Some of you know that I started this blog to prove that if I, with my full on life, general inability to be organised and propensity for destruction in the kitchen, could cook Indian food then so could anybody else.

Four years since, my campaign for curry is gathering pace. In the meantime, a brave new world of digital and social networking has blissfully passed me by.

The man of the moment is my one and only blog guru and free audio kids stories supremo. I told him the site looked dull and dated. He reminded me that I had picked the colours and meddled with his ideas.

So this time we both decided over Kashmiri Paneer, Chicken Pulao and red wine that we should ask you, the esteemed reader, what you think. What makes your blood boil every time you arrive here? What makes your heart soar? Pray, tell, what can I do to make it better for you?

Feeds 4:

• 225gm paneer
• 1 tbsp tomato puree
• 250gm thick plain yogurt (Greek is best)
• 1 tsp paprika or Kashmiri chilli powder
• 1 black cardamom
• 1 bay leaf
• Half inch ginger
• 5 skinned almonds
• 1 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Finely chop the ginger. Puree the almonds with two tablespoons of the yoghurt and then mix into with the tomato puree and paprika.

Cut the paneer into large pieces, like in the picture. Frankly, you can cut it up any way you want. It doesn’t matter. But it does look more special like this.

In a large frying pan or medium kadai, bring the oil to heat on high. When it starts sizzling, add the bay leaf and cardamom. When they start spluttering, add the ginger.

As the ginger turn golden, lower the flame to and stir in the yoghurt mixture. Leave this to simmer for about 20 minutes, until the masala takes on a rich orange hue and oil starts oozing to its surface.

Just stir in the paneer at this stage for five minutes. When it softens, serve and eat straightaway. This was especially lovely the next day when the paneer had a chance to lie around in the masala.  

1 black cardamom

All blingtastic, I was going to attend the lunchtime launch of Spooning with Rosie, my friend Rosie Lovell’s book. The lovely Rosie runs a deli cafe in trendy Brixton. Vintage dresses and unshaven faces were going to rub shoulders amidst mounds of quality cheese, loafs of bread and stacks of her cupcakes.

The anticipation was immense as I dressed mini Basu in a co-ordinated romper. Rosie’s cookbook is a sensational tome brimming with eclectic recipes that nod to London’s vibrant cafe culture. That aside it featured my Bhapa Doi Bengali cheesecake recipe with a mention of yours truly.

Several glasses of wine and hours of mingling later, I couldn’t wait to get stuck into a semi-complicated recipe that matched the dizzying heights I had reached. It was going to be Kofta Curry, soft spicy meatballs in a tomato base.

I mixed the Kofta or meatballs before going to bed. Cooked the dish the following day. Scooped the finished lot into a bowl. Just in time for my hungry dad’s arrival. This experienced cook was not going to be easy to please. “So how is it”, I asked, waiting for the lavish praise.

“Delicious”, he replied. And just as I was about to mutter a thanks, he added: “You could have cooked the masala a bit more.”

Nothing like family to keep you grounded. Here’s the perfected recipe for when you want to show off. Best served with a pinch of humility.

PS = I made this with beef mince but you could just as easily substitute it with lamb.

Feeds 4:

For the kofta:

• 500gm beef mince
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 2 tsp coriander powder
• 2 tsp cumin powder
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp salt

For the curry:

• 1 large onion
• 400gm tin chopped tomatoes
• 1 inch cinnamon
• 1 bay leaf
• 4 garlic cloves
• 1 inch ginger
• 1 tsp paprika
• Half tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp garam masala
• 10 sprigs fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Mix all the kofta ingredients together and stick in the fridge. It needs a good hour, but I did this before going to bed and left it in the fridge until I was ready to cook.

When you’re ready to make the curry, halve the mince mixture and fashion it into two large sausages. Then break off equal pieces and roll them into largish balls on a chopping board and leave to sit.

Chop the onion, ginger and garlic finely. Bring the oil to heat on high in a large non-stick pan. When it’s hot, chuck in the bay leaf and cinnamon. As they start sizzling, mix in the onion, ginger and garlic and fry until golden brown. This will take a good 10-15 minutes on a high heat.

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

Next, add the paprika and chilli powders and fry for another two minutes. Then mix in the tin of tomatoes. You could use three large ripe and red chopped tomatoes if you prefer going fresh. Now let this masala mixture start bubbling, then lower the heat to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes.

At this stage, oil will start oozing through little pores in the mixture. When it does, gently lower the koftas into the curry. Cook for 10 minutes and then flip them over to the other side for another 10 minutes.

