Gordon Ramsay’s Great Escape: 100 of my favourite Indian recipes

Gordon Ramsay’s Great Escape: 100 of my favourite Indian recipes Gordon Ramsay In his Channel 4 series TV chef Gordon Ramsay embarks on a culinary journey around India, discovering the breadth and depth of cooking of the country. His cookbook is packed with the best recipes from his travels, showing you how to cook authentic dishes that are bursting with flavour.Three-star chef Gordon Ramsay's favourite food is one that he shares with a lot of Britain - curry. But, until now, he's never been to India to see how the real thing is cooked. Accompanied by a Channel 4 film crew, Gordon takes the culinary trip of a lifetime to discover real Indian cuisine and share this collection of over 100 of his favourite Indian dishes.As you'd expect from a Michelin-starred chef, Gordon brings his eye for perfection and ability to judge flavours perfectly to his exploration of Indian food and shows us how to cook authentic, mouth-watering dishes from all over this huge and varied country. He visits Kerala deep in the South of India to bring us spicy, coconut-based curries and travels to colourful Rajasthan to learn about the creamy, flavourful dishes of the North. Along the way Gordon experiences the hugely different flavours and spices from the different regions and absorbs local cooking styles and traditions.Throughout his culinary journey, Gordon selects the best of the vast array of Indian spices, now readily available in British supermarkets. He shows us how to use these authentically to produce a beautifully flavoured Indian dish. Gordon Ramsay's Great Escape includes over 100 recipes in the following sections: Everyday, Entertaining, Quick Lunches and Healthy Dishes.Once Gordon shows you how easy it is to put together authentic Indian dishes, you'll never look back. Gordon Ramsay’s Great Escape Food Mark Sargeant Text Emily Quah HarperCollinsPublishers Table of Contents Cover Page (#uc8d778e8-199f-5a81-8bb8-ee88124f0881) Title Page (#u1788e747-906a-557c-a980-8c48db1ee847) Introduction (#uc3d8f3a6-b912-5ea7-b954-268364cab898) Glossary (#u401957c2-ec74-572c-9eea-bc866d900c05) Starters & Snacks (#uafc0a2ab-594a-5020-aa21-4ee20dba3e87) Fish (#u7ba67476-a0ff-50b3-a02d-5ca811ace9e0) Poultry & Meat (#litres_trial_promo) Vegetarian (#litres_trial_promo) Breads & Rice (#litres_trial_promo) Chutneys & Accompaniments (#litres_trial_promo) Sweets & Drinks (#litres_trial_promo) Index (#litres_trial_promo) Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo) Cook’ Note (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Introduction (#ulink_b92ab45a-37fc-573c-8c53-81ec5690d7a5) Over 3.5 million curries are eaten in the UK each year, which shows how much Indian cuisine is now part and parcel of the British diet. My own love affair with Indian food started when my mother made me my first curry as a child. Granted, mum’s inauthentic curries were nothing like what we’re used to today – hers were mostly flavoured with curry powder with the occasional handful of sultanas thrown in – but to us the flavours seemed exotic and mesmerising and I was hooked. Since I left home and started working, Friday-night curries have become a ritual. Like most people, I have had favourite dishes, which I would order time and again, but overall I felt pretty comfortable with the food and thought that I knew quite a bit about Indian cuisine. How wrong I was! I had never been to India before this trip, and what little I knew about the country and its food was based on general stereotypes and preconceptions. I now realise that it is impossible to summarise the food of a vast subcontinent where differing cultures, religion, topography, climate and history all influence what food is eaten and how it is cooked. When the opportunity came for a culinary adventure in India, the choice was simple. This was the chance of a lifetime to escape from the grind of daily life and discover the truth about Indian cuisine. I knew that real Indian food was not to be found in fancy restaurants and hotel eateries; instead I had to travel the country and eat as ordinary Indians do, regardless of caste, class or religious differences. My journey started in the north, in the capital of New Delhi, home to 17 million residents. As I entered the city the first thing that struck me was the sheer contrast of wealth and severe poverty that was apparent everywhere, but I soon noticed that no matter what the individual situation was, almost everyone had a beaming smile. The Delhi residents also seemed to be working constantly, day and night; however, amid the hustle and bustle, I got a real sense of organised chaos that I had never experienced anywhere else before. In fact, this was the feeling I got in almost every Indian city to which I travelled, but Old Delhi was certainly a culture shock. The sights at the Red Fort were wonderful, and