Quick Indian Cooking

I rushed home from two meetings, noodle lunch with a friend and a brief diversion into Armani Exchange.

We were having another Friday night dinner party. Where I would cook an Indian meal in wild panic, shower and look relaxed just in time for the doorbell.

Normally, I am star of the show at these evenings. But this time, our neighbour’s 60-something young mum stole my thunder.

We made caipirinha. Smashed glasses. And doubled up over the Kali Dal, Bhuna Gosht and Aubergine Raita as she regaled us with stories of learning how to drive in Indonesia, growing illegal herbs at home and a chance meeting with Gary Glitter.

Eddy, Absolutely Fabulous, we gasped before falling off our chairs and finally calling it a night.

Recovered from the evening of curry, I searched my cookbooks for inspiration on Sunday. It had to be Besan Ladoo a ghee-laced, sugar-soaked, decadent Indian sweet. Tipped as a great snack for children, by a mum in one of my cookbooks.

Strange, that. I’m no expert, but to me they’re the sort of thing that you’d give your child if you wanted them to fly around the room at midnight.

But then again, wouldn’t life be rather dull without unconventionally fabulous mamas?
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It’s been a tough few days. What with the man going under the knife for his minor op et al.

First, he wouldn’t touch the codeine claiming it made him uncharacteristically calm. Then, persuaded of its wide healing properties, he insisted on overdosing on it until I hid it from view.

I briefly toyed with the idea of hitting him on the head with a saucepan. Or strangling him with the cord on my coffee grinder.

But then I thought about going without cigarettes, alcohol, hot food or fresh air for seven days. Dire came to mind.

I gave him plenty of the next best thing instead. Chocolate.

Ironically, this recipe for soft Pistachio and Cardamom Brownies came from another bunch of ladies in despair. The Indian Summer special in the June issue of Fresh Magazine featured them in summer picnic best, braving freezing British weather in the park.

These brownies are sinfully squidgy, bursting with flavour and totally divine. Sometimes, it takes more than a bit of discomfort to experience something wonderful.
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Normally, I kick back on Fridays with a drink. But last week, I chose something a little different. Yoga.

I looked around nervously at the 24 Nirvana-seeking faces. Nothing to be afraid of, I reassured myself. I am Indian. Yoga runs in my blood.

And then he wafted in. A small, bearded bloke in white linen and oversize beads. He turned on Irish-Sanskrit trance music meets Hed Kandi chillout. And lit some incense.

Is this guy for real?

The class, he stated in a low voice, is a meditational, spiritual awakening of the inner consciousness of our self.

Sorry, what?

We are going to balance our left brain with our right brain, finally centering ourselves with our highest awareness of our being.

This sounds complicated. Can I go home?

Balance yourself on one leg, raise your opposite arm and start flapping. Soar until you reach the peak of self transformation. Unleash your creativity.

This man’s on drugs!

Higher. Faster.

I paid to do a chicken impression?

When they started singing abut peace and love, I finally clocked off and started focusing my inner self on Smirnoff and Bhapa Doi, delicious Bengali cheesecake flavoured with saffron and cardamom.

The flow of power in my home is all about moving from living room to kitchen. Transferring the contents of a deliciously sweet and creamy Bhapa doi pot to the mouth. Knowing it took all of 20 minutes to make. And washing it down with a stiff drink.

Next time I’ll stick to what works best.
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I’ve just survived the mother of all shit weeks:

• 1 x Indian wedding
• 7 x impossible deadline
• 5 x 12-hour days
• 1 x boozy PR bunny lunch
• 1 x big night out

All of which brings me to a major milestone. Quickindiancooking is one today.

12 months ago, I decided my job, married life, social and family commitments weren’t good enough. What I needed was a passionate mission that could tip me right over the edge.

And quickindiancooking.com was born. Part diary, part mission to get people cooking Indian food, it came with a solemn promise: I would rather eat my shoe than cook a samosa from scratch.

Since then I have blogged about the good, the bad and plain ugly about real Indian food. With the support of committed bloggers (you know who you are Asha, Sandeepa et al) and Indian food lovers.

Without getting sentimental (so not me, darlings) I want to say thank you for reading this, trying my recipes and leaving (mostly) lovely comments. You make it worth every minute!

Finally, because this is a special occasion, I am going to ditch the weight obsessing and cook Halwa, a ghee-laced semolina desert that is served up on special occasions like pujas, religious functions, and weddings back home.

Pure, unadulterated pleasure. A bit like this blog.

This recipe serves 4:

150 gm coarse semolina

1 tbsp raisins

2 cardamoms, crushed

200 ml whole milk

2 tbsp ghee

4 tbsp white sugar

In a small pot, heat the ghee over a high flame. When it is very hot, stir in the sugar and wait a few seconds for it to caramelise.

Now add the semolina and stir vigorously to brown it evenly. As it changes from pale cream to a warm toffee colour in about five minutes, mix in the raisins and crushed cardamom.

Immediately after, stir the milk into the semolina evenly. It will develop a soft, spongy texture.

Take it off the heat and leave to cool. Spoon into little bowls, sit back and enjoy.