Ṣe Naan bread jẹ ajewebe?

Awọn otitọ pataki

Ipinnu

Nigbagbogbo kii ṣe ajewebe

Ẹka

Oúnjẹ ilé-ìyàrá

Tun ṣe akojọ bi

Naan bread

Paṣipaarọ ti o dara julọ

Chapati tàbí roti

Kí nìdí

Ẹran ara akara onírẹ̀lẹ̀ tí ó lè jẹun jẹ́ láti inú ọja wàrà: wàrà tàbí mílìkì nínú àpò ìyẹ̀fun, àti kí a fi ghee tàbí bọ́tà fọ́ ọ lẹ́yìn tí a bá se é tán. Àwọn naan ilé ìtajà àti ọ̀pọ̀ chapati, roti àti tandoori roti jẹ́ aláìní ọja wàrà.

Ṣe paṣipaarọ rẹ fun

What is actually in it

Naan is a leavened flatbread slapped onto the wall of a tandoor, and almost every element of its texture comes from enrichment. Yoghurt supplies acid and lactose that tenderise the gluten and brown the surface; milk powder adds sugars for colour; ghee brushed on at the end gives the gloss and the aroma people associate with it. A vegan version works if you replace like for like: thick unsweetened soy or coconut yoghurt for the dairy yoghurt (soy has enough protein to behave similarly), a little sugar to feed the yeast and help browning at domestic oven temperatures, and melted plant butter or garlic-infused oil for the finish. Domestic ovens rarely exceed 250 °C against a tandoor's 400 °C-plus, so the standard workaround is a screaming-hot cast-iron pan, dry, with a lid for the last thirty seconds. Restaurant ordering is simpler than it looks: chapati, roti and phulka are unenriched by tradition, so they are the safe default while you check whether the kitchen's naan and paratha use ghee.

Awọn ibeere ti awọn eniyan n beere