Alternatively you could grill them for the same amount of time under a medium heat and mix them into the curry. Leave the curry bubbling, just add a bit of water if it dries up.

Finally, add the garam masala, salt to taste and sprinkle chopped coriander. This was lovely with a hot roti that I bought in a store earlier.

The man stopped work too. So he needed someone to play with in between crap movie fests. Not great for my writing plans.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I hurt my knee scrambling towards non-alcoholic mulled wine at the Christmas Fayre in Hyde Park. The curry Christmas Eve meal for eight would now have to be cooked with the most glamorous accessories of all – a hobble and knee bandage.

Still, I had promised a vegetarian Christmas curry option and here it is. Paneer Pasanda, a creamy and nutty cheese curry that is impossible to dislike. If you ate this in an authentic restaurant, the paneer pieces would comprise slices sandwiched with cashew paste and fried in a gram flour batter before being layed in the pale curry. But I’m hoping you, like me, have better things to do that create paneer sandwiches for curry around Christmas.

Here is my quick version. Equally delicious and worth every effort. Happy Christmas and New Year to you and your family. If I’m missing in action for a few days, please forgive me. And don’t forget to have that extra alcoholic drink for me on New Year’s Eve, will you?

Feeds 4:

• 250gm paneer
• Half tsp coriander seeds
• Quarter tsp methi seeds
• 4 cloves
• 1 inch cinnamon
• 1 black cardamom
• 150 gm thick natural yogurt
• 5 skinless almonds and 5 cashewnuts
• Quarter tsp chilli powder
• 1 medium onion
• 3 garlic cloves
• Half inch ginger
• Quarter flower whole mace
• 2 tbsp oil
• 1 tbsp single cream to decorate
• Salt to taste

Dry roast all the whole spices apart from the black cardamom by placing under a hit grill for 5 seconds. Then powder in a food processor along with the ginger, garlic and a tablespoon of water.

Chop the onion finely and bring the oil to heat in a medium saucepan over a high flame. When it’s hot, add the black cardamom and as it sizzles, the onions. Fry the onions for about five minutes until pale golden and then add the spice paste.

Stir fry this for another five minutes and stir in the yogurt. Fry on a high heat for two minutes, then add a cup of hot water and leave to simmer for 10 minutes.

In the meantime, puree the almonds and cashewnuts into a paste with two tablespoons of hot water and stir them into the curry. When the simmering time is up, fish the black cardamom out and g straight into the pan with a hand blender and puree the masala into a smooth curry.

Now slice the paneer into 1 cm thick squares and lay them in the masala. Simmer the whole lot for a final 10 minutes until oil floats to the top. Finish by drizzling the tabelspoon of cream on top and serve hot.

I cleverly used the 15-minute relaxation session at yoga to have a power snooze. Then changed into a pale gold top and dashed to the first Christmas party of the season. Sailing proudly past the other 10 awestruck dumbfounded pregnant women.

Then came the office Christmas party. Where I tried to blend into a room full of gorgeous, small-waisted colleagues. Three layers of makeup and an off-the-shoulder maternity party frock later my boss declared I had “just” maintained the glamour stakes.

But the biggest highlight of it all was meeting at least four different couples who wanted to cook a curry at Christmas. Not in place of the big bronze bird with all the trimmings.  But for pre-and post-dinners with friends and family.

I could barely conceal my excitement as I tried to rack my brains for simple curry recipes that wouldn’t send them into a blind ingredient-sourcing panic in the run up to the big event. I needed a chicken, lamb and vegetarian option. Crowd pleasing, one-pot meals that can be cooked easily and in large quantities to feed hungry families.

My next few posts are dedicated to this theme. The first recipe is for Dal Gosht, spiced lamb cooked with lentils. An Indian Cassoulet of sorts. I last made this in a large stock pot, divided it in half and froze it. Later serving it to two small groups of dinner party guests.

Both were well impressed. It’s tasty without being mouth-numbingly hot and a real winter warmer. From one big bronze bird to another – this is my spice-filled contribution to your Christmas meal.

Feeds 4-5

• 750gm lamb shoulder, diced with bones
• 150gm channa (Bengal Gram) lentils
• 2 large onions
• 2 medium tomatoes
• 1.5 inch ginger
• 4 garlic cloves
• 2 bay leaves
• 4 green cardamoms
• 2 inch cinnamon
• 1 tsp garam masala
• 1.5 tsp turmeric powder
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• Fresh coriander to garnish
• 3 tbsp sunflower/vegetable oil

Wash the dal in a sieve under the tap until the cold water runs clear. In a large pot, set it to boil with half a teaspoon of turmeric powder.

