Buying fish does not come naturally to me. As a little girl, I had bad eyesight and thick pink spectacles aged barely eight.

The cure, according to the local optician, was to eat fish. Lots of it. This was a sign from above by my Bengali fish-loving family, who proceeded to force feed me the stuff. Little bones and all.

22 years later, I see the sense in eating fish occasionally. But the familiar quiver in my knee-high boots returns at every fish counter.

“I want to buy fish,” the blonde began. “But I don’t want anything that smells fishy. Or has bones. Or tastes too fishy either. Actually, I’m a salmon kinda gal.”

Great, I thought. This was going to be really simple. I’ll have what she’s having, as long as it won’t fall apart in a curry.

I think the guy shot me an evil. But I scurried off, like a true Bengali all set to make doi maach or yoghurt fish curry. This was a must-have at weddings and social functions at home and cooked traditionally with Rui or carp. I used skate, which worked beautifully in this sweet and spicy curry and had all the above plus a meaty texture.

If you can’t beat them, you gotta join them right?

Feeds 4:

• 2 large pieces of skate, halved
• 2 large onions
• 1 inch fresh ginger
• Half tsp turmeric
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 green chillies
• 1 tbsp raisins
• Half tsp garam masala (optional)
• 1 tsp sugar
• 350 gm thick natural yogurt (Greek or full fat version)
• 1 tsp all purpose flour
• 2 tbsp mustard oil
• 2 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Wash the fish well and marinate with the turmeric and chilli powder, some salt and leave to sit in a mixing bowl.

Slice one onion finely and puree the other with the ginger. Then bring the sunflower oil to heat over a high flame in a heavy bottomed and preferably non-stick frying pan.

When the oil starts sizzling, fry the fish pieces gently on either side until pale brown and well sealed. Now remove them onto to a plate.

Next, add the mustard oil to the pan and bring it to heat over a high flame. When it starts sizzling, add the bay leaf and almost immediately the sliced onions.

Fry this, stirring regularly until the onions yellow from the turmeric fish marinade starts going golden brown on the edges.

At this stage, mix in the pureed onion and ginger. Stir like a maniac on a high flame, helping the whole lot turn a pale golden colour. You will need to keep adding two tablespoons of water at a time to prevent the masalas from sticking to the bottom of the pan.

This takes a good 20 minutes and don’t give up too early or the dish will taste raw at the end. While the onion masala cooks, beat the yogurt with an equal amount of warm water, the sugar and flour. This will prevent it from splitting.

When the onion stops smelling raw and pungent and takes on a brown colour, lower the flame to low for two minutes. Stir in the yogurt and the green chillies and simmer until the curry has an even pale, golden colour.

Add this stage, lower the fish into the curry, sprinkle the garam masala and raisins and leave to simmer until oil reappears through little pores on top of the curry.

Serve with rice cooked with a tablespoon of ghee for an authentic touch.

PS = This is my second entry to Sandeepa’s Bengali food event. I will stop now. Promise!

Sundays are the only time I’m quiet , reflective. Recovering from the ravages of Saturday night. Quietly freaking out about looming deadlines. Uncle Roy’s impending charity Indian ball. Christmas. Anything, really.

Hubby sits beside me having a crap movie fest, cherishing the rare silence. As my father-in-law tactfully put it, the only time the Basu sisters are quiet is when they are hungry or asleep.

How true. For I was craving something super healthy. But, far too fagged out to stir onions.

I remembered the banana leaves in the freezer. In a fit of total idiocy, I bought a massive pack when I really needed two leaves. Leaving no room in the drawer for essentials like frozen parathas and ice cream.

It was time to put them to good use with macher paturi, fish smothered in mustard, coriander and chilli, wrapped in bamboo leaves and steamed. It’s served on special occasions like weddings in West Bengal.

Wrenching myself away from the riveting Holloywood blockbuster that is Elektra, I returned 20 minutes later with a full plate and smug smile. I was going to be ready for that deep, meaningful conversation soon.

This recipe serves 2:

2 boneless and preferably skinless cod fillets

60 gm fresh coriander leaves

4 tsp wholegrain mustard

4 tsp mustard oil

4 small green finger chillies

2 green banana leaves

Salt to taste

Bring the kettle to boil with two cups of water. In a blender, puree all the ingredients with a teaspoon of water to get a light, grainy paste. Add enough salt to make it a strong marinade.

Smother the surface of each cod fillet with this paste and place on a washed banana leaf. Make a parcel, folding the leaf over each fillet evenly.

Place in a steamer (I used a covered colander over a pot) and steam for about 12 minutes until the fish is cooked through.

I served this with traditional wedding delicacy ghee bhat, 75 gm rice cooked with a teaspoon of ghee and some salt, and steamed broccoli, for no particular reason. A delicious combination.

