Quick Indian Cooking

Happy New Year everyone! I am hanging by a very fine blogging thread here…

Now, a lot has happened since September last year. Micro Mini Basu, a little boy, arrived on 29 October 2010. I thought motherhood the first time was difficult. But a quick look back reveals those were the good days – I was still doing my nails!

Manicures are the last thing on the mind right now. I’m the mom of two under two. That’s a lot of nappies, tears and youth rejuvenating serum.

Still, I’m happy to report Micro Mini me is divine and angelic. God knows where he gets that from! Mini Basu, on the other hand, is shaping into a fiesty princess with a penchant for flouncy frocks. (Now, where did she get that from?!) And that I am still sampling the delights of wintry London, with the aid of a lovely Gujarati lady, albeit a little bleary eyed.

As for quick Indian cooking. Did I even know that meaning of “quick” before I had two kids? During the day, quick means whatever I can rustle up while Mini Basu terrorises soft toys or hangs off my skinny jeans, and Micro Mini gets his beauty sleep. In the evenings, it’s a real toss up between cooking and sleeping. Sleeping usually wins.

Makes the 50-slide presentations I put together at work seem easy peasy!

There would be no better to restart this blog than with another version of Dhaniya Murgh, the perfect recipe for the exhausted on a quiet evening. This creamy yet low fat chicken curry is steeped in two of my favourite ingredients – coriander and yoghurt. This version has more curry and cooks quicker with the boneless chicken thighs.

Here’s to everything bigger, better and quicker in 2011. Happy New Year everyone!
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I’ve done some stupid things in my time. But this last month has taken the biscuit. I’ve:

Left my makeup bag and spectacles in the back of a black cab

Burnt mini Basu’s creative casserole and other gourmet offerings to crisp

Conducted a branding workshop for 22 senior corporate executives with my fly undone

Now, there’s Chinese food on an Indian cooking blog.

Bear with me. I’m a big fan of Chinese cooking. We eat Dim Sum every weekend. But Chindian is short for Indian Chinese. Originally from the Hakka Chinese community in India, with a bit of masala thrown in for good measure.

It’s all in honour of a dear friend and fellow blogger Ann Mah, whose literary debut Kitchen Chinese launched this week. The Hakka Noodle and Chilli Chicken combo fed my video guru, man and me last night. I can’t wait to get some brain cells back to read about the real thing!
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We had Christmas, next a germ-infested mini Basu and then my grandfather passed away.

In the meantime, UK’s Channel 4 gave us Indian Winter. A classic example of how the Western media stereotypes India with one clean sweep. We are all slumdogs. Naturally.

The posters were enough to send shudders down my spine. A celebrity chef, most famous for the excessive use of the F-word squatting on a railway platform amidst turbans, saris and drums. Shame they forgot magic carpets, snake charmers and a couple of Maharajahs.

Then I saw the line up. There’s a Hindi movie or two. A building design TV presenter to tell us why slums are wonderful. And the chef will learn about the, hold your breath, staggering diversity of Indian food. Shock, horror, he also learns how to make a samosa from scratch.

Just for the record, I don’t know anyone who makes a samosa from scratch in India. But why invite an Indian to help the creative process? I could go on, but I couldn’t put it better than this or indeed this.

Perhaps someone should inform Channel 4 that there’s more to India than slums and samosas. Like this quick fix, mid-week lamb pulao. Soft and spicy, it’s anything but a bitter pill to swallow.
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So what does it feel like being back at work?

Wonderful. I bought a new pair of four-inchers and the shortest tulip dress I could find.

Hello intellectual emancipation.

Not that I didn’t make the best possible use of maternity leave. I researched the purchase of Mini Basu’s every toy, wardrobe essentials, equipment with the fervour usually reserved for groundbreaking client reports. I shook in my shoe boots as I read the latest baby management techniques. For the third time over. Mostly, I bonded with the little fiend. Wooden spoons, I am proud to report, are her favourite kitchen gadgets.

Six month’s later, I was tripping over myself to get back into the real world. Heartless me! It’s clearly okay to be asked why I don’t want to spend more time at home with mini Basu. It’s clearly not okay to wonder why one would want to embrace soiled nappies instead of a well-deserved promotion. Or am I being unreasonable?

It’s not easy. Racing home to see mini Basu, feeling guilty most of the time, about mostly everything. Still, I think I’m lucky to live in a world where I can make the choice.

I choose rushing around. And moist Aloo Keema, or lean mincement with potatoes, tucked into a pitta bread. Something different to an every day spag bol supper.
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