In the meantime, slice the tomatoes and the onion and puree or chop the ginger and garlic finely. Bring the oil to heat over a high flame in a medium pot. When it’s hot, throw in the whole spices and as they sizzle up, mix in the onions, ginger and garlic.

Fry the ingredients until they take on a pale golden colour. Now mix in the tomatoes with the spice powders and stir viciously for five minutes until the masalas are cooked. If they start sticking to the bottom of the pot just add a little hot water and scrape them off.

Then add in the lamb and brown it in the masalas. Make sure you keep an eye on the lentils. If they are dry, add a cup of hot water. When the lamb is brown, add a cup of hot water to it, cover and cook a medium flame for half an hour.

Finally, uncover the lamb and mix it into the lentils. Cook the two together until the lamb is tender and the channa dal just melts in the mouth. This dish is lovely sprinkled with fresh coriander and served with Jeera Pulao. But if you fancy making an extra effort, I would recommend some home made naan to go with it.

The first was a spookily quiet house party. The second, an Irish birthday bash at a new Covent Garden cocktail lounge.

I thawed in the living room at the first stop. Teeth chattering from the big Arctic freeze outside. And then I got involved in a slagging match over a male friend’s hideously-inappropriate party attire of ski boots.

He defended his patch: They’re manly.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Try stepping out in freezing weather in a lace off-the-shoulder dress in the style of Victoria Beckham, silver kitten heels and no socks. Now that’s balls!

And off I went to the madness of central London. This time in a cab to protect the block of ice that once served me well as toes.

To celebrate the start of the jolly season, I cooked a lavish vegetarian main dish that knocks the socks off a plain ingredient. This is Bandh Gobhi Massallam, a whole cabbage smothered in a nutty curry and baked until tender.

Moist, creamy and utterly divine, this party accessory won’t draw any undesired attention.

Feeds 4:

• 1 small cabbage
• 15 cashewnuts
• 2 medium tomatoes
• 100gm Greek yogurt
• 1 medium onion
• 2 tsp ginger
• 1 tsp garlic
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• Half tsp whole coriander
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 inch cinnamon
• 1 brown cardamom
• Two tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Slice the cabbage into 6 parts without cutting all the way through, i.e. leaving the base intact. Remove the hard outer layer that falls off. Place the cabbage with half a cup of boiling water in a small, deep pot, cover and cook on a medium high flame for 10 minutes until almost cooked.

In the meantime, fire up the oven to a high heat (210 degrees centigrade, 190 for fan assisted machines). Chop the onion and tomato. In another small pot heat  the oil over a high flame. When it’s hot, add the cashewnuts, cumin, coriander, cinnamon and cardamom.

As they sizzle up, stir in the onion, ginger and garlic and fry for five minutes until the mixture turn a golden brown. Then add in the tomatoes and spice powders. Fry for another two minutes until the tomatoes disintegrate. Next, mix in the yogurt and fry for two minutes to incorporate all the masalas.

Now, remove the whole cinnamon and cardamom into a shallow baking dish big enough to hold the cabbage. Add a cup of water into the remaining masala mixture and go into it with a hand blender and puree it. You don’t have to do this, but the results are seriously impressive if you do.

Finally, place the cabbage gently into the shallow baking dish adding in any bits that have fallen loose. Pour the mixture all over it and bake uncovered for 20 minutes, stirring once in between cooking.

Serve this with some home made naan and raita for full impact.

There are three good reasons for this. One, the festive season is about to start. Trying to get dates in diaries amidst Christmas parties, drunkenness, hangovers and more parties is virtually impossible. Two, I am fast growing into the female Hulk. Three, it’s no fun watching people get pissed.

I invited the group of Tuscany friends over, which included two of the grumpiest Scotsmen alive. One will eat what he’s served. The other will inspect it closely to make sure it’s worthy of consumption.

Initially, I toyed with the idea of serving the rainbow trout presented by our builder that was still tucked away in the freezer. I can clean fish, I convinced myself. Then I considered fishy fingernails. A kitchen smelling of the fish stall at the farmers market. Finally, a vision of the grumpy Scotsman unraveling my botched cleaning job flashed before my eyes.

Chicken curry it was. I picked a classic Kerala-style chicken curry that I knew would impress – coconut milk, curry leaves, baby onions and tender cubes of chicken. It was a huge success. His four helpings meant I had to cook it again to photograph it for this site.

