Quick Indian Cooking

We had Christmas, next a germ-infested mini Basu and then my grandfather passed away.

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.
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Many recipes are off limits on this blog because they need time, patience or special apparatus. Like the popular South Indian fermented rice and lentil delights – Idli, Dosa and Uttapams.

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.
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I have been known to serve my food with readymade, store bought naan. But as this is Christmas. I thought I’d make an effort and trial Peshawari Naan, a soft mixed nut and raisin-filled tandoori flatbread. I cleared the kitchen surface, cancelled all appointments and got ready to prepare the feast.

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…

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When a magazine asked me to review a new Indian restaurant in London, I jumped at the chance. What dissect a menu? Criticise the food? Scrutinise the ambience? For a fee?

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.
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