Today someone’s driver delivered a tiffin box to my place. My neighbour, who was away from home at the time, called up and requested me to receive it and keep it in my refrigerator for him. Coming back home, he first came to pick up his precious box before going to his own place. Turned out that his mother had sent his favourite kheer, prepared early in the  morning, just the way he used to like it as a kid.

He was embarrassingly grateful to me for keeping his treasure safe from ants, flies, fungus and other natural and man-made calamities and catastrophes. As a reward for my conscientious custody, I was to be allowed a taste of the nectar within the box. With the air of a conjurer he opened the tiffin box (hampered somewhat by the fact that the lid had stuck, probably since it had been shut tight while the kheer was still boiling hot) and wafted it under my nose.

A strong aroma of cardamom hit me, and looking down I saw a white, watery mess with grains of rice floating desultorily, along with slivers of almond and darker patches that looked like depressed raisins. Face shining with anticipation, he asked me to fetch a bowl for my share – “but a small one, mind you: I can’t share too much of it ..”. Realizing that he would probably deem it an insult to his mother’s culinary skills if I asked him to keep the whole of it for himself, I fetched the smallest katori in the house, into which he tipped a (thankfully) miniscule portion of the fabled kheer.

But if I thought I was off the hook, I had another think coming. “Taste it,” he urged excitedly. “I guarantee, it’s the best think you’ll ever have tasted in you whole life!” he gushed. Feeling entirely unequal to mustering the required expression of bliss after tasting the mess in my katori, I wriggled off the hook by assuring him that I would eat it after dinner with my husband, as I didn’t want to deprive him of the treat.

“What time do you have dinner?” he asked. “I’ll call to ask how you liked it.” I assured him that I’d give him the feedback myself and thankfully watched him leave. Over dinner I put the kheer on the table, next to hubby’s plate. “Bhai saheb-next-door’s mother sent this for him. He was out and I received it. He left some for you in gratitude.”

Accustomed to rich, thick rice puddings studded with dry fruits and nuts, garnished with saffron and cardamom in the name of kheer, the poor man gaped at me in horror. “You are the one who received it,” he said, recovering his wits. “So, the gratitude has to be for you, as is … this … go ahead – eat it,” he prodded mischievously, enjoying my predicament. He knows I will never waste food, and if he didn’t eat the kheer, I would, even if it choked me!

We finally compromised on half-and-half – one teaspoonful each: It’s bad manners to criticize someone behind their back, so I can only say that the kheer fully lived up to its ‘promise’. Just then, the telephone rang. It was bhai saheb-next-door asking for feedback (read ‘fulsome praise’). Feeling that hubby (by virtue of having to deal with lots of people of all kinds in his high-profile job) would be better at lying through the teeth, I passed the phone to him, and watched him gush about the taste of the kheer (I’ll really have to watch it when he praises anything of mine in future!). But then I saw an expression of horror spread on his face and he disconnected the call in a daze.

“What?” I asked anxiously.

“He says I’m the first person who liked his mother’s kheer as much as he does. No one in his own family appreciates it – in fact, they are quite insulting about it. He was thrilled with my reaction. He says he’s going to ask his mother to send over TWO tiffin boxes of it next time – one for him and one for me. AND he’s going to sit with me and eat it, so that we can enjoy it even more in each other’s company!!!”

RECIPE FOR RICE KHEER

Ingredients:
• Milk: 1 kg
• Rice: 100 gms or I heaped handful
• Sugar: 150 gms or a little more (according to taste)
• Cardamom (green): 4-5 pods
• Saffron (optional): a few strands (soaked in warm milk for 15 min)
• Dry fruits and nuts (optional and according to preference): a few almonds (blanched or whole, cut into slivers), unsalted pistachios (cut into slivers), walnut kernels (crushed), and raisins

Procedure:
• Boil the milk in a heavy-bottomed utensil. You can add a tablespoonful of cream for extra richness.
• Wash the rice thoroughly, drain it, and add to the boiling milk, stirring continuously so that the rice does not stick to the bottom. Stir for a minute or two and leave it to cook on a low flame, covered with a colander and stir occasionally.
• Cook for at least an hour, till you get the required consistency. Add the sugar and keep stirring continuously till it boils over again.
• (Warning: Do not stop stirring at this stage, or the sugar will stick to the bottom and burn!!)
• Remove from the flame. Add crushed cardamom seeds, soaked saffron and dry fruits and nuts as per preference.

Additional Tips:
• Use full cream milk for best results, but if counting calories, you can use skimmed milk and thicken it with a little cornflour dissolved in water after adding the sugar. If using a sugar substitute, be careful to add it after taking the kheer off the flame
• For a quick preparation, add a tin of condensed milk after 15 minutes of cooking and adjust the quantity of sugar accordingly
• Grated nutmeg (jaiphal), khajoor gud and chironji are other options for garnishing (while still piping hot, otherwise the flavours won’t blend properly)
• Can add crushed makhanas (puffed lotus seeds) and/or grated coconut about 10 minutes before adding sugar
• Can add a teaspoon of ghee to the rice before adding it to the milk for additional richness