A grand way to start a short but well-deserved break from entertaining large groups…

Feeds 4:

• 500 gm chicken thigh fillets
• 1 large onion
• 1 medium tomato
• 10-12 curry leaves
• 4 baby onions or small shallots
• 4 new potatoes
• 200gm reduced fat coconut milk (half tin)
• 1 tsp fennel seeds
• 4 black peppercorns
• 2 green finger chillies
• 4 tsp coriander powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp garam masala
• 3 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Chop the large onion finely, slice the tomato and cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces. In a medium pan, bring the oil to heat over a high flame.

When it’s hot, add the fennel seeds and peppercorns and as they splutter mix in the onion, ginger and garlic. Fry this whole mixture for about five minutes until it starts going golden brown. Then chuck in all the spice powders apart from the garam masala.

Stir this vigorously for another five minutes and then mix in the chicken pieces. Brown the chicken on all sides, add the tomatoes, chillies and new potatoes in. Next pour in the coconut milk, lower the flame to a medium and let the chicken cook through.

In the meantime, peel the shallots or small onions. In a small pot, bring the remaining tablespoon of oil to heat on a high flame. When it’s hot, fry the curry leaves and shallots for a few seconds and mix into the chicken curry.

To finish, stir in the garam masala and some salt to taste and simmer the curry for two minutes until oil floats to the top.

In India, I’d be celebrating with mounds of Goat Meat Biryani, Seviyan and Shammi Kebabs. Our Hindu family never missed an opportunity to celebrate in style, irrespective of the religion in question.

But 12 years of living in London later I’ve resigned myself to missing out as my family indulge themselves back home.

As fate would have it, I got a chance to do something a bit special myself this year. Asian Woman magazine got in touch, requesting festive Eid recipes. I immediately got thinking about how to simplify a Biryani without compromising method, taste or authenticity.

And Seafood Biryani was born. It uses pricey fresh seafood. And, be warned, the fatty ghee. But this is a festive treat people. Leaving ghee out would be like cooking Christmas turkey in a George Foreman Grill.

Serve this with a simple Raita and Firni for a decadent meal inspired by a real celebration.

Feeds 4:

• 1 large onion
• 5 tbsp ghee
• Salt to taste

For the seafood:

• 100 gm squid, sliced
• 100gm monkfish tails
• 100 raw shelled king prawns
• 1 tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 2 pinches freshly grated nutmeg
• 2 garlic cloves
• Half inch ginger
• 1 green chilli
• 10 sprigs fresh coriander
• 1 tsbp thick yogurt

For the rice

• 250gm Basmati rice
• 1 brown cardamom
• 1 inch cinnamon
• 6 cloves
• 6 whole black peppers
• 1 pinch freshly grated nutmeg
• 2 tbsp milk
• 10 strands saffron

Warm the milk in a microwave for 20 seconds and leave the saffron to soak in it. In a blender, blitz the yogurt, coriander leaves, ginger, garlic and green chillies with two tablespoons of water.

Next bring two tablespoons of ghee to heat in a large frying pan over a high flame and slice the onions. When the oil is hot, add a third of the onions and stir for a minute until it becomes pale golden.

Then add the masala paste and all the powders and stir for anoher five minutes until all the spices turn to a darker shade of green. If the spices get stuck to the bottom of the pan, just add a little hot water to rescue it.

The raw smell of the spices will give way to a lovely delicate aroma. Grate in the fresh nutmeg, add salt to your taste and stir in the fresh seafood. As the prawns start turning pink, turn the flame off and leave the mix to sit.

Now turn the oven to 210 degree centigrade (190 for fan assisted) while you make the rice. Wash the rice under a cold tap until the water runs clear. In a large pot, bring another tablespoon of ghee to heat over a high flame. When it starts sizzling, add in the whole spices. Then measure the washed rice into a mug and stir it in.

In a few seconds of stirring, the rice will turn brilliant white. Nw measure twice as much hot water as rice in the same mug and add to the rice. Bring the mixture to a boil, then lower to a simmer and cook covered until nearly done. The rice should be swollen but still retain a bite. Strain it and set aside.

In the meantime, fry the remaining onion in another tablespoon of oil.

Finally assemble the Biryani. In a deep and round oven-safe bowl create an inch thick layer of rice. Arrange the seafood mixture on top. Then add another layer of rice to cover the seafood, scatter half the fried onions and one pinch of the nutmeg. Finish off with the remaining rice. Pour over the tablespoon of rose waterand the saffron milk and strands all over.

Seal tightly with foil and bake in the oven for 30 minutes. Serve hot with the fried onions.

