It’s a simple idea. Take a bunch of asinine kids hooked on cheap throwaway fashion. Subject them to the reality of the Indian apparel manufacture industry. And watch them recoil at the horror of having to work 14-hour shifts, in dingy factories alongside child labourers.

When they end up in the dark alleyways of Mumbai, one of the kids remarks on what a service they are doing by buying the cheap clothes in the first place - providing jobs to these workers.

No shit, Einstein!

Consider this. Never mind ethical labelling. Buy what clothes should actually cost and give the workers half a chance. For every £3 bargain basement top, somebody is paying the price!

Something to mull over while I bite into this Mumbai street food classic Pav Bhaji, a moreish vegetable curry served with buttered bread rolls, fresh coriander, onions and liberally doused with lemon juice.

Much as I hate using ready mixed recipe masalas, the Pav Bhaji one calls for 15 masalas to source, roast and grind. Stick to the ready stuff from ethnic shops and save the time for something more worthy instead.

Feeds 4:

• 2 medium potatoes
• 1 large carrot
• 15-20 green beans
• Handful of peas
• 2 medium onions
• 2 garlic cloves
• Half inch ginger
• 2 medium tomatoes
• 3 tsp Pav Bhaji masala
• 2 lemon wedges
• 4 white bread rolls/baps
• Handful of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp sunflower oil
• 4 tsp butter
• Salt to taste

First make the bhaji or curry.

Peel and chop the raw carrots, potatoes and tomatoes into small bite sized pieces. Cut the ends off the green beans and slice into one-centimetre long pieces. Chop one onion, the ginger and garlic into little pieces.

In a large frying pan, heat the oil until sizzling. Fry the onion, ginger and garlic on a high flame for two minutes until brown all over. Chuck in the potatoes, carrots and tomatoes and stir for a minute .

Now add the Pav Bhaji masala powder, enough hot water to submerge the veg, cover and cook for five minutes until the potatoes are translucent at the edges but still uncooked.

At this stage, mix in the raw beans and peas, mix well, re-cover and keep cooking until the potatoes fall apart when probed with a fork. Add salt to taste and mash the vegetables roughly. The dish should have a moist, thick gravy.

Now prepare the Pav or bread. On another frying pan or flat griddle pan, heat one teaspoon of butter. Cut the bread rolls into half and toast lightly on the inside.

Serve the bhaji hot with the buttered bread, fresh coriander, lemon wedges and a sprinkling of chopped onion.

PS = Many make this with pre-cooked veggies. But you know how much I hate adding an extra level of effort when it comes to pre-cooking.

PPS = Saying that, this is a great way to use leftover steamed veggies. Just make the onion and tomato curry base and mix in the veg.

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.

Feeds 2 (two times):

• 8 chicken thighs and drumsticks (about 750 gms)
• 3 medium tomatoes
• 2 large onions
• 4 fat cloves garlic
• 1 inch ginger
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 1.5 tsp cumin powder
• 1.5 tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp garam masala
• Handful of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Skin the chicken, roughly chop the onions and tomatoes, and finely dice the ginger and garlic. Heat a large, non-stick pan with the oil over a high flame. You could also use a pressure cooker.

When the oil is sizzling hot, add in the onions and fry for five minutes until pale gold and soft. Then throw in your ginger and garlic and keep frying for another five minutes until the whole lot is a darker shade of gold. If at any point the masalas start sticking to the bottom of the pan, just add a little water and scrape off.

Now mix in all the powders except garam masala, and the tomatoes. Keep frying this on a high heat for another five minutes until the tomatoes disintegrate and the pungent smell of the spices calms down to a softer fragrance.

Then, throw in your chicken, and stir like a maniac until it is white and coated with the masalas all over. Next, add just about enough hot water to submerge the chicken pieces, cover and cook on a high flame for 20 minutes until the chicken is cooked through. Just make sure you stir the chicken every five minutes or so.

If you use a pressure cooker, as I did, this takes about 6-7 minutes after the first whistle. But you won’t get a deep, red colour like the chicken curry in my new video.

Finally, stir in the garam masala, salt and a handful of fresh coriander. Serve with plain, steamed Basmati and a spicy pickle of your choice.

Flicking through her edition of “The Good Housewife’s Encyclopedia”, I stumbled upon a curry of chicken recipe. Cooked with curry powder (natch), Worcester sauce (odd) and condensed milk (plain weird).

Still, we’ve come a long way since 1963.

Back in the living room, his uncle offered us dinner. I make a great curry, he said. It comes out of a bottle, and then I add grapes and olives to it.

Sounds like a great recipe for my blog, I croaked. So much for progress.

