week 33 - Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cookery

 

Following hot on the heels of one childhood classic - the infamous Delia's tarragon chicken, from her Summer Collection - this week features another beloved influence from when I was growing up - Madhur Jaffrey and her concise tome, published in 1982, on Indian Cookery. 

After the BBC aired the TV series that accompanied the book, her calming manner and her fail-proof recipes meant she quickly became a household name. Soon housewives all over the land were cooking whole legs of lamb in a yoghurt sauce; Indian-style pork chipolatas and pork chops with chickpeas; and mini cocktail koftas and chicken tikka skewers to serve at provincial dinner parties.

I still vividly remember the shelf of books in my parent's kitchen; and how I would sit and leaf through them after dinner, excitedly planning my future dinner parties from delights such as the Milk Marketing Board Cookbook and the Heinz Cookbook ( I recollect that my Sister made the bean-filled shepherds pie on several occasions). While Delia's Summer Collection featured a showy sunflower on the cover, tempting you in, Madhur went for something more, well, beige. 

That, coupled by a distinct lack of photos, meant it wasn't always one of my favourites to look at. But, as you could tell by the well-thumbed corners and oil-splattered pages it was much-loved by my Mum for cooking from, with recipes that were dependable yet exotic.

My absolute favourite of the dishes she cooked from it was the keema matar, or mince and peas. You can use beef or lamb, but I think lamb is best. Even better is mutton, and I bough half a kilo of course ground mutton from Turner and George for my version of this (which still wasn't as good as my mum's). 

I, for once, followed the recipe faithfully, but it's very adaptable and forgiving kind of dish and I have made with the addition of tinned tomatoes, and chunks of par-boiled potato (added with the water) and a mix of different spices, including cardamom, cinnamon and turmeric, and also with a mix of garam masala and curry powder, and it's always been great.

Minced meat and peas

Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cookery

1 tbsp vegetable oil

1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped

3 medium cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped

500g minced lamb (ground beef may be substituted) 

A 3cm piece of fresh ginger, peeled and grated 

1-2 fresh, hot green chilies, chopped

1tsp ground coriander seeds

1 tsp ground cumin seeds

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

300g frozen peas

1 tsp garam masala

Half a lemon

Fresh coriander, chopped, to serve

Put the oil in a large frying pan over a medium-high heat. When hot, brown the mince (in batches if needed) set aside and drain all bit a tablespoon of oil from the pan.

Add the onion and stir and fry until lightly browned. Add the garlic, stir and fry for another minute. 

Add the lamb, ginger, green chillies, coriander and cumin.

Add ¾ cup water and bring to a boil. Cover, turn heat to low, and simmer for 30 minutes. Add the peas, fresh coriander, salt and pepper garam masala, lemon juice, and the remaining water. 

Mix and bring to a simmer. Cover and cook on low heat another 10 minutes or until peas are tender. 

I also made butter chicken, which wasn't strictly a Madhur recipe as I marinated the chicken in a tandoori spice mix and yoghurt, before grilling until charred in places, and then adding to a defrosted batch of sauce I made aeons ago but was still very tasty. Looking (and tasting) like a spiced-up version of Heinz tinned tomato soup. and none the worse for it. I'm afraid I used Google when I made it and don't have a recipe. But Madhur does, and it's probably very good

There has to be some ballast to soak up the sauce and the beer, and I would normally go for bread. A nice puffy peshawari nan or a virtuous wholewheat chapati for preference, but one of the things I am determined to master in 20202 is cooking rice. While I wouldn't say this was perfect, it was a decent effort and extremely easy.

Mushroom Pilau  

Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking

Wash 450ml basmati rice, soak in cold water for about 30 minutes then drain.