First, they get one of the most glamorous celebrity chefs to front a new programme on real-life cooking, forcing the wealthy advertising mogul’s wife to sack her housekeeper and do her own laundry.

As if this wasn’t bad enough, she also has to travel to the supermarket to do her own food shopping. Thank god for taxis and the upmarket Waitrose.

And then there’s the outrageous menu.

While the British Government peddles fears about an obesity crisis, we are lovingly shown how to create deep-fried suppers with garlic mayonnaise and a heavy mustard cream sauce to accompany pan-fried pork chops.

As the cream submerged the meat, the presenter sultrily said “comforting, elegant and easy”. Fattening came to mind.

What a disservice courtesy the nation’s public service broadcaster!

Here are my thoughts for the BBC’s future cooking programming: Real life cooking is done by real life people, who:

• Have full-time jobs, unpaid at home and paid at work, both exhausting
• Take public transport to food shops or drive - both are fraught with difficulty
• Are increasingly worrying about their diets and meals

I switched the programme off when the caramel croissant pudding was flagged up and made masala fish for dinner.

It takes 20 minutes to prepare and you can eat it with any vegetables or a salad. Real life cooking by a really normal person.

This recipes serves 2:

2 skinless and boneless fish fillets (I used salmon)

Juice of half a lemon

1 tsp chilli powder

1 tsp turmeric powder

Salt to taste

1 tsp butter (I used margarine that tastes like butter)

Turn the grill on to preheat it to a medium heat. In a little bowl combine the lemon juice, salt, turmeric and chilli powders to make a strong marinade.

Line a baking tray with kitchen foil and place the fish fillets on top. Drizzle the marinade all over and leave to rest for five minutes.

Then put half a teaspoon of butter on each fillet and place the baking tray under the grill for 10-12 minutes until the fish is cooked through but still moist.

I ate this with the jeera aloo I made earlier.

Alarm bells should have gone off when I read about the clientele “comprising of [sic] local Chelsea socialites and fashionable 20 / 30-somethings from surrounding media, production and design companies”.

But there we were. Asian Invasion 2007 of a bunch of under age, middle class toffs in the sans public transport wilderness that is Fulham, South West London. With a handful of French, Israeli and English party going friends thrown in for good measure.

Just as the night of lychee-mojito-drinking and outrageous dancing was drawing to a close, the manager decided to have a strong word with me. It was about the bad image I was portraying by resting my aching legs on the table 15 minutes before closing time.

Bad image? Mate - look around you. There are men and woman being sick and falling on their faces all over the dance floor! This is a nightclub, not a temple…

The following day, as I lifted the rock that was previously my head - I realised two things. 1) I am too old for this and 2) I need some serious TLC to get my body back from the brink.

So I did what I hardly ever do. I cooked fish. A whole rainbow trout - complete with head, fins and eyes. The healing power of oily fish needs no introduction and this delicious recipe takes barely 25 minutes from start to finish.

We made some channa salad on the side and ate most of it for dinner, saving some for leafy salad lunch at work the next day. It was heavenly and just what the doctor ordered. You may need to save this one for when recovery is of the essence.

This recipe serves two:

2 whole rainbow trouts, washed well

100 gm fresh coriander leave (a large bunch)

4 whole green chillies

4 garlic cloves

Quarter cup mustard oil

Juice of 1 lemon

Salt to taste

Preheat the grill to a medium heat.

In a blender, puree all the ingredients together bar the fish. Coat the fish evenly with the thick green masala and grill for 10 minutes on either side.

Armed with a oversized brolley coordinated with my monochrome outfit, I braved a 15-minute walk in the midst of a thunderstorm to locate my nearest sushi takeout.

It was worth it.

I don’t normally feel the same love for cabbage. But my mother, armed with a certain diligence and innate ability, always manages to purchase the nation’s least favourite vegetables for our weekday meals.

As we cooked a simple and delicious prawn and cabbage stir fry, known by Bengalis as bandha kopir thorkari, I thought about how under appreciated cabbage really is. Koreans love kim chi and Germans their version. Surely, Indian style cabbage is what will eventually win hearts and minds?

It sure got my vote. The dish was moist, subtle and absolutely delicious. We ate some for dinner and the rest straight out of the fridge the next day. Pair it with some ready rotis for a simple and healthy weekday meal.

This recipe serves 4:

1 medium cabbage, sliced into 1 cm wide strips

1 packet of ready-cooked shelled prawns

1 cup of shelled fresh or frozen peas

1 tbsp grated ginger

3 cloves of garlic, chopped fine

1 tsp cumin powder

1 tsp coriander powder

Half tsp turmeric powder

Half tsp chilli powder

1 large bay leaf

1 tsp whole cumin

25 gm fresh coriander, chopped roughly

2 whole slim green chillies

1.5 tsp sunflower oil

Salt to taste

Wash the cabbage thoroughly in cold water. In a large pot, heat the oil over a high flame.

