National Curry Week....What is curry's place in UK culture?

[caption id="attachment_1517" align="alignleft" width="225"] Curry Week Offers at Marks & Spencers[/caption]

I’m sure we all have anecdotes and apocryphal stories about the place of curry in our lives and in the British consciousness.  I, for one, could do without any more politicians, when speaking at India-related events, claiming chicken tikka masala is the UK’s national dish.  On one occasion a British colleague working in New York bemoaned the lack of decent curry in the US and said after a meeting back in London his first outing would be to a local “indigenous” curry house.  By contrast I might miss a roast beef Sunday lunch.  I am told that in the past the most junior hospital doctor would be sent out to get curries for other members of their team over the weekend, and use the code 666 over pagers to communicate the arrival of the food. Finally an Indian ex of mine loved Marks and Spencers’ chicken tikka masala so much my suitcase contained 4 or 5 packs on my trips to see her in Heidelberg.

My own personal memories of what is commonly known as curry is fairly limited.  We didn’t eat out much as children and didn’t eat our mother’s Bengali food.  The common perception certainly until probably the early 1990s was of fairly bland curries, varying only by levels of spiciness, often red-tinged with food colouring, served on a night out with copious quantities of lager and with plenty of poppadoms.  This was in an era when pub opening hours were limited and one of the few ways of getting alcohol was in a restaurant. This was infamously parodied in a reverse context by the 'Goodness Gracious Me' team on the BBC in “Going for an English”[i].  Rowan Atkinson parodied the English in an Indian restaurant[ii]. Indian restaurants developed their own style often covered with flock wallpaper.

Thankfully things now have changed dramatically and the old-fashioned curry house is now probably a dying institution being gradually replaced by more upmarket restaurants and cafes.  We have reviewed many of these on our blog. What is remarkable is the numbers of Indians, whether tourists or those living here, who frequent places like Masala Zone, Roti Chai and Dishoom.  Indian street food has become vogue also, with markets at South Bank and other locations.  Food like this is available in India and indeed the UK has taken their inspiration from India but adapted, productised and marketed effectively.  Some might argue that overall the “Indian” food available in the UK is better than that found in Delhi.  The cultural supremacy almost of Indian food in the UK might be regarded as akin to a form of reverse colonialism - a colonialism that began with the East India Company exporting spices from the Coromandel Coast to the UK.

What “curry”, in its broadest context, has done is to change British eating culture.  Most homes have probably tried to make curry –  thankfully that is a sea-change from the curry powder and sultanas days of the past – and one’s local supermarket will have stocks of almost every Indian spice.  Special trips to Southall, Brick Lane and Handsworth to buy rare ingredients are no longer essential even for Indian families.  However, just occasionally we might like to go to Southall or Quality Foods in Hounslow partially for the cultural experience.

British eating culture has changed to such an extent that most are willing to experiment with other cuisines such as Thai, Indonesian and Vietnamese.  There is no question that Indian food with curry as its chief exemplar is now embedded in the British consciousness and it will continue to adapt and evolve but as important is its role in changing food culture in the UK more broadly.

[i] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdo79znnHl8

[ii] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4LHLM4WIw0

Chakra – Rising to the Challenge

We had been looking forward to the long Bank Holiday weekend in London for a while, and in particular eating at Chakra and the Indian YMCA in Fitzroy Square (to experience both ends of the market).  Sadly we found the Indian YMCA closed for lunch when we arrived without much hint of an apology despite explicit opening times on their website.

Chakra has a considerable pedigree run by the Vama brothers, Andy and Arjun, who previously owned the award-winning Vama in Chelsea. It is beginning to be regarded as a competitor to other well-known and established Indian restaurants in the capital including Tamarind and Benares.  Since opening on Notting Hill Gate Road it has attracted a considerable following it seems and earlier this year won the Best Restaurant award at the Asian Business Awards.

The restaurant is located close to Notting Hill Gate station and at the end of a row of local shops. It’s an area I’ve enjoyed visiting occasionally with Jamie Oliver’s Recipease nearby.  We got a warm welcome in the middle of the evening and seated immediately in plush beige leather seats and with chandeliers above us.  The restaurant is designed to replicate in food and style Moghul palaces of Lucknow, whose food is beginning to get some interest in the West.  Notably one of the Rick Stein’s India programmes was from Lucknow.

Over course of the evening the restaurant filled up with couples, and Indian families, who were probably local.  There were, we thought, a number of people from India.  Almost as soon as we sat down, and while we were perusing the menu, our first amuse bouche - a well-spiced potato cake - arrived.  Menus are always problematic for us as we have several favourites but we are also keen to try new dishes.  After ordering our food a well-presented plate of poppadoms arrived together with dips and relishes.

