In my experience, Indians don’t talk about death much. I’m quite happy to follow this fine example.

But now, I was sitting across a rather morbid will-writing consultant (or something). In between bites of my stone-baked, Capricciosa pizza I was being force fed likely future events.

“Do you have any possessions of real value you want to present to anyone?”

Gulp. My pots and pans?

“Real value.”

My shoes?

We finally settled on the only piece of pricey jewellery I possess. With that, I ran off to work leaving the husband to answer the last call.

To think I’d even momentarily considered parting with my pots and pans! I put them to use straightaway with Bhuna Gosht, and served it with my new found recipe for perfect naan - an Earthly reminder why life is worth living.

Feeds 4:

• 750 gm lamb shoulder, diced and bones included
• 2 medium onions, sliced fine
• 2 tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 1 tsp garam masala
• 4 fat cloves garlic, minced or pureed
• 1 inch ginger, minced or pureed
• 4 tbsp vegetable oil
• Salt to taste

In a large pot, heat the oil over a high flame. When it starts sizzling, throw in the onions and fry for five minutes until they turn soft and pale golden in colour.

Now add in the ginger and garlic and fry for about two minutes until they turn a golden colour too.

Then mix in the lamb and all the spices, apart from the garam masala. Mix the ingredients well together until the meat is sealed and brown all over.

Now add in just enough water to come half way up the sides of the meat, cover and cook on a medium flame. You need to keep stirring from time to time and add hot water only when the curry in the pot dries up.

This is what bhuna means - to stir until the masalas caramelise and the meat cooks. This whole process will take 45 minutes to an hour depending on the quality of the lamb.

When the curry is thick and dry, and the lambs falls apart easily when cut with a fork, mix in the coriander, salt and serve.

• 3 garlic cloves
• 1 tsp cumin
• 2 tsp coarsely ground black pepper
• 4 cups of water
• Juice extracted from 1 inch diameter of fresh tamarind or Half a tbsp of the ready tamarind paste

Tadka:

• Half tsp mustard seeds
• Half tsp cumin seeds
• 1 whole dry red chilli
• 1 sprig curry leaves
• 1 tsp sunflower oil

Bring the water to boil in a large pot. Smash the garlic, whole cumin and ground pepper up in a pestle and mortar. When the water starts boiling, mix in this paste and the tamarind extract. Lower the flame and simmer for 10 minutes. When the time is almost up, heat the oil in a small pot and sizzle the tadka ingredients for a few seconds until they turn a darker shade. Finally mix the tadka into the soup and add salt to taste. Drink this piping hot in a large mug and let it work it magic.

Now, this is a tragedy of epic proportions. There is only one thing I do better than Indian cooking.

Talking.

I sat at my desk, in silence. Simmering gently. With only grunts and sign language to communicate. One grunt, yes. Two grunts, no. Two fingers, leave me in peace.

Clients and colleagues heaped sympathy on me. The husband rushed to the pub to celebrate. I stared at 12 bullet points in despair. Only a simple Indian meal would now lift my spirits off the ditch outside the office.

It had to be chicken curry and rice. Even on a vocally agreeable day, chicken curry is pure genius in a large pot. It takes about 45 minutes to make, even quicker in my pressure cooker. I can make a massive amount of it with little extra effort. And any extras can be frozen for use during a later meal.

Ticks all my boxes for busy bee Indian cooking.

This wonderful, basic chicken curry recipe is from the Basu Kolkata kitchen and can be tweaked for variety with the addition of whole garam masala in the hot oil or some plain yogurt with the tomatoes.

There’s only one way to voice my satisfaction at the end of this meal. Grunt.

Feeds 2 (two times):

• 8 chicken thighs and drumsticks (about 750 gms)
• 3 medium tomatoes
• 2 large onions
• 4 fat cloves garlic
• 1 inch ginger
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 1.5 tsp cumin powder
• 1.5 tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp garam masala
• Handful of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Skin the chicken, roughly chop the onions and tomatoes, and finely dice the ginger and garlic. Heat a large, non-stick pan with the oil over a high flame. You could also use a pressure cooker.

When the oil is sizzling hot, add in the onions and fry for five minutes until pale gold and soft. Then throw in your ginger and garlic and keep frying for another five minutes until the whole lot is a darker shade of gold. If at any point the masalas start sticking to the bottom of the pan, just add a little water and scrape off.

Now mix in all the powders except garam masala, and the tomatoes. Keep frying this on a high heat for another five minutes until the tomatoes disintegrate and the pungent smell of the spices calms down to a softer fragrance.

