Chef Sanjay Thumma is my current favorite time suck.

It's refreshing to watch someone demonstrate mouth-watering dishes with uninhibited joy, a matter-of-fact globalism and minimal make-up. It helps that I love so many cuisines in India, but what immediately appealed to me is his stance as a teacher. It's a very different experience to learn about traditional foods from someone who assumes, from the beginning, that his audience is not comprised of outsiders. Like a student whose teacher sets high expectations, viewers and home cooks rise to the challenge.

His balance of expert advice with friendly reassurance is neither oversimplified nor condescending. He's a professional who knows his stuff, yet he doesn't gleam with that over-polished, over-packaged look of television. Each video, from 2 to 10 minutes, covers one specific dish -- just enough for a mouth-watering work break if not dinner inspiration.

Don't expect super-high production value. Two still cameras and a complete lack of location shots does not a sexy food show make. But what Thumma's demos lack in glamour, he more than makes up with passionate enthusiasm (a taste of Hydrabadi mutton biryani literally brings him to tears), humor and generosity. Both veg and non-veg recipes appear in his demos, and he discusses the food of diverse communities across India.

Thumma seamlessly blends traditional techniques and modern adaptations. His simple yet brilliant two-step rice cooking for biryani ensures perfectly cooked basmati throughout the pot. His secret ingredient for butter chicken reveals the wonderful ways that food crisscrosses the oceans. Mentioning Indian restaurant cooks in the U.S. and England, Thumma holds up a bottle of "tomato ketchup" and squirts some into his sauce to finish it with just the right texture and tangy flavor.

While cooks already familiar with basic Indian spices will have a headstart, the demonstrations are geared to beginners, whether you're mixing your first raita, simmering a batch of comforting chana masala, making your own herb-infused paneer or--for the ambitious--rolling and stretching roomali roti to serve with kebabs.

There are many, many cooks demonstrating recipes on YouTube. I'm looking forward to watching the better ones emerge as new stars of the wide, wild culinary world.

Every year, on the first Sunday of November, tens of thousands of Sikh from across the U.S. and Canada travel to Yuba City for the largest gathering of their extended community in North America. It's the only public festival I've seen in this country where not a single piece of food is sold, yet I still managed to eat and drink for six hours straight.

Food is offered free to all who come: Every single one of the 60,000 Sikh (give or take 20,000 in any given year) who take part in the festival, and the few hundred curious folk like me who show up for the food.

Cauliflower pakoras fresh from the oil.

All along the side of the parade's path are stations of Sikh men and women rolling roti, frying pakoras, stirring curries, and cutting sweets. Everything served is vegetarian, to be as inclusive as possible. Friendly, young men offer fresh fruit, water, juice, and hot chai to all who walk by -- even the Christian evangelists with their placards and flyers.
A line of women roll fill bread with potatoes masala while a two-man team shares dipping and frying duty.

Men from the Punjab region of Northern India were among the earliest immigrants to the Pacific Northwest and then the Central and Imperial Valleys of California. Many of them were Sikh, and their hard work -- felling trees, laying rails, and laboring in fields and orchards -- helped build the West.

The November festival in Yuba City honors the Sikh scriptures, the Guru Granth Sahib, and the recitation of its words is central to the procession. Large, decorated semi-trucks help pull the priests and musicians through the crowded streets.

This Thursday, I'll be giving a presentation about the importance of the communal kitchen in the Sikh religion. There'll be lots more photos, including many archival ones, and we'll discuss how Asian Americans such as the Sikh navigated strict immigration and alien land laws to establish thriving farms in the Central Valley.

"Sikh Temples and Communal Meals: Religion, Politics and Potluck in California's Central Valley"
Presented by Thy Tran
Thursday, October 11, 2007
5:15-6:45 pm

Magnes Museum
2911 Russell Street, Berkeley, CA
Contact: Erica J. Peters, Culinary Historians of Northern California
Phone: (650) 938-4936
Email: e-peters-9@alumni.uchicago.edu

The Indian karahi has the same lovely, generous shape as a Chinese wok.

It's been a long time since I've worshipped anything beyond dumplings or doughnuts on Sunday mornings, but this weekend I joined Stockton's Sikh community at their historic temple on Grant Street. The act of sharing food as spiritual devotion has deep roots in many of the world's religions. At Buddhist temples, serving vegetarian food to the public is a way to raise money for community work. At Sikh temples, offering a meal free to anyone who asks is an act of spiritual generosity mandated by the religion's founders.