Although the garlic scallops were tempting for starters, I chose the ajwaini machli - strips of battered tilapia accompanied by a tomato / mayonnaise sauce with a hint of chilli.  I struggled to finish the plate - the portion too big really for a starter -  trying to save myself for the rest of the dinner.  True to form and with respect to her vegetarian past Sue chose the yam chaat - sweet potatoes with chaat, lemon, cumin and tamarind. It was an interesting restaurant variation on familiar Indian street food flavours.  The portion again was probably too large and Sue felt it could have been halved.

For her main Sue chose the Kerala prawn curry together with saag paneer, one of her and my favourite dishes.  Sue was excited when the saag paneer arrived, hoping for a rival to the saag paneer she had in Delhi (see our blog here).  While the creaminess and texture were promising, Sue felt it probably lacked the subtlety of spicing and flavour of the dish at the Hyatt with slightly too much chilli to allow the other spices to come through.  The prawn curry was decent with well cooked prawns.  My main was the dahi gohst masala - a well spiced lamb curry.  Our mains were accompanied by very well cooked rice (light and fluffy), roti and naan. In addition the raita, which is a must for me to offset hot curries, was probably the best I’ve ever had, decked with jewels of pomegranate, tomato and cucumber.

In other circumstances we would probably have enjoyed our desserts but after filling initial course and another amuse bouche of a sorbet, we were full.  The total bill with wine would have been c£120.

Overall we felt the experience to be of high quality and in some respects matching the more established upmarket Indian restaurants in London. The atmosphere was relaxing with good service and attentiveness.  We felt, however, that the food lacked the subtlety, nuances and depths that we have come to expect from some of its rivals.  Presentation was good, but could be refined.  We learnt that Chakra is due to launch a new menu later in the year and this might be the opportunity to put itself in the top tier of Indian London.

We dined as complimentary guests of the restaurant. We pride ourselves, however, always on the independence of our reviews. 

Foodie heaven at Whole Foods Market

Years ago, during my Buddhist days, I worked in a wholefood shop for a couple of years.  We tried to share out responsibilities and mine (as well helping make sandwiches for the take away side) was to order the wholefoods from our main suppliers.  I became quite an expert on sourcing new products and what was available and absolutely loved it.  I was working with interesting people and loved doing something practical and real-world compared to academia and book learning.

I say this because I found myself in the new Richmond Whole Foods Market today and for ½ hour or so was in foodie heaven.  Even more so when I remembered that I still had Susen’s credit card in my bag……(Susen – only kidding!  I restrained myself, although he did mutter something about £3.99 being rather a lot for a small bottle of juice I had bought).  For a while in the shop I had one of those ‘what if’ thoughts.  What if I had followed through my wholefood shop experience and knowledge I had built up and pursued my vision of expansion and my own business?  I hope that something like Whole Foods Market would have been what I would have created.  But I took a different turn in the road at that point and ended up somewhere completely different while the US owner of Whole Foods Market is probably doing very well from their stores.  Life paths are very strange sometimes.

I couldn’t help taking a few select photos of anything Indian-related to share below with fellow food-lovers.  No wonder I never seem to lose any weight.

[gallery type="slideshow" ids="1107,1106,1105,1104,1102,1101,1100,1099,1098" orderby="rand"]

Street Food - Roti Chai style

Roti Chai has been on our ‘to do’ list ever since it opened in 2011. Last Sunday lunchtime we finally got round to trying it out. I had voted for one of the Drummond Street Indian vegetarian buffets. Chutneys @ £6.95 / person would have fitted the bill – I think I was nostalgic for my early 20s and student days – but I was voted down. Or rather (as the voting was 1-1), persuaded down.

Roti Chai was started by Rohit Chugh, an ex-Goldman Sachs equities trader. This had actually put me off going for quite a while as I cynically thought it was just an investment venture, a commercial enterprise rather than being run for the love of good food (the two obviously not being mutually exclusive). Chugh, had, however, worked for the Cinnamon Club after leaving the City and then helped set up the Cinnamon Kitchen before starting Roti Chai – so he did come with some kind of food pedigree background. His father apparently is from Amritsar which helped to seal the authenticity of the venture.

The menu is divided into a street food menu and a more expensive dining room menu. We went for the street food, although I am not sure the dining room part was open on a Sunday.  The décor is simple, deliberately basic café-style seating with kitsch Indian adverts decorating the walls.  I know what Chugh was trying to achieve – a modern take on an Indian café theme, though it did feel slightly contrived, slightly too stylised. Reminiscent perhaps of Haldiram’s in India.  It was good to see quite a few Indian diners there.

The menu is short and fairly simple. For starters, we had the bhel puri and papri chat. Both were good and well presented – though nothing particularly out of the ordinary. I can probably get the equivalent for at least half the price at the stall in the Quality Foods supermarket in Hounslow. A few more fresh ingredients: onion, cucumber and fresh coriander might have been nice in the bhel puri.