Then, throw in your chicken, and stir like a maniac until it is white and coated with the masalas all over. Next, add just about enough hot water to submerge the chicken pieces, cover and cook on a high flame for 20 minutes until the chicken is cooked through. Just make sure you stir the chicken every five minutes or so.

If you use a pressure cooker, as I did, this takes about 6-7 minutes after the first whistle. But you won’t get a deep, red colour like the chicken curry in my new video.

Finally, stir in the garam masala, salt and a handful of fresh coriander. Serve with plain, steamed Basmati and a spicy pickle of your choice.

I popped paracetamol, drank red wine and danced furiously to electro Tango. It was Friday night.

The limp home was just the beginning. By next morning, my nostrils flared to the size of accordians. The only sensation I had left was the buzzing in my ears from oversized speakers.

I needed a rescue operation that would charge through me, bringing a sense of purpose back to where the five senses one used to be.

I chose Rasam. This potent, spicy and sour soup is of South Indian origin but drunk widely across the country. People swear by its ability to cure even the most dastardly colds, by setting the taste buds alight.

The most basic Rasam is the one that uses just tamarind water. I opted for a more wholesome Tomato Rasam, the kind I drank in “South Indian” restaurants back home.

I felt better the minute the 10 dry whole red chillies started roasting expelling a sharp, pungent kick into the kitchen. By the time I got to the Rasam, I could actually taste and smell it! Thankfully, there’s enough powder left over for tonight’s hit.

If things go to plan, I’ll be fully recovered for this Friday’s festivities.

Feeds 4:

• Quarter cup Toor lentils
• 1 medium tomato
• 1 inch ball of fresh tamarind (or 1 tbsp ready tamarind paste)
• 2 sprigs curry leaves
• 1 tsp mustard seeds
• Sprinkle of asafoetida
• 1 tsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Rasam Powder

• 2 tbsp coriander seeds
• 2 tsp cumin seeds
• 10 whole dry red chillies
• 5-6 black peppercorns

Preheat the grill to a high heat (200 degrees centigrade). In the meantime, wash the lentil thoroughly and roughly chop the tomato. Soak the fresh tamarind in four tbsp of hot water.

Put all the Rasam powder ingredients under the grill for about 10 seconds. Then powder in a coffee grinder or small food processor until fine.

Place the lentils, tomato and two heaped teaspoons of the powder in a large pot with four cups of water and bring to the boil. I used a pressure cooker for this (10 minutes after the first whistle). But you could just as well boil it in a pot. Just make sure you watch it to prevent contents from spilling over (take off the flame for a few seconds) or from drying up (add more water).

The perfect consistency for Rasam is watery, with fibres in it. Like orange juice with bits. The tomato will almost disappear.

When this happens, mix in the strained tamarind water (or paste). In another small pan bring the oil to heat over a high flame. Add in order, the asafoetida, mustard seeds and curry leaves. Fry for a few seconds until the curry leaves turn a dark shade of green and then mix into the soup.

Drink the Rasam piping hot as a soup or enjoy it with some plain steamed rice.

I know. I swore I would never cater again after the last experience.

But he asked so nicely. And the other option was hastily planned dinner cooked by his other friend.

I arrived with a bright yellow Selfridges bag filled with the goodies. The guests inspected the contents with interest.

Murgh hara tikka. Oooh!

Vegetable kebabs. Nice.

Roasted aubergine dip. Interesting…

Tesco Supermarket Naan?!?

There really is no pleasing some people…

The vegetable kebabs were the alter ego of quick cooking and will NEVER feature on this site. But the Murgh Hara Tikkas were a resounding success. Worth getting out of bed for, standing in the firing line and more.

Serve these creamy soft kebabs with a spicy mint and coriander chutney to make a decent impression.

Feeds 10-15:

Murgh Hara Tikka

• 1.5 kgs chicken breast
• 140 ml sour cream
• 4 tbsp thick, full fat natural yogurt
• 2 tbsp coriander seeds
• 2 tbsp fennel seeds
• 6 cloves
• 6 green cardamoms
• Quarter tsp freshly-grated nutmeg
• 2 tbsp meat tenderiser
• Handful of fresh coriander leaves
• 2 green chillies
• 2 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Dhaniya Pudina chutney

• 125 gm fresh coriander leaves
• 125 gm fresh mint leaves
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 3 green finger chillies
• Salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees centigrade (400 degrees Fahrenheit).

Cut the chicken breasts into large bite-sized chunks. Normally I never use chicken breasts, but these are going to be beaten into submission with the tenderiser and marinade.

