Quick Indian Cooking

I was having a fairly uneventful week. When this gem appeared on the evening news.

Turns out a passenger aboard a Virgin Mumbai to London flight wrote an impassioned complaint to Sir Richard Branson himself about the Indian food he was served.

The excruciatingly hilarious letter went global in no time. Prompting the maverick entrepreneur to personally apologise and invite the disgruntled one to test food at Virgin’s catering house.

Can I come along too?

For years, I have suffered partly-heated yellow gloop parading as curry on flights back to London from India. The desserts taste worryingly like their plastic packaging. Salads are either freezing cold or brown edged. The dry bread roll devoured with lime pickle would easily qualify as the highlight of the mile-high culinary experience.

No wonder families resort to clicking open tupperware tiffin boxes of parathas and dry palyas and sabzis. Give them cutlery and dinnerware while they’re at it, I say!

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Now we have a vocal champion for our cause. Who didn’t stomach the insult sitting down. May this be a lesson to other airlines. In an age of internet connectivity, food awareness and high consumerism, even the smallest gripes could become a stick to beat your brand with.

Digest this with my bitter sweet offering of Gajar Methi, a North Indian winter favourite of sauteed carrots and fresh fenugreek leaves.
Read More

Share this:

This weekend I made a trip to the nearest ethnic supermarket. My dals were running out. Curry leaves depleting. And I needed quality lamb to warm my frozen Bengali veins.

The trip had been avoided for ages. Both my local supermarkets now sport “Asian” sections. The joy of being able to buy bags of green finger chillies with a case of French wine has been life changing. I save the special trip for when I really need to restock most of my supplies. Also buy meat on the bone for rich, flavoursome curries.

I jumped out of the car narrowly avoiding being run over. Mentally derided myself for wearing a floor length pure Angora coat to this monument to dust, exposed vegetables and spices. Apologised a thousand times for bumping into a hundred auntyjis.

And ended up buying overpriced “best quality” lamb. Thanks, I croaked, as I contemplated how best to transfer the meagre, meat-coated change from my £10 (for 1 kg) into my beautiful leather purse. While my man looked on in disgust.

This lamb needed a recipe worth the pain and the pleasure. I came across one while researching birthday cakes on a certified inspirational passionate baker. It’s Deeba’s Gosht Do Piaza, a North Indian lamb stew cooked with double onions. The sweetness of the onions and tomatoes was out of this world with the hearty meat and whole spices.

But never mind what I think. This is Deeba’s mom’s favourite recipe. Moms know best. My man summed it up eloquently with “this kicks arse”. He has also forgiven me for dragging him to the spice shop and offered to make it a weekly treat.

For this recipe, I might even agree.

PS= Deeba advocates the addition of green chillies, but her original recipe was spicy enough to clear our collective sinuses and heads. Proceed with caution

PPS = The garam masala powder was my addition to balance the flavours and can be omitted altogether
Read More

Share this:

It’s time for an update on the naan in the oven.

Well, I am now the size of a two-bedroom bungalow. My social life has been overtaken by ante-natal events with other soon-to-be parents, an obstetrician who can never remember my name and a pony-tail sporting pregnancy yoga instructor.

Mercifully, work and friends are saving me from a fate of endless thoughts about Disney and powder pink non-essential baby clutter. I keep getting asked if I’m tired. No. I am too busy to be tired.

In fact I am on a one woman crusade to prove that being pregnant does not relegate you to a temporary life of sack wearing, swollen ankles and sulking under a blanket. I am carrying on as normal as possible. With a few adjustments.

Like the gig I went to yesterday. I called the venue manager and managed to get a bar stool reserved by the stage. Arrived early so I could take my spot sensibly. And left just before the crowds dispersed to avoid getting walked on.

A glass of something cold and alcoholic would have been nice. But even I know you can’t have everything!

To comfort myself, I whizzed up Doodh Badam. Literally meaning nutty milk, this warm, frothy drink is like a giant hug when you need it the most. It’ll definitely keep me going until d-day.
Read More

Share this:

Many recipes are off limits on this blog because they need time, patience or special apparatus. Like the popular South Indian fermented rice and lentil delights – Idli, Dosa and Uttapams.

An evening at a South Indian restaurant followed by the box office blockbuster Slumdog Millionaire was just the push I needed. I decided to give the soft and moreish Uttapams a try at home for weekend breakfast.

I made the batter with ready ground rice flour, and Urid (Black Matpe) dal whizzed to fine powder in my coffee grinder. Then left it to ferment overnight on Friday. By Saturday morning, I positioned myself an inch above the batter and spotted a few of the required little bubbles.

I set a frying pan to heat with oil. The first pancake got stuck solid on the ancient pan. The non-stick tawa or flat griddle pan worked better. Except the batter tasted raw even after what seemed like hours of frying. By this time, my pyjamas sported spilt batter in the most unlikely places.

I left the batter out for another night. Sunday morning and it was all bubbly, like the top of a milkshake. That’s fermentation. Perfect. I set the tawa to heat again. Made four delicious but overdone Uttapams, ate one while cooking, and finished cooking the lot just in time to get ready for pre-Chinese New Year Dim Sum.

Aaaaaaaargh.

I won’t share my excellent recipe on principle. But if you can plan two days ahead, this is the best I’ve found on the blogosphere. Here’s my super quick coconut chutney to make it all worthwhile.
Read More

Share this: