Quick Indian Cooking

I’ve been outed. Shortly after the Frankfurt book fair, an Indian magazine announced my other big news.

My mad ramblings, irreverent rants and quick recipes are to be published into a lifestyle/narrative cookbook by HarperCollins titled “Miss Masala”.

Of course this being journalism, they got two out of three facts wrong. I write a Quick Indian Cooking food blog. True. I live in the US. False. I am the obese spoon-wielding aunty in a cotton sari depicted by the resident cartoonist. Gross misrepresentation!

Still, it’s far better than the tepid response from some of my family members. Gran and dad take it in turns to claim I inherited the skill from them. On his recent trip, dad responded disbelievingly at the meal I cooked for him. And even asked me if I knew what “blanching” meant.

Thank god I have publishing glory to look forward to. Even though the book won’t hit the shops until March 2010. Watch this space.

In the meantime, here’s a Tamatar Shorba or Mughlai-style Indian tomato soup recipe requested by one of my readers. I’ll spare you too much sentimentality, but I wouldn’t be here without you lot, yadi yadi yada…  Just please start saving to buy my book!
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I staggered home after the three-course French Bistro meal and drink at the Dirty Martini.

A scene from Outbreak, the virus blockbuster, greeted me. Large sheets of green PVC everywhere. Rooms sealed with thick masking tape with strategic openings to allow entrance and departure.

Our building work had commenced. I was going to live in my own horror production for the next two weeks.

On the plus side I found two HUGE trouts in our freezer.  The wonderful project manager brought them from his fly fishing trip. But these had to be safely frozen until I found a friendly fishmonger to clean them for me.

And until the kitchen had been restored to its original splendor. Now it was a particular danger zone with our computer equipment all over the dining table and worktop. Dinner was going to be an exercise in new spatial orientation.

But quick Indian cooking is always alive and kicking. I turned to a box of Khanum goodies I got sent to trial. It had an excellent minced ginger and garlic paste, a saviour of sorts if you get a potent-enough substitute for the real thing. I set to work on Kadai Chicken (pronounced Ker-Hai), a blindingly simple stir fry.

So simple in fact that I felt guilty and made my own curry powder for it. I normally never recommend using ready blended curry powder. But some messy situations call for alternative action.
PS = Just don’t use chicken breasts. That’s one compromise too far. Read More

I waited patiently in front of the Royal Exchange, in three layers of make up.

How do I get myself into these situations?

My dear friend / film producer / cameraman walked enthusiastically over with a bulging pocket. And the full dread of being filmed, at lunchtime, in London’s financial district, suddenly filled me.

Is it too late to change my mind?

Steely eyes stared back. I got his drift.

Normally, I am a shameless self publicist. But merrily shopping with a big smile while the credit crunch wipes if off everyone else’s was a tad shameless too far.

Even the cab driver sighed “cutbacks” when I asked him to drop me some two minutes down the road.

And then there were the do-I-recognise-this-Z-list-celebrity stares. I half contemplated hand writing a placard saying “No. You do not know who I am“.

I quickly checked out the gorgeous silver jewellery at Tateossian, then bought a stash of chocolates at Paul A Young and fled the area.

It was just as well that this video’s theme was Comfort Eating. I cooked Taheri, a moreish vegetable pulao from North India, with my friend Boobie’s Anda or egg Raita.

The Egg Raita might take some getting used to. But, like my cookery video jaunts, once you try it there really is no going back.
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We had a long weekend here. And Notting Hill Carnival.

Living with seven million people is so my thing. Sharing a weekend with most of them and tourists on rubbish-strewn West London streets totally isn’t.

We shoved a duvet, an aunt, one brother, chocolate and home-made Tandoori Chicken into the car and drove off to an idyllic Cambridge village to visit another brother.

The BBQ was ready for my glistening red chicken portions. I stood in a cloud of dark smoke, basting them with a mix of lime juice and vegetable oil. While Harry the dog and the relatives took it in turns to pace around the BBQ.

The result was soft, juicy, full of flavour. Worth every smokey moment. And escaping London for.

PS = To enjoy Tandoori Chicken properly I recommend using a tandoor or BBQ. You could grill it, but that wonderful charcoal smoked flavour will be MIA.
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