After gran’s, the brothers came back to our place for the real thing. Except I had little other than a few carrots and potatoes, some goat meat and a sack of urad dal to work with.

I decided to make a sabzi. This is the catch all word used to describe both vegetables and vegetable dishes. Making “sabzi” gives you the perfect excuse to cobble together leftover vegetables in an impromptu dish. Also, you can tweak the basic curry with the addition of whole spices or green chillies.

The good housewife’s curry of vegetable. Without the dodgy ingredients.

Feeds 4:

• 4 medium carrots
• 1 medium potato
• 2 large tomatoes
• 1 medium onion
• 2 cloves garlic and half inch ginger, minced finely
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• 1 tsp coriander power
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp garam masala
• 4-5 sprigs of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Slice the onions finely, and dice the carrots and potatoes into equal bite-sized pieces. Chop the tomatoes roughly.
In a pan, bring the oil to heat. When it’s hot, add the cumin. As the cumin sizzles add the onion, garlic and ginger and fry for five minutes until pale golden brown.

Next, add the tomatoes and all the spices apart from the garam masala. Fry for another five minutes until the tomatoes have lost their shape.

Add in the diced potatoes and carrots , half a cup of water, cover and cook on a medium flame unti the whole lot is cooked. This takes about 15 -20 minutes. All you need to do from time to time, is check on the pan and give the veggies a stir to prevent them from sticking to the bottom of the pan.

Finally, mix in the garam masala and salt, sprinkle the fresh coriander and serve piping hot in a bowl.

I was lost. In a beige linen “frock”. With sales staff yelling “shishter, shishter!!” after me.

Normally I would declare: “I am not your sister.”

Post seven weeks of non-stop quality food? I am in Zen Zone.

“No, I don’t need an embellished, polyester loin cloth” I manage. With a smile. In Bengali.

At which point they realise I am Indian, grunt with disgust at my wannabee look and find some real gora to heckle.

So I am back from the land of Avian Influenza. Chicken is strictly off the menu there. And so are eggs, obviously. Which has left all Bengalis (mother included), baffled about how to bind their beloved chops.

Word Health crisis aside, It has been a fantastic break. Most notable in my protruding one-pack and 4000 photographs. But also in a whole new collection of recipes.

So here’s the first. My ode to the humble bird: chicken bharta. This dish is a staple at lazy Kolkata lunches under whirring fans at part sports complex, part social hub and complete remnant of the Raj - The Saturday Club.

Cook this. Eat it. Dream of your next extended break.

Just like I will.

This recipe feeds 2:

4 chicken thighs, skinned

1 medium onion, sliced

1 inch ginger, chopped

1 clove garlic, minced

1 small tomato, roughly chopped

Half tsp chilli powder

1 tsp turmeric powder

Half tsp coriander powder

Quarter tsp cumin powder

Half tsp garam masala

1 bay leaf

Two sprigs of fresh coriander

1 hard boiled egg

1 tbsp flavourless oil

Salt to taste

In a shallow frying pan, bring the oil to heat over a high flame.

When hot add the bay leaf and, as it sizzle up, the onion, ginger and garlic. Fry them for about five minutes until they turn a light golden brown in colour.

Next add all the powders, apart from the garam masala. If you add the garam masala now, your dish will turn bitter. Fry the whole lot for about two minutes and then add in the chicken.

Mix the masalas with the chicken well. Lower the flame to a medium heat, add enough water to submerge the onion mixture and cover the pan. Stir the chicken from time to time for about 20 minutes. At the end of time, stir in the tomato pieces.

Now you need to turn the chicken pieces into bharta or mash. Just take each piece onto a plate and with two forks shred it, discarding the bone.

If the chicken is cooked well, the meat should just fall off. If it doesn’t, just stick it back in the pan and cook for longer.

To finish, stir the shredded chicken back into the frying pan along with the garam masala and some salt. The dish should be moist but without a curry. Garnish with a quartered boiled egg and the fresh coriander.

This is superb with just about anything. But my special recommendation would be team this with pitta bread or some readymade naan for a super simple and satisfying supper.

It’s because I’ve been too busy running desperately around my kitchen in a chicken costume protesting about the perils of factory farming in an attempt to win £25,000 cash.

Seriously though, I am surviving on very few brain cells these days. The festive season has kicked in.

Along with too much general good cheer and gold glitter, way too much champagne is being consumed.

By no means does this spell the end of quick Indian cooking as we know it. Quite the contrary, in fact.

You try drinking more than you should three nights in a row. What do you think you’ll need after that?

Alka seltzer?

Fried breakfast?

Bottles of coca cola?

A new liver, perhaps?

