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.

Feeds 4:

• 350gm uncooked Basmati rice
• 250gm raw prawns
• Half pint glass of shelled peas
• 1 large onion
• 2 tomatoes
• 1 inch ginger and 4 garlic cloves
• 1 tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• 2 black cardamoms
• 1 inch stick cinnamon
• 1 large bay leaf
• 2 tbsp oil (go on use ghee if you fancy it…)
• Salt to taste

Wash the rice and cook it in a large pan or rice cooker. In the meantime, slice the onion finely, mince finely or puree the ginger and garlic together and wash and clean the prawns. Unless they are ready prepared like the ones I use!

In a large pan, bring the oil/ghee to heat over a high flame. When it’s hot, add the whole spices and as they sizzle up the onions, ginger and garlic. Saute the whole lot for about five minutes until it starts going golden, then roughly chop the tomato and throw it in along with the turmeric and chilli powders.

Fry this lot for about five minutes, then simmer for another five. Next, stir in the prawns with the peas and cook until the prawns go pink and firm. Add salt now and check to make sure it’s well salty. Then simply stir in the cooked rice and serve.

You can add other vegetables like peas, potatoes, cauliflower just make sure they are cooked when you mix the rice in. Also, if using yoghurt use a full fat version and add it instead of the tomatoes.

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.

Feeds 3-4:

• 4 medium potatoes (400gm)
• 400gm spinach puree (I used a tin)
• 1 small onion (80gm)
• 2 garlic cloves
• 2 green finger chillies
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• 1 tsp coriander powder
• Half tsp garam masala
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 2 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Finely chop the garlic and the green chillies. Stir the green chillies into the spinach puree along with the lemon juice, and leave to sit in a bowl. I used a tin of spinach puree because it was just so easy. Go fresh and puree yourself if you fancy it.

Next, dice the potatoes into small pieces no larger than one square inch each. You don’t need to pre-boil the potatoes as they will go all mushy and not get a chance to absorb the lovely spices. Chop the onion and finely mince the garlic.

Now bring the oil to heat on high in a medium-sized pan. When it’s hot, add the chopped onion and garlic and saute for five minutes until golden. Then add the potato pieces, cumin and coriander powders and stir on the high heat for five minutes or until the potato edges start going translucent. If the spices start getting stuck to the bottom of the bottom add a tablespoon of hot water and scrape it off.

Next add hot water to the pan until it comes half way up to the potatoes. Lower the heat to a medium and cook the potatoes until they are done. This will take between 5 and 10 minutes depending upon how fresh your potatoes are, and you have to stir regularly.

When you can easily insert a fork through the potatoes without breaking them, mix in the spinach. Add salt to taste, you will need a fair bit to lift the spinach, and simmer for 5 minutes. Finally stir in the garam masala and serve hot with rotis or just tucked into some toasted pitta bread.

Note= This recipe does not and should not use tomatoes, despite various recipes on the internet including it as an ingredient. Please trust me on this one, okay?

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.

BHINDI RAITA

Feeds 4-6:

• 400gm okra
• 350gm low fat natural yogurt
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• 1 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste (black salt if you have it)

Prepare the okra as above in my introduction. Preheat the grill to a medium setting.When it’s hot, grill the cumin on a baking tray for a few seconds, then crush into a fine powder and keep for later.

In a shallow rectangular dish, stir the yogurt with salt to your taste and leave to chill in the fridge. If using black salt, don’t add salt here.

Next mix the okra pieces with the chilli, turmeric and oil in a bowl. Place on a lined baking sheet in a single layer and grill for 8-10 minutes until sizzling and crispy.

When they are done, mix into the yogurt. Sprinkle the fresh cumin powder on top and half a teaspoon of black salt (if you are using it). Serve chilled as soon as possible.

See also DK’s Bread Raita, MD’s version of Bhindi Raita, and my personal favourites Cucumber Raita and Anda Raita.

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…

Feeds 4

• 350gm rice (uncooked)
• 50gm fresh coriander
• 50gm fresh spinach
• 4 garlic cloves
• 1 inch cinnamon stick
• 1 bay leaf
• 4 green cardamoms
• 1 tbsp ghee
• Salt to taste

Puree the fresh coriander and spinach in a food processor with two or three tablespoons of water. If you don’t have a food processor, just chop them finely. Chop the garlic finely.

Rinse the rice well with cold water. Take a medium pot and bring the ghee to heat in it on high.

