Quick Indian Cooking

I rushed out of work with colleagues to catch the new Richard Rogers exhibition. Culture out of the way, we made our way towards bottles of viognier by the sunny Thames.

A few glasses, pizzas and hours of heavy screeching later, I arrived back at home to find a husband prostrate with exhaustion from taking courier delivery of my new red coat dress. And a web browser problem interfering with a client’s urgent press release.

Feeling weary, and a little worse for wear, I flung open the fridge door looking for more vino. And they stared right back at me. Two medium large aubergines/eggplants. Leftover from last dinner party. Distinctly changing colour.

Blast. Is it just me or is summer affecting everything?

The next morning, I decided on a Hyderabad-style spicy and sour baingan. I had pretty much all of the long list of ingredients, including the peanuts I ingeniously fished out of a pack of Bombay Mix. But you could just as easily omit some of the ingredients bar the peanuts, tamarind and aubergine of course.

It was a tangy feast in a frying pan. Perfect to nibble ahead another day of champagne in the sun, meetings and greetings. And even better frozen for an imminent quiet night in.
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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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I woke up with a splitting headache in Sussex countryside. That’s what living in central London gives you – a severe allergy to fresh air.

Sunday, I am told, is car boot sales day in the countryside. When one person’s clutter turns into another person’s treasure. No harm in getting stuck in for some new kitchen goodies, I thought.

Half an hour of sifting through dusty rubbish later, I came across a sweet square dish and inquired about its price.

“10p”, said the seller.

Not used to penny bargains, I blurted out: “Are you sure?”

To which he replied incredulously: “You want to pay more for that?”

I scurried off with the bowl and wondered what I would fill it with later. A morning at the car boot sale followed by a two-hour journey home meant no time to go food shopping. I would have to discover an old treasure in my crowded freezer.

Masala Mattar – sweet and spicy sauteed green peas – came to mind. Made with a bag of fresh frozen peas, this was the perfect side for our rump steak and sauteed potato dinner. Equally delicious with an Indian meal too.

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My friend said it was like Sex and the City, but better and set in a Beirut beauty salon.

We weren’t disappointed. Throughout the stunningly shot, golden caramel feast, we sobbed into a carton of sweet popcorn. Mulling over the power of friendships and collective wisdom, even in the most unlikely of settings.

I desperately wanted to recreate that feeling of a giant hug at home. In a large aluminum pot.

It had to be Khichuri, a rice and lentil dish that is the Indian equivalent of Risotto. The word literally means mixture and is also known by other variations like khichdi.

The principle is simple. You boil rice and lentils together. Add in vegetables of your choice, a few select spices and serve piping hot with fried stuff, yogurt and pickle for serious satisfaction.

While on the subject of friendships in the most unlikely of places. This is part of my contribution to fellow blogger Bri who is very sick and who bloggers are uniting to provide medical help. This is my entry to the special yellow-themed food photography event being hosted by Bee.
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