As I research immigrant foodways here in Northern California, I've been struck by how temples have emerged as the center of many of these transplanted communities. In the Bay Area, there are many temples where you can experience the intersection of devotional prayers and delicious meals.

Here's a short list of three worth visiting:

Chua Duc Vien
2420 Mclaughlin Avenue (at Tully)
San Jose, California
(408) 993-9158

Chua Duc Vien is the only Buddhist temple run entirely by women in Northern California. The late Thich Dam Luu and the Vietnamese Buddhists she inspired, from small children to elders, raised money to build this temple by collecting and recycling cans, paper and cardboard for years. (Thich is Vietnamese for "Venerable," the title of respect for monks and nuns.) Serving the large and well-established San Jose Vietnamese community, it offers a place of prayer and contemplation every day of the week. You'll see women bowing with incense as part of their daily regimen next to families posing for celebratory portraits.

If you're exploring the nearby Vietnamese enclaves, it's a peaceful place to rest after the bustle of Lion Plaza to the east or the sheen of Grand Century Mall to the north. For those tempting fate, there's a small room to the side of the temple where you can pray for your fortune. Watch those before you to get the knack of tossing the numbered sticks -- it's all about the wrists -- then find a friendly person to translate the corresponding message.

The temple welcomes visitors, and on Sundays, the nuns erect a tent to serve vegetarian versions of popular Vietnamese dishes and special sweets such as banh cam, perfectly round, sesame-sprinkled "orange cakes." On a recent visit, they were serving one of my favorites soups, bun rieu, with thin rice noodles, tofu puffs and fresh tomatoes. The food is neither fancy nor expensive, but all proceeds go to the nuns' community work.

Sikh Gurdwara Sahib
1930 S. Grant Street (at E. 5th)
Stockton, California

This Stockton temple holds a place of pride for California Sikhs. Built on land purchased in 1912, it was the first gurdwara("doorway to the guru") built in the U.S by early immigrants from the Punjab who worked in the nearby orchards and along the transcontinental railway. Since then, many other gurdwaras have been built, including the Gurdwara Sahib in Fremont and the impressive Sri Guru Nanak Gurdwara in Yuba City. All have kitchens that will serve food to anyone who appears at the temple and asks, no matter what time of the day or night. In Stockton, nearly 1,000 people flow through the lunch line every Sunday, and on important holidays, the temple may feed 10,000 to 20,000 visitors.

One of the central institutions of the Sikh religion is the langar, the communal meal where volunteers help prepare, serve and clean. Sharing food emphasizes the equality and brotherhood of the Sikh religion. Requiring all community members and visitors to eat the same food together in the same room at the same time has special significance within the context of India's historical caste system. Prayers and recitations accompany the meal, a reminder of the importance of a contemplative life.

Simple but well-spiced, satisfying vegetarian food comes from the langar's kitchen, including vegetable curries, flatbreads, dal, and fresh salads. Breakfast might be paratha with fenugreek greens, served with a generous dollop of whipped butter. In the afternoon, you might snack on caulifower pakora, dried dates and a selection of sweets with chai. Within the temple, you may also be offered karah prashad, a rich, sweet pudding made from flour, butter and sugar. Served after a priest has recited prayers, the prashad is holy food. Accept the prashad with both hands and be sure to to ask for a small amount if you don't think you can finish all of it.

There is no charge for the food prepared in the langar, and since Sikhs do not proselytize, you needn't worry that their free meals are an attempt to convert you. When you visit a gurdwara, remember to wear clothing that allows you to sit modestly on the floor. Both men and women must cover their hair and remove their shoes before entering.

At the Stockton gurdwara: Making enough roti for a thousand hungry people involves ten women patting and rolling dough from 6 to 10 every Sunday morning.

Wat Mongkolratanaram
a.k.a. The Thai Buddhist Temple
1911 Russell Street (at Martin Luther King, Jr. Way)
Berkeley, California 94703
(510) 849-3419

If you haven't yet been to Berkeley's Thai Temple, then you're missing one of the best community meals in the Bay Area. It's pretty well established, so you'll need to arrive before 11 am to beat the lines. Tables are arranged in long rows in the shade of the temple complex, built with money raised by these weekend feasts. During holidays, dance and song are background to the meal. On regular weekends, it's one of the best places to experience the food-stall feel of Southeast Asia right here in California.

