A Pinch of Salt And a Palm-Full of Sugar
Background
If you asked me what my favorite Nepali snacks are, savory nimki and sweet ainthay would take the cake everytime! These highly addictive biscuits were always stocked in Maji, my grandmother’s, house. Even after a full meal, I always had room for some nimki and ainthay in my stomach. I craved them so much that when we first moved to the US, I began to have withdrawal symptoms. No American snacks compared.
Many a times I have tried to replicate the distinct flavor, texture, and (most importantly) crunch of the nimkis. Every time my family and I make samosas to fundraise for the reading center my sister built in Barpak, I save some dough to make nimki, cutting out heart, flower, and even teddy bear-shaped paterns to turn them into nimkis to later eat as snacks. However, for some reason, they never seem to compare to my grandmother’s homemade treats.
My mom and I are currently in Nepal to pursue a separate project, working with rural women entrepreneurs in the village of Sindhuli to bring their products to a virtual marketplace. While we are here, I have been making it a point to see my grand mother as much as possible. Although her memory for events and people does not seem as crisp as it used to be a decade ago, recipes and ingredient proportions for delightful snacks seem to be as vivid as ever.
Although my Nepali is far from fluent, Maji and I have found a shared love of cooking.
The first two things Maji taught me to make were nimki and ainthay. Although I did help her in the process, I found the most value in watching and learning from my grandmother – measuring, mixing, kneading, rolling, cutting, frying, and straining.
Process
Although nimki and ainthay are similar, as they are both made from a simple ghee (Nepali clarified butter)-and-flour-based dough, there are some key differences that define each of them. To start, ainthay is sweet. This is due to the sugar solution that the biscuits are coated with after they are deep-fried. On the other hand, nimki is savory due to the inclusion of salt in the dough.
In order to make both nimki and ainthay, we set aside two bowls, one for each dough mixture. We divided a kilogram bag of flour equally into two bowls. We started with ainthay. In one bowl Maji mixed in the special ingredient: ghee. When attempting to make nimki at home, I had used leftover samosa dough, which was made from a mix of flour and oil. When I try to remake it in the future, I will need to replace the oil, but even butter won’t suffice. The reason for this is that ghee is much more clarified, with a higher fat content than butter.
The ghee creates not only a wonderful buttery flavor, but also the perfect flaky, crunchy texture that makes nimki and ainthay so addictive.
Once Maji combined the flour and ghee thoroughly, she added a bit of water and kneaded the dough by hand.
Once it had formed into a smooth and solid dough, it was time to shape the ainthay. To do this, Maji grabbed a small ball of dough, rolled it between her palms to make it into a long cylindrical shape, then rolled it out further on a small cutting board. Once the dough was as thin as her finger and evenly rolled, it was time to cut the dough into bite-sized pieces.
Maji started by cutting off the end pieces of each dough cylinder and cut the remaining uniformly.
After watching her doing this a few times, I attempted making the ainthay pieces. Although mine weren’t as uniform as Maji’s and seemed to be either too small or a little too thin. I learned over time how to properly roll and cut the dough, which made the shaping process go much faster.
Next it was time to cook the ainthay. After heating vegetable oil in a pan for about 20 minutes, I poured tray after tray of the ainthay dough in a deep wok. Once the ainthay pieces developed a deep reddish brown color, I removed them from heat and let them cool.
While the ainthay pieces were cooling, it was time to make the sugar mixture. Maji taught me to combine half a cup of water with a cup of sugar, then boil the two together and let it simmer for a bit.
To test that the mixture was ready, Maji would place a drop of it on a plate. If it solidified once exposed to room temperature, it was ready.
Once the sugar was ready, we dropped the cooked ainthay into the hot sugar mixture until each piece was coated with sugar glaze. We then let it cool, which allowed the sugar to harden around the ainthay pieces.
While the ainthay cooled, Maji and I made nimki. Although they are similar in many ways, ainthay is unique in its sugar-coating process. All the ingredients needed to make nimki are incorporated before each piece is deep-fried. We started off with a ghee-and-flour-mixture similar to that used in the ainthay, but with nimki we didn’t stop there. We also added ajwain seeds, straight from Maji’s panchapala, a container that houses spices used in Nepali cooking (such as cumin, corriander, fenugreek, black mustard, ajwain, tumeric, etc.) As a substitute for ajwain, Maji said, some people also use black cumin seeds.
Then it was time for the shaping. The nimki, shaping, however, varied from the ainthay shaping process. Instead of rolling the dough into slender rods, nimki is made by rolling out the dough with a rolling pin, then cutting it into rectangles.
Once all of the dough had been used, we placed these sheets of nimki into the hot oil. (We used the same oil previously used to cook the ainthay.)
The nimki was then deep-fried and cooled. And just like that, our snack-making was all finished!
Snacking
Finally it was time to savor the Nepali snacks I had been craving for years. And… they were heavenly! Personally I preferred the nimki, the ajwain gives it a distinct flavor and the way the dough is cooked gives it a wonderfully buttery and flaky texture. However, my sweet-tooth also really enjoyed the ainthay. The unique sugar-coating was delicious on top of the crunchiness of the biscuit and it was fun to be reminded of the taste after not having it for so long.
They were so delicious that there was barely any left after Maji, my mom, my uncle, and I had our fill of both the nimki and ainthay. Still, I made sure to save some for my sister and dad to try when we get back home later next month.
Although the nimki and ainthay were delicious, the most rewarding part of the food-making process for me was learning from Maji. Although I think of myself as an amateur-cook, I realized that even with a recipe, some things can’t be recreated. While my homemade nimki in the US lacked ghee, it also lacked the hands of an experienced nimki and ainthay baker.
Maji never relied on a recipe, her hands seemed to almost work on their own, knowing exactly how much flour to measure out, how to incorporate the ingredients into dough with a consistent texture, how much water to add when kneading the dough, and even how to precisely roll and cut the dough. She had been making nimki and ainthay for my sister and I, and for my mom and her siblings even before that, for decades.
It was an enriching experience baking with her, not only to grow in my own journey as a cook, but also to build a stronger bond between us, and create more memories.