For mains, I had the idli sambar - always keen to branch out from the usual North Indian food on offer. Susen had the chicken Manchurian – chosen because of its Bengali roots (of course!) Again, good food but nothing special. A thought did come into my mind, whilst eating my sambar, that it reminded me of a slightly spicy version of tinned Heinz lentil and vegetable casserole pureed baby food I used to eat well into my toddler years as I liked it so much. That thought didn’t help too much with the appreciation of any subtle sophisticated grown-up spicing that might have been going on in the dish.

Our meal was washed down with Mongoose beer – which is trying to rival Cobra in the Indian food market. Mongoose looked convincingly Indian in origin, until we saw that it was brewed in Bedford which didn’t have quite the same ring to it.

One good point is its location – tucked away behind Oxford Street, close to Marble Arch. Good, therefore for lunch or dinner away from the Oxford Street crowds - though why anyone actually wants to actually go shopping in Oxford Street is beyond me.

Our lunch came to £46.00 for the 2 of us (including 4 beers between us). You could probably get the same or better in Southall for quite a bit less – or any number of other urban Indian eateries in every major town. Probably around 6/10 rating overall.

Roti Chai – 3 Portman Mews South, London W1H 6HS

www.rotichai.com

Asma Khan’s Darjeeling Express Supperclub @ Asia House

Have you ever been to a private party in a central London townhouse with the food cooked by an amazing chef? Well we hadn’t till last Saturday when we went to Asma Khan’s Supperclub. Asma was partially raised in Kolkata, so there was an obvious affinity, is a law PhD, another affinity, and has begun her own food business using her mother’s own experiences and most importantly recipes.

We have both been to Asia House before – it’s a beautifully maintained townhouse with high ceilings and long – and tiring – staircases, for lectures, seminars and book launches. Sue and I are both time-conscious and so were among the first to arrive in the basement exhibition space which was showing the paintings of Lance Ribeiro, an Indian-Goan artist. We were greeted by Asma herself who was aware of Sue’s inability to eat spicy food. Asma commented that she can’t eat spicy food either which is perhaps unique for someone brought up in Kolkata. Soon afterwards the gin arrived. We were served a unique gin created by Ross William Butler, based on a Victorian recipe – some of the ingredients included coriander, cloves, star anise, fennel, lemongrass, cardamom, lemon and lime. With the addition of cucumber and tonic this was indeed a flavoursome gin and very well received.

We were slightly conscious that some of the other guests were already known to Asma and were in larger groups. But we need not have worried – when we went upstairs for dinner we had engrossing conversations with our companions on subjects ranging from Indian infrastructure – a favourite topic of ours – to China’s growth, to how Calcutta is the centre of the known universe.

Many of the guests like ourselves had brought their wine and alcohol. And some in quite sophisticated bags such as a suitable coolbag. We felt as though we had let the side down by carrying wine in our rucksacks. On the main table we saw wine, beer, champagne and whiskey.

So, on to the centrepiece of the evening, the food. Our starters were a lamb samosa, beef momo, and a chicken kati roll. The pastry in the samosa was exquisite, and the filling too. The beef momo filling was delicately spiced, and delicious. But for me the pick of the starters was the chicken kati roll – the pastry wrap was amongst the best I have tasted, slightly fluffy in texture. The chicken filling was perfectly cooked. This is a dish that is hard to get right for 25-30 guests almost simultaneously. Both Sue and I could have eaten more of the starters but we were pacing ourselves despite there being additional servings of starters on the table.

After the first courses Asma introduced herself to the guests, telling us that she named her business “Darjeeling Express” after the train to Darjeeling. It is a toy train, on a smaller gauge, travelling quite slowly almost in the middle of the road, with mountain views. I have not travelled on it as my trips have been in winter and the train runs seasonally. Asma told us that travelling on the train gave her a great feeling of freedom being able to ride with one’s head out of the window.

Asma then introduced us to a director of Asia House who gave us a short introduction into its work and goals. Then the curator said a few words about the Ribeiro exhibition in the basement. Sue and I were very impressed by the painter, and to see the exhibition was great way to begin the evening. Ribeiro was born in Goa, came to the UK to study, and stayed for many years before returning to India. Ribeiro painted in a number of styles and used colour vividly. We did think there were hints of Catholic angst in some of his work. It is notable that he was supported by the Tata Corporation in India. Amongst the guests was Ribeiro’s daughter who very graciously thanked us for coming to see her father’s work.

Then it was on to the main courses: prawn malai curry, Khare Masale ka Gosht (lamb curry) and Bhopali Achaar Chicken. Of these the lamb and chicken were exquisite: the lamb in particular was tender, and the spicing on the chicken very delicate. As with the starters there was plenty to go round. The accompaniments: lemon rice, pureed aubergine, dal, were very tasty. The rice in particular with cashew nuts reminded me of my mother’s cooking. We were very impressed with the raita, full of cucumber and cumin.

