A Kitchen Diary of sorts with rather a lot of chit chat and some exceptionally useful recipes. Photos and artwork by Anna Vaught (me), Giles Turnbull and the generous people at Flickr who make their work available through creative commons. They are thanked individually throughout the blog.

Showing posts with label curry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label curry. Show all posts

Saturday, 14 November 2009

Why you should get yourself some thali dishes (part one)


Oooh: look at these. This is a stainless steel shop in Chennai (Madras) and, I must tell you, I have a splendid collection of stainless steel dishes, plates and tumblers. Favourite of all, though, would be my thali dishes.

Thali are large silver platters which are either flat -- for you to place little matching silver pots full of different dishes on the platters-- or the thali dishes have different sections into which you put your food. It is the latter I favour and, reader, I use them day in and day out and not just for curries.(Although you can see a selection of curries and fresh pickles in my last entry -- a regular dinner in our Anglo-American household, curiously enough...)

So here's an idea: why don't you pop over to Spices of India at http://www.spicesofindia.co.uk and find yourself some dishes like these; you'll find them listed as dinner plates and then use them for all sorts of things? For example, dinner last night for assorted under 8s. A thali dish into which went little handfuls of crisps, carrot sticks, cherry tomatoes, peanut butter sandwiches cut into stars, cubes of cheese, some chipolatas and a big mango hedgehog. The mango hedgehog is, as you might know if you've been reading this for a while or have read my book, simply a fat slice of mango, skin still attached, scored and bent back on itself. Looks like a hedgehog, see? Well, sort of. My point is, the dish looks novel and hugely cheerful, like party food every day, but is practical and a good way to eke out odds and sods and make them look special. Ker-ching!


And for our dinner tonight, the thalis will be used by Mr Nedved and me and they will be heaped with a prawn curry (curry leaves, cumin seeds, fresh coriander, chopped red chilli, garlic), in the central section will be a mound of basmati rice, in another, some Greek yoghurt, just slightly flavoured with some 'chaat' powder and in another section, a little fresh pickle of finely chopped cucumber with sea salt, black pepper and fennel seed. Fire lit (have you looked outside? My five year old got blown over in a field just now while we were dog walking); dinner on lap. Try it. We might be watching --against Mr Nedved's will, the X factor: awful but I cannot seem to look away. I digress. The thali dish, by the way, tends to be native to Southern India (see the beautiful thali of Southern Indian vegetarian food above), but you do see it elsewhere. And I've given you (to left) another stainless steel picture (how I love these shops) and one of my own thalis. In the dish below, you can see a nan (or naan) bread, which is speckled with kalonji -- the spice you might know as onion seed or nigella; there is a rather thick massor (red lentil) dhal with curry leaves, some aloo paalak (potato and spinach curry), a hot lime pickle, some cucumber batons which I had barely sprinkled with anardhana (pomegranate powder), some fresh lime slices, a hot lime pickle and a little fresh pickle (or you might call it a salad) or tomato, green mango, onion, saunf (fennel seed), fresh mint and dred chilli. These are North Indian foods.Get cooking. x


Many thanks to McKaysavage and LadyJake at Flickr for, respectively, the stainless steel shots and that of the South Indian thali, about which I will tell you in a more scholarly future chapter.

Saturday, 26 September 2009

An unsuccessful attempt to introduce a new ingredient: Karela.

Right: I love bitter foods. Love them all. Since I first had karela, the knobbled bitter gourd, in Sindh Province, Pakistan, eleven years ago, I have been hooked.It's a funny-looking thing, the karela. The size of a medium courgette, it is dark green and with a lot of warts! And man, it IS bitter. But, in hot countries, this bitterness, with heat and salt, is comforting and cooling and I like it in damp Blighty, too.

Oh, while I'm at it, here's a link to my catering company. It does Indian food. This is really my hobby, you know www.calcuttascarlet.com

You can get Karela fresh (well, ish) in Asian markets, in cans (though I'm not keen) and, I have discovered,in the frozen foods section in Tesco. (Whence I buy fozen okra and fenugreek greens, by the way.) So try what follows. I've said it was unsuccessful in that I have always failed to get the Georgian husband to eat it. But hey, what do you expect from a man raised on grits. (No -- don't get cross: I love grits, too.)


To make an exceptional lamb keema with karela, try this.

Take about 450g minced lamb.
Also, two small onions. Now do this: chop the onions finely and sweat them in oil unitl they are golden brown. Then add a tablespoon of ground coriander and the same of ground cumin, a teaspoon of red chilli flakes and, perhaps. a dessertspoon of turmeric. Mix carefully and fry together for a couple of minutes. Now, add the lamb, turning it around carefully in the spices. You could also fry off the lamb in a separate pan to make sure it is properly browned. I would then add two large handfuls of karela, add a little water, some salt and pepper and bring to a high heat, then down to a simmer for twenty minutes before adding a good handful of fresh, chopped coriander.Check for seasoning and serve with rice. You may want to add a much more complex list of spices and flavourings: say, three cloves of chopped garlic in with the onion; a large piece of finely-chopped ginger; a dessertspoon of brown mustard seeds; a tablespoon of garam masala in at the end....Experiment, but do not overdo. एक्सपेरिमेंट बुत दो नोट ओवर दो!

