Nut-thing lasts forever, especially 'danyacha koot'

If you’re a Maharashtrian who doesn’t squirrel away a stash of what is called ‘shengadanyacha koot’/ शेंगदाण्याचा कूट  in your kitchen then you need to promptly revisit your roots and get your act together. What’s the fuss about? 

Well, historically, a stash of roasted ground peanuts has been a sign of a well managed Maharashtrian kitchen. And for a good reason - you see - given how many dishes from the region rely upon these golden snowflakes for their masalas, a stash is de rigueur. It takes away the stress of making a batch on demand and so reduces the prep time for everyday Maharashtrian dishes. Keeping a jar of roasted ground peanut is a standard time-saving practice in most Maharashtrian households. So make a batch today and your future self will thank you many times over.

Shengadanyacha koot, often colloquially shortened to ‘danyacha koot’ (दाण्याचा कूट) is integral to the masalas of many indegenious Maharashtrian curry preparations. Whether it is an ‘usal’ or a stuffed dry vegetable ‘bhaji’ or ‘subzi’, this koot is ever present. The texture of ground peanuts adds body to a curry sauce while the toasted nutty flavour adds a certain umami that Maharashtrians swear by. Whether it is to amplify the ‘khamang-ness’ (the meaning of ‘khamang’ is on my blog here) of cool kakdi koshimbir or to accentuate the inherent flavour of a dry vegetable stir fry, a generous sprinkling of this magical nuttiness towards the end of cooking works wonders. Whether it is to suppress the bitterness of ‘methi’ (fenugreek) or to blunt the razor sharpness of a bitter gourd, a ready powder of roasted ground peanut simply harmonises the flavours of a dish. Want to mellow down the spiciness of ‘thecha’? Worry not! Just throw this danyacha koot into the fiery mix whilst frying and you’ll be laughing instead of blowing steam out of your ears and nostrils. And who doesn’t like a bit of crunchy peanut wackiness on their desserts? Budge over ice creams and froyos, overloaded with nuts and sweet toppings! I am talking about the unassuming sweet ‘shengadanyachi poli’, etched on every Maharshtrian’s childhood memory. Danyacha koot mixed with sugar or jaggery is stuffed into a whole wheat flour dough before rolling into discs of ‘poli’ ready to roast on a flat pan or tawa. 

This protein-rich powder (for the lack of better word in English) is so ubiquitous in Maharashtrian cuisine that even festivals like Makarsankranti celebrate its rich aromatic flavour in ‘tilgul vadi’ and ‘ladu’. No jaggery and sesame based sweet preparation is complete without a sprinkle of this pixie dust during this festive period.

As a child growing up in a Maharashtrian household, watching my Mum pound a generous batch of roasted peanuts in her heavy-duty cast iron heirloom ‘khalbatta’ (pestle & mortar) was a common sight. I never understood the faff of roasting red peanuts on a tawa, then rigorously and repetitively tossing them in a ‘parat’ (a flat wide steel bowl) whilst blowing the flakey skin away - a technique that I later learnt was called ‘pa-khad-ne’ (पाखडणे) in Marathi. But this air of mystery soon lifted when I left home and set up my own kitchen in the tech city of Bangalore. This ready to use ‘koot’ proved to be a godsend whenever I had to quickly satiate untimely Maharashtrian cravings. 

So how is ‘shengadanyacha koot’ aka roasted ground peanut powder prepared?

You start off by roasting a big batch (say 250g) of pink-skinned whole peanuts over a low to medium flame in a flat pan. Roast evenly by stirring with a spatula every now and then. As soon as they start to brown and you see a few burnt marks on their skins, switch off the flame and transfer into a steel ‘parat’ or a flat wide bowl. Allow them to cool completely.

Next, scrunch off the flakey skins of the peanuts by hand. You will need to repetitively rub them between your palms until all the nuts look bare and beige.

The flat bowl will now be a messy mix of flakes (which you don’t want) and nuts (you do want). If you shake the bowl sideways a little, most of the flakes will gather together so that you can easily remove them. But I’ve only ever known one foolproof way of seperating all the flakes in one go - and that is the traditional technique called ‘pa-khad-ne’. You repetitively and carefully toss the mixture in the air to blow away the lighter skin flakes. Then all that is left in the bowl are peanuts sans skins. Yes, you will need to step out in your garden or a corner of your balcony to perform this dexterous task… unless you don’t mind a flakey mess all over your kitchen floor, or worse still, clogging up your kitchen sink.

Once the tricky job of separating flakes from the kernels is done, all you’re left to do is to pound the nuts in a large pestle and mortar to attain a coarsely ground consistency. Modern kitchens don’t usually host such heavy manual contraptions. So feel free to blitz the nuts in a coffee grinder until they’re evenly ground to a coarse texture (but not a fine powder). And you’re done.

Finally, to retain the aromatic freshness of your danyacha koot, it’s advisable to stash it in a completely dry airtight glass jar. Transfer into the jar using a dry spoon. Prolong its life by keeping it in a refrigerator where it will stay fresh for as long as six months.

Visit my blog here for some popular indigenous Maharashtrian recipes - the ones that I only started to appreciate fully after I Ieft home. The simple pleasures of life become a luxury only when they are hard to come by. I realised my life had been stripped of the joy that good old regional home cooking brought me.  Without this nutty gold dust, my food would be as dull as ditch water. So I recklessly sprinkle it on the dishes of my homeland whenever I prepare them in my UK kitchen.