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…

Feeds 2:

Carrot filling

• 2 small carrots
• 1 tsp fresh lime juice
• Quarter tsp chilli powder
• Salt to taste

Radish filling

• 4 small radishes
• Quarter inch ginger
• 1 green chilli
• 4 sprigs fresh coriander, chopped
• Salt to taste

Parathas

• 250 gm strong wholemeal or chapatti flour
• 4 tbsp Greek yogurt
• Hot water, as needed
• 1 tsp salt
• 4 tbsp oil

Heat the yogurt in a microwave for 30 seconds until warm. This helps break the four down. You can do this on the cooker also or just use room temperature yogurt. Traditionally, only water is used for kneading but my ageing chapatti flour could use the softening.

In a medium mixing bowl, add the flour and salt. Mix in the yogurt half at a time. Go in with your finger and mix well until the flour resembles biscuit crumbs. You want to keep breaking it down like this when you add the rest of the yogurt. Then add tiny bits of hot water, punching the dough with your knuckles on every side until you get a smooth dough that doesn’t stick to your fingers.

If it sticks to your fingers, you’ve added too much water so just chuck in a bit more flour. This part wasn’t problematic. Now keep kneading or punching the dough backwards and forwards for at least two minutes. The more you beat it, the softer it’ll be later.

Next, cover with a moist cloth (damp kitchen towel in my instance) and keep aside. Next, make the stuffing.

Grate the carrot and mix with the stuffing ingredients. Then cover and microwave or sauté for two minutes. Repeat the process in another bowl with the radish and ginger mix ingredients.

Finally, uncover the dough mix and in your palms shape it into a thick sausage and break into four equal parts. Sprinkle a flat chopping board with extra flour, then roll the dough lump into a ball, flatten and use a rolling pin to create a disc the size of a small tea saucer.

Spoon two teaspoons of the carrot mix into the centre and bring the ends together like a parcel to seal it. Then dip the parcel in the flour, flatten and roll out into a even half centimetre round shape. Don’t worry if the filling starts oozing out. This is the way it’s meant to be.

Now, put a flat tawa or frying pan to heat over a medium flame with the tablespoon of oil. When the oil is sizzling, place the rolled out bread on top and fry for two minutes on either side until dark brown sport appear. If the oil dries up, just add a tiny extra bit to the sides of the paratha.

While it’s cooking, get cracking with the next dough ball and repeat until you have four, devilishly soft, moreishly tasty parathas. Serve hot off the tawa with a large dollop of plain yogurt and some pickle.

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.

Feeds 2:

• 250 gm Paneer or Indian cheese
• 2 small tomatoes
• 1 small onion
• Quarter tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• 1 large bay leaf
• 4-5 sprigs of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Chop the onion, tomatoes and paneer into little pieces.

In a small saucepan, heat the oil over a high flame. When it is hot, add the cumin seeds and bay leaf. As they sizzle up, stir in the onions and tomatoes

Fry, stirring well for about five minutes. By this time the onions will be limp and the tomatoes disintegrated. Now mix in the turmeric and chilli powders and fry for another two minutes until the raw smell of the spices go.

Finally, stir in the paneer and mix thoroughly smashing it up with your spoon as you do to get a crumbly mixture. Add salt to taste, fresh coriander and eat hot while the paneer is soft and full of flavour.

Like food wastage. Is it just me or is there a lot being written about it lately?

I’ve been gripped because I care deeply about food wastage. But both time and my brain cells fail occasionally. And there is a point of no return when it comes to even the best of ingredients.

So when I got back from work and opened the fridge to rescue the soon to go green rump steak, the leftover cheese and white bread stared right back at me. I was racked with guilt.

Shoving the steak in the oven to slow roast, I poured myself a G&T and got work on an old recipe from my maternal granny – Cheese Rolls. I virtually grew up on this teatime snack of chilli cheese and bread bites, which are filling and wonderfully addictive.

Also shallow fried. But what’s a few tablespoons of oil when you’re saving the world by default?

If that’s not enough try a simple pulao, vegetable sabzi or a great big curry that you can enjoy even more a day later.
Feeds 3-4:

• 10 slices of white bread
• 100 gm medium cheddar cheese
• 3 green chillies, chopped
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 1 egg
• 2 tbsp plain white flour
• 6 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Slice the crusts off the white bread. In a large mixing bowl, grate the cheese. Add the bread, chillies and onions.

Wet your hand well and squeeze the mixture together, repeating the process until you get a smooth and hard dough. Shape into a large sausage and break into eight equal pieces. With your hands, roll into little sausages/croquettes and lay on the edges of a plate.

Beat the egg in a small bowl and add the flour to the centre of the plate. Now bring the oil to heat over a high flame.

Finally, roll each little bite into the flour, then dip evenly in the egg and fry in two batches until golden brown all over. Serve with ketchup and eat hot, hot, hot.