Quick Indian Cooking

Maternity leave has ended.

The last jobless Friday night involved a leggy single brunette. Also top friend and white wine fiend.

First stop, the global launch of Smirnoff’s new Green Apple and Lime flavours. My favourite choice of tipple. Followed closely by Tanqueray and tonic. And champagne. (There must be some others)

I expected free cocktails and vodka bottles. I got a row of melting ice sculptures. The top had fallen off St Paul’s Cathedral. The London Eye had liquefied beyond recognition. Drinks were an hour later in a different venue.

An hour? That’s two eternities for a new mum on a night out!

Cocktail bar, French bistro and Cinema cafe later I was ready to call it a night. Return to my previous life as a corporate superbitch. Whip the world into shape with some quick Indian cooking.

No better way to get going than an easy, simple dal. It takes 20 minutes. Doesn’t disappoint. Enjoy.
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Life has been overtaken by events recently. Work is finally over, 10 days before D-day.

I got a proper send off with Chanel skin goodies and a bang-on-trend silver cuff bracelet. These girls are after my own heart.

In the meantime, mother arrived.  Armed with new recipes, a suitcase of dubious home cures for indigestion and acne and a life time’s supply of dry roasted whole cumin.

I’ve delegated all manner of housework to her and seized my opportunity to accomplish a flurry of last minute activities. A vegan feature for the next issue of Cook Vegetarian magazine. A stream of beauty treatments, acupuncture massages and a promising performance involving gin-soaked puppets.

If I’m going down, I’m going down in style.

Sadly, this blog and blogging have had to take a back seat for a bit. I can’t promise how regular I’ll be in the next few weeks. But in the immortal words of The Terminator – “I’ll be back”.

Meanwhile, here’s a very simple Mixed Bean Palya, stir fried pulses with coconut, from the collection of recipes I contributed to the mag.
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The week flew by before I knew it. And what a week. The historic US election, my dad’s fleeting visit to London and a dinner for my colleagues all crammed into five days of euphoric mayhem.

The dinner was planned months in advance. But the US election sweepstake sent a buzz through the office. Spirits were running high. And so were dinner expectations.

Questions came flying thick and fast at me:

• “Can we email requests for the menu?”
• “When will the cabs arrive to collect us?”
• “Can we have a choice for starters, main course and dessert?”

Great. Now I’m being confused for Buckingham Balti.

I threatened them with the local Indian takeaway and secretly panicked. This is a big mistake. I am setting myself up for a fall. My professional image is under the microscope. What if I can’t churn out a meal for the troops like the endless papers I produce?

I decided to match the moment with a fiery meal, planned to ignite their senses. The dinner of Bhuna Gosht, Achari Baingan, Anda Raita, Lasuni Dal Palak and Bhapa Doi went down almost as well as Obama’s victory.  The Lasuni Dal Palak, or garlicky spinach lentils, was taken from One Hot Stove.

Stupendously easy and bursting with flavour, it was the perfect accompaniment for a high-octane evening.
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I survived the Saturday wedding. Now it was time to brave lashing rain in full Indian festive gear. The annual reconnect-with-my-Bengali-brethren event has commenced.

I’m talking about Durga Puja. Where London’s entire Bengali community descends to find suitable marriage partners, keep up with the Chatterjee’s, and, of course, pray.

For me and sis, the highlight is the Bhog or food offering. There’s something about standing in the mile-long queue, sizing up the crowds and receiving a miniscule portion of food that makes it two times more special than it tastes.

We arrived in matching deep red salwar suits, the traditional trousers and tops, high heels and overcoats. Waited patiently for the queueing to commence, while catching up with the community. And it never happened. Turns out the Bhog of Khichuri, rice and lentils, and Mishti is reserved for the last day or Dashami.

When someone said said “don’t leave now” and rattled off the names of a dozen other long lost Bengalis who were about to arrive, sis and I exchanged a quick look. Then, we legged it to the nearest Indian vegetarian buffet worth its thali.

We’re about to try our luck again. But I’m not taking any chances. I’ve cooked a large pot of Bhoger Khichuri and Beguni, spicy fried aubergines. It’s not quite the same, but it’ll help any disappointment later. Shubho Biojoya everyone!

PS= I have tried to reach a happy compromise with fat in these recipes. Ghee is limited to half a teaspoon per serving and the aubergine is shallow fried instead of deep fried. Come Diwali, I’m done with all this festive fattening…
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