Before the desserts Ross William Butler told us about the gin he had created and took a couple of questions. The desserts were stewed apricots and fruit chaat. Both were delicious together with the First Flush Darjeeling Tea. Then we took our leave but not before saying a few words in Bengali to Asma.

We both loved our first supper club experience and Asma’s cooking. We felt like guests at a select dinner party. The menu was very carefully chosen and all of the individual dishes went well together. The quality of the cooking and the ingredients were high-class. At £45 a head taking into account the food, the location, the exclusive atmosphere, and Asma’s hosting we thought it great value. We have eaten in Michelin starred Indian restaurants and equivalent in London and Delhi and Asma’s food compares favourably. We would love to go to Asma’s future events.

http://asiahouse.org/

http://darjeeling-express.com/

http://www.edibleexperiences.com/p/267054/

Quilon

I have had my head in books the last few weeks (even more so than usual), doing more exams. At my age! Thankfully they are now over and I can look once more beyond the revision and computer screen. As interesting as my studies were (and are), it’s so nice to have some time to catch up on everything else that has been put on hold. Like re-doing the plumbing under the sink where it was leaking, mending the bed frame that had broken and now thinking of tackling the overgrown garden. Yes my life is that exciting.

Still, to celebrate Susen took me out to lunch at Quilon near St James’s Park. The place is very much in Indian territory being in the Taj Group owned Crowne Plaza and presumably meant to appeal to the many Indian businessmen and women who stay at the hotel. The outside was suitably understated (just my style), although once inside I did feel slightly under-dressed in my jeans compared to most of the other be-suited lunchtime diners. The receptionist did look us up and down as if to ask, "Are you sure you're in the right place?", but once we were through that hurdle the service was high quality. As a complete aside, I do envy the modern Indian woman who has the choice of Western jeans and T-shirt / top, salwar kameez, kurta top and jeans / leggings or, if you really push the boat out, a sari. No such choice for us UK women.

Quilon is a cut (or three) above your average up-market Indian restaurant. It serves South West Indian cuisine and is Michelin starred. The head chef Sriram Aylur apparently gave up his law studies to pursue his ‘first love’ of food (boy, how I can relate!). He was ranked one of the top five Chefs in India in 1997.

We had the set lunch menu (£24.00 for 3 courses and coffee – which actually felt like quite a bargain). For starters, I had the lotus stem and colocasia chop with mango and mint sauce. Susen had the coconut cream chicken. Asked if we wanted to share them – which we did – they arrived half and half on each of our plates, a first for us. Both starters were delicious, although possibly the chop was slightly lacking in flavour. Mini popadums and five different types of home-made chutney were complimentary, making a welcome change from the standard sized popadums and bought pickles usually served.

We then were given another complimentary ‘amuse bouche’ of a spicy tomato and lentil broth, served hot in a glass. For the main course, Susen had the Quilon fish curry made with beautifully cooked and spiced halibut. I had the vegetarian sampler – four different types of vegetables with lemon rice and paratha. Dishes on mine included crispy fried okra, a mildly spiced chick pea curry, mango curry and lightly spiced yoghurt dish which I think was like a pachadi.

For dessert Susen had the caramelised banana pudding with rum and raisin ice cream. I had bibinca with vanilla ice cream – a Goan speciality a bit like pancakes piled on top of each other with dark chocolate sauce, accompanied by South Indian coffee.
All dishes were excellent, service was attentive but discrete. Highly recommended.



Quilon, 41 Buckingham Gate, London SW1E 6AF.

Tel: 020 7821 1899

http://www.quilon.co.uk

 

Kolkata Street Food Experience

Last Monday evening was cold and wet. I was tired and Susen was limping around as he had somehow injured his foot the day before. If I hadn’t already had paid good money for tickets to the ‘Kolkata Street Food Experience’ it would definitely have been a curl up under the duvet in front of the TV-type evening. Instead we found ourselves in the streets around Brixton (slightly off my radar these days) looking for an old railway arch housing the ‘Whirled Cinema’ beneath it. We eventually located it down an alleyway behind a parking lot and I think if I hadn’t had Susen’s company I might have thought better of walking down there. Despite his hobbling and injured foot, he represented some sort of male protection, however illusory.

[caption id="attachment_431" align="alignleft" width="225"] Angus in action at his stall[/caption]

Stairs led up to the small cinema (hired out for private use) which had been transformed into a hippy wonderland with kitsch Indian-style signs, fairy lights and garlands of flowers. The inspiration behind all this is Angus Denoon and his roving street food stall ‘The Everybody Love Love Jhal Muri Express’. Street food is the new big thing, though nowhere near approaching the range in the US (or indeed Kolkata or Bangkok).

