Then an invite arrived for the launch of Iron Maiden’s new boutique hotel in Soho. Champagne? Canapes? Paparazzi? Hallelujiah! Finally, a reason to resurrect the glamour stakes to their original high standards.

I slipped off to the hairdresser. A lovely Spanish gal, who can talk for England. Darling, I said, I have two hours; make me beautiful again.

She set to work with gusto. Clicked her tongue at the disgrace that used to be my lustrous locks. Sat me under an over-sized chrome dryer. Handed over the month’s latest fashion and gossip magazines and said: “You have 40 minutes”.

40 minutes? Forget getting my hair done. I could have slept!

I spent the time bringing myself up to date with the season’s latest fashion trends. Safari. 80s body con. Bright colours. Do they make playsuits for babies?

I came home fabulous, wore a shower cap and cooked Paneer Capsicum, a light and breezy Indian cheese and bell pepper sir fry.

Life is slowly returning back to normal. Or some version of it at least. Just in time for summer.

Feeds 4:

• 225gm paneer
• 3 mixed peppers (capsicum)
• 3 garlic cloves
• Half inch ginger
• Half tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp garam masala
• 1 large tomato
• Handful of fresh coriander
• 1 tblsp oil
• Salt to taste

Puree or chop finely the ginger and garlic. Slice the paneer into half-centimetre pieces width-wise and cut the peppers into long strips, discarding the middle.

Heat the oil in a medium wok on high. When it’s hot, stir in the ginger and garlic. As they turn pale brown in a few seconds roughly chop and add the tomato, turmeric and chilli powders.

Fry this for two minutes until the aroma becomes less pungent and then stir in the peppers.

Cook the peppers for five minutes, stirring regularly, until they start going soft. Then mix in the paneer pieces taking care not to break them and half a cup of hot water.

Let this all simmer together for five minutes. Finally, stir in the garam masala, the chopped coriander and add salt to your taste. Serve with warm buttered rotis for maximum pleasure.

I am improving every week.

As I handed it over to the manager with instructions about when to bring it out for the birthday girl, she dropped the bombshell. The bar has a cakeage charge of £1.50 per person.

Or I could buy their birthday cake at the bargain basement price of £45 for 6 portions.

I tried every trick imaginable:

• That’s more than what it cost me to bake the damn thing.
• But the cake isn’t worth the charge!

And finally, when my long face wouldn’t melt their cold hearts. I pulled the ace card: I spent all day baking that over eight months pregnant.

Cakeage cancelled. Job done.

Shame I have only three weeks more of this fantastic opportunity. Like me, my social life is now slowly grinding to a halt. London Fashion Week – decline. Award-winning theatre – pass. All replaced by cosy nights in with friends and wholesome one-pot meals.

Like this Lamb Pulao. The biggest difference between a pulao and biryani is complexity. So I cooked the dish quickly like a pulao but with a number of biryani-style spices for added oomph.  It was just what a friend and I needed with a glass of quality red vino on a Wednesday night.

PS= This took a good 1.5 hours to make. But I ate it for three meals so it was highly time-effective

PPS= You could use a pressure cooker to stew the lamb. One whistle and then 10 minutes. Then lid off to dry up the curry
Feeds 6:

• 1kg lamb chunks (I used a mix of chops and diced lamb on the bone)
• 500gm Basmati rice
• 1 medium onion

For the lamb:

• 2 large onions
• 4 cloves garlic
• 2 inches ginger
• 2 tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp mace powder
• Half tsp freshly ground nutmeg
• One inch stick cinnamon
• 2 tbsp thick yogurt
• 2 green finger chillies
• 10 sprigs fresh coriander
• Salt to taste
• 2 tbsp oil

For the rice:

• 2 black cardamoms
• 1 inch cinnamon
• 1 star anise
• 1 tbsp ghee
• Salt to taste

First cook the lamb. Slice the two onions and puree together the ginger, garlic, cinnamon with a tablespoon of water. Better still you could just use ginger garlic paste and some cinnamon powder to save time.

Fry the onions until pale golden in hot oil over a high flame. Add the ginger garlic paste and fry for another 5 minutes until the masala turns a darker shade of gold. Chope up the chillies and coriander.

Next, go in with all the spices and the lamb. Stir vigorously for five minutes until the meat darkens.  Mix in the yogurt, half a cup of hot water and cook covered on a medium flame for 45 minutes stirring regularly until the lamb softens. Then take the lid off and let the curry dry up.

Now get the rice going by washing it thoroughly under cold running water. In a large pot, bring the ghee to heat over a high flame. When it’s hot, chuck in the whole spices and let them sizzle for a few seconds. Then measure the washed rice in a cup, add it to the pot and saute for a minute until it turns bright white.

Then stir in the meat, 1.5 cups of hot water, bring to a boil and then simmer on a low flame for 15 minutes until the rice absorbs all the liquids. That fluffy texture is all important, so don’t stir the rice more than two times when it’s cooking and don’t add water unless your rice remains uncooked.