Now, look at this lovely thali dish of mine, below. Here we have, from top left, clockwise:
ginger root
green cardamom
dried curry leaves
fennel seeds
masoor dal (red lentils)
black peppercorns
turmeric
kalonji (aka onion seed, or nigella)
whole cloves
cinnamon quills
red chillies
fenugreek seeds
cumin seeds


If you want to get yourself some stainless steel dishes like these --with or without the katori, the little dishes that can sit in your thali, if you like, nip ovet to this site, of which I have long been a great fan: www.spicesofindia.com

  • Really, this curry, above, is a variation on keema mattar (minced meat with peas). I adore the hit of the bitter gourd with the savoury lamb mince. I might also like to increase the amount of chilli I use. I do sometimes stuff  karela, too, but as what I write here is often the shape of family meals down our way, it tends not to be often. I noticed that the Georgian husband had removed the slices of karela from his keema. Does he not know it's supposed to be a tonic and good for thinning your blood?

Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Vegetable samosa

In other words, subzi (in Hindi, for example) samosa!
 वेगेताब्ले समोसा
This is a bit of a weekend project. An essential form of childcare for me, as you may have surmised, involves a project with at least two children and a general writing off of the kitchen. Try this. I will say that you need to get the pastry nice and thin; other than that, don't fuss at the offspring: these will taste wonderful even if they have been dropped on the floor.

Makes 20-24.

180g plain white flour
Fat pinch of salt
4 level tbs soft unsalted butter

So, this is for your pastry. Get a child to do it (it'll get their hands clean! I'm joking, of course) and then finish off the rubbing in so that it's like fine breadcrumbs. Actually, I'm sure you know how to make pastry. Just add some water --say 5tbs, but take it bit by bit-- until you have a smooth ball and put it to one side. And an important thing about pastry is that it likes to be kept cool. Then it will behave better.

For the filling, try this for starters. As you get more confident, you could try adding other fillings: keema (minced lamb) some finely chopped chicken or even prawns. But always with potato: that's what makes these so good, I think.

4 medium potatoes, cut into small dice (or cook in larger pieces and then dice them when they are cooked)
1 onion, finely chopped
170g frozen peas
1 finely chopped red or green chilli
salt to taste
freshly ground black pepper
1 dsp cumin seeds; ditto coriander: bash them up a bit first. Use a pestle and mortar.
1tbs finely chopped fresh ginger
1 dsp yellow mustard seeds
1 dsp garam masala

First, cook your potatoes until they are well done, adding the frozen peas just before they get to this point. You could also plonk a bit of frozen spinach in with them when they are cooking. Very good for you. Drain well and mash the potatoes and peas.

Now fry off the chopped onion in a bit of sunflower oil or ghee (clarified butter) and then add the spices. Don't let them burn. Cook gently for a couple of minutes and then add the potatoes to the frying pan. Mix well and cook for another minute. Taste, taste and see if you are happy. A little lemon or lime juice might be good here.

I have to say that the next bit is where I might disappoint Madhur Jaffrey or Vicky Bhogal. I roll my pastry out and cut it into about 24 squares and, having filled them with about a dessertspoonful of the mixture, I then fold them into triangles, folding the edges together neatly, dampening them down with a little water and trimming them, if necessary, with a sharp knife or my cooking scissors. If you want to be fabulously authentic, may I suggest that you repair to one of the above authors and follow their instructions for folding!

Now, the key points about samosas. Fry them slowly in shallow hot oil, turning once or twice, until they are golden brown and very crisp. Also, if you keep the filling to between a dessertspoon and a tablespoon, they should not explode. Keep the pastry thin and drain them well on kitchen paper after you've fried them and they won't be greasy, either.

I like these with a sharp tamarind and mind fresh chutney. Mix two tablespoons of tamarind paste with six tablespoons of water. It is watery, in case you were wondering. Salt and sugar to taste (although I dispense with the latter) and a big bunch of finely chopped fresh mint. OR, the same of tamarind and thick Greek yoghurt to taste with a good pinch of salt.

Alternatively, I was once served a lovely chutney for these which consisted of good thick yoghurt, tamarind paste and mint jelly from a jar. And a related household tip from my plumber which I cannot resist passing on: this thick green gelatinous stuff is brilliant for smearing on your taps and shower head in hard water areas. It clings, you see. Leave it overnight and your limescale is history. He advises you to go to Lidl for the best value mint jelly. It also has no bits! This is a jolly useful text, isn't it?