Angus Denoon writes on his website (streetfoodkolkata.com) that he first made jhal muri when asked to make a dish from Kolkata where he had been filming the street food there. He made jhal muri – a type of Indian snack food – as it involved no cooking and was relatively easy to mix together the assembled ingredients. He then began selling it from a converted, decorated supermarket trolley but has since moved slightly more upmarket with a van. Versions of this exist all over India: jhal muri is the Bengali name (similar to, but not quite the same, I am told, as the more widely known bhel puri). Years ago, I used to buy take away cartons of a similar kind of chaat (snack) in Manchester. Although it was more papri chaat (papri wafers, boiled potato, chick peas with yoghurt, tamarind chutney, fresh coriander and sev), I loved the flavours, especially of tamarind and coriander – similar to those in jhal muri. Jhal muri is a mixture of puffed rice, sev, nuts, chopped onion, cucumber, lime juice, spices, tamarind chutney and fresh coriander – usually mixed together freshly to order in a bowl, then served in a paper cone with a spoon. When I first knew Susen, he made me a version from his childhood, when it was more difficult to get hold of Indian ingredients. It consisted of rice krispies, chopped cucumber and peanuts mixed together – interesting, but not quite authentic. [Last year the new Quality Foods Indian supermarket in Hounslow also had a stall selling bhel puri and pani puri: a real rival for Angus’s Jhal Muri Express, although lacking the colourful signs].



But back to Monday evening. There were 4 stalls in all serving as many snacks as you wanted. As well as Angus’s jhal muri stall, there was one with a mixture of sev, red lentil dhal, onions, tamarind, coconut, lime juice, garam masala, chaat masala and coriander – served on a leaf-type plate. At first glance, a strange combination but actually very good. Another stall had pani puri (gol goppa) – stuffed with potato and chutney but lacking the cumin water that really makes it explode with taste in your mouth. Finally, a stall with lassi, chai and a sweet snack mixture of Gujarati sweet dumplings in mango lassi with lime juice. Not a combination I had come across before – but then it was apparently one of Angus’s inventions.

Looking around, the audience was mainly white English, probably fairly young, educated – I could see myself back in the 80s in my soul-searching, travelling, back-packing days trying to find some meaning in life beyond the office blocks and insurance companies of the Croydon suburb where I grew up. We spotted only one other man of Indian origin, although the woman serving on the lassi and chai stall said her mother – although English - had grown up in Kolkata as her family were working out there.

Once everyone had been fed – probably around 150 people at this point, which felt more like a small private party – time for the film. Filmed and edited by Angus himself after several trips to Kolkata, ‘Street Food Kolkata – the Film’ was a delight. Starting with dawn breaking and the city slowly waking up, it films the various stallholders cooking, with the story told by the people who make the food and those who eat it. The lack of commentary meant the focus was entirely on the food, the cooking and people themselves, with an inspired music soundtrack by Larry Lush. The vendors showed amazing skill, ingenuity, resilience and sheer hard work in producing cheap and nutritious food to sell on the streets: ranging from luchis (fried rotis), shingaras (Bengali samosas) to biryani, Chinese noodles and sweet jilapi (jelabi in Hindi). Their skill, dexterity and entrepreneurship would rival some of the top restaurants and businesses in London. The marketplace is extremely competitive – one commented that if they don’t make tasty food, they will not be in business very long.

Food is also cheap, even by Kolkata standards. One tour guide filmed said a plate of food would only cost around 17–20 Rs (around 20–25p). You might criticise the lack of hygiene or health and safety – but the other side is that there, people are earning a living for themselves producing the food and feeding nutritious food to poor people who could not otherwise afford to eat (or have the means to cook for themselves). By contrast, here in the UK the poorest people – instead of having access to cheap and nutritious food cooked on street stalls – are at the mercy of the large supermarkets or fried burger / chicken take-aways. It is possible to eat cheaply and well in the UK if cooking for yourself, but it requires resolve and motivation to resist the temptation of empty calories or cheap offers in supermarkets, together with culinary skill (social / cultural capital) that poorer and socially disadvantaged people might lack. In the UK finding good prepared food is a much harder task, leading to malnutrition and obesity when there is limited choice.

Customers for street food in Kolkata, however, did seem to come from all walks of life – both male and female, English speaking – though perhaps their choices are selective, depending on who they trusted or the type of food.

And so we left the streets of Kolkata and hippy grotto under the railway arch, back onto the wet and rainy streets of Loughborough Junction and Brixton – another exploration in itself, with Brixton’s African and Caribbean influences and a whole other world within London.

Further links:

http://eat.st

British Street Food Awards

Angus Denoon's blog

Masterclass at La Porte des Indes

We don’t frequent the top-end Indian restaurants in central London very often but occasionally we’ll allow ourselves an extravagant meal. La Porte des Indes, just by Marble Arch station, is one of our favourites, particularly for its Sunday buffet lunch, along with Tamarind and Bombay Brasserie.
From the outside one might remark how ordinary the restaurant looks but the doors open up to a remarkable vista. It’s set on two floors with a waterfall along one of the stairwells. The walls are adorned by original (we were told by the executive head chef) Mughal paintings from the owner’s personal collections. The interiors are full of marble and stone brought from India.