The Thai monks and the amazing women who cook the food have it figured out, from the handy silver tokens to the separate stations for drinks, desserts, soups, rice plates and -- not to be missed -- the papaya salad cut and pounded to order. (Go ahead and ask for it spicy, and don't forget the little marinated crabs.) Other treats include luscious coconut-scallion cakes and lemongrass sausage. During mango season, remember to save space for the sticky rice and fresh mangoes. Fortunately, the stalls pack food to go, so you can enjoy seconds and desserts later.

If you're expecting the best Thai food in the world and if you don't like eating at communal tables...well, this isn't the scene for you. But if you can appreciate real people cooking and sharing their food with you, then the Thai temple meals are a wonderful experience. Plan on going with friends and sharing. No subdued piety here. Since the dining area is set up outside and since the food is not part of a service, it's a casual, fun meal that still goes to a very good cause.

Lest readers things that I only like to eat meat (and by meat, I mean, of course, pork) I'm dedicating today's post to one of my favorite cusines: South Indian.

After a recent crash course in using a Sumeet mixer-grinder, Ramach and Vidya introduced me to one of their standby eateries. I had planned to make my way back up 880 to Fremont for some good Indian eats, but Vidya assured me that a detour to Sunnyvale would be worth my time. Never to turn down a personal introduction to food, I postponed a few more rounds of pani puri for a plate of endless rice.

As with many Indian restaurants, our destination was ensconced in a strip mall alongside a Korean market, Chinese noodle shop, and Hindi video store. Komala Vilas is nothing fancy. Like its website, it offers only the essentials. There's not an extensive menu that includes every region of the subcontinent, nor are there evocative artifacts on the walls. If your skin is pale, you might be the only one of your kind in the dining room. Expect families on the weekends and high-tech workers during the weekday lunch rush.

But for experiencing a delicious meal as its enjoyed toward the tip of India, you can't find much better.

A banana leaf meal. (Photo by Peter Tan.)

A formal South Indian meal is divided into three courses of rice. Before stainless steel became widespread, banana leaves were the plate of choice, and if you travel in India, you'll still see this very convenient, very natural form of disposable dinnerware. With purity of service being so important, these one-use plates, bowls and cups were standard. It also helps that the plants are incredibly abundant in the south. Kerala is named, quite literally, after the banana trees that cover this state. Nowadays, stainless steel is widespread, especially in less banana-friendly climes like the U.S.

If you visit Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, or Thailand, you'll find "banana leaf" restaurants and street stalls that serve a wide variety of food. There's something about eating off a fresh, green leaf that makes the simplest sauce even more flavorful.

Although it seems casual, there are specific dictates in India to serving food on a banana leaf, especially for celebratory feasts or religious offerings. From alternating dry vegetables with gravies to the exact corner for placing a sweet palate teaser, the order of up to 20 different foods follows a circular pattern that incorporates health, religion and regional traditions. Udupi diners, in particular, take particular care in the placement of their food.

At Komala Vilas, you won't need to worry about this. You won't even receive a menu, for that matter, but have no fear, for eating at restaurants like this is as simple as nodding your head. (You can even practice the Indian nod, that gentle sideways bobbing that marks a native of the subcontinent.) You'll be given a large, metal plate, then immediately, servers will appear with large buckets of food. All you need to do is say yes to rice and its many accompaninents.

One of the courses making its way around the dining room.

As with dim sum and hotel brunch buffets, it's all about the pacing. Even if you're very hungry, you might want to pass on seconds of the first course. The food is so good and the servers so attentive that it's very easy to accept more every time they come by. Spicy pickles and eating with your fingers slows you down a little, but not as much as you'd think.

Finally, a note must be included about forkless food. As one of my hosts in Kerala told me, she couldn't imagine eating with implements, as they would separate her from an entire sensory facet of food. The texture and temperature of vegetables in her hands were as important to her as our emphasis on visual aesthetics. At Komala Vilas, you'll learn to get in touch with your food. Just as you would use chopsticks at a Chinese banquet, do follow your fellow diners at a South Indian restaurant. Remember that the right hand is for food, though an occasional nudge with your left fingers is unavoidable for most beginners.