Fry a small onion and 1 chopped clove of garlic. Add 200g sliced mushrooms, and fry for a few minutes, then add 1/2 teaspoon of grated ginger and 1/4 teaspoon garam masala and a pinch of salt. Stir a couple of times and add the rice. Stir until the rice is coated in the oil and add enough water to just cover – less water than you would usually  add as the rice is soaked. Bring to a boil, put the lid on the pot, turn off the heat and leave for 15 minutes. Fluff through the grains with a fork and serve

And finally, some veg. As much as I love meat and fish, I think I could quite happily be a vegetarian on the Indian subcontinent with dishes such a cheesy peas, aloo gobi, aubergines cooked in picking spice and, my favourite bhindi bhaji (the much maligned okra). This recipe is fresh and crisp and helps balance out a big meal, the shredded stir fried carrot and cabbage, lightly spiced with mustard seeds and a little chilli.

Gujerati Cabbage with Carrots 

Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking

1/2 a medium white or green cabbage

3-4 carrots

1 fresh, hot green chilli

2 tbsp vegetable oil

1 tbsp whole black mustard seeds

1 whole, hot dried red chilli

1/2 tsp sugar

1/2 lemon

salt to taste

Core the cabbage and cut in into fine, long shreds. Peel the carrots and grate them coarsely. Cut the green chilli into thin, long strips.

Heat the oil in a wide, casserole-type dish over a medium-high flame. When hot put in the mustard seeds. As soon as the mustard seeds begin to pop (this takes just a few seconds), put in the dried red chilli, cabbage, carrots and green chilli. Turn the heat down to medium and stir the vegetables around for half a minute. Add the salt and sugar. Stir and cook for another 4 minutes or until vegetables are just done and retain some of the their crispness. Add the lemon juice. Stir to mix. 

Harry and a curry

A cemetery in deepest East London might seem like a strange place to start this post, but I do have a life outside of taking pictures of my lunch. Even if it happens to be taking pictures of gravestones en route to taking pictures of my lunch. I promise, this does get better....

The reason for ending up in Barking on a sunny Monday Morning in June goes back a few years, to my previous incarnation working in public libraries. During that time I had become involved in curating an exhibition that commemorated the centenary of the start of WW1. A fascinating and sobering project that lead me to start to research something about my own family, culminating in discovering my great-grandfather, Private Harry Roscoe MM.

Harry was born in Wigan circa 1890 although, by 1914, he had ended up in Romford, married to my great-grandmother, Florence, and with a son, Alan. My grandfather. Alan isn't around anymore, and there is no one else left to ask how or why Harry ended up in Essex but, as my colleague so succinctly put it; 'in those days, it would be for work or a woman'.

In 1915 Harry had enlisted to the West Ham Pals, aka 13th Battalion of the Essex Regiment, and by the end of the year had been sent to France to fight. The battalion were involved in many battles of the Great War, including at Vimy Ridge, Cambrai and the Battle of the Somme, and it was here that Harry won the Military Medal for gallantry. Awarded for an act of outstanding courage or devotion to duty in the presence of the enemy.

The excerpt above shows the war diary from the week Harry was recommended for his honour. A scan kindly provided to me by Elliot Taylor, who has a blog and has written a book about the Pals.

Harry died in December 1918, a month after the war had ended, most likely of his injuries. A pointless loss in a pointless war. My granddad was four. My great-grandmother remarried the following year, and Harry was never spoken of again. As my granddad never really spoke much about the past, we don't even know if he knew about Harry, or where he was interred. 

While it's a bittersweet story, I have to say I felt quite touched to finally find Harry's grave - commissioned by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission whose work ensures that men and women of the Commonwealth forces who died in the First and Second World Wars are not forgotten - and be able to give thanks for the sacrifices he, and many others, have made for our freedom.

Of course, I couldn't go all that way without thinking about what I was going to eat next and fortunately Thattukada, one of Eater's recent recommended restaurants, was just two stops away on the District Line.

Thattukada is a basic no frills Keralan restaurant - with a nod to God's own country evidenced by the pictures of vallam kali, the state's annual snake boat race, that cover the walls - that offers a selection of home cooked favourites that brings homesick Keralans to eat from all across London.

I started with a mango lassi which, in the absence of a dessert menu, also served as pudding. There's nothing more glorious to accompany food from the Indian subcontinent (ok, maybe on par with an icy cold lager). Sweet and tangy and fragrant and providing a soothing balm for the tongue after a surfeit of chilli spice.

