Quick Indian Cooking

I staggered home after the three-course French Bistro meal and drink at the Dirty Martini.

A scene from Outbreak, the virus blockbuster, greeted me. Large sheets of green PVC everywhere. Rooms sealed with thick masking tape with strategic openings to allow entrance and departure.

Our building work had commenced. I was going to live in my own horror production for the next two weeks.

On the plus side I found two HUGE trouts in our freezer.  The wonderful project manager brought them from his fly fishing trip. But these had to be safely frozen until I found a friendly fishmonger to clean them for me.

And until the kitchen had been restored to its original splendor. Now it was a particular danger zone with our computer equipment all over the dining table and worktop. Dinner was going to be an exercise in new spatial orientation.

But quick Indian cooking is always alive and kicking. I turned to a box of Khanum goodies I got sent to trial. It had an excellent minced ginger and garlic paste, a saviour of sorts if you get a potent-enough substitute for the real thing. I set to work on Kadai Chicken (pronounced Ker-Hai), a blindingly simple stir fry.

So simple in fact that I felt guilty and made my own curry powder for it. I normally never recommend using ready blended curry powder. But some messy situations call for alternative action.
PS = Just don’t use chicken breasts. That’s one compromise too far. Read More

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It’s been a tough week. Two conflicting work deadlines. Too many colleagues on holiday.

I sat at work with double vision, editing draft 25 of a report that was once interesting. Contemplating professional suicide by staging an untimely walk out.

There were two options. I could tell my line manager where to shove her Earth-shatteringly important document. Or I could vent my frustration through a reassuringly fiddly Methi Murgh at home.

I chose the second option. You may wonder why I didn’t choose to order a takeaway. Vegetate in front of the TV. Dream about my next holiday in bright sunshine.

But there is something strangely therapeutic about hacking an onion into little bits, skinning chicken pieces and beating tomatoes into pulp. Violent, moi?

One hour of no thinking about work and the result was a thick and delicious Punjabi Dhaba-style Chicken curry, packed with the wholesome goodness of sweet fresh tomatoes and bitter fenugreek.

Next time you want to tell your boss where to go…

PS = Just as I finished licking my plate clean a terrific recipe for Methi Murgh popped up on Zaika. Great minds think alike. Although her’s was in a more positive frame.
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Three hours at the hairdresser and I was ready for the big hen night. We picked wine, cocktails and a two-course meal served alongside Burlesque, vintage parlour humour and retro nudity.

Now provocative, champagne-soaked dancing I can handle. Husky rendition of Fever I can enjoy. But was it really necessary to expose dimply bottoms and orange peel thighs in the middle of my dinner?

I focused on the thigh on my plate.

Chicken has been having its own issues lately. Since the revered Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall started his campaign to raise the plight of the ill treated, factory-farmed birds, I have been spurred into action.

Gone are the days of BOGOF packs of chicken thighs and drumsticks. I now stick to the free-range variety at the very least and organic if I haven’t blown my salary on alcohol and cabaret shows.

Thankfully, chicken thighs and drumsticks are cheaper than breast meat and infinitely more tasty in a curry. So give a chicken a chance with this herbed, light and fresh Hariyali Murgh recipe. I used Waitrose organic free range chicken and it rocked.

This is my entry to A Merrier World’s fantastic effort to raise awareness of the chicken we eat.

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The cold was getting better. And then, I lost my voice.

Now, this is a tragedy of epic proportions. There is only one thing I do better than Indian cooking.

Talking.

I sat at my desk, in silence. Simmering gently. With only grunts and sign language to communicate. One grunt, yes. Two grunts, no. Two fingers, leave me in peace.

Clients and colleagues heaped sympathy on me. The husband rushed to the pub to celebrate. I stared at 12 bullet points in despair. Only a simple Indian meal would now lift my spirits off the ditch outside the office.

It had to be chicken curry and rice. Even on a vocally agreeable day, chicken curry is pure genius in a large pot. It takes about 45 minutes to make, even quicker in my pressure cooker. I can make a massive amount of it with little extra effort. And any extras can be frozen for use during a later meal.

Ticks all my boxes for busy bee Indian cooking.

This wonderful, basic chicken curry recipe is from the Basu Kolkata kitchen and can be tweaked for variety with the addition of whole garam masala in the hot oil or some plain yogurt with the tomatoes.

There’s only one way to voice my satisfaction at the end of this meal. Grunt.
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