When it’s hot, add the cloves, cinnamon, cardamoms, and bay leaf and as they sizzle up, the chopped garlic. When the garlic turns a pale golden, measure the rice first into a mug, next stir it in and fry for a minute.

Then mix in the green paste, add 1.5 times as much hot water as the rice, measured in the same mug. Bring to a boil, lower the flame to simmer, cover and cook for about 10-12 minutes until all the water is absorbed and the rice is cooked.

Serve this with yogurt and pickle for a really simple lunch or as a side for some grilled chicken or pork.

In the meantime, UK’s Channel 4 gave us Indian Winter. A classic example of how the Western media stereotypes India with one clean sweep. We are all slumdogs. Naturally.

The posters were enough to send shudders down my spine. A celebrity chef, most famous for the excessive use of the F-word squatting on a railway platform amidst turbans, saris and drums. Shame they forgot magic carpets, snake charmers and a couple of Maharajahs.

Then I saw the line up. There’s a Hindi movie or two. A building design TV presenter to tell us why slums are wonderful. And the chef will learn about the, hold your breath, staggering diversity of Indian food. Shock, horror, he also learns how to make a samosa from scratch.

Just for the record, I don’t know anyone who makes a samosa from scratch in India. But why invite an Indian to help the creative process? I could go on, but I couldn’t put it better than this or indeed this.

Perhaps someone should inform Channel 4 that there’s more to India than slums and samosas. Like this quick fix, mid-week lamb pulao. Soft and spicy, it’s anything but a bitter pill to swallow.

Feeds 2:

• 250gm basmati rice
• 250gm diced boneless lamb (neck fillets or shoulder work well)
• 1 large onion
• 4 garlic cloves
• 1 inch ginger
• 2 tbsp thick yoghurt (Greek or any other whole milk)
• Whole spices: 4 cloves, 1 bay leaf, 4 whole black peppers, 1 inch cinnamon
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp garam masala
• 1 tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• 2 tbsp flavourless oil

Finely chop or puree the ginger and garlic. In a bowl, mix together the diced lamb, yoghurt, turmeric, chilli and ginger garlic.

While it sits, slice the onion. Heat a large pan to high with a tablespoon of oil. When it’s hot, add the whole spices and as soon as they start sizzling fry three quarters of the onion for five minutes.

Now, mix in the meat and marinade, the coriander and cumin. Fry on the high heat for five minutes to brown the meat. If the masala mixture starts sticking to the bottom of the pan, just add a little hot water and scrape to release.

Next add half a cup of water, cover and leave the meat to cook on the high heat. You’ll need to stir every 5-10 minutes to make sure the meat doesn’t burn but this way it’ll be tender soft in half an hour. Woo hoo.

While the meat is bubbling away, cook the rice as you normally would. Or use my highly scientific method.

An evening at a South Indian restaurant followed by the box office blockbuster Slumdog Millionaire was just the push I needed. I decided to give the soft and moreish Uttapams a try at home for weekend breakfast.

I made the batter with ready ground rice flour, and Urid (Black Matpe) dal whizzed to fine powder in my coffee grinder. Then left it to ferment overnight on Friday. By Saturday morning, I positioned myself an inch above the batter and spotted a few of the required little bubbles.

I set a frying pan to heat with oil. The first pancake got stuck solid on the ancient pan. The non-stick tawa or flat griddle pan worked better. Except the batter tasted raw even after what seemed like hours of frying. By this time, my pyjamas sported spilt batter in the most unlikely places.

I left the batter out for another night. Sunday morning and it was all bubbly, like the top of a milkshake. That’s fermentation. Perfect. I set the tawa to heat again. Made four delicious but overdone Uttapams, ate one while cooking, and finished cooking the lot just in time to get ready for pre-Chinese New Year Dim Sum.

Aaaaaaaargh.

I won’t share my excellent recipe on principle. But if you can plan two days ahead, this is the best I’ve found on the blogosphere. Here’s my super quick coconut chutney to make it all worthwhile.

Feeds 4:

• 50gm dessicated/fresh coconut
• Half tsp tamarind paste
• 1 small green finger chilli, chopped
• 10 sprigs of fresh coriander
• Half tsp mustard seeds
• 10 curry leaves
• 1 dry red chilli
• 1 tsp oil
• Salt to taste
  

Soak the dessicated coconut in half a pint of boiling water for five minutes and mix in the tamarind, chopped chilli and fresh coriander. Puree this in a blender until you get a smooth mixture.

If using fresh grated coconut, just use enough hot water to get a blended paste.