The chicken fry or, to give it its full name, the Thattukada Special Nandan (Traditional) Chicken Fry Half (Kerala Style) 10 pieces, is becoming a bit of a signature dish. A whole (or half) chicken is expertly cleaved into bite-sized chunks on the bone, before being marinated in a lurid spice paste glowing with chilli. It's then deep fried and covered in a dreft of golden fried onions.

This tasted as excellent as it looks. Crisp, hot, salty, spicy. It was surprisingly effortless to eat ten pieces to myself. Maybe because I'm some kind of heathen, I really wanted something to dip this in. Some kind of yogurt-based dip perhaps; or just a big squirt of mayo, if I'm honest. But then I do drown my KFC in the Colonel's gravy. So what do I know.

I almost passed on ordering the appam, which would have been an error as these were the finest I have tried. Spongy and slightly sour, the plain version - they are also available filled with condensed milk or a whole egg, steamed into the centre - are particularly good for helping scoop up curry with your fingers. As evidenced by many of the patrons who were there on my visit. Luckily they took pity on me and kindly also provided a fork without asking.

The utensils were something that was in everybody's interests, as my attempts to eat the fish moilee - a deep and fragrant coconut based curry with cashew nuts and tomatoes and a the beautifully cooked kingfish steak that fell from the bone - would have been less than couth with out them. Although, in all honesty, if no one else was around I would have happily licked the bowl clean.

Oh, and for the record, the long green things were not beans, but chillies. Something that I found out when I ate a whole one. And, for the second time that day, I had a tear in my eye. Good food and family; sometimes there is nothing finer.

Curry for breakfast

One thing I do love about being a proper grown up is that you can wake up on a Saturday morning and decide you're going to have a curry for breakfast. Which is probably marginally less fun than eating a curry late on a Friday night and sleeping through Saturday morning, which comprised of most of my early twenties, but makes me feel slightly less resentful about not being able to sleep the clock around any more.

While my favourite Sri Lankan place is just down the road and makes superlative chole bhature (fried bread and chickpea curry), I fancied something a bit different. Somehow I also managed to persuade the Ewing that she also wanted something a bit different That something starting with driving around the M25 while listening to me singing along to my 90s indie playlist and ending up at the veritable New Asian Tandoori Restaurant - aka Roxy's - in Southall for some traditional Punjabi food.

From the list of chaats (small, savoury snacks) we started with pani puri, or, as it's known in the Punjab, golgappa. A dish that's fun to say, and even more fun to eat. 

To do so you take a crisp, hollow puri, carefully make a hole in the top and stuff it with a mixture of chilli, chutney, potato, onion and chickpeas. To finish, top it off with a glug of tamarind water (known as imli pani), and quickly pop the whole thing in your mouth with as much decorum as you can manage. In my case, not much.

While I like to think there are few curry dishes I haven't tried (I've certainly eaten enough curries), in reality I'm a mere pretender when it comes to the cuisine of the Indian sub-continent. In reality this is only a good thing as it means I still get to discover new dishes, even if I'm only twenty miles from home.

Today's new dishes were  sarson ka saag, or mustard greens, traditionally served with makki ki roti, an unleavened grilled corn bread topped with lashings of butter. Mustard greens are traditionally eaten in winter and spring, so we were bang in season to enjoy their rich earthiness. Perfect when scooped up with pieces of the sweet, smoky grilled roti, which resembled a giant Mexican tortilla and was none the worse for it.

Another Punjabi favourite, only available here at the weekends, is dal makhani, or 'buttery lentils'. Made from whole black lentils (urad) and red kidney beans the dish gets its richness from lashings of butter and cream. 

As it's tomato-based, the sauce resembled a spiced version of Heinz tomato soup. Which, everybody knows, is the best soup. I'd try to fool myself by saying the lentils made this healthy, but we all know this contained more glorious dairy than the EU butter mountain.

We tried to order a Punjabi chicken curry but that wasn't ready, so settled for chilli chicken instead. An admirable substantiation, this was excellent -  a sweet, rich, almost sticky sauce full of juicy chunks of chicken. I didn't even mind the odd piece of green pepper, a vegetable that normally conspires to ruin any dish they get near.

