Name: Moong Soup
Ingredients: 1/4 c Moong; (green gram , whole); Salt; pepper to taste; Lime juice to taste; 1/4 ts Cummin seeds; 1 Blob butter or ghee; 2 c Water; 1 Pinches asafoetida; 1 Big pinch tummeric

I cannot even conceive how a mother could think of a baby as an enemy. Whether that baby was a product of rape, or whether that baby was in some way malformed, how that woman could think that child in her was an enemy when she has been given the God-given privilege of protecting that little life with all of its weaknesses. Certainly that’s not natural instinct to a mother. She would have to be sold that by a culture that had become decadent.

John MacArthur

CATEGORY	CUISINE	TAG	YIELD
Grains		Bawarch3	1	servings

INGREDIENTS

1/4	c	Moong; (green gram , whole)
		Salt; pepper to taste
		Lime juice to taste
1/4	ts	Cummin seeds
1		Blob butter or ghee
2	c	Water
1		Pinches asafoetida
1		Big pinch tummeric

INSTRUCTIONS

Pressure cook washed gram till very soft.
Keep aside 1 tablespoon boil gram whole
Blend the rest, after cooling
In a pan, heat butter
Add cummin seeds. When they splutter add the asafoetida and moong soup.
Add salt, tummeric, lime and pepper.
Boil 5-7 minutes. Add whole moong kept aside.
Boil till thick enough for soup.
Serve hot.
Converted by MC_Buster.
Converted by MM_Buster v2.0l.

A Message from our Provider:

“Jesus: If only you knew . . .”

He was conceived by the union of divine grace and human disgrace. He who breathed the breath of life into the first man is now Himself a man breathing His first breath. The King of kings now sleeping in a cow-pen. The Creator of oceans and seas and rivers afloat in the womb of His mother. God sucking His thumb. The Alpha and Omega learning His multiplication tables. He who was once surrounded by the glorious stereophonic praise of adoring angels now hears the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, the stammering of bewildering shepherds. He who spoke the universe into being now coos and cries. Omniscient Deity counting His toes… From the robes of eternal glory to the rags of swaddling clothes. The omnipresent Spirit, whose being fills the galaxies, confined to the womb of a peasant girl. Infinite power learning to crawl.

Sam Storms