Sprinkle the whole spices onto a baking tray and heat for a minute. Turn the oven off. Then blitz the spices in a food processor with all the ingredients bar the oil and tenderiser. Add salt to make a strong marinade.

In a bowl, mix together all the ingredients and leave to sit for an hour or as long as you can. When you are ready to go, preheat the oven again and bake for 10 minutes on either side.

While the chicken is cooking, make the chutney. Discard the hard stalks on the herbs and puree all the ingredients together to make a spicy, tangy green sauce.

Arrange the kebabs around a little pot of chutney and enjoy hot or cold.

It was time for QIC to have a little makeover. We have a more slick look. Videos with cooking basics. And photos of me looking like my younger, more glamorous sister.

On the downside, my blog consultant and dear friend Hugh may never speak to me again.

Fresh from the glow of a new beginning, I decided to try something different. I took to the streets of South London, to trial a new neighborhood for supplies.

First stop. Mrs Naila Salim. Owner of Pooja Sweets and Savouries on the bustling Upper Tooting Road. She had not just one but THREE types of samosas. (Thank you, God)

Next, I bought freshly-diced lamb shoulder from a Halal Butcher on Balham Road. He had goat meat too. The stuff we mainly eat in meat curries at home.

This is the cooking Indian equivalent of hitting the jackpot!

Things are hotting up on all fronts. What better than this Achari Gosht, fiery sour lamb curry cooked with pickle masalas, to send a sizzle through my kitchen too?

Feeds 4:

• 500 gm diced lamb shoulder, bones included
• 2 onions, chopped
• 2 large tomatoes, chopped
• 3 tbsp plain Greek yoghurt
• 4 fat garlic cloves and 1 inch ginger, minced
• 2 tbsp panch phoron
• 4 whole red chillies
• Half tsp red chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 1 tsp garam masala
• 2 tbsp fresh lime juice
• 3 tbsp mustard oil
• 1 tbsp sunflower oil
• Half tsp white sugar
• Salt to taste

In a medium-sized saucepan, bring the mustard oil to heat over a high flame.

When it is hot throw in the panch phoron, sugar and whole red chillies and, as they splutter, stir in the chopped onions. Fry for five minutes until the onions are soft and translucent.

Then mix in the garlic/ginger and stir the whole lot until it starts turning golden caramel in colour. Now add the turmeric and chilli powders and tomatoes. Stir like a maniac until the tomatoes disintegrate.

You may find that the mixture starts sticking to the bottom of the pan. If this happens, just add two tablespoons of water and scrape the masalas off the bottom of the pan.

At this stage, mix in the yoghurt, the lamb chunks and the sunflower oil. Seal the lamb all over, mixing well to coat evenly with the masalas.

Add enough hot water to submerge the lamb, lower the flame to medium high, cover and cook until the lamb literally melts in your mouth. You will need to watch this like a hawk or the dish will simply burn at the bottom.

As the dish cooks, its curry will be reduced to a thick, jelly-like consistency. When the lamb is cooked, mix in the garam masala, the lime juice and salt.

Served with hot, buttered Naans and creamy, plain yoghurt for a spicy treat.

This is where I start ranting about the injustice of the London Underground. Or - God forbid - start sharing my 4000 holiday photos.I’ll just stick to sharing a recipe from my travels with you instead. The dish is Khao Sawy (pronounced Sway) - a Burmese soup noodle dish.I grew up on this in Kolkata, where owing to trade links to Burma, every family had its own recipe that was the subject of much competition and pride among the aunties.

Up in Chiang Mai, I tried the Thai version. Traditionally cooked with chicken, this is a coconut curry topped with a selection of fresh herbs and spices. All added in the quantities you want from little bowls on the table.This dish makes great party food. Mainly, because you would have to be nuts to chop all the garnish ingredients for the two of you.I cooked it for Aunt Madge and her boyfriend. They ate loads. Spilt it down their sweaters. And looked deliriously, inexplicably happy.Something to beat the holiday blues too perhaps?

Feeds 6:

6 large chicken thighs, skinned

3 large garlic cloves

Half inch ginger

Half tsp turmeric powder

Half tsp chilli powder

Half tsp cumin powder

3 green finger chillies,

4 sprigs of curry leaves (optional)

1 x 400ml tin of thick coconut milk

2 large onions, finely sliced

6 rounds of medium egg noodles

1 tbsp sunflower oil

To garnish:

6 eggs

125 fresh coriander leaves

4 garlic cloves

3 spring onions, green and white bits

1 large onion

2 key limes

2 green chillies

2 tbsp sunflower oil

First make the soup. Chop the ginger and garlic and bring the oil to heat in a large pan over a high flame.

