Quick Indian Cooking

It’s been a tough three weeks. No sooner had I indoctrinated Mini Basu into my bootcamp than a copy editor started whipping my book into shape.

I mean who knew one shot of vodka was 25ml? Everyone has a tequila glass!

And why would anyone who buys a cookbook written by yours truly expect to find a recipe for home made ghee in it? I’d rather spend the time trimming my hair with a nail clipper, thank you very much.

Meanwhile, the summer barbeque season has truly kicked off. I’ve also been drinking copious amounts of Rose wine, while billowing barbeques blow sausage smoke through my carefully crafted locks.

True to form, I’ve been saving time, effort and precious brain cells these days by making the same kebab for every barbeque I’ve attended. The juicy, skewered Chicken Reshmi Tikka has been reeled out on three occasions causing quite a sensation. It’s dead easy to make with readily-available ingredients.

Look out for the meat tenderiser powder that goes into it at supermarkets. It’s totally natural and works a treat to soften even the hardest pieces of meat. Perfect for quick fix marinades when every second counts.
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We had an early burst of summer sunshine. I was ready with the accessory of the season – a short white jumpsuit complete with brass buttons acquired brand new on eBay.

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.
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I decided to bake a cake. It was our aunty’s birthday. We were off for live opera sung amidst a three-course meal and a rowdy group of 10.

Now curries I can cook. Sweets I can make. Cocktails I can mix. But baking is one art that has so far escaped me.

Still, I have a collection of cake trays from my efforts over the years. I even bought a retro black lacquer cake stand in the recent winter sales. One divine-looking recipe on the internet later I was ready for yet another attempt.

The warning bells went off when the chocolate orange cake batter didn’t taste remotely orangey. It failed to rise and go fluffy in the oven. And promptly collapsed into a biscuit on the wire rack when left to cook.

I bravely ganached the top and took it to the party anyway. The birthday girl hurt her elbow trying to cut the darn thing. The elderly uncles nearly chipped their teeth trying to eat it. And then, the bottom fell off the cake stand.

I might throw the rest of the cake at the next person who calls me a domestic goddess.

It was time to reinstate my faith in sweet things by trying my hand at something more in my comfort zone. I made a batch of Nariyal Burfis, soft and delicately-sweetened little coconut bites that are perfect for any occasion. They were divine. A few candles and perhaps it’ll be the perfect present for next week’s birthday girl.
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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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