Quick Indian Cooking

We had a long weekend here. And Notting Hill Carnival.

Living with seven million people is so my thing. Sharing a weekend with most of them and tourists on rubbish-strewn West London streets totally isn’t.

We shoved a duvet, an aunt, one brother, chocolate and home-made Tandoori Chicken into the car and drove off to an idyllic Cambridge village to visit another brother.

The BBQ was ready for my glistening red chicken portions. I stood in a cloud of dark smoke, basting them with a mix of lime juice and vegetable oil. While Harry the dog and the relatives took it in turns to pace around the BBQ.

The result was soft, juicy, full of flavour. Worth every smokey moment. And escaping London for.

PS = To enjoy Tandoori Chicken properly I recommend using a tandoor or BBQ. You could grill it, but that wonderful charcoal smoked flavour will be MIA.
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Our Australian neighbour planned an all day BBQ to celebrate turning 21 (again). Of course, the weather here is more Mordor than Melbourne.

So last minute the BBQ, the aptly-named Outback, had to be transported from the communal garden to his three square feet balcony on the second floor of our building.

This threw my party trick into total disarray. Sausages and burgers would work just fine on the billowing monster. But my tandoori chicken was clearly out of the question unless our neighbours fancied masala upholstery.

I took a chance on Lamb Seekh Kebabs. If anything was going to impress the 30 grown men and women, it was this.

But by the time I shaped them, had a shower and slipped on a ra ra miniskirt, the party was in full swing. Mounds of food lay all over the table. The crowd were more interested in the vodka on tap than soft, buttery kebabs of Mughal origin.

I sneaked off later, slyly taking the platter of kebabs back downstairs with me. Turned the grill on. Cooked a few to perfection. And ate them with copious amounts of Dhaniya Pudina Chutney and tomato ketchup.

Even the best-laid plans…

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We were eating spicy spare ribs and Vietnamese noodle salad. At a BBQ. In pouring rain. The conversation went from the dire summer weather and China’s human rights record to how early is early to eat a curry.

I told everyone about my grandmother’s famous parathas or shallow fried, stuffed flatbreads. In my childhood I ate these as breakfast. Post my fruit and green tea deskbound breakfasts in London, mid-day is the earliest I can face these now.

Next morning, the weather was equally rubbish. Half a bag of carrots and 4 small radishes were lying aimlessly in the fridge. And the sack of chappati flour in the cupboard was well by its best by date too.

Fancy that?

My love of kneading is well-documented. I rank it as one of my most hated activities, second only to standing in a blizzard on one leg. But the options were limited. And I didn’t fancy getting soaked again to top up the sorry contents of my fridge.

So I made gajar (carrot) parathas and mooli (radish) parathas for the first time. And I was pleasantly surprised with the results. It didn’t take long. The dough came off my nails fairly easily. And the parathas were as moreish and comforting as my nani’s.

Not just for rainy days then…

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Food shopping is never simple.

We weave through the aisles bickering about sell by dates and yogurt brands. Fight at the checkout about whose turn it is to pack/pay. Then arrive home with half the essentials missing.

This week it was different. As I turned the herb corner, I spotted bags of new Indian ingredients in my local supermarket.

Curry leaves? Okra? Aisle 2? Eternal bliss!

A silly smile crept on my face and stayed on. Despite the promotional 24-pack beer carton and ready-roasted battery chicken portion being loaded by the man into the trolley.

I entrusted the man with acquiring a bag of fresh frozen grated coconut from the Chinese store by his gym. He brought back fresh frozen shredded coconut instead.

I got to work on a recipe that was guaranteed to keep the smile on my face – soft and flavourful Nariyal Bhindi or Coconut Okra (Ladyfinger). Until the next supermarket trip…

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