Sue and I had signed up to the monthly Masterclass which essentially comprised an hour and a half spent in the company of the head chef, demonstrating cooking a three course meal, wine pairings, a tour of the kitchens and afterwards a three course meal. After arriving and a welcome drink executive head chef Mehermosh Mody took us initially around the kitchens. This tour was around 15-20 minutes, and the highlights were a look at the 3 tandoori ovens, with another chef making a variety of breads (we tasted some of those fresh out of the oven), the large pans bubbling away with curries, and the stone spice grinders, imported from India. At that point there weren’t meals being prepared for lunch so the kitchens were fairly quiet. We were both impressed with the sense of order although this wasn’t in the midst of service, and it was probably quite cool for that reason. What struck me was the small size of the kitchen and how so many chefs would be able to work in such a confined space making food of the highest order.
After the kitchen tour we sat down in one of main rooms downstairs opposite a makeshift demonstration kitchen. We had to wait a few minutes while another group went on their kitchen tour.

Soon the executive head chef returned and began the cooking demonstration with the help of an assistant.

The three dishes this month were:
PARSEE FISH - Fillets of sole encased in a mint and coriander chutney and lightly steamed in banana leaves.
SAAG KHUMB - Leaf spinach and field mushrooms sautéed with chillies, ginger and fenugreek.
ROSE PHIRNEE - A delicious pudding with rose petal conserve, crushed basmati rice and cream.

These dishes were fairly simple to demonstrate, and delicious for us to taste. What most participants benefited from was the tips that Mehermosh gave out such as the right oils to use, and how to use spices most effectively. He also told us that it was important to try local ingredients with Indian spices – for example by using local lemon sole rather than imported pomfret for fish dishes. Spices were passed around to enable us to take in the aromas.
Before the completed dishes were passed around for us to taste the wine expert talked a little about each wine and wines generally before offering a sample with the prepared dishes. With the Parsee fish a Constantia Sauvignon Blanc from South Africa was chosen. For Sue and myself New World Sauvignon Blanc is a favourite, and the Constantia was a solid compliment to the fish, while the finish was perhaps not as intense as other Sauvignons. The wine expert chose a rose from the Rioja region of Spain to accompany the khumb saag. This wine was quite fruity and again complimented the dish well. We did not get to sample the prepared rice pudding.

After the demonstration we went upstairs for lunch. The service was perhaps not as impressive as during Sunday lunch as we seemed to have been forgotten a couple of times. Lunch was best described as a tasting menu with crab, lamb sheekh kebab, and dahl puri as starters. For mains it was a fish curry, chicken curry, and a vegetable stir fry, together with rice, raita, and naan. The desserts were a selection including chocolate mousse and the rice pudding we had seen prepared earlier. Having heard Mehermosh and the wine expert expounding the qualities of Indian wine we, slightly experimentally, chose an Indian Sauvignon Blanc to accompany our meal, but in retrospect selecting a New World wine might have been wiser.

Overall the Masterclass was a very enjoyable experience but perhaps it should not be billed as a “Masterclass”; “An Introduction to.....” might be better billing. Sue and I are not novices at cooking and Indian cooking in particular and we learnt relatively little about the principles of Indian cooking, spices and herbs. We felt most of the other participants were looking for an introduction, and did not cook Indian food at home. Unfortunately a couple of the participants kept asking rather simple, facile questions spoiling it for us - clearly not the restaurant’s fault. [I hope this doesn’t sound mean, but it really is an eye-opener how people living in a city like London can still exist in such a separate world. To almost every unfamiliar spice or ingredient came the question, ‘Can you get it in Selfridges?’ and Southall seemed somewhere they had never ever heard of].
I would rather have spent the £55 per person (which included lunch and Mehermosh Mody's cookbook) cost on Sunday buffet lunch. If you are looking for good value cooking courses I would recommend Jamie Oliver’s Recipease (www.jamieoliver.com/recipease) which has a range of cooking classes aimed at different levels and perfect for introducing oneself to new cuisines. Despite this experience I am sure we will be returning for Sunday buffet lunch at La Porte des Indes on many occasions in the future.

La Porte des Indes - 32 Bryanston Street, London W1H 7EG. Tel: 020 7224 0055

Eating saag paneer in Delhi

Food is on my mind (again).  I am still full from Sunday lunch today at Gifto's in Southall - the first visit for ages.  I start thinking of other restaurants frequented, and the Hyatt in Delhi came to mind.  This is why my diet never works and I never seem to return to the slim size 12 I was during my 20s.

This was Easter 2011.  I couldn't take much time off work (note to self: never ever do another job with only the minimum 20 days holiday/year - nightmare with a child), so Susen and me planned a short 5 day trip to Delhi.  It was a bit mad to go for just a short time, but enough to meet up with some friends and relatives, stock up on books, magazines and CDs and kurta tops and scarves from Fab India.