When the oil is hot, fry the onions and the curry leaves until they soften and turn translucent. Then add the garlic, ginger and green chillies and fry for another five minutes.

Now add the powders and the chicken. Seal the chicken on each side, stirring like a maniac to mix them up well with the masalas.

Submerge the chicken pieces in hot water and leave to boil away on a medium flame. While the chicken is cooking, prepare all the garnish ingredients in the following order:

• Hard boil the eggs
• Chop the garlic and fry until crisp and golden
• Slice the onion finely and fry in the leftover garlic oil
• Chop up the coriander, green chillies and spring onions
• Peel and mash the eggs roughly with a fork
• Quarter the limes

Kit little bowls with the garnish and place in the centre of the table. Now take each piece of chicken out of the pan and, using two forks, shred it quickly. If the chicken is cooked, the chicken will simply fall off the bone. Get rid of the bone and return the chicken into the soup. Don’t substitute the thighs with boring chicken breasts, for full stock impact!Then pour in the coconut milk and leave to simmer, while you cook the noodles according to pack instructions.When the noodles are done, put the soup pan and the noodles on the table so guests can help themselves. Sprinkle liberally with the garnish ingredients. Serve with plenty of napkins, coz it will get messy.

Along with sorting my festive glam outfit (red tights are so in) I’ve been in deep thought about Christmas nibbles.

Festive snacks, it seems, are the mainstay of keen chefs and gluttons for punishment only. I am neither. You so won’t catch me wrapping 50 tiger prawns with 50 slices of prosciutto or fashioning 50 little kebabs to shallow fry in batches.

Just thinking about it is exhausting…

I will be sitting in front of the roaring fire instead. Hurling abuse at my siblings. Glass of winter Pimms in one hand. Whopping everyone at Pictionary with the other.

As if by luck, Santa came early this year. And he brought just the thing I needed for inspiration, a wonderful cookbook titled Modern Indian Cooking.

Written by Vikas Khanna and Hari Nayak, two US-based Indian chefs, this cookbook does exactly what it says on the tin. There’s no “let’s put Indian ingredients together and pretend it’s what we grew up on” malarky. This is an unashamed tribute to the recipes your mother didn’t cook at home. Like almond crusted roast leg of lamb and peppers stuffed with coriander coconut cream.

I made the superb prawns with a tamarind glaze, which will definitely feature at Christmas. Two hours of marinating, three minutes of shallow frying give you one large plateful of lick-your-plate-clean prawns.

My kind of Christmas snacking. Ho Ho Ho…

This recipe feeds 6:

500 gm large prawns, shelled and cleaned (I defrosted a bag of frozen ones)

1 tsp ginger, minced

4 tsp garlic, minced

1 tsp ground cumin

1 tbsp tamarind paste

1 tsp chilli powder

Half tsp turmeric powder

1 tbsp plain white flour

Salt to taste

4 tbsp vegetable oil

One lemon

Wash and dry the prawns. Mix with all the ingredients (bar the lemon juice) and two tablespoons of oil. Leave to marinate for about two hours.

When ready to eat, shallow fry the prawns in the remaining oil on ether side for two to three minutes turning once during cooking. Pile up high on a large white platter and squeeze the lemon juice all over.

PS = This is my entry for Zlamushka’s Spoonful of Christmas event on the grounds that the marinade (and cookbook) will make an excellent present.

PPS = Does this mean I have made it to my first blog event this year? Does it? Better late than never…

Divine retribution. Poetic justice. Having made fun of my man I was now at the mercy of his creative cooking, i.e. pesto pasta and spaghetti bolognese.

By last night, I was feeling better. And a little desperate. My throat was dry, my eyes like slits and my hands quivering. I… needed… a… masala… fix… BADLY.

I settled on a pressure cooked Parsi lamb curry with apricots. Jordaloo Boti. Mother left me the recipe for this rich, sweet and sour curry in Summer and I kept it safe until the weather turned cooler.

But hubby was not quite ready to relinquish control of the kitchen, yet. He watched my every move, insisting the lamb wasn’t ready until it had dissolved into the curry, shaking the pressure cooker while its lid was on, throwing in extra apricots and whacking the flame up pointlessly when I wasn’t looking.

Did anyone say relapse?

Thankfully, the pressure cooker meant the lamb curry took 45 minutes to make. Hubby wolfed down his whole plate in seconds insisting it was “perfect for his palate” and “the lamb could have fallen off the bone more”.

