Quick Indian Cooking

Something unusual happened to me recently. A new friendship turned ugly. Nasty accusations got made. Yours truly got to play chief antagonist in a real-life Lindsay Lohan drama.

Normally, I’d take a whiff and move on. But my testosterone levels have sunk to record lows lately. I blame motherhood. So I cried copious tears, while cradling a bottle of vino and ranting down the phone to an unsuspecting close friend.

A whole hour later I realised the poor man had slid off to watch TV. Not wishing to bother him with my theatrics, I plonked myself on the sofa pleasantly enquiring about the sword-wielding blonde gracing the silver screen.

It’s Kill Bill, he said. A movie about a woman who is betrayed by everyone she loves and trusts. Cue: more floods of tears followed by a prompt end to the day.

Sometimes in life you need things that just work. Like unconditional love. Solid friendships. Trusted kitchen appliances. Failsafe recipes. The things that you care for dearly. That take anything you throw at them. Last forever. And can be relied upon come rain or shine.

This recipe is one that has survived through thick and thin with me. Quick dinner for sister. Check. Lunch for toddler playdate. Check. Centre piece for dinner party. Check check. I’ve left the peas out once, taken the tomatoes out another time and used yoghurt instead, mixed in some fresh coriander and each time the result is tremendous.

The trick is to cook the rice separately while the prawn masala bubbles away and then mix the two together. This is cheating, of course (this isn’t), but it speeds up the cooking time dramatically and the end result is almost foolproof in its fluffy perfection.

To be eaten with true friends and plain yoghurt. Naturally.
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It was a big day last week. My husband turned a year older. Except he hates birthdays. Can’t handle the attention.

Sorry. I don’t understand. If I could attract any more attention to myself, I totally would. But a blog, a book, two darling sprogs and several superfriends and family later, I am running out of ideas…

So every year I devise devious ways to totally embarrass him to shreds. Sooner or later, he will begin to love the attention, right?

Errm, work in progress. Last year, we did candle in dessert plus Happy Birthday sung in pitch darkness. In Thai. At a swanky restaurant. This year, I emailed 20 of his closest friends. Disclosed his real age as opposed to the one he’s been pretending to be. And requested them to make the man feel really special on his big day.

This was not a surprise birthday party, my sis observed. This was war!!

Suffice to say, I had a wonderful time. The expression on his face to find 20 over-sized adults spring out of a corner of his favourite pub paled in comparison to the total horror when the white chocolate fondant cake appeared.

All tried and tested ways for ultimate success. Speaking of tried and tested, QIC is in the spotlight for this interesting event, hosted by Sudeshna of Cook like a Bong (Bong is slang for Bengali). This is particularly poignant for me given that I have been missing in blog action for months. So I decided to crash the party and try one of my own recipes, which is vastly searched.

The Saag Aloo. British curry house favourite of two utterly bland ingredients thrown together for no particularly great reason. Cooked well, however, it is lip-smackingly yummy. A host of recent negativity was beginning to make me doubt my own recipe. So I retried it, with the addition of one extra green chilli, lemon juice and a small onion.

The result, my man happily declared, was a pleasant surprise. Soft potatoes nestled in this healthy spiced spinach clearly deserve every bit of the attention they attract.
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A week is a long time. I was all glow post new book. Until the UK General Election knocked it out of me.

Let me make a brief attempt to summarise the drama that has unfolded. Two main parties, both equally detested. Neither gets a straight majority. The result is Hung Parliament. The third political party, rises to prominence, in the bid to form a government.

Dithering political leaders are next locked in discussions about political and electoral reform at a time when the economy is in the doldrums. People’s lives and livelihoods are at stake. The result: the most unlikely political marriage in the history of the nation.

Let’s hope this one doesn’t end up in the divorce courts.

Of course, I am no expert. But given this was the first General Election that I have ever voted in, it certainly got my blood boiling. I decided to stay cool with a spot of summer cooking. With a Bhindi Raita – that’s spiced and chilled savoury yogurt with okra or ladies’ fingers.

Bhindi’s are infamously slimy. The trick to banish slime is to wash them thoroughly in cold water before you slice them. Now, some may recommend lovingly wiping them dry but I just leave them to drip dry in a colander over a clean sink  while I get on with the rest of my cooking. Then slice and marvel.

The way to get the bhindi really crispy without using too much oil, I have discovered, is to coat them in a bit of oil and grill them rather than fry. Tossed into ice cold, stirred natural yogurt, these little beauties will delight whatever the week has dished up.
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There’s always a first time. I bought my first ever five-inch heels to wear at a London Fashion Week last Saturday. Worked out what Twitter was. And announced with great gusto I was off to Shilpa Shetty’s party, which, in fact, was scheduled for the following day.

Our babysitter suggested I had finally lost it.

I also started using a great, big, proper grown up food processor.

Now you may think this is odd. Especially for someone who cooks and writes about food. The truth is I have been joined at the hip with my trusted hand held food processor for eons. It’s dinky, safe and and finger proof. What’s not to like?

Then my man bought me a monstrous Magimix for returning to work after maternity leave. I became desperate for one. If it’s good enough for the great and the good of the celebrity chef world, it’s good enough for me.

Except, it scared me witless for the first few months. The fittings looked like weapons of mass destruction. The base weighed a ton. The manual didn’t appeal in its cling film packaging. Then I decided to improvise, stuck the small blade into the large bowl, and wondered why the damn thing was more noise less action.

I have to say, three months of playing with the thing later, I can’t live without it. I’ve been slicing onions, shredding carrots, mixing stuffing/croquettes and cooking this addictive, fresh, green Dhaniya Palak Pulao (check out this Pudina Dhaniya Chicken too).

My nails are still intact! Now for that dishwasher, double oven, triple cooker, kitchen island and Global knife set…
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