Quick Indian Cooking

It’s been a tough three weeks. No sooner had I indoctrinated Mini Basu into my bootcamp than a copy editor started whipping my book into shape.

I mean who knew one shot of vodka was 25ml? Everyone has a tequila glass!

And why would anyone who buys a cookbook written by yours truly expect to find a recipe for home made ghee in it? I’d rather spend the time trimming my hair with a nail clipper, thank you very much.

Meanwhile, the summer barbeque season has truly kicked off. I’ve also been drinking copious amounts of Rose wine, while billowing barbeques blow sausage smoke through my carefully crafted locks.

True to form, I’ve been saving time, effort and precious brain cells these days by making the same kebab for every barbeque I’ve attended. The juicy, skewered Chicken Reshmi Tikka has been reeled out on three occasions causing quite a sensation. It’s dead easy to make with readily-available ingredients.

Look out for the meat tenderiser powder that goes into it at supermarkets. It’s totally natural and works a treat to soften even the hardest pieces of meat. Perfect for quick fix marinades when every second counts.
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We had an early burst of summer sunshine. I was ready with the accessory of the season – a short white jumpsuit complete with brass buttons acquired brand new on eBay.

All blingtastic, I was going to attend the lunchtime launch of Spooning with Rosie, my friend Rosie Lovell’s book. The lovely Rosie runs a deli cafe in trendy Brixton. Vintage dresses and unshaven faces were going to rub shoulders amidst mounds of quality cheese, loafs of bread and stacks of her cupcakes.

The anticipation was immense as I dressed mini Basu in a co-ordinated romper. Rosie’s cookbook is a sensational tome brimming with eclectic recipes that nod to London’s vibrant cafe culture. That aside it featured my Bhapa Doi Bengali cheesecake recipe with a mention of yours truly.

Several glasses of wine and hours of mingling later, I couldn’t wait to get stuck into a semi-complicated recipe that matched the dizzying heights I had reached. It was going to be Kofta Curry, soft spicy meatballs in a tomato base.

I mixed the Kofta or meatballs before going to bed. Cooked the dish the following day. Scooped the finished lot into a bowl. Just in time for my hungry dad’s arrival. This experienced cook was not going to be easy to please. “So how is it”, I asked, waiting for the lavish praise.

“Delicious”, he replied. And just as I was about to mutter a thanks, he added: “You could have cooked the masala a bit more.”

Nothing like family to keep you grounded. Here’s the perfected recipe for when you want to show off. Best served with a pinch of humility.

PS = I made this with beef mince but you could just as easily substitute it with lamb.
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The mini Basu princess is a month old. A tiny terror. Unsurprising given her fine genetic pool.

Let’s just say motherhood is much like cooking a biryani, naked, on a patio, in the middle of a blizzard.

Still, I’ve had plenty to keep me going. My personal favourite is the card that reads: “When I grow up I wan to be a total bitch, just like my mother”. A close tie with the one featuring a designer-clad mummy whispering “Gucci, Gucci” into her stroller.

Oh and the bottle of yet-to-be-opened gold-encased limited edition Armand De Brignac champagne.

Mini Basu is sampling the delights of Baby Dior, the farmer’s market and the cultural hotspot of South Bank. While I snatch precious moments for a spot of shopping, beauty sleep and cooking.

Thank God for quick Indian cooking.

My first recipe back had to be a light and healthy chicken curry steeped in fresh coriander – Dhaniya Murgh. It took care of dinner. Suitably impressed visitors. And launched my comeback in half an hour.

Here’s to life’s next phase…

PS = Thanks SO much for all the wishes, emails and love you’ve sent my way. Mini Basu will wield a wooden spoon as soon as possible.
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I’ve only just thawed following the rogue snowstorms in London.

It has not been pleasant for the East Indian in me. I normally get cold opening the fridge door and handling ice buckets.

Imagine my horror at having to make it to work in six inches of snow?

This was nothing compared to the tremor felt by the Mayor of London. He declared profoundly, “There’s just too much snow!”

As the snow turned to slippery ice, the local government street cleaning service casually informed me that Spring would arrive before their next supply of grit and salt. And that if I was so worried about slipping, I should buy some salt and save my frozen street myself.

To think a large slice of my income funds these people…

I had to cheer myself up. First, I acquired a hideously expensive, impractically large, black leather Italian designer tote.  Second, I cooked Murgh Masala for a cosy night in.

Murgh Masala is basically the generic Hindi name for chicken curry. Cooked in a myriad different ways, it always hits a spot. I’d bookmarked a great version of it by Maninas. With readily available fridge and cupboard ingredients, I gave this a go in the comfort of central heating.

Bring on the next Arctic blast.

PS= This recipe was made for chicken on the bone.

PPS= I only needed to add one green chilli to set my belly on fire, but please add more if you are a) brave, b) unimpressed by the potency of your stash.

PPPS= Maninas stresses the importance of frying the onions properly. I whack the flame up high and stir viciously for 15 minutes to brown them quickly without burning them.
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