My life so far has had the blessings of the Orient and the Occident. And here I am today reliving my memory of the Soojir Puli Pitha aka Roshopuli. After about 14 years of living in the US, winter traditions here are a big part of my life. However, the winter memories from early childhood still dwell in those forever lush green valleys in my brain and continue to take me on trips down memory lane.

Growing up, our days started really early with the morning ritual of Baba going to the nearby market ( kind of like the farmer’s market here) every day. And during my winter break, some days, the little I would hold his hand, and hopping and skipping would accompany him. It would be around 7 am or so in the morning and there would be a wet and unmistakable shroud of the morning winter mist in the air. The first stop for any Bengali worth his salt would be the fish stalls. Now I am not really elaborating on the fish market mechanics here cause that is not what this post is about and the sensory intensity of that experience is another story altogether. This story is of course about pithe puli, winter memories, and of course the Soojir Puli Pitha or the Roshopuli.

So after baba’s pick of the day from his trusted fishmonger, we would make our way to the veggie section. Alongside some of the crispiest and greenest greens and veggies whose snap could be heard far and loud, there would be a couple of vendors at the furthest most corner of the perimeter. What I still distinctly remember is walking towards a big matir haanri ( earthen pot) filled with joy nogorer moya! And beyond that sitting would be an old woman with a wrinkled face and the kindest eyes ever adorning a soiled saree which was white in color once upon a time and a woolen shawl wrapped loosely around her torso. She would ask me if I wanted a moya and then pick a moya from the haanri and hand it to me. I still remember baba offering to pay her for that moya later which she vehemently refused to accept. Baba was her ever-loyal customer and was there for the Nolen Gur.

Soojir Puli or Roshopuli Recipe – Bengali Pithe Puli

While I would be busy working on the moya, Baba would pick up the discs of Patali Gur one after the other and bring them to his nose. Years of discerning olfactory wisdom and experience would be put to use to zero in on the final selection. I remember how his eyes would light up when he could get his hands on something which promised a great flavor and taste. But I write this story not for the gur but for that old lady. I never forgot her and most importantly the dignity she possessed. Ever kind and benevolent, I would write about her even after so many years. There are very few people you meet in this life who are winners in the truest essence of the word. No, you don’t need to own Rolls Royces’ to be that someone. It’s when you radiate pure humility, dignity, and resilience that comes from surviving the vicissitudes of life with your head held high. Nothing could break you. I remember those eyes, and they were tired but not broken.

Now coming back to the gur that was picked with so much TLC, would be put to use by Maa. And Maa unlike me was not a foodie and she is not one even today. So the years she could get a little help we would see the classic puli pithe happening but other years she opted for the soojir puli pitha or the Rasa Puli. Relatively easier to make and no less decadent than its uptown cousin. Soft little pillows of Sooji, coconut and the Patali Gur ( Date Palm Jaggery) stewed in a heady concoction of gur and full-fat milk which was reduced tirelessly over a slow languid flame.

You may also like the recipes below:

Chitoi Pithe ^[2]

Choosi/Chushi Pithe ^[3]

Ranga Alur Puli Pithe ^[4]

Print ^[5]