Gone are the days when chapati was reserved for special occasions. From street food vendors to hotel buffets and the family weekly menu, chapati has become a common staple.
But just like skinning a cat, there’s more than one way to make chapati. Some like theirs plain and golden, while others enjoy them with a twist, infused with beetroot, carrot, or even sweet potato for a splash of colour and flavour.
This festive season, chapati is sure to take centre stage at our tables. Chef Ben Luchinye Masinya from Nairobi Serena Hotel shares tips on how to whip up five-star chapatis right in your own kitchen. What you’ll need: (makes around 50 chapatis)
– 2kg of all-purpose flour and some extra for dusting
– 500g butter (melted) and some extra for layering and frying
– 1 litre of milk
– 400ml of coconut milk (room temperature)
– 100g of Sugar
– 25g of salt
The first thing chef Ben does is warm the milk until it’s lukewarm; not hot and not cold. Showing me how one can test the temperature of the milk, he scoops a little using a wooden ladle and puts a drop of it on the back of my palm. And while some argue that the temperature of your wet mixture does nothing for the chapati, chef Ben’s position on the matter is loud and clear. ‘The milk has to be a bit warm to achieve that soft texture in the chapati. Cold milk won’t do.’
Once warmed up, he pours the milk into a mixing bowl and adds some melted butter, coconut milk, sugar, and salt. He then whisks the mixture until everything is well-combined.
Now, the secret to Serena Hotel’s fluffy and flavourful chapatis, the chef reveals, is the butter and coconut milk. So if you’re really going for the five-star experience, you might not want to skip these.
However, if all you are after is some nice chapatis without any frills, the good chef testifies to seeing others use corn oil in place of butter, and lukewarm water instead of milk.
Gesturing to the wet mixture, he continues, ‘At this point, I want to add my flour.’
He dumps it all in one go as opposed to a little at a time, crediting the prior measurement he’d done while preparing his ingredients.
Still, the mixture ends up a bit soggier than he’d like and as he kneads the dough into submission, he adds a little more flour to it.
The duration for which one should mold the dough is subjective, but the chef shares his marking scheme with us.
‘You look at the consistency. The flour has to be mixed well and the dough should be soft.’
Once the dough passes the balance check, then it’s time to cover it with a plastic wrap and put it in the fridge for at least 15 minutes.
‘You have to put it in the fridge so it can proof. This is a process that also helps with the texture.’
Taking the proofed dough from the cooling box, chef Ben divides it into smaller portions. Dusting his counter with some flour, he rolls out these portions using a rolling pin. Little attention goes to the shape as he chooses instead to focus on the thickness of his rolled out dough.
‘It should be thin so that the layers come out nicely,’ he responds when I ask.
When he’s satisfied with the stretched-out piece before him, he dips a brush in some melted butter and spreads the fat across the flattened dough. Covering the entire circumference with his brush strokes, he sprinkles some flour over the top.
‘Do you know why I’m sprinkling this?’ He asks. ‘It’s so that the layers separate.’
And while the chef doesn’t expressly come out and say it, I get the feeling that this is the step you want to get right if you want your audience singing praises over the flakiness of your chapatis.
Once properly buttered and floured, he masterfully folds the dough into spiral balls and places them on some baking sheets, allowing them to rest for about 10 minutes.
As we wait, the chef’s black, cast-iron pan pre-heats on his cooker and he takes the opportunity to debunk a common myth about cooking pans.
The myth is commonly peddled by kitchenware sellers, and it claims that with continued use, the shiny stainless-steel pans that have flooded the market today eventually turn into the black cooking pans that some of our grandmothers and mothers still use to make their chapatis.
‘It’s a lie. Cast-iron and stainless steel are two different things. The steel pans are much lighter in comparison,’ he notes. ‘Cast-iron pans, though they are a bit rare these days, are the best ones to use. You can mostly find them in Indian shops.’
Diving back into the cooking, the chef grabs his rolling pin and some dusting flour for his workstation. Picking one ball at a time, he rolls them out on the metallic countertop, this time with more precision and care. Clearly, the shape matters here, and he turns his dough this way and that in between rolls, to ensure a uniform stretch.
‘You should be keen here, and roll from the centre outwards,’ he advises. ‘And in line with our hotel’s preference, the chapati should be rolled thin.’
Checking on his heated pan, he dips a clean cloth in fresh water and douses the pan with the cool liquid. As the water sizzles and evaporates, I ask him what that is all about.
‘It ensures that the heat is evenly spread across the pan so that one part is not hotter than the other.’
Wiping down any remaining droplets, he turns the heat to a medium setting. Once the pan is sufficiently dry, he greases it with some butter. Using a serviette, he then wipes down the butter, effectively spreading it across the entire pan.
‘That transforms it into a non-stick pan,’ he reveals with a smile. ‘Now we blanch our chapati.’
Movements punctuate his statement as he carefully lifts his rolled out dough from the counter and onto the pan. Small bubbles begin to form across the surface of the chapati almost immediately, but 15-20 seconds pass before he flips it over and allows the other side to brown as well. Satisfied, he removes the blanched chapati from the pan and puts it aside to cool while he repeats the process with the rest of the rolled dough.
As he works, he shares about the changes he has witnessed in the chapati-making culture. He recounts his observations from his days as a young boy waiting by the fire while his mother prepared chapatis up until now, as a respected chef in a five-star establishment.
‘Things have changed. In the old days, we used to knead the dough with our hands, but now we use machines. We used to cook over firewood or charcoal, but today it’s a different story.’
Ready for the final step, he gives his pan one final cleansing wipe before placing back his blanched and cooled chapatis, one piece at a time.
On these, he spreads butter on the top side, then flips it over and does the same on the lower side. When that is done, he consistently flips the chapati this way and that, never allowing it to sizzle on for too long. He does this till both sides attain a nice, golden finish, and then places the chapati aside to await plating and service. By the time he’s done, the kitchen is awash with that familiar aroma of chapati and it instinctively sends my mouth watering.
With the hotel serving its chapatis in cut up slices, he halves his chapatis, then turns the halves into quarters and then into eighths, which he goes on to neatly arrange on a platter.
‘We serve our chapatis with Indian curries, beef, or chicken stew. But it’s not limited, we can serve it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.’
On a more personal note however, the chef’s favourite pairings include chapati with tea or chapati with milk. Presented with the age-old choice between chapati-beans (mandondo) and chapati-chicken, his answer comes quickly, ‘Chapati with chicken, of course.’
To the taste, chef Ben’s chapatis are sweet and buttery. They tear easily and perfectly compliment the savoury beef stew that he serves it with. Cut up into smaller pieces as they are, my only concern is my wavering self-control.