I better recover soon. There ain’t no room for another cook in my kitchen…

This recipe feeds 3-4:

4 lamb shanks, 750 gm

2 medium tomatoes, chopped roughly

2 onions, chopped roughly

20 dried apricots

4 fat garlic cloves

1.5 inches ginger

8 whole black peppers

2 inches cinnamon

8 green cardamoms

Half tsp cumin powder

1 tsp coriander powder

1 tsp sugar

Half tsp chilli powder

3 drops of worcestershire sauce

1 large potato, peeled and cut into thin strips

4 tbsp sunflower oil

Salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees celsius or gas mark 6. Place the three whole spices on a baking tray and dry roast untilt the green cardamoms turn pale brown.

In a small food processor or blender, grind the whole spices together with the ginger, garlic and a tablespoon of water.

Leave the oven on. Bring a large pan/pressure cooker (at least 5l) with three tablespoons of oil to heat over a high flame.

When the oil is hot, add the onions and fry for about five minutes until they turn pale caramel. Then add the spice paste and stir for another five minutes until the onions soften.

If the paste starts getting stuck to the bottom of the pan, add a little hot water and scrape it off.

Now add the spice powders, the lamb shanks and the tomatoes, and stir like mad for 10 minutes. Add salt according to taste, submerge in hot water and either leave to cook on a medium flame covered for an hour or pressure cooker for 25 minutes after the first whistle.

In the meantime, coat the sliced potatos with one tablespoon of oil, some salt and bake in the over for about 25 minutes, flipping over mid way. Remove from the oven as soon as they are done, to prevent them from going soggy. You could just use readymade oven chips, but this was so simple and satisfying.

When the lamb is cooked, sprinkle the sugar, the worcestershire sauce and the apricots into the curry. It should be rich and thick, so do add a bit of water if it is too dry.

To serve, spoon a lamb shank onto a plate. Serve some potato chips and brown basmati rice on the side. Then sit back and recover.

England made it to the rugby World Cup finals. And the British chicken tikka masala celebrated 60 years since inception.

Plans for the evening were being hatched by hubby and his brothers. So 25 emails later, they were as clear as mud.

Sis-in-law sensibly kept mum. But I stepped in once offering to cook curry for the big night. Which then led to another flurry of emails:

Hubby: “Mallika has offered to cook a curry. Don’t know if it’ll be good, but it’ll be edible.”

Brother 1: “I’d rather go for a vindaloo down the road instead…”

Brother2: “I LOVE Mallikita’s curries!!”

Ignoring it all, I took to Butter Chicken or Murgh Makhani. The mother of all chicken tikka masalas.

As I guzzled vino and vodkas, the bunch of adults raced in and out of the kitchen for fourth helpings.

Quite rightly. It was sinfully delicious and effortlessly simple to make. A third pretty damn good reason.

This recipe feeds 10:

2 kg boneless chicken breasts

250 gm + 4 tbsp natural yogurt

142 ml soured cream

500 gm salted butter

1.3 kg passata (the best you can get)

8 green cardamoms

16 whole black peppers

4 inches cinnamon

16 cloves

2 inches ginger

16 cloves garlic

2 tsp kassori methi (dried fenugreek)

4 tbsp fresh lemon juice

Preheat the oven to a high heat (200 degrees centigrade). Start cutting the chicken into large bite-sized chunks and piling them up in a mixing bowl.

Place the whole spices on a baking sheet and dry roast them for about 10 minutes until you can smell them strongly in the kitchen.

In a blender, whizz together the roasted spices with the ginger and garlic. Add a little bit of water to get a smooth paste. I would ask you to powder the spices et al but it’s too tiresome.

Don’t worry if the paste is a little grainy. Add it along with salt, lemon juice and the 250 gm of yogurt to the chicken and mix the whole lot together well.

Leave this to rest for at least two hours. I left it for three. When you are ready to eat, preheat the oven to 190 degrees centigrade or gas mark 5.

Spoon the pieces of chicken into two shallow baking sheets and bake for twenty minutes until they are white all the way through. Soak the kasoori methi in two tablespoons of hot water.

In the meantime, bring the passata to heat in a large pot over a medium heat. Mix in the remaining yogurt, sour cream and butter.

When you can see the melted butter on the surface of the curry, mix in the cooked chicken with all its juices.

Finally, stir in the kasoori methi and its hot water. Serve immediately with jeera pulao and Cobra beer for ultimate satisfaction.

PS = 500 gm of butter for 10 people isn’t too bad…. Or is it???

PPS = Murgh makhani has featured a lot on blogs recently. Try this version too.