Try dal. Lentils boiled to death, then brought to life with a medley of spices tempered in buttery smooth ghee.  

My personal favourite is this masoor dal laced with ginger and spinach. I can say from experience: this stuff cures like no other. And requires very few brain cells to make.

All in all, an excellent choice for tomorrow night’s supper when I’ll be nursing a sore head from tonight’s office Christmas party.

I won’t wear my chicken costume.

But I can’t promise I’ll behave.

At least there’ll be a pot of dal at the end of it all…

This recipe feeds 4 people:

250 gm red lentils (masoor dal)

250 gm ready frozen spinach

1 whole dry red chilli

Half tsp chilli powder

Half tsp turmeric powder

1 inch ginger, grated or minced

1 tbsp ghee (clarified butter)

Wash the lentils in a large pan thoroughly with cold water until it runs clean. Fill the pan halfway with cold water, add the turmeric and bring to boil over a high flame.

This takes about five minutes and you’ll need to watch the lentils to make sure the water doesn’t boil over. If it does just take the pan off the flame for two seconds, swear and move on.

As the water froths up, skim the surface with a wooden spoon and throw the scum away.

Keep boiling the dal on a medium heat until the lentils start losing their shape and integrating with the water. In the meantime, cook the frozen spinach in the mircorwave for five minutes or on the cooker with a tablespoon of water.

When the lentils resemble a fibrous soup, mix in the spinach. Add half a cup of hot water only if the mixture dries up. You want this to have a thick, smooth soup-like consistency.

While the goodness of the spinach spills into the dal, make the tarka or tempering. Bring a small pot with the ghee to heat to heat over a high flame. When it is hot, add in order the whole chilli, minced ginger and the chilli powder.

Fry for about two minutes and then stir into the dal. Lower the flame to a gentle simmer and stir the dal well to mix in the flavours.

Serve hot with hot brown basmati rice, mango pickle and keema for a full Indian meal that really hits the spot. 

PS = Have you contributed to Menu for Hope yet? Johanna of The Passionate Cook is hosting the UK effort. I am trying to work out how to get my extra special gift over from India by this Friday. Yikes!

PS = If you are looking to treat your kitchen to something special this year, please buy something from Pampered Chef. My sister-in-law is helping raise funds for unwanted pregnancy support charity The Place. You need to click on How to Purchase, type Lex in the first name box and then buy with reckless abandon.

Yes. It was the annual UK public relations awards extravaganza.

My boss tried to warn me: “It’s heeeeeuuuuggge“. I donned a little black dress and very high stilletos. But nothing could have prepared me for this.

The reception area was a bomb shelter for young PR bunnies. The main ballroom a heaving tribute to the champagne/wine industry. The loos… maybe some other time.

Old. Brunette. Lost. Sober. I was completely out of place.

A three-course meal, 27 award categories and 10 minutes of terrible dancing later I called it a night. Stilettos off at home, I needed to centre myself before crashing out.

Normally chicken pulao does the trick. A big pot does dinner, post drinks and breakfast the morning after. But this needs planning. And who plans anything mid-week?

Leftover gobi mussallam and cooked frozen paratha it was. Served with a blob of mango pickle.

I passed out almost immediately. Ready for another day. And yet another PR crisis…

This recipe feeds 4-6:

2 cups rice (about 350 gm)

1 cup natural, low fat yogurt

6 skinless chicken thighs and drumsticks

2 medium onions, sliced fine

4 green chillies, chopped roughly

1 tsp turmeric powder

1 star anise

2 tsp whole cumin

2 inches cinnamon

2 large bay leaves

1 inch ginger and 4 garlic cloves, pureed

3 tbsp sunflower oil

Salt to taste

In a large pot, bring the oil to heat over a high flame. When it is hot, add the whole spices.

As they sizzle up in seconds add the onions and fry for five minutes until golden brown.

Then add the ginger and garlic and fry for another five minutes until the whole mixture goes a darker shade of brown. Add the turmeric, the chillies and the chicken.

Stir vigorously for five minutes until the chicken is brown all over. Now, add the yogurt and leave the chicken to cook on a high flame, stirring regularly to prevent it from sticking to the bottom. If it does, add a little water.

After 10 minutes, stir in the rice and fry for a minute or so. Then add 4 cups of hot water, salt to taste, cover the pot and leave to cook.

Once you have done this, don’t stir the rice because it will get all mushy.

When the water dries up and the rice is cooked, the pulao is ready. Serve hot or cold, this will hit a spot either way.

A friend of a friend, she proclaimed at a weekday drinks soiree: “I love CHAT Magazine. The cover promises ‘Life, Death, Prize’. What more can I want?”