there were beautiful temples everywhere you looked, but, in the middle of it all, I was amazed to see rows of fragile-looking shacks that sold everything from mobile phones and shoes to food and Honda motorbikes! Navigating and crossing the streets of Delhi proved to be a big challenge. The roads were filled with maniacs who drove wherever they chose with utter disregard for any street signs, regulations or pedestrians! There was a constant echo of horns beeping the whole time as every driver felt that he had the right of way. For me, the most amusing sight had to be the occasional herd of cows meandering along the streets, oblivious to oncoming traffic, while taxis, cars, motorbikes and tuk tuks did their best to avoid hitting the sacred animals. Where food was concerned, my most memorable meal in Delhi was at the legendary Moti Mahal restaurant in Daryaganj, where classics such as tandoori chicken and butter chicken (one of my all-time favourites) were invented over 60 years ago. It was here that I met Seema Chandra, a renowned food writer and critic, who explained to me that the food in India is truly different from the Indian food that you get in Britain. This was clearly evident in the dishes at Moti Mahal: the delicious butter chicken was very moist, tender and flavour-some – unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. According to Seema, real Indian food is found on the streets and in family homes. Indians have not historically had a big restaurant culture, although this has now changed, and (for those who can afford it) eating out has become a popular pastime. Many homes have servants or mothers and grandmothers who prepare fresh, delicious meals for the entire family three times a day. Workers who do not have time to go home for lunch pick up cheap, delicious street food to sustain them until they can get home for dinner; children bring their lunches to school carefully packed in multi-tiered tiffin carriers, and shoppers indulge in street snacks before going home for their main meals. This emphasis on traditional home cooking means that recipes have been passed down from generation to generation and have seldom been well recorded, so if I wanted to get a true flavour of Indian cookery, I needed to roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty. One of the first things I learnt was that food is very important in India. Even the very poor will find a way to eat well with cheap but delicious meals. I understood this on board the Mangalore Express, on my way to Lucknow, the foremost city of food and culture. To earn my fare I was given an apron and immediately set on the task of prepping vegetables in the train cafeteria. There, a team of five chefs and 20 waiters make and serve fresh meals to over 400 passengers each day. For an equivalent of ?110 a month, the chefs work 10 hours a day, 6 days a week in the most challenging of work environments. Pots constantly rattled and the portable stove shifted with the movements of the train. Nonetheless, they took great care to produce hot, tasty and satisfying meals for the masses – a far cry from the pitiful, factory-made train food we have in the UK. Lucknow was another revelation in terms of food. The city is famous for its exquisite cuisine and it is known as the birthplace of the korma and biryani. The original korma is a totally different dish from the British version, made lighter with yoghurt instead of cream and thickened with a paste made from ground almonds instead of coconut milk. The resulting dish was absolutely delicious, but it was a dark brownish-red colour instead of the creamy yellow to which we are accustomed. More remarkable were the biryanis, served at every festival and celebration. I had the privilege of spending a day with master chef, Imtiaz Qureshi, who in his heyday had catered for over 50,000 guests for a single event. We cooked dum ba biryani, a complex dish sophisticated enough to serve emperors and maharajahs. Similar in concept to a three-bird roast, this dish entailed two whole goats, four chickens and four quails stuffed with saffron-marinated quails’ eggs. The stuffed goats were then placed on a bed of biryani rice and meatballs, and the cooking pot was sealed with pastry to capture the aromatic flavours of the dish as it was finished off. A truly amazing biryani that you are unlikely to find in any cookery book (so I just had to include it in this one, see page 179)! After experiencing the rich and indulgent food of the north, I went in search of back-to-basics cooking, and in unfamiliar territories. My travels took me to the poor, remote district of Bastar in the central state of Chhattisgarh. Here the local speciality is chakra, a delicious hot and tangy chutney made with chopped red chillies, salt, ground fresh ginger and a secret key ingredient: local ants! For obvious reasons I haven’t included the recipe in