Serve with the remaining onion sliced and fried on top and a raita on the side.

I booked a gorgeous Lebanese restaurant. Arabian Nights meets upmarket eaterie, this place promised superb food, glamorous environment and belly dancing in one weekday evening.

We slipped into high heels post work and wafted down the rose-scented, mosaic staircase. Took our low seats and went straight for the olives. Staring at the beautifully-laid table, there seemed only one place for the pips to go.

I emptied them into a little ceramic bowl filled with white and brown paper egging my friends on to follow suit. Chewing gum and tomato tips went in. Then the waiter arrived to inform us that we were using the salt and pepper bowl as an ashtray.

As I crawled home from overeating at the end of the evening, I wondered how I was going to balance the excesses of the night with a suitable Indian recipe.

I remembered mother’s mixed bean salad recipe – a delicious, spiced summery treat. Toss it up, eat it with the fish fillets and recover from your embarrassing moments.

Feeds 2-4:

• 1 cup mixed cooked beans (I used a drained tin of kidney, adzuki and cannelini beans)
• 40gm cucumber
• 2 medium tomatoes
• 1 small onion (about 75gm)
• Juice of half a lemon
• 2 tsp whole cumin
• 1 tsp ajwain seeds
• Salt to taste

Turn the oven on to 200 degrees centigrade and dry roast the cumin for 30 seconds. As soon as you can smell them in the kitchen, remove and crush in a coffee grinder or mortar and pestle. Mix this with the lemon juice, ajwain seeds and salt and leave to sit.

In a large mixing bowl, add the cooked beans. Then chop the cucumber, tomatoes and onion into little pieces and chuck them in.

Drain any excess water in the mixing bowl and stir in the dressing. Cover and leave to sit for a few minutes t let the masalas do their job before eating.

Off I went to the dreaded yoga class. Me in gym-friendly spandex amidst a sea of linen cotton.

An hour into the class the Irish sadhu instructor whispered, now you are going to do a shoulder stand. Stretch your legs to the heavens, then gently extend them sideways and take deep breaths.

I lay there twisted into an unrecognisable human tower. The blood rushed to my brain before I could say Dal Makhani. I. Felt. Empowered.

So I decided to master the wonderful world of the blogosphere. I finally worked out how to read all my favourite blogs in one go. This site is now complete with a super recipe index and snazzy food conversion calculators (in the toolbar) thanks to my blog and children’s storytelling supremo Hugh. And then, I found this fantastic resource, Foodari, that allows you to create your own cookbook online.

Feeling rather smug over the weekend, I made a fresh, healthy and blindingly simple Paneer Bhujia or Paneer crumble. Then, tried chappati making with renewed gusto. And finally, plate heaped with brunch, found my inner peace in front of the telly.

PS = It would come as no surprise to learn that I NEVER make my own paneer or Indian cheese. Store bought is fine. I wouldn’t know the difference anyway.

Feeds 2:

• 250 gm Paneer or Indian cheese
• 2 small tomatoes
• 1 small onion
• Quarter tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• 1 large bay leaf
• 4-5 sprigs of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Chop the onion, tomatoes and paneer into little pieces.

In a small saucepan, heat the oil over a high flame. When it is hot, add the cumin seeds and bay leaf. As they sizzle up, stir in the onions and tomatoes

Fry, stirring well for about five minutes. By this time the onions will be limp and the tomatoes disintegrated. Now mix in the turmeric and chilli powders and fry for another two minutes until the raw smell of the spices go.

Finally, stir in the paneer and mix thoroughly smashing it up with your spoon as you do to get a crumbly mixture. Add salt to taste, fresh coriander and eat hot while the paneer is soft and full of flavour.

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?

I now have a dinner party for 10 to look forward to, for which I have cooked an entirely Bengali meal of kosha mangsho, aloo kophir dalna, cholar dal and doi begun.

But I am afraid. Very afraid.

Will I forget the long-stemmed lilies at work?

Will I be exposed as a lying fake with a bleeding knee as I burn the food while trying to reheat it in the oven?

Will I get drunk before dinner’s served again this time as a result of an antihistamine overdose and not excessive alcohol consumption? 

This domestic goddess thing is way too stressful on a day like this. Wish me luck. Gulp!   

An award? For Blogs? In Britain? How fantastic.

Not like I bet money on winning anything. I grew up winning consolation prizes for failing to win and progress prizes for not failing. Even a beauty contest entry ended in a third prize – something about my lackadaisical response to the malignant malaria outbreak at the time.

(I mean, God, I was 17. Not like I wasn’t worried enough about the boy who didn’t fancy me and the boy who did…)

It would be nice to win something. Once. If you think me worthy (or feel sorry for me) please nominate me. Nominations are welcome from the UK and beyond. Oh, and I loosely fit in the arts and entertainment categorythere isn’t one for food).

