Quick Indian Cooking

We were eating spicy spare ribs and Vietnamese noodle salad. At a BBQ. In pouring rain. The conversation went from the dire summer weather and China’s human rights record to how early is early to eat a curry.

I told everyone about my grandmother’s famous parathas or shallow fried, stuffed flatbreads. In my childhood I ate these as breakfast. Post my fruit and green tea deskbound breakfasts in London, mid-day is the earliest I can face these now.

Next morning, the weather was equally rubbish. Half a bag of carrots and 4 small radishes were lying aimlessly in the fridge. And the sack of chappati flour in the cupboard was well by its best by date too.

Fancy that?

My love of kneading is well-documented. I rank it as one of my most hated activities, second only to standing in a blizzard on one leg. But the options were limited. And I didn’t fancy getting soaked again to top up the sorry contents of my fridge.

So I made gajar (carrot) parathas and mooli (radish) parathas for the first time. And I was pleasantly surprised with the results. It didn’t take long. The dough came off my nails fairly easily. And the parathas were as moreish and comforting as my nani’s.

Not just for rainy days then…

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Five consecutive late evenings and I needed to relocate my Karmic centre.

Off I went to the dreaded yoga class. Me in gym-friendly spandex amidst a sea of linen cotton.

An hour into the class the Irish sadhu instructor whispered, now you are going to do a shoulder stand. Stretch your legs to the heavens, then gently extend them sideways and take deep breaths.

I lay there twisted into an unrecognisable human tower. The blood rushed to my brain before I could say Dal Makhani. I. Felt. Empowered.

So I decided to master the wonderful world of the blogosphere. I finally worked out how to read all my favourite blogs in one go. This site is now complete with a super recipe index and snazzy food conversion calculators (in the toolbar) thanks to my blog and children’s storytelling supremo Hugh. And then, I found this fantastic resource, Foodari, that allows you to create your own cookbook online.

Feeling rather smug over the weekend, I made a fresh, healthy and blindingly simple Paneer Bhujia or Paneer crumble. Then, tried chappati making with renewed gusto. And finally, plate heaped with brunch, found my inner peace in front of the telly.

PS = It would come as no surprise to learn that I NEVER make my own paneer or Indian cheese. Store bought is fine. I wouldn’t know the difference anyway.
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I shuffled to the kitchen on Sunday night to make a hot bedtime drink. Before I could say “Rooibos tea”, the kettle caught fire ejecting angry sparks everywhere.

I fled from the kitchen screaming “fire, fire” in my best damsel in distress act only to find hubby asleep on the couch mid-way through American Idol.

The next day, I wasn’t in the mood for any incidents. I decided to cook a savoury semolina dish called Upma. Sheer simplicity, this is a typical South Indian breakfast that I ate in the morning, as light lunch and a tea time snack in India.

All it needs is small number of ingredients, a bag of semolina and one non-stick frying pan. What could possibly go wrong?

I started dry roasting the course semolina on the frying pan. It was going brown beautifully, with a gorgeous aroma filling my kitchen. And then I saw little black bits appear. And then, even more.

I’d scraped the non stick coating off!

Luckily for me Upma takes about 20 minutes to make. I started again from scratch (excuse the pun) and the result was light, yummy and incident free. Just as it should be. Serve this spicy mixed pickle or as an interesting alternative to cous cous with a tagine.
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There was so much food at the party.

The birthday girl made chicken skewers with a peanut sauce. Open salmon sandwiches. Homemade hummus and aubergine dips. And her half Chinese bf brought a box of the rather unfortunately named Ching-Kee Cookie Rolls.

But it wasn’t enough.

Back at home in the wee hours of the morning, hubby swung his way to the kitchen and started furiously beating an egg. It appeared that he was making good use of the last remaining contents of our fridge – eggs, stale wholemeal bread and green finger chillies.

Unwittingly, he was also recreating a breakfast staple from my Kolkata home – French Toast. Eggs soaked fried bread. The Indian twist provided by green finger chillies and mango pickle.

As I drank my night cap and ate pickle-soaked French Toast, I thought about three things. One, no matter how ill or drunk I am, I always have time for Indian food.

Two, I am so ready for my next holiday. With that, I leave for a long weekend in Italy.

Arrivederci.
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