Deep sense of sarcasm and dark wit? I loved her instantly.

Three glasses of free, donkey’s-piss-posing-as-wine later I was doing my sales spiel for Quickindiancooking. And that’s when she dropped the lead ball.

She hates the smell of Indian spices. I mean, like seriously can’t stand the rich, warm and woody blend of aromas that fill the air when raw whole spices meet hot oil.

I was at a loss for words. And that RARELY EVER happens to me.

For the rest of the evening I thought long and hard about her problem. Indian food does have strong flavours and fragrances. I racked my brains for a winter, single gal (or bloke) friendly recipe that would fit the bill.

I came up with this. A thick, one-pot, oil-free dal cooked with heaps of healthy vegetables like cauliflower, carrots, beans, peas and tomatoes. Never mind the long list of ingredients. All you need to do is add them in stages and leave to cook.

It’s totally Delicious. I hope she agrees!

This recipe serves 4:

250 gm moong dal (skinless split mung beans)

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 inch ginger, finely chopped

1 tomato, roughly chopped

1 onion, roughly chopped

1 bay leaf

Half tsp chilli powder

Half tsp turmeric powder

Half tsp garam masala

1 bay leaf

3 cups of mixed raw vegetables, your choice from the above list

1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

12 gm fresh coriander, chopped roughly

In a large pot, wash the lentils thoroughly until the water runs clean. Fill the pot half way with clean water and bring the lentils to boil over a high flame.

In about 10 minutes, the lentils will start losing their shape and combining with the water. Now add the ginger, garlic and bay leaf. Continue cooking for 10 minutes until you can’t smell the raw ginger and garlic. The water in the pot will start drying up, add water half cup at a time when it does.

Next, chuck in the tomato, onion and all the vegetables and the turmeric and chilli powder. Keep cooking the dal on high until the vegetables are done and the tomato resembles little flecks of chilli.

By this time, the lentils will be a thick and smooth dal. To finish, stir in the lemon juice, garam masala and fresh coriander.

Eat this with a hot bowl of rice or, if you can’t be bothered, some toasted pitta bread.

A grown man, bright red, sprawled across the sofa under an oversized blanket. With nothing but a roll of toilet tissue and cup of hot lemon and honey for comfort.

“I’m dying, ” he croaked.

Clearly a terrible attack of man flu. (Read: common cold, blown completely out of proportion)

Beats me every time. Give a man a deep wound. A dislocated body part. He will battle on courageously.

Give him a common cold. He surrenders defeat.

It was time for me to spring into loving, dutiful wife mode (it’s been a while…).

Never mind all that alternative medicine, paracetamol malarky. What a grown man needs to cure a sinus is hearty, spicy chicken curry, cooked by his loving wife.

It took half an hour to make and ten minutes to polish off our plates. And he’s back at work today. Now that’s my kind of speedy recovery.

This recipe serves 4:

750 gm boneless chicken thighs, cut into large chunks

1 medium tomato

5 tbsp low fat natural yogurt

2 medium onions

Half tsp turmeric powder

1 tsp chilli powder

2 tsp coriander powder

2 tsp cumin powder

Half tsp garam masala

3 fat cloves garlic and 1 inch ginger, pureed

1 tsp kasoori methi, soaked in 2 tsp hot water (optional)

Quarter tsp white sugar

2 tbsp sunflower oil

The trick with this recipe is to keep the flame high throughout and stir like your life depended on it.

In a medium pot, bring the oil to heat over a high flame. When it’s hot add the sugar and watch it caramelise. Then add the onion and stir for two minutes until they turn a warm brown.

Now add the pureed ginger and garlic and keep stirring, until the whole mixture turns a pale caramel brown.

Next add all the powders, bar the garam masala. Stir for two minutes, making sure they don’t stick to the bottom of the pan. If they do, add half a cup of hot water and scrape them off.

Chop finely and add the tomato and the diced chicken. Stir for five minutes until the chicken is well coated in the masala and the tomato pieces start disintegrating.

When they do, stir in the yogurt. Cook the chicken on a medium heat for another 10 minutes. There is no need to add water as the chances are the chicken has enough in it already.

Finally, stir in the garam masala powder and the soaking kasoori methi, along with its water. The kasoori methi or dried fenugreek is optional but it gives the curry a rich and bitter taste that balances the sour taste of the tomato and yogurt.

Serve with a hot green finger chilli poured over some super healthy brown basmati rice.

First, they get one of the most glamorous celebrity chefs to front a new programme on real-life cooking, forcing the wealthy advertising mogul’s wife to sack her housekeeper and do her own laundry.

