Quick Indian Cooking

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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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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Answer this. What’s the point of all this self-styled, know-it-all banter and cooking if I can’t give a professional total hell from time to time?

So I take to any brief respites from my kitchen with great aplomb. Scanning the restaurant menu for dishes I would hesitate to cook at home. Ordering everything my heart desires. Protesting vehemently about discrepancies in the food/service/ambience.

My third dinner out this week and I was ready to exercise my self-bestowed rights. But just as I was about to tuck into the Beef and Foie Gras Gyoza’s at my friend’s chi chi new restaurant this week, my stomach gave up on me.

I was really looking forward to those dumplings. Instead, I was bundled into a black cab, while cursing poetic justice, and sent home.

Revenge is a dish best served cold they say. Now I had to soothe myself with a cooling treat from the quick Indian staple – the South Indian Curd Rice.

Back in India, this was standard lunch on blindingly hot summer days or when you didn’t feel quite right. Fresh, full of flavour and idiot proof – it’ll mend bruised pride and a raging inside in no time at all.

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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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