I'm trying to carve out the time to do so whenever I can - and to end the long silences on this blog. I have been hanging out on Instagram recently and some of the baking I do makes its way into my newsfeed there. Two of my blogger friends from the BWD group and I decided we would pick a random cookbook each month and bake/cook as many things as we wanted from it throughout that month. Whoever decides to blog about the experience is welcome to do so, but there is no compulsion. There are no other rules and the only requirement is that we post photos on instagram using the hashtag #inspiredkitchen . This challenge provides the perfect opportunity for me to go through my vast and ever-increasing collection of cookbooks. For December we picked 'Baking With Julia' by Dorie Greenspan. But more on that later.

For now I want to wish you a year full of  inspiring, wonderful, happy times. And I want to leave you with this chocolatey, airy but fudgy cake from The Cake Bible. It's the perfect cake to ring in the new year. I found a recipe link for you here. Happy 2013!

Birthday Treats

A little someone turned 5 a few days ago. The celebration wasn't a big one but the anticipation was huge this year. It wasn't for the cake and goodies or even for birthday gifts but for the fact that she was turning **five**. I still don't know what the big deal about being 5 is, but the magnitude of relevance attached to the number is evident from one of several conversations overheard around here these past few weeks:

Daughter: "So, I'll be the mommy and you can be my two daughters"
Friend #1: "No, I'll be the mommy because I'm bigger than you : I'm 5"
Daughter: "Well, I'm going to be five next month so I can be the mommy"
Friend #1: "I'm five and-a-half"
Daughter: "You are not bigger than me. (stands next to friend so their shoulders are touching)We are the same size - see?"
Friend #2: "I'm also five! I want to be the mommy!"
Daughter & Friend #1: "No you are not. You're just three and-a-half. You're a baby. Babies can't be the mommy"
Friend #2 (beginning to have the-mother-of-all-meltdowns): "I'm not a baby! I'm not three! I'm five! I'm five!!"
Daughter & Friend #1: "You are NOT FIVE. You are JUST three-and-a-half"
Friend #2: "I AM FIVE!!!" 
Daughter & Friend #2: "Fine!! Then we are not playing with you!" (And they stomp off, leaving me to deal with a wailing, feet-stamping, miserable 3.5 year old)

Did you just get emotionally drained reading all that? Because I did, just retelling it. Imagine re-living this same conversation at least a couple of times each week. Do you think such unwarranted self-importance deserves a sweet celebration? I don't.

But I melt.

Because this is my little girl who is not a baby any more but also not quite the 'big girl' she would like to be. I am filled with amazement and pride as I watch this little person grow into who she will be one day and my heart fills up with love at the sight of her. Very much her own person from the moment she was born. I love how strong she is, how sure of what she wants. I admire that about her. There is no one quite like her: bossy, fiercely loving, thoughtful, compassionate, independent, deeply sensitive beneath her bravado, creative, silly, talented, funny ... on the move all day long. Being her parent is sometimes so challenging because we tend to lock heads: each of us as stubborn as the other. Some days I just want to throw in the towel and go hide in a cave. Parenting is just so hard. Why didn't anyone ever tell me that?

But it's so wonderful too. You know what they say about how having children makes you feel like you are watching your heart walk around outside your body - that is how I feel when I look at my kids. Literally, at times, it's a physical ache. I can't even get through a blog post about them without getting deeply emotional. So! Let's talk about tea parties and cupcakes!

The cupcakes I made for my girl are actually based on Ina Garten's highly popular Beatty's Chocolate Cake. I picked the recipe because my daughter is a big Ina Garten fan and watches The Barefoot Contessa on Food Network with an avid interest akin to which  most other kids watch cartoons. I left the recipe mostly untouched aside from omitting the egg yolk from the frosting and decreasing the amount of espresso powder in the frosting to only 1 heaped teaspoon. The cupcakes were for kids so I was uneasy about using a raw egg yolk in the frosting and I don't think it suffered from the omission. In fact, I believe it's the frosting that makes these cupcakes. It's quite delicious - especially after the reduction of the espresso powder as recommended in several of the 1589 (no, I did not read them all!) reviews on Food Network. I also consulted this comparison of chocolate frostings on the Crumbly Cookie blog while I briefly contemplated using a different kind of frosting for these cupcakes just in case I was unable to substitute/omit the egg yolk. It seems from the photos on Crumbly Cookie that the addition egg yolk must add more texture because her frosting seems to hold a better shape than mine did. But I don't mind because I did not intend to pipe shapes with it. That said, I'm intrigued to know if you have tried using an egg yolk in a frosting recipe? Does it make a difference? Is there a substitute?