In a small pan, bring the oil to heat over a high heat. When it’s hot, chuck in the seeds, curry leaves and red chilli. As they splutter, mix this tadka into the coconut paste. Check for salt and serve alongside your uttapams (and maybe idlis and dosas?).

Just then I got a note about the evening plans. Christmas carols under the tree will now feature more than tuneless singing and too much drinking. Our host, the neighbour downstairs, has tasked his long suffering man with cooking dinner for the seven invited guests. Using a recipe from this blog.

Eeek.

I immediately offered assistance. And Peshawari naans. But it was hard to tell who was freaking out more. The lovely new Indian cook downstairs. Or me about the potential for two recipes to fail in front of all my neighbours.

The Peshawari Naans have been made. The recipe follows below. The jury is out. I will keep you posted. Most importantly, to make these simply remember:

1. Yeast does some sort of weird sticky alien thing with fingernails. Kneading is best avoided with freshly manicured hands
2. The dough needs to rest in a warm place. Avoid your wardrobe. Turn the oven on to a minimum and stick in in there
3. Naans are teardrop shaped. My tried and tested scientific method to achieve this is by rolling them out any way I want and then stretching them by hand into the desired teardrop
4. Don’t worry about the stuffing bursting out. There are bigger things to worry about (e.g hands, as above)
5. Unless you fancy staying sober and attached to the naan-making assembly line, make these beforehand. Wrap them up in cling film or stick them in an airtight container and microwave for 30 seconds each with a sprinkling of water before serving

PS= Recipe a big hit!

PPS= The reason I made naan in the first place was because I got tagged for Breadline Africa by one of my favourite bloggers Bharti of Veggie Foodist. A sober reminder of the less fortunate as we dive into Chrismas feasts…

Makes 7:

• 300 gm plain white flour
• Extra for dusting
• Quarter cup natural yogurt
• Quarter cup whole milk
• 7 gm instant yeast
• 1 tsp white sugar
• 10 each of cashewnuts, almonds, pistachios
• 20 raisins
• 1 tbsp nigella (black onion) seeds
• 1.5 tsp salt
• 2 tbsp oil

Soak the almonds in warm water to help skin them later. In a large mixing bowl, sieve the plain flour. Add to this the yeast, sugar, salt and nigella seeds.

Warm the milk and yogurt together for 40 seconds in the microwave or on the cooker. Add a third of the flour mixture and mix well incorporating all the ingredients. This is when it’s all sticky and awful.

Keep adding the milk and yogurt until all the dry flour is incorporated into a soft and pliable dough. You want to punch the dough with your knuckles backwards and forwards for a good five minutes. This was exhausting but I kept reminding myself of the soft naan later.

Next, tip the dough ball on its side, coat the bowl with the oil and place the dough back in the centre. Dampen a clean cloth with warm water, cover the bowl and leave to sit in a warm place for two hours.

After two hours, take it out and give the now double and very frothy dough a few more punches and return to its warm place with the cover.

An hour later, peel the almonds (or simply use skinned almonds) and roughly crush all the nuts together. Extract the dough and punch it down again. Turn the oven on to the highest setting, with the lined baking tray inside it.

Tear the dough into seven even balls. Flatten each one on a floured surface, stuff with 3-4 raisins and a tablespoon of the nut mixture, then roll into about half a centimetre thick and stretch into a teardrop shape. Use as little flour as possible and shake off any excess flour because this will make the naan hard.

I would recommend putting no more than two in the oven  at one time. They only need three minutes on one side for brown spots to appear and fluff up. Get the next two on and brush the cooked hot naans with butter. To serve, dampen them slightly and microwave for 30 seconds each drizzled with some nuts fried in butter for a truly decadent treat.

Christmas has arrived early!

I thought I’d practice my restaurant review skills before the assignment. At a Keralan restaurant in South London. With food blogger and soon-to-be cookbook author Rosie, her man and mine.

A blast of incense greeted us as we walked into the place. I spotted linen kurtas, banana leaves and stainless steel glasses. Momentarily distracted, I murmured “home” before hanging my coat and greeting Rosie.

As we pored over the menu, my husband ordered lemonade. The waiter said they didn’t have any. Okay, nimbu pani then. To which the waiter replied, you have to go to India for that. Funny he didn’t recommend we head to India for the food too.