For me, I travel basic and light (through both choice and necessity).  The first time I went to India, it was hostels, second and third class rail travel and (very) cheap hotels.  The second time I went slightly up-market with the occasional internal plane trip and 2-3 star hotels.  With Susen, used to the finer comforts in life, it was nothing less than a 5 star, together with car and driver (fortunately arranged via a cousin who worked for the mighty Tata Corporation).

We arrived, jet-lagged late at night.  We needed to eat, so at around 3am Indian time (around 9.30pm UK time) we went to their 24 hour cafe.  Susen ordered the club sandwich and I ordered saag paneer (my favourite) with naan.  The saag paneer turned out, unexpectedly, to be a delight.  It was the creamiest spinach puree with the lightest paneer. Truly (and I don't think I was hallucinating through lack of sleep), it was almost as if you could taste the individual spices in the spinach.  The flavouring was incredibly light, delicate and yet flavourful all at the same time - a far cry from the overpowering chilli spiced offerings at many of the UK's restaurants.  Truly amazing - and to this day I haven't forgotten it (maybe I should get out more).

The breakfasts carried on in the same fashion.  Every type of breakfast catered for, buffet style, as these days you might come to expect from a 5 star - from fresh fruit juices, continental croissants and pastries, English eggs and bacon to South Indian idlis and sambhar with coriander and coconut chutney.

One afternoon, we were still too full up from breakfast for a proper lunch, so opted for a high tea, Delhi style.  This arrived on a traditional English-style 3-tiered stand: the top tier contained the smallest, most perfect samosas you had ever come across: the second tier a savoury lentil cake and the bottom tier sandwiches filled with grilled vegetables.  All accompanied by perfect [English] tea.  Followed by as much cake from their buffet selection as the room in your stomach would allow.  Amazing.

The trouble is now, I was totally spoiled at the Hyatt.  A bit like when I travelled business class from London to Hong Kong.  Suddenly everything else seems a bit of a let down.

So, back to my diet, as best as I can.  And dream of the time (after I win the lottery) of being served food as every bit as good.

A taste of Kolkata in rural Wales

When I was growing up my father bought a holiday property near Machynlleth, mid-Wales (unfortunately in the news recently because of the abduction of five year old April Jones).  I had only been a couple of times since my father’s passing but last April it felt the perfect time to make a fresh visit with Sue and her son.

We were unsure what supplies would be available locally so stocked up in particular on the essential wine from London to take with us. But we needn’t have worried, the local Co-Op had almost everything we wanted. There was a nearby swimming pool, some golf and other activities to keep us entertained. However, despite all the books and papers (and video games) we brought with us we were at a loose end occasionally.

I remembered that the town hosted a market each Wednesday. We spent too much time and money in local bookshops and bakeries. We were on our way back to our car dodging the wind and rain when I noticed to my surprise a kitchen trailer emblazoned with “A Taste of Kolkata”. We stopped more out of curiosity than anything else and ordered a couple of the house specialities: vegetarian kathi roll.

Initially I was unsure whether the woman cooking had any connection with Kolkata. We engaged in some small talk about the weather and then I told her my parents were from Kolkata. I even managed some words of Bengali to prove my bona fides. I think Sue was quite surprised at my Bengali. It transpired that the chef had grown up in Kolkata the daughter of an Indian father and a German mother. She spoke German, English, Hindi and Bengali. I believe her parents met when her father was studying in Germany.

We had ordered an aloo dum (potato curry) kathi roll together with a paneer roll. Each was delicately spiced and well cooked. The aloo dum consisted of potato, tamarind, lime, and amchoor (mango powder).  Each roti, however, was individually cooked and this took a little time which may be too long for impatient London customers but time is not so relevant in mid-Wales.

Sue was so taken with the kathi roll that she ordered books on Bengali cooking on our return to London and tried to replicate the dishes although she believes her dishes are not as good. I for one will certainly ask my cousins the next time I am in Kolkata where the best kathi rolls are available.

We are already planning our next trip to Wales and we hope the chef with her “Taste of Kolkata” kitchen will be there. Regrettably we did not take her name or contacts. (I thought she could be found on the web. She apparently lives about 6 miles from Machynlleth).  We hope we will find her again on market day in Machynlleth no matter if it’s wet and windy. If you live nearby it’s worth making a special trip. If you know who she is please send us her details in return for Gold Points.

February 2013 update: We found her website today, which can be found at http://urastreetfood.co.uk/.  The chef's name is Shirley Bose - she says she can be found in Machynlleth every Wednesday on market day.  We are planning another visit to Wales in March / April so will certainly visit her street kitchen again.

