I like my mum’s ‘muruku’ best. Of all the savoury delicacies at Deepavali, ‘muruku’ or crunchy crackers is my favourite. Golden brown with little ‘mullus’ or spikes. Twisted, like a pretzel but not quite. A textured consistency with just the right snap.  Yummy and flavourful. Not biased. Just honest.

My mum’s ‘muruku’ should come with a warning, ‘Gone before you know it.’ It’s so easy to eat ‘muruku’ after ‘muruku.’ They disappear quickly from the Milo or Cream Crackers tins, where my mum stores them now. It’s good on its own but even better with ‘nai urundai.’ I kid you not. It’s the perfect pairing. The ultimate taste experience is a bite of ‘nai urundai’ followed by a bite of ‘muruku.’ Sweet with a slight hint of saltiness. Crunchy with waves of savouriness. Whichever order, these two Indian cakes make my belly very happy. Honestly, it’s worth a try.

Little pleasures. A ‘muruku’ and a ‘nai urundai.’ Enough to stir up memories. Enough to transport me to Alor Star. Celebrating Deepavali, the Festival of Lights. I invariably remember my much younger mum, fitter and straighter. And, in-charge of her brood and kitchen. I remember at least 3 tins filled to the brim with ‘muruku’. Not any old tins but those quite tall 4-5 kg gold-coloured biscuits tins.  That’s a lot of ‘muruku.’

I remember my mum preparing the ‘muruku’ dough and necessary implements. I remember sisters number 1 and 2 making them. Sitting on low stools on the kitchen floor. Around a hot charcoal stove.  Sister number 1’s job was to work and roll the muruku dough, place it in the mould, squeeze it though onto a ladle. Sister number 2’s job was to dip the ladle into a kuali of hot oil. Retrieve it once golden brown. Place it on another ladle that had holes, to drip dry all the oil. Only 5-6 ‘murukus’ were cooked at a time. To avoid them sticking together and breaking. Once cooled, they were set aside, and stored in tins until Deepavali day. I remember wishing I could eat the freshly cooked ‘murukus.’

Ingredients, measurements and instruction

Again, the ingredients, measurements and instruction are based solely on my mum’s description. A handful is the size of her cupped arthritic hand, cup refers to an old milk tin, a ladle full is the ladle she’s had forever, enough of this or that refers to gut feel and visual appearance, and save some for later means prepare more of one ingredient so that it can be shared and used in another recipe.

Ingredients

The number of ‘murukus’ depend on the size of each ‘muruku.’

• 3 cups (milk tin) of rice ( read how to prepare the rice flour)
• 1 cup (milk tin) of green pea flour (Remember ‘Save some for later.’ This is later)
• I medium fresh coconut
• Enough salt to throw in the coconut milk  
• Palm oil (Preferred choice is Knife brand)

Preparing rice flour

• First, wash and dry 3 cups of rice
• Then, grind rice until smooth (use an electric grinder or have it ground at a flour mill)
• Dry fry the rice flour

Preparing the coconut milk

• Grate the coconut flesh with a coconut grater. Or buy grated coconut from sundry shops or supermarkets
• Add a little water and squeeze the grated coconut flesh to obtain milk
• Three squeezes needed
• The first squeeze will harvest the thickest milk. Place in small bowl 1. Add salt as required
• The second squeeze will yield less thick milk. Place in small bowl 2. Add required salt
• The third squeeze is runny milk. Place in small bowl 3. Add required salt. Keep aside

Instructions

• Place the ground rice and green pea flour in one large bowl
• Mix coconut milk from small bowls 1 and 2 into the rice and green pea flour
• The consistency must be just right to go through the ‘muruku’ mould
• Roll the dough with your hand, and squeeze into mould onto ladle
• Dip ladle into kuali containing hot oil
• Dip enough ‘murukus’ to comfortably fit in the oil. Avoid jostling. May cause breakage
• Remove ‘murukus’ when both sides are golden brown
• Place on another ladle with holes to drain oil
• Cool. Then pack in container.
• Coconut milk from small bowl 3 is a standby moistener.
• As more ‘murukus’ are made and the dough turns dry, the standby milk is used to regain the moistness and consistency.

Back in the day my mum used to prepare 12 cups or 1 gantang[1] ( 2.54 kg) of rice, 4 cups of green pea flour, 4 coconuts and enough salt to make ‘muruku.’ Four ingredients. 5-6 hours to cook. Prep time and labour excluded. To fill 3 tins of ‘muruku.’ Whoa!  That’s a lot of work. The shortcut is to buy ready-to-eat ‘muruku’ or ready-made ‘muruku’ flour and D-I-Y it.  Taste? Not like my mum’s, naturally.