Whether from the UK and beyond, you may have heard of Atul Kochhar? The only Indian chef with a Michelin star honour? As it’s cooking from cookbooks week, I decided to try one of his lamb recipes from Delicious magazine here in the UK.

As I flicked through the article, I read about Atul being faithful to the origins of each recipe. Great. Lamb curry with chickpeas. Superb. Takes three hours to make, plus overnight soaking.

Gulp!

The last time I spent three hours making anything, it spent two and three quarters of an hour in the oven. Baking.

Anyway, undeterred by this small problem i rallied on soon noticing that he’d used dried chickpeas and cooked them before chucking them into the lamb.

See this is where we have to be smart. Life’s too short and busy and a tin of chick peas is a far superior choice. Here is the recipe, which I have tried to be faithful to (bar raw chick peas) and it was delicious:

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
3 cm fresh ginger, finely grated
1 tin of chickpeas
4 bay leaves
4 green cardamom pods
7 cloves
1 medium onion, sliced
1 tsp coriander powder
1 tsp cumin powder
1 tsp chilli powder
2 tsp garam masala
2 large tomatoes, chopped
6 lamb chops
Fresh coriander, to garnish (optional)
2 tbsp vegetable oil
Salt to taste

Heat the oil in a deep pot and when hot, add the bay leaves, cardamoms and cloves. When they sizzle, add the onion and cook until translucent and soft. Stir in the  ginger and garlic and fry for two minutes.

Add the spices, the tomatoes and lamb. Cover the lamb with hot water, bring to the boil and then simmer for 30 minutes.

Add the chickpeas and simmer until the lamb is cooked (approximately another 30 minutes).To finish, stir in the garam masala and salt and garnish with coriander before serving.

For a start, Bollywood is as popular here as eating guinea pigs, drinking pina coladas and colourful fiestas. Secondly, my in-laws run a children´s charity which not only educates, clothes and cares for disadvantaged young children but also operates a vocational traning centre teaching them basic skills like cooking, dressmaking and carpentry.

Isai, the chef and professor of the cooking class let me take a morning session on Indian food. Hubby agreed to translate and take pictures. And voila, an Indo-Andes cooking class was born.

The easy part was working out what ingredients I could get here: cummin, fresh coriander, some whole spices. The tricky part was working out how to keep the kids interested given my broken Spanish and inexperience of cooking at an altitude of 3300m above sea level.

We made Tomato Chicken, a slightly dry and sweet dish that´s best eaten with rotis. We bought all the plates so the children could sample the food (with rice) instead of seeing it sold to other hungry bods. The class was a resounding success even though I firmly refused to do any Bollywood singing, dancing or performing.   

Interestingly, they don´t use cloves and cinnamon in savoury cooking in Peru. My little students were ace at chopping, stirring and eating the food.

Here is the recipe to serve 12 little mouths or six grown ups:

12 pieces of chicken (roughly 1.5kgs)

4 large onions

4 large tomatoes

4 fat cloves of garlic

3″ ginger

1 tsp turmeric

Half tsp chilli powder

Whole spices: 8 cloves, 2″ cinnamon, 4 bay leaves, 2 tsp whole cummin

Fresh coriander to serve

Salt to taste

3 tbsp oil

Two cups of water

Chop the onions and tomatoes roughly. Heat the oil and fry the whole spices. When they start spluttering, add the onions and fry until brown.

In the meantime, chop the ginger and garlic finely. We used a grater for speed.

When the onions are brown add the garlic and ginger and fry for a while until they start going brown too. Now add the turmeric and chilli powder, frying the mixture until the powders lose their pungent smell.

If at any time the mixture starts sticking to the bottom of the pan, add a little water and stir.

Then add the tomatoes and fry on a high heat until they disintegrate. Add a cup of hot water, lower the flame and let the mixture simmer.

Slowly, holes will form in the mixture and it will start oozing oil. When most of the water has evaporated, add the chicken pieces, raise the flame to high and stir them into the masalas.

Add another cup of water, cover and simmer until the chicken is cooked. This dish should be dry and slightly sweet. It is best eaten with bread.

We arrived in Lima on 27th January and I kicked off our break tucking into a giganormous plate of barbequed cow´s hearts. There goes my award for Hindu of the year.  

We are off to Huancayo this afternoon, the Andean valley town home to my mum and dad-in-law. It´s a gruelling six and half hours through the mountains, which inevitably involves a landslide, travel sickness and Pollo a la brasa (roast chicken… don´t ask).

Once I get there, I plan to cook salt and spice-free food for my mum-in-law. But also, spread the word about authentic Indian food using sign language and very broken Spanish. I hope the Huancayinos are ready for the onslaught.

The good news is that my in-laws are way less technologically challenged than my considerably younger mother and have embraced the world of broadband and working computers with ease. This means I can try to update QIC even in the Andes, with creative Indian recipes that don´t require a speciality store for ingredients.

Mirar este Espacio, as they say (I think) over here…