Turning up the heat

I love cooking and almost always cook from scratch. Cooking is my relaxation – preferably unhurried, accompanied by the BBC World Service (or sometimes Sunrise Radio if I am in a very Indian mood) and a glass of very chilled white wine. This would seem to put me in a dwindling category as people in the UK and all over the world change and adapt their eating and cooking habits in response to changing lifestyles. I am amazed by the number of people (men and women) who virtually do not cook in the evening after work – or at all, either eating out or buying microwave ready meals – and then probably spend their evenings watching other people cook on the TV.

Perhaps it was because I was vegetarian for many years – at a time when it was not so widespread in the UK – that I had to experiment and cook new things. Or perhaps just natural curiosity to explore the wider world. Indian food was a natural choice for me, not only because of my general interest in South Asia, but also because of the range of vegetarian food available and the ability to take relatively cheap and humble ingredients such as lentils or chick peas and turn them into tasty and nutritious dishes. Susen will still tell the story of the first time he came round to my house and I made him shingaras (samosas) from scratch. Truly, I wasn’t trying to impress! – something made me think about them and then I felt inspired to go and make them.

The trouble is that a lot of Indian food is spicy – sometimes very spicy. Similarly with Thai, Vietnamese, some Chinese and Mexican food – all of which I love experimenting with. And I really can’t eat spicy food, and it’s not for want of trying. I have been in an Indian restaurant with my Pakistani friend and she will be quite happily eating the food, thinking it is quite mild, while I am sitting there with my mouth burning and tears streaming down my face. One memorable occasion was at the Mango Tree (Thai) restaurant with Susen, where I unwittingly bit on a whole piece of chilli. I could not eat or speak for about 20 minutes until my mouth had calmed down a bit from the torture of the chilli heat. Susen will say that he was not brought up in a Bengali way, but more an English way – but still, he can tolerate chilli heat to a far greater extent that I can. Similarly my sister-in-law, who is Indonesian, will put chilli sauce on everything, even the hottest curry, otherwise she complains that it is too mild for her. My sensitivity is actually annoying for me because it means many of the foods I love experimenting with, particularly if eating out, are just out of bounds. Not only that, but chillis are supposed to be good for you, reportedly increasing your metabolic rate and making it easier to lose weight. (Evidence for this is hard to come across, but one small study seemed to indicate that compared with eating no cayenne pepper with the meal, 1g of pepper reduced salty, sweet and fatty food cravings and also increased energy expenditure [1]).

I began to wonder whether tolerance to chillis was genetic. This might explain why I, as a fair skinned Northern European type, brought up on bland food, cannot eat spicy food - whereas my Indian / Pakistani / Indonesian friends and relatives can. If all a nation’s food is spicy, then what do babies and children eat? Can they tolerate chillis as well? If so, it might make it more likely that it is genetic.

My initial research efforts, however, seemed to indicate that tolerance to chillis is not genetic, but acquired. Www.seriouseats.com even has a useful guide on ‘6 ways to build your spicy food tolerance’. In summary, these are:

1. Start small
2. Savour the flavour
3. Increase the spice – slowly
4. Keep it on the side
5. Have coolants on hand
6. Don’t force it.

On this basis, I have tried now for many years to increase my tolerance. I could say it has gone up perhaps 10%, but not much more than that. Maybe I am just not trying hard enough.

Jason Goldman, however, is on my wavelength. He writes that spiciness means pain. The sensation of spiciness is the result of the activation of pain receptors in the tongue [2] . Boy, can I testify to that! Most young children, apparently, even from cultures known for their spicy recipes, do not like capsaicin (capsaicin is the chemical in the chilli that causes the heat - found mainly in the internal membrane, not the seeds as many believe).  According to my sister-in-law, in Indonesia they cook separate, less spicy food for babies and children then gradually transition them onto spicy food.  Adult liking of capsaicin, however, seems to be almost universal, being incorporated into almost every culture (even the bland North European diet now). Furthermore, there doesn’t seem to be that much evidence that desensitisation, or tolerance actually occurs – there doesn’t seem to be a correlation between age and tolerance (which you might expect, from having eaten chillis over a longer period of time). Other researchers have commented that the oral receptors are sending the same message to the brain for both the chilli lover and the chilli hater – so those chilli-loving humans must have learnt to like the pain of the same sensation to which young children, chilli-haters and non-human animals are averse. Goldman likens this to other thrill-seeking behaviour such as rollercoasters or skydiving. Chillis give this same kind of thrill while knowing they will not cause harm. A kind of benign masochism.

So, I don’t hold out too much hope for increasing my chilli tolerance in the near future. But India as a nation of thrill-seekers and benign masochists? Now there’s a thought.

[1] Ludy MJ, Mattes RD. The effects of hedonically acceptable red pepper doses on thermogenesis and appetite. Physiology & Behavior 2011 102; 251-258, cited at http://www.nhs.uk/news/2010/04April/Pages/chilli-peppers-fat-burning-and-appetite.aspx

[2] Jason Goldman, ‘Why do we eat chilli?’ – The Guardian Science Blog, 14 Sept 2010.