As if this wasn’t bad enough, she also has to travel to the supermarket to do her own food shopping. Thank god for taxis and the upmarket Waitrose.

And then there’s the outrageous menu.

While the British Government peddles fears about an obesity crisis, we are lovingly shown how to create deep-fried suppers with garlic mayonnaise and a heavy mustard cream sauce to accompany pan-fried pork chops.

As the cream submerged the meat, the presenter sultrily said “comforting, elegant and easy”. Fattening came to mind.

What a disservice courtesy the nation’s public service broadcaster!

Here are my thoughts for the BBC’s future cooking programming: Real life cooking is done by real life people, who:

• Have full-time jobs, unpaid at home and paid at work, both exhausting
• Take public transport to food shops or drive - both are fraught with difficulty
• Are increasingly worrying about their diets and meals

I switched the programme off when the caramel croissant pudding was flagged up and made masala fish for dinner.

It takes 20 minutes to prepare and you can eat it with any vegetables or a salad. Real life cooking by a really normal person.

This recipes serves 2:

2 skinless and boneless fish fillets (I used salmon)

Juice of half a lemon

1 tsp chilli powder

1 tsp turmeric powder

Salt to taste

1 tsp butter (I used margarine that tastes like butter)

Turn the grill on to preheat it to a medium heat. In a little bowl combine the lemon juice, salt, turmeric and chilli powders to make a strong marinade.

Line a baking tray with kitchen foil and place the fish fillets on top. Drizzle the marinade all over and leave to rest for five minutes.

Then put half a teaspoon of butter on each fillet and place the baking tray under the grill for 10-12 minutes until the fish is cooked through but still moist.

I ate this with the jeera aloo I made earlier.

Turns out mother had been watching the newest Indian celebrity cook on television who is on a mission to show how easy and low fat Indian cooking can really be.

The samosas in the first episode were enough to put me off. Made with a distinctly non-Indian filling of beetroot and coconut, they were carefully rolled into triangles and deep fried.

I thought this was about real Indian food - the non-greasy and easy stuff?? Besides, as I’ve said before, I would rather eat my shoe than cook a samosa from scratch.

To mother’s horror, the Bengali cholar dal featured on yesterday’s episode had three teaspoons of sugar. It was also accompanied by the TV chef’s incorrect claim that this was a compromise compared to the heaps of sugar actually consumed by Bengalis.

Then shredded coconut was added (horror of horrors, diced is de rigeur) and finally the worst sin ever - mustard seeds. Cholar dal never, ever uses mustard seeds.

When a Hindu temple-style khichdi was cooked with onions my mother finally had enough and turned the telly off. Apparently, temple cooking doesn’t involve onions as they are seen to be un-sattvic.

Oh dear!

Mother’s temper calmed soon enough following a discussion about real cholar dal. I quickly got the recipe for bhaja moonger dal from her - traditional Bengali roasted lentils with vegetables like cauliflowers and peas. I remember eating a variation with prawns in my auntie’s house in Kolkata.

Mother and I cooked this together, with a little bit of sugar, and it was delicious, and dare I say it, authentic. All you will need with this is a bit of steaming hot basmati rice on the side. Easy Indian cooking at its finest.

This recipe serves 5-6:

200 gms moong dal, huskless

250 gm tiger prawns, cooked and shelled

Half a cup frozen peas

Half tsp chilli powder

1 large bay leaf

1 tsp whole cumin

1″ cinnamon

1 black cardamom

2 whole red finger chillies

1 tsp ginger, finely chopped

1 tbsp tomato puree (optional)

1 tbsp sunflower oil

Half tsp sugar

Salt to taste

Roast the moong dal in a large pot over a high flame for five minutes, stirring regularly, until a heady aroma fills the air.

Now take the pot off the flame and fill it with cold water to rinse the lentils. Drain the lentils and fill the pot with fresh cold water.

Add the turmeric to the lentils and bring to a boil on a high heat. When it starts bubbling, lower the flame to medium and continue cooking it.

In the meantime, take a smaller pot and heat the oil on a high flame. When the oil is hot, add the sugar and within seconds the whole spices. As the spices start sizzling, stir in the ginger and red chilli powder and fry for a minute.

Now add the prawns, peas and the tomato puree, if you are using it. It gave the dal a lovely rounded flavour.

When the prawns are well coated with the masalas, stir this entire mixture into the pot of lentils. Make sure all the masalas are used, scraping any remnants from the little pot.

Cover the pot and simmer the dal for 10 minutes, allowing it to finish cooking with the whole spices. It’s ready when the dal is soft and integrated with the water like a soup.

Add salt to taste and serve piping hot.