this book, but the local tribe has taught me what it really means to live off the resources of the land. Every single ingredient is sourced locally, and with the lack of refrigeration there is a strong emphasis on fresh produce. This simple and honest approach to food was echoed in Nagaland and Assam, two of the Seven Sister States I visited in the remote northeastern corner of India. Dried spices, so ubiquitous in mainstream Indian cooking, are virtually absent from recipes there; instead, fresh chillies, ginger and garlic are the predominant flavourings. Meat and fish are hunted and cooked on the bone, resulting in very little wastage, and every part of an animal is eaten. I was also intrigued by the prevalent use of bamboo shoots in Nagaland, both in the fresh, smoked and dried forms, which link the cuisine to those of neighbouring China and Myanmar. Naturally, rice is the staple food of the region, and it comes in various forms. A local favourite is glutinous rice roasted in segments of fresh bamboo over an open fire. Talk about low-impact eco-cooking! Next, my travels took me to the coastal areas of Kerala. With its beautiful and lush waterways, it is a much calmer and more relaxed part of India – exactly what I needed after an exhausting couple of weeks criss-crossing the country. Naturally, rice and fish are their staples, but as there is a sizeable Syrian Christian population in the area, pork and beef were also back on the menu. The food is lighter, as coconut milk is used in place of butter and cream, and more fragrant with the liberal use of spices and fresh curry leaves. One of the tastiest dishes I tried was karimeen pollichathu (see page 70). Karimeen is a much loved local freshwater fish, dubbed the ‘Fish of Kerala’, and in this dish it is smothered with a spice paste and roasted in banana leaves. The fish had a sublime flavour that reminded me of a sweet Dover sole; it is a real shame we can’t get it in England. No trip to Kerala is complete without a visit to a spice market, and I was extremely impressed with the multi-coloured markets of Cochin. The image of giant piles of ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, cardamom and saffron (as well as the intoxicating fragrance) will always be embedded in my memory. Standing in the middle of the market was a defining moment for me, it was then that I realised that one of the most important things to learn about Indian cooking is the delicate art of spicing. Although the use of various spices differs according to the region, religious beliefs or simply personal preference, the creative use of spice is what binds all Indian food together. Indian dishes may not always blow your head off in terms of heat (although many will), but they will always be fragrant and flavourful. The secret is in understanding how to draw out the natural flavours of a spice or change its characteristic and basic flavour profile – either through frying in oil, dry roasting or grinding – and using it to enhance the central ingredients of a dish. Spice combinations cannot be taught; you have to taste and experiment as you go along and learn from trial and error. My culinary adventure ended in Mumbai (formerly known as Bombay), the capital of India. The city is such a key economic and cultural hub that nearly 200 different languages or dialects are spoken throughout the metropolis. At first glance it was disheartening to see the vast, seemingly never-ending stretches of slums surrounding the city. (Apparently, 55 per cent of the city’s population lives in shanty-towns or slums.) On closer inspection, however, it was amazing to see a thriving community working and living within the buildings with their corrugated-iron roofs. I spent a day in the Dharavi slum, home to more than a million people, learning how to make sambar from an enterprising chef and caterer aptly called Sambar Mani. Sambar is a classic lentil and vegetable dish that is delicious, light and nourishing (see page 213). It is one of the most loved vegetarian dishes in South India, and it is eaten with either plain rice or steamed fermented rice cakes called idli. I was truly impressed with the care and attention to detail that went into making the sambar. Most importantly, the dish tasted fantastic (even to a die-hard carnivore like myself) and is far superior to any vegetarian food we have in Britain. My wife, Tana, has been trying to get the family to have a meat-free day once a week, and with food like this I’m sure she would come up with little resistance. My final challenge, the culmination of this whole trip, was to cook a southern Indian feast for 25 high-society guests at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in Mumbai. As many people will remember, the hotel was badly bombed and attacked by terrorists in 2008. It was amazing to see how they have bounced back after such a terrible show of aggression, and