To finish we could have gone down the Broadway for chunks of burfi - a dense milky fudge, often studded with nuts - or some gulab jamun - curls of fried batter soaked in a sweet sugar syrup that are freshly fried out on the busy street - but I'm still eschewing the sugar. 

Instead we nibbled on a handful of breath-freshening fennel seed, paid the, very modest, bill and went down the road to see the house where the Ewing's mum grew up. Even with our impromptu tour the advantage of being up and out so early meant we were still back home in good time for lunch.

Finding my vocation

It wouldn't be our biannual trip to Leeds without a trip into town before we go home. As it was our December visit - for Christmas Number One - we also decided to involve some festive shopping. Theoretically that means a few hours happily browsing, while picking up the perfect gifts for all our friends and family. In reality that means bickering our way around two shops, max, followed by a row because it's been at least two hours since breakfast.

This trip was surprisingly peaceful - apart from a disagreement about which way to go beside a giant illuminated reindeer, which I'm blaming firmly on Google Maps - although I was exceedingly happy when my Uncle John called while were we in Lush, meaning I could duck outside to escape the eye-watering aroma of patchouli and despair. Even better he told us he was also in town, and did we want to meet for lunch.

Of course we wanted to meet for lunch. And where better than the very recently opened Assembly Underground, located on the previous site of the former Leeds School Board building on Calverley Street (as I was reliably informed by my Uncle). Run by Hebden Bridge's Vocation Brewery it features fifty taps of beer, a hidden cocktail bar and an open dining hall area featuring grub from Slap & Pickle, Felafel Guys, Punjabi street curry specialist Jah Jyot, Leodis Coffee, and Bread and Butter Churrasco BBQ.

Uncle John went for a classic pint of  what I *think* was Vocation's Heart and Soul on cask (I was somewhat distracted at the time, trawling through the vast beer menu myself). Whatever it was, look at it - all things bright and beautiful, glittering in the afternoon winter sun. He nearly managed a second pint, but a queue at the bar saw him fall back on plan b; a very nice looking flat white from Underground Coffee.

Somewhat overwhelmed with choice, I asked the barman for some 'murk' and was rewarded with a schooner of Vocation's Where's Dan, a delicious, opaque NEIPA that tasted, and looked, like hoppy pineapple Just Juice.  The Ewing, our designated driver, also went fruity with a half of the Vocation agave and lime radler. 

I hadn't already had a surfeit of red meat on my visit - with roast sirloin of beef for Christmas Dinner Number One, followed by a game pie at the House of Trembling Madness the day after - I decided to complete the hat trick with a big ass burger at Slap and Pickle.

I went for the light option with the Baconator and a side of Big Mick's fries. The burger - double cheese, double bacon, double beef, iceberg and burger sauce - was one of the best I've had this year. Salty, oozy, greasy, drippy, just like all the best things in life.

The loaded fries, as you can probably tell from the name, riffed on a popular burger chain's popular eponymous burger and came topped with burger crumble, cheese sauce, burger sauce, mustard, lettuce and pickles. Eat 'em while they're hot for maximum pleasure, although I do secretly love the odd cold and congealed chip that gets welded to the bottom of the dish.

My Uncle and the Ewing went for a bit of spice from Jah Jyot, Punjabi inspired Indian street food traders who have ended up in West Yorkshire via Horsham in West Sussex. Alongside curries and thalis they also offer a range of filled dosas, samosas and tikka wraps made with fenugreek chappatis.

Both chose a selection of curries including the Amritsar chicken with potato and fresh coriander and a vegan ajma (red kidney bean) curry with fenugreek seeds, which was excellent. Alongside were rice and the aforementioned chapattis, flecked green with the aromatic leaves.

Of course a trip into town wouldn't be complete without a visit to the Kirkgate market for provisions before the long schlep home -  which on this occasion included ten sirloins for a tenner and over three kilos of limes for two quid. having said that, I skipped the arseholes and tripe. My wife says that's the standard of my drunken Christmas conversation already...