Now because I subscribe to the 'less is more' school of thought, I had to make the birthday cake using an entirely different recipe. You might argue that I didn't need to make a birthday cake at all when I had 24 cupcakes on hand and only 7 guests (all family!) other than the one friend my daughter wished to spend her birthday with. But this is me we are talking about. And me at 3:30 a.m. when I'm faced with choosing between Beatty's Chocolate Cake and Dorie Greenspan's Cocoa-Buttermilk Birthday Cake. Ever indecisive and unable to risk shaking the husband awake or texting a friend at such an early hour to ask the quintessential 'what shall it be? Ina Garten or Dorie Greenspan?' question I had to just go with it and bake both. Madness, yes.

This cake - well, let me say I am not sorry I baked it. I read the P&Q on the TWD website and I saw that it (especially the buttercream) got mixed reviews but, honestly, I just love this cake. It's the perfect birthday cake. I especially love the buttercream - it's not saccharine like buttercreams tend to be and I did not find it to be either grainy or gritty. I had no problems at all whipping it up and it was fairly smooth with a very faint, but not unpleasant, crunch from the chocolate malted powder. The recipe asks for malted milk powder and I had chocolate flavored Horlicks on hand so that is what I used. I did add the optional melted and cooled chocolate in the cake batter and even though the cake was slightly on the drier side it would be just fine if made as a layered cake, with thick layers of frosting in between. I didn't do layers so each slice consisted of a whole lot of cake and not enough frosting. But, like I said, this is easily remedied. The cake improved while it sat around and was completely gone by the 3rd day so I can tell you that it keeps well, covered and placed on the counter, for 3 days. If it lasts that long. The recipe can be found on Page 256 of Baking From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan or here.

I was completely washed out by the end of the day. But you know what, she loved it all. The cake. The cupcakes. Her 'tea-party for two' with her best friend... so the lack of sleep, tiredness and everything else seems of little consequence.

The highlight of her day, though, seems to be this little snippet I overheard:

Daughter to her friend: "I'm 5 now. You can't tell me any more what to do because I'm the same age as you"

Happy Birthday, my lovely one. May you have many more.

Meetha Paratha (Sweet Flatbread)

My grandmother is an innate nurturer. After my grandfather passed away 27 years ago she latched on immediately to us, her grand children, as a coping mechanism to try and fill the gap he left behind. Every memory I have of her involves her being in her kitchen, her domain, where she would move around like a whirling dervish chopping, dicing, stirring, kneading - pouring out her love for us into the meals she prepared.

One of the special treats she made for us on weekends was meetha paratha - a fat, sugary, crunchy, flaky flatbread. She's almost 90 now but still welcomes requests and will lovingly roll out this delicious comfort food for my breakfast each time I'm back home for a visit. Two weeks ago I stood next to her and watched as she dipped a fat ball of dough into the flour bin, shook off the excess, flattened and spread it with ghee and granulated sugar. She then rolled it into a log, smeared it with more ghee and sugar, brought the ends together to form a disc and then rolled it out flat.

The passing years have not changed how swiftly her hands move, how her fingers look as she spreads the ghee on the dough, how she places the flattened dough on the griddle and rotates it before flipping it on to the other side. My grandmothers' meetha partahas are always thick, shaped square and are irresistibly delicious. They have crunchy, crispy edges while their insides are soft and almost syrupy-sweet. It may have been two weeks since I had one but I can still taste it so well. And, because I miss her so very much, I made this indulgent breakfast for myself this morning. My paratha is so lackluster in comparison, not half as thick or as sugary, not even a very good square. To add insult to injury it even has a few burned spots. I'm not sure she would approve. I always fall short. But it's okay. It's a tribute all the same.


Meetha Paratha (Sweet Flatbread)

2 cups atta flour
2-3 tbsp wheat bran (optional)
1 cup warm water
a large pinch of salt
2-3 tbsp raw sugar
3-4 tbsp ghee

Sift the flour, bran and salt together in a large bowl. Pour in the water, half a cup at a time, mix into the flour with your hands and then knead to form a soft dough. Cover and leave aside for half an hour. Meanwhile heat the griddle on medium.

Divide the dough into 8 balls. Dip a ball of dough into flour or dust with flour and flatten into a disc. Smear with ghee and sprinkle generously with sugar. Bring the sides up and roll the disc into a ball. Flatten and roll it out thick. Spread a tablespoon of ghee on the griddle and place the flattened dough on top. Spread the top with a layer of ghee and flip it over when one side is cooked. Serve warm. These parathas are delicious on their own, with a cup of milky tea.









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Homemade Oreos

A chocolate cookie is like a warm hug. It can say "I love you" like nothing else. And so I left the house last night with a big box of I love you's in my suitcase and a song in my heart. I'm seeing my best friends after more than two years and going back home after well over one year. . . Not even a 3.5 hour flight day and the ensuing 6 hours spent at the airport have dampened my spirit. I'm beyond excited to see them and elated at the prospect of getting a brief break from expatriate life.

