So, I got this idea in my head a while back – baked Indian desserts. I mean, why not, right? I love my traditional mithai, but sometimes all that ghee and sugar from the fried stuff feels a bit much. Plus, I was looking for a new kitchen adventure. I thought, “Hey, I can bake a decent cake, how different can this be?” Oh boy, was I in for a ride.
Let me tell you, my first few attempts were, well, let’s call them “learning experiences.” I tried to just take a regular gulab jamun recipe and shove it in the oven. Bad idea. They came out looking sad and a bit tough. Not the soft, syrupy goodness I was dreaming of. It turns out, just swapping frying for baking isn’t a simple one-to-one thing. The moisture, the texture, it all changes.
I spent a good chunk of time just messing around. My kitchen looked like a disaster zone on more than one occasion. Flour everywhere, sticky pans, and a few batches that went straight into the bin. I was trying all sorts:
- Attempting some sort of baked barfi – nope, too crumbly.
- Trying to adapt a jalebi batter for baking – just don’t. Seriously.
- Even thought about a baked version of rasmalai, but that just felt wrong on too many levels.
It felt like I was trying to reinvent the wheel, and the wheel was fighting back. Most recipes I found online were still for the classic fried or simmered versions. Finding solid guidance for baked Indian sweets was like hunting for a unicorn.
But I’m stubborn, you know? I couldn’t let it go. Then, I remembered Nankhatai. Of course! Those lovely, crumbly, cardamom-scented biscuits. They are meant to be baked. This felt like a much safer bet, a way to get a win under my belt.
So, I decided to really focus on perfecting my Nankhatai game. I gathered my ingredients: good quality ghee (this is super important, don’t skimp here!), plain flour, powdered sugar, a pinch of baking soda, and fresh cardamom. The basics, really. I must have read like, ten different recipes, each with its own little quirks. Some used semolina, some used chickpea flour, but I decided to start simple.
The first step was creaming the ghee and sugar. I did this by hand, really working it until it was light and fluffy. Then, I gently mixed in the flour, cardamom, and baking soda. The key, I learned, is not to overmix. You want that short, crumbly texture. My dough looked a bit like wet sand at first, but it came together. I rolled them into small balls, flattened them slightly, and some folks add a little almond or pistachio sliver on top, which I did for a few.
Then came the baking. I preheated my oven, laid them out on a baking sheet, and popped them in. The smell, oh my goodness, the smell that started filling my kitchen! That warm, sweet, cardamom aroma. It was pure comfort. I was practically glued to the oven door, watching them. They started to spread a little and get those characteristic cracks on top. That’s when you know they’re doing their thing.
After about 15-20 minutes, they were a beautiful light golden color. I let them cool on the tray for a bit because they’re super delicate when hot. And then, the moment of truth. I picked one up, it felt light, and it just melted in my mouth. Success! Actual, delicious, baked success. It wasn’t overly sweet, perfectly crumbly, and that cardamom hit was just right.
That Nankhatai experience really boosted my confidence. Since then, I’ve experimented more with other baked Indian-inspired treats, like baked shakarpara, and even a sort of baked peda. It’s still a work in progress, and not every experiment is a winner, but it’s a lot of fun. It’s all about understanding how the ingredients work and not being afraid to tweak things. So yeah, that’s my little journey into the world of baked Indian desserts. Started with a bit of chaos, but ended with some pretty tasty results, if I do say so myself.