When the oil is hot, add the bay leaf and cumin seeds. As they start sizzling, chuck in the shredded cabbage.

Stir fry the cabbage for two minutes and then add the turmeric, chilli, cumin and coriander powders. Fry for another two minutes on the high flame until the cabbage is well-coated with the masalas.

Now lower the flame to a medium heat, add the ginger and garlic, cover the pot and simmer until the cabbage is cooked. You don’t need to add any water.

The cabbage will take a good 20 minutes to soften. within 10 minutes of cooking, stir in the peas, prawns and green chillies.

When the cabbage is moist but without gravy and soft, take the lid off and mix in the fresh coriander.

Add salt to taste and enjoy hot or cold.

It’s been a while since I changed lightbulbs, used the hoover or fixed the fuse. I am also prone to leaving the iron on, back door open, forgetting my flat keys and/or mobile.

But the BIGGEST worry is that he’s taking the super cool, super professional digital camera with him. I lose my Chief Operating Officer, Chief Creative Consultant and the mean machine for what will be the longest three weeks ever.

After a brief fit and sulk, I agreed to be taught how to make the snappy snap digital camera function as its more techy counterpart for three weeks.

The model is question was prawn patia - a popular hot and sour Parsi prawn curry. My new colleague at work mentioned how much she loved this dish and I thought I would post the recipe for her. I served it with some khichdi - a simple lentil and rice dish.

Taking the photo was a bit tricky, but not as bad as I thought. The prawns were yummy though - isn’t that all that matters?

This recipe serves 2-3:

250gm large prawns (I used cooked frozen ones, thawed)

2 large tomatoes, chopped

2 medium onions, chopped

3 fat cloves of garlic, chopped

Half tsp turmeric

1 tsp coriander powder

1 tsp cumin powder

Half tsp chilli powder (more if you can handle it)

Half a cup of fresh coriander, chopped fine

1 tbsp vinegar

1 tsp sugar

2 tbsp oil 

Salt to taste

Heat the oil and when hot, fry the onions until translucent. Add the garlic and continue to fry until pale brown.

Add all the spices, the vinegar, the tomatoes and fry until the pungent smell goes and the onions start disintegrating. You may need to keep adding a little add hot water to the pan to prevent the spices from sticking to the bottom and burning.

Add about half a cup of water to the mixture, stir in the coriander and simmer for about 15 minutes until the oil reappears through little pores in the mixture.

Now add in the prawns and salt to taste. Give them a good stir to ensure they are well coated and remove from the flame. This dish should not have too much gravy.

No suprise there considering I was virtually tortured with Bengali fish curry as a child.

See, I developed terrible eyesight at the tender age of nine. The local quack eye shrink recommended I eat a lot of fish.

Bengalis are famous for their fish curries. Except they cook fish with skin, bones, heads and tails. They cook vegetables with fish and dal with fish.

Suddently, not only was fish everywhere, every day, but I also had to eat it.

Enough to put me off it for the next 20 years!

As a (near) grown woman, I have decided to test the fishy waters once again. I looked around for fish recipes and came across this one by Sra.

I was drawn to its simplicity and, of course, speed. The results were delicious and even our house guest, who hates Indian food, was left licking his fingers. Use a meaty fish to prevent it from falling apart.

The only change I made to Sra’s recipe, was to fry the onion. garlic and ginger first to get rid of the raw smell, before adding the masalas, fish and coconut milk.

This recipe serves 2-3:

500 gm meaty white fish (I used Marlin)
1 cup coconut milk
3 small onions, chopped
1 tsp chilli flakes or two red chillies ground
2″ cinnamon
10 curry leaves
Quarter tsp turmeric
Quarter tsp fenugreek leaves
Juice of half a lime
2 tbsp oil
Salt to taste

Fry the onion, ginger and garlic until they turn pale brown. Add all the spices, curry leaves and fry on a high for about five minutes.

Add the coconut milk, lower the flame and simmer for about 10 minutes until the raw smell of the spice go.

Finally, cube the fish and add it to the pan. Wait until the fish cooks through, no more than a couple of minutes, and then serve, drizzled with the lime juice.

My recipe is for prawns cooked the Goan way. Goa needs no introduction for ravers, beach lovers and sun seekers. But for food lovers everywhere Goan grub is the fiesty cousin of an everyday curry.

It is home to the original pork vindaloo and a variety of seafood dishes cooked in high chilli, vinegar and a medley of spices. NOT for the faint hearted!

I have toned my recipe down slightly to meet everyone’s taste buds. From my two previous visits to Goa I know that usually little shrimps are used for this dish rather than the king prawn variety.    

