Quick Indian Cooking

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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This week hubby, QIC’s photographic genius and investor extraordinaire, had a minor op. While he braved the NHS, I stood in a corner shaking like a leaf at the sight of gauze and tape. For all that gobby, brassy chit chat…

How appropriate, then, that I get tagged by Gori Girl for my six unspectacular quirks! Despite being somewhat quirky generally, I figured mine had to be Indian cooking-related here for obvious reasons. So here goes:

1. The only shortcut I will not use is ready made ginger and garlic paste. It tastes of nothing. Frankly, if you can’t peel and mince the real thing you might as well order a pizza.
2. I never make desert for dinner parties. After all that effort on the main savoury dishes, it somehow falls behind the agenda. Besides, what’s wrong with ice cream?
3. My stomach can’t handle chillies. Shocking and inexcusable. But goes to show that you can cook and eat Indian food without setting your insides alight.
4. My large kitchen has only two store cupboards. So I only buy a new spice variety when I run out of another one.
5. I don’t deep fry at home. My conscience and clothing will not allow it.
6. There is more frozen food in my fridge than fresh. I cook a lot, a few times a week and freeze everything apart from potatoes and rice to keep us going.

I tag the lovely Maninas, Elisabeth, Asha, Sandeepa, Smita and Nandita.

The rules are as follows:

1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules in your blog.
3. Tell us about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.

PS = Hubby is making a speedy recovery and hopes to return to Indian food photography early next week.

My father is in town.

This man is the real deal when it comes to authentic Indian home cooking. And the official anti-Christ of quick Indian cooking.

In his sprawling Kolkata kitchen, one head chef and two assistants run ragged around him chopping, stirring and tidying. A floor-standing tandoor makes hot chicken kebabs. While dad navigates boxes of exotic spices sourced from far flung corners of India.

When he emerges from the kitchen six hours later, with an eight-part meal, I can’t help feeling a bit exhausted at the sight of it.

Now, my Indian dinner party meal planning technique is slightly less intense:

1. Make one chicken/lamb curry and a dal
2. Serve it with a cooling yogurt raita, which also cleverly doubles up as the vegetable dish and jazzed up Basmati rice
3. Buy sweets from an Indian shop and keep vanilla ice-cream handy to accompany it

I’ve never had any complaints. But then dad hasn’t had my guests over for one of his feasts yet.

We were at the Mirch Masala restaurant Sunday buffet. Two blonde, bearded uncles. Aunt Madge, fresh off a congested motorway. And me with my quasi Urdu and gora husband.

As we settled into our crisp onion bhajis, I let out a gasp. I had suddenly remembered my recent brush with international foodie fame and fortune.

I’m in Olive, I declared with a flourish.

Uncle one raised an eyebrow. Uncle two gave me a grunt. Aunt Madge just said: “Who’s Olive?”

Great. Only, like, the best food magazine published by the BBC. Read by a gazillion people, none of whom I actually know.

They asked me about my favourite cheap eat in London – the £6.95 eat as much as you want lunch buffet at Diwana Bhelpuri House in Euston. But if you’re not in London, this information is about as useful to you as your local weather to me.

So here are my top tips for spotting a really good Indian buffet instead:

1. Elderly Indians: No self respecting elderly Indian will pay money to eat poorly cooked version of the food they eat at home
2. Hot chapattis/rotis: There is little point in rotis that have languished on the buffet table, turning rock hard and stone cold
3. Wide selection: Surely, the whole point of the whole exercise is to eat until you can barely move, a huge meal that you would be nuts to cook at home?