Cup your four fingers together like a spoon, and then use your thumb to slip each bite into your mouth. High society looks favorably on those who only wet their fingertips up to the first knuckle, but everyday eaters don't mind a handful of flavor.

Now, for the rice courses...

DAL SAMBAR
Sambar is the everyday food of South India. If you've tasted any of the common chaat, such as idli or vada, then you most probably received some sambar alongside or over it. Made from a handful of lentils or mung bean simmered in a pot of water until they disintegrate into a smooth, creamy mixture, dal has infinite potential. The most common flavorings include golden turmeric, sour tamarind, earthy asafoetida, fragrant curry leaves, and popped mustard seeds.

A ladleful of the sambar will appear at the top, left of your plate. To the right goes the vegetable of the day, such as drumstick, cabbage, potato, or caulifower. Once the rice comes, you can mix in as much of the sambar as you want.

Large rounds of crisp pappadam will be offered, too. You can crush them into little bits to sprinkle over your rice, or you can just break off pieces occasionally to dip into the sambar. Or you can just eat them all before your rice even arrives. Your choice.

The killer bucket that comes by regularly is the one filled with ghee. It's an endless spring of buttery goodness, and for those who are ignoring their arteries, this golden richness makes everything taste better.

Sambar, cabbage and pappadam waiting for a generous heap of rice.

RASAM RICE
The second course is analogous to a soup course. Rasam refers to the tangy, thin broth that gets poured over your rice. A small amount of one or two vegetables adds some texture, while a generous finishing of fresh herbs and oil-sputtered spices adds complex layers of flavors. Again, mix it all up and then sweep the rice up to your lips. If you like your rice very wet, feel free to use the side of your hand to scoop and eat.

By this time, you will also have been offered pickles. Maybe green mango, maybe zesty lime, or maybe a please-them-all mixed variety. I love pickles and have to curb my affinity for all things sour, or else the entire meal begins to taste like one spicy heap of pickle.

RICE & CURDS
The third and last savory course is a cooling mixture of rice and buttermilk or yogurt. Again, you can ask for ghee to enrich the rice. One of the most delicious versions I've had included some fresh lemon juice and more ghee than you want to know. Rice and curds is Indian comfort food at its best. I'd go in just for this course alone.

FILTER COFFEE

A tumbler of filter coffee, nestled in a deep, flared davarah, comes to the table frothy hot.

Since I have Vietnamese blood in my viens, sipping Indian filter coffee comes as naturally to me as slurping pho. The metal filter, the 20-minute drip time, the bite of chicory mellowed with caramel sweetness -- it's culinary deja vu.

You can order chai, but since we're enjoying the flavors of South India, a tumbler of strong coffee is a must. Coffee became popular relatively recent in the subcontinent, but as the bean's cultivation spread under the Raj across the foothills of the Western Ghats, it soon became a drink of choice in the surrounding states of Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Kerala and Andra Pradesh. It's the Peaberry that gives Madras filter coffee its distinctive flavor, but other dark roast varieties can also be used.

Someone in the kitchen will pour the coffee back and forth between two containers to raise a lively forth of bubbles. The coffee should arrive so hot that you can't touch the tumbler. Pour a little into the deep saucer and swirl it around to cool. Most like to sweeten their coffee a bit...or a lot. White sugar is the modern stand-in for jaggery, but if you ask nicely, you might be able to convince the server to bring you some deeply flavored palm sugar. Moist flakes of jaggery is to filter coffee what a drippy spoonful of sweetened, condensed milk is to Vietnamese coffee.

It's powerful stuff. There's rarely need for a second cup, but then again, when has need ever stopped us from enjoyment?

DESSERT
In the spirit of all-you-can-eat, I had triple servings of their lovely payasam. This soothing dessert -- made from milk that's been boiled, gently sweetened with sugar, thickened with tiny strands of vermicelli, flavored with cardamom, and sprinkled with almonds -- is one of my favorites. You might think that you don't have room, but it's only a few spoonfuls (times three), just enough to finish a thoroughly satisfying meal.

KOMALA VILAS
1020 East El Camino Real, Sunnyvale
(408) 733-7400