250-350gms prawns
2 tsp whole cumin
1 tsp turmeric powder
2 whole dry red chillies
4 cloves
1″ cinnamon
1″ ginger
1 large onion finely sliced
2 tbsp oil
3 tbsp white vinegar

Make a paste of all the ingredients, except the oil, prawns and onion. Heat the oil and when hot, fry the onions.

When the onions are brown, add the masala paste and fry on a high heat until the oil leaves the masala.

The pungent smell, as always, will go when the masala is cooked. Now add the prawns. Stir until the prawns are cooked. Add salt to taste.

Hugh Fraser is the mother (maybe father) of all blog developers, a real blog consultant and my occasional tinkering technician.
The plan was that he would come over, I would teach him how to cook a chicken curry and then we would drink wine, chat and eat Indian food.

But, as is to be expected the “drink wine and chat” bit kind of became the real focus of the evening. We ploughed our way through a bottle of Rioja and a bottle of Merlot before I could say “brown the onions” and the less said about the chicken curry, the better.

Still, the valiant Hugh, undeterred by the sight of yellow chicken braved the Chingri Malai Curry or prawn coconut curry and Jeera Pulao, cumin rice. I hasten to add that these were cooked on Sunday and hence unspoilt by drunkenness and too much talking.

Far from being the star pupil, Hugh has resigned himself to waiting for the recipes to be posted so that he can teach himself instead of relying on me.

Here is my recipes to serve 4 for Chingri Malai Curry, a finger-licking Bengali dish that is eaten on special occasions:

Grind the onion and ginger in a blender. Heat the oils and when hot add the whole spices and the sugar.

When the sugar caramelizes into a lovely reddish brown colour, add the onion mixture and fry on a high heat stirring regularly.

When the onion mixture starts losing its pungent smell and slowly goes brown in parts, add the chili, turmeric.

This is the only tricky part of the recipe. You just have to fry all this until the onion mixture tastes smooth and cooked in your mouth.

When it does, add the coconut milk, lower the heat and simmer for about 10 minutes. Then add the raw prawns, stirring gently until cooked.

Add salt to taste and serve immediately.

Now for the Jeera Pulao recipe, again to serve four:

Heat the ghee and fry the whole spices for a few seconds until they let out their lovely aromas.Add the rice and fry until the rice flakes turn a bright white, mixing in salt according to your taste. Don’t go too mad because the prawn curry will have salt in it too. Add 4 cups of water and bring the rice to a boil. When it starts bubbling, lower the heat to a simmer, cover the pot and wait until the rice absorbs all the water.

This aromatic rice is delicious with all curries. I think Hugh would agree too…

Biryani is one of the most delicious and time consuming dishes prepared in the Indian subcontinent. It originated in Persia and Arabia and was popularised by the Mughal rulers in Lucknow years and years ago. It has developed into a rice dish that is consumed on special occasions such as Muslim festivals and even Hindu weddings.

The big difference between biryani and pulao, the other popular Indian rice dish, is the length of time for cooking. Biryani often takes hours of slow cooking, with the pot lid sealed tight with a flour dough. Pulao on the other hand is like the quick and easy version. Just as delicious, but not so special.

Divya’s recipe was a complete hit with couch potato hubby and myself. It’s so easy, and requires no special ingredients. Actually, it did need star anise, which I didn’t have. But I’m not one to cry over star anise so I just didn’t use it. And it was great without. What I did was add a bit of saffron at the end, and it gave the pulao a glorious aroma.
This recipe serves 2:

200 gms raw peeled king prawns (I used frozen ones)
2 small onions, thinly sliced
2 large tomatoes, thinly sliced
1 green finger chilli, slit lengthwise
1 stick cinnamon
4-5 cloves
1 tsp minced ginger and garlic
Quarter tsp chilli powder
Quarter tsp garam masala powder
1.5 cups rice
3 cups water
2 tsp ghee
Sprinkling of saffron soaked in 1 tsp warm milk

Heat the ghee and fry the onions, ginger, garlic, cloves and cinnamon. When the onions start turning translucent and soft, add the tomatoes and chilli powder.

Fry this paste until the raw smell of the masalas go. Then add the rice and fry for 2 minutes. Add the water, lower the flame to medium, cover the pan and cook.

When the rice looks half done, add the raw prawns, green chilli and the garam masala. Give the rice a good stir. Recover and cook until the prawns are done and the rice is dry. Before you take the rice off the flame, mix in the milky saffron.

Two things you need to remember: Don’t stir the rice too much or it will not have the fluffy, separate texture that characterises pulao and make sure the prawns are cooked but not overdone.

Seriously moreish dish and great with a dollop of natural yoghurt and pickle.