We probably should have anyway. The Masala Dosa and Idiappam were tasty but stone cold. I was told I couldn’t have sambhar with the rice noodle cakes. And the feast, with two free glasses of tap water came to £15 ($30)! Rosie then declared she didn’t like the waiter’s vibe and we left without trialling the chocolate chilli and cardamom cake.

That would have made for a very short magazine review indeed.

Good food is better served simply with a smile. Like this Peas Pulao. A restaurant staple in several guises – luminous yellow, golden brown, saffron spiked. But the simplest one of all never fails me. And then of course, you can dress it up with other lovely ingredients.

Feeds 4:

• 350gm uncooked Basmati rice
• 2 cups of fresh or frozen peas
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 star anise
• 2 inch stick cinnamon
• 2 tsp ginger paste
• Salt to taste
• 2 tbsp ghee

Measure the uncooked rice in a thick cup and then wash it thoroughly in cold water in a colander or sieve. In a large pot, bring the ghee to heat and when it’s hot add the whole spices and ginger.

As they start sizzling, stir in the peas for a minute and then the rice. Add salt to taste.

Stir the whole lot for another minute until the rice starts turning bright white. Now add in one and a half times as much boiling water as rice, measured in the same cup. Bring to a boil and then simmer covered until the rice is cooked and the water is all absorbed.

Serve hot with a thick curry or dal of your choice.

It could be the inch-thick sugar toppings, the heart sprinkles or the cute little trays they’re displayed on. But every sighting of these evil treats sends my normally logical brain into semi-paralysis.

Imagine my horror at seeing a whole box of them at the tea party I went to over the weekend. I stared at the vile things as they got placed on a Versace tea set. The pinnacle of decadence being served with relatively-innocent masala chai.

Of course, I went home clutching the two leftover cupcakes. I ate them for desert, following a dinner of two toasts. And spent the night tossing and turning from the self-inflicted, sugar-induced high.

Strangely, it made me think about raita.  That, and a reader’s request for a Cucumber Raita recipe. Raita is to Indian food the complete opposite of what cupcakes are to a restful evening. The savoury yogurt salad soothes the taste buds, calms the tummy and aids digestion. Also provides a generous helping of whatever vegetables go into it.

There are so many raitas – cucumber, kachumbar (finely chopped mixed salad), anda (my favourite egg raita), aloo (potatoes), aubergine and boondi (made with little deep fried gram flour balls). The principles are pretty much the same: filling steeped in yogurt. Spiced either with a sprinkling of spices and herbs or with a tadka (tempered ingredients). Every family has its own variations.

Cucumber raita is an all time classic. It stupendously easy to make. Refreshing. And very authentic served alongside a simple Indian meal. This is how it’s made in my home. Without the fancy touches.

Feeds 2:

• 200gm low fat natural yogurt
• 100gm cucumber
• Half tsp black salt
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 tsp whole cumin

Whip the yogurt well in a small bowl with a fork until you get a smooth, pouring consistency. You may need to add a bit of cold water depending on the thickness of the yogurt.

Peel and chop the cucumber into tiny pieces. I just used my chopper. Dry roast and powder the cumin. I make a big batch of roasted cumin powder in one go and would recommend you do the same.

Then all you have to is assemble the raita. Stir the cucumber into the yogurt and sprinkle all the spice powders on the top. If you add some dry mint, you get cucumber and mint raita. Serve it alongside a vegetable pulao and you have a comforting and simple TV meal.

On the bright side I didn’t get any of the really bad sickness. Although I am craving a double G&T and OTC drugs. A positive sign of the sprog’s superlative genetic makeup methinks.

While I keep going as normal on Virgin Mary, the news seems to be having a strange effect on people around me. They are now full of dubious parenting advice, odd requests for baby scan photos and fewer expletives.

And call me old fashioned, but since when has groping someone’s protruding belly been considered acceptable public behaviour? I might start returning the favour soon.

Just when I was taking it all under my stride, two things happened – I caught a cold and my version of mother’s special recipe for Chilli Vodka Cocktail made the cut for a newspaper feature.

Oh, cruel world…

Here’s to the future. I’ll take two sips.

Nourishes 2:

• 4 green finger chillies
• Half tsp black salt
• Half tsp freshly ground black pepper
• 1 lime
• 1 can lemonade
• 2 single shots of Smirnoff Vodka
• Ice
• Martini glasses

Wash and pat the green chillies dry. Make a two-centimetre slit along the thickest part of each one taking care not to cut through the chilli. In a small cup, mix together the black salt and pepper. With the tip of the knife, stuff the slits with the salt and pepper mix.