In the years that we haven't met each other new babies have been born, older ones have grown and lives have really evolved. I still have a hard time imagining them in their new mommy roles because we've spent such pitifully little time together since we all had children and, in my case, went to live on a different continent altogether. There is so much to catch up on despite daily chats on whatsapp and frequent photo exchanges. "Friends for twenty-five years" sounds awesome and truly is. .. More sisters than friends, these two are my best critics, strongest supporters and confidantes. There's nothing I can't talk to them about and can always expect them to give me the best advice, soothe my aching soul. I love them more than words can describe.

I could catch a nap on the plane but am looking at the clock instead, and writing this post, too excited to sleep. An hour away. Tick, tock. And our brief interlude will begin.

One sleepy evening this past week I was browsing through my Instagram newsfeed and came across a photo of TKOs (Thomas Keller Oreo Cookies). Intrigued, I looked up the recipe online and was completely sold when I saw that these homemade 'oreos' consist of a white chocolate ganache sandwiched between two sablé cookies. There could not be a better homemade treat to take along for my friends. So I got started on a batch right away. As soon as the dough was ready I knew I finally nailed it - several frustrating attempts at making World Peace Cookies (my dough is invariably always crumbly and the logs fall apart when I slice them) had made me lose faith in myself when it came to sablés. Not any more! These cookies had the perfect, formerly elusive, sandy texture and the intense chocolate flavor I was looking for. Unfortunately I cannot eat dairy at present so dared only a small bite of the sablé with a hint of ganache so I cannot tell you how perfectly paired they are. But from the aromas in my kitchen and the stamp of approval from my little (almost) 5-yr old gourmande-in-training tells me these cookies are pretty awesome. And I can tell you, based on the tiny bite I took, that they are better than Oreos. Now if these aren't the embodiment of love, what is? You can find the recipe here.

The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies

Yesterday marks the first time my son traveled without me. I made these cookies because the chocolate chip kind are his favorite, because I was going to miss him and because I wanted to surprise him by hiding a small tin of these in his carry-on luggage. I imagine he reached into his bag and found the tin sandwiched between his books. Then he smiled, pulled out one cookie, placed the tin on his lap and began reading...

This recipe comes from Nestle Kitchens and yields quite possibly the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever made. I used whole wheat flour and substituted dark chocolate for the chocolate chips. If you like cookies that are crisp around the edges but perfectly chewy in the middle this recipe is for you. My son says these are winners so I may never make a different kind.

Mango Cheesecake Ice Cream

Hello, Summer...

I've been missing from this space for months. It seems that writing dissertations takes up a lot of time. Even when there is lots of procrastination involved. In an ideal world I'd be telling you about the many, many new recipes I tested during this time. But not today. 

Looking through my archives I came across this photo from the end of summer last year. It was meant to make its' way into a post but somehow never did. How lucky to have found it now since it gave me a chance to do some more digging and come up with the recipe for this luscious ice cream. 

I first came across it when I was searching for ways to use up a large tub of Labneh (yogurt cheese) in my fridge. I had halved the recipe since I was skeptical and was in no way prepared for how delicious it was going to be. The addition of yogurt adds a smooth, rich flavor similar to cream cheese but contains far less fat making this a less guilty summery treat. I adapted the original recipe only in that I used  pureéd mangoes instead of strawberries. But having made it with both mangoes & strawberries and then just plain, without fruit pureé, we love all three versions equally well chez moi. 

I've got a batch already chilling in my fridge, ready to be churned. Meanwhile here's the recipe because I know you'll want to try it: 

Mango Cheesecake Ice Cream 

adapted from the recipe here

7.5 ounces (about 1 cup) Labneh or yogurt cheese (recipe here)

1/2 cup sugar

3/4 whole milk

1/2 cup whipping cream

1/4 tsp lemon juice

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup mango pureé

In a stand mixer, beat the cheese and sugar till smooth (around 2 minutes).

Add in the milk and cream and continue beating on medium till smooth. Mix in lemon juice and salt. Refrigerate for 4 hours or overnight. Churn in ice-cream maker, freeze at least 2 hours. 

Mango Pureé  :

1.5 Lb chopped, fresh mango

1/4 cup sugar (use more if your mangoes are not sweet)

Pureé the fruit and sugar together. Chill in fridge till ready to use. 

To assemble:

Add a thin layer of pureé on the bottom of your ice-cream container. Top with a third of your ice cream and gently swirl with a spoon. Repeat layers and swirl, ending with a layer of ice cream.