what I found there was a passionate and thriving business. I decided to cook a trio of karimeen dishes for the main course. (One of the benefits of doing a television programme is that I had the luxury of being able to have fish flown in from Kerala.) The dishes were made with Indian spicing, of course, but with slight European twists in the cooking methods. I was glad that the guests loved the food, but on a personal level I felt that I had come full circle. I may not have covered every classic dish of every region during my relatively short culinary tour (indeed this book contains some recipes that were simply inspired by my travels and some of these classic dishes), but the knowledge that I have gained from the trip is immense. I am truly grateful to all those people who entertained, inspired and put up with me during what was, I can safely say, the most exciting thing I have ever done. India is a place of passion – both for food and for life. The cuisine is reflective of the people and culture, which is wonderful, vibrant and multi-faceted. I will never forget my time in this incredible country, and I can’t wait to return. Glossary (#ulink_37f6891a-2f30-5a39-a6a9-c77a5c66e601) Ajwain – Also known as carom seeds, ajwain resemble small cumin seeds but they have a strong fragrance of thyme and a slightly bitter and pungent flavour. They are always roasted in the oven or fried in oil or butter in Indian cooking. Amchur/Amchoor – Green mango powder made by grinding pitted unripe mangoes that have been left to dry out in the sun. It has a greyish colour and a distinctive tart flavour, hence its use as a souring agent for food. It does not require cooking but may be added to dishes or sprinkled over snacks in place of lemon juice or vinegar. Asafoetida (Hing/Heeng in Hindi) – A spice made from the resinous gum of the Ferula assafoetida plant. Mostly sold in powdered form, asafoetida is used in tiny quantities as a digestive aid to fight off indigestion and flatulence. It is often added to dishes at the beginning of the cooking process to be cooked out with other spices. Raw asafoetida has a very pungent, rather disagreeable odour that seems to disappear once cooked to leave a mellow, slightly sweet tang that is similar to that of roasted onions and garlic. Because it is not widely sold in supermarkets and you would only use a pinch in any dish, I have made it optional in the recipes here. Atta/Chapatti flour – A wholewheat flour rich in fibre and protein that is used to make many classic unleavened Indian breads, such as chapatti and paratha. It can be bought from specialist Indian shops and some major supermarkets. If you can’t find it, use equal quantities of wholemeal and plain flours. Chaat masala – A dry spice blend with a distinctive sour flavour that is mostly used as a condiment. It is often sprinkled over Indian snacks, raw fruit salads and tandoori dishes, and it can also be used to ‘liven’ up fruit juices. The specific blend of spices may vary according to the brand (or individual tastes) but chaat masala usually consists of dried mango powder, dried ginger, black salt, ground dried mint and asafoetida. Ready-made packets are widely available at Asian grocers. Chai – A generic Hindi word for tea, but outside of India chai is commonly used to imply masala chai, a popular Indian-spiced milk tea. Channa dal – Also known as cholar dal in Bengali, these are skinned and split black gram – they look and taste similar to yellow split peas, but the grains are marginally smaller. They have an earthy and nutty flavour. If you can’t get hold of them, use yellow split peas instead. Coconut oil – An oil used commonly in southern Indian cooking that has been extracted from coconuts by a process of distillation. It is white in colour when solid but becomes transparent when heated. It has a high burning point, which makes it suitable for frying foods. It is high in saturated fats, and so for health reasons some people prefer to substitute it with other vegetable oils. Garam masala – An aromatic spice blend that is used both during the cooking process, for a subtle fragrance, and as a garnish, where it is lightly sprinkled over a finished dish to give an added burst of aroma and flavour. Garam means ‘warming’ or ‘hot’ and the blend commonly includes cardamom seeds, cumin or black cumin seeds, nutmeg, black peppercorns, cloves and cinnamon, coriander and fennel seeds, although recipes vary significantly from region to region. Ready-made garam masala is easily found in supermarkets and Asian shops, but some brands tend to bulk up the ingredients with cheaper spices such as ground cumin and coriander. Ghee – This is essentially clarified butter, which features heavily in northern Indian cooking. You can buy it ready-made in tins at Asian grocers, but I find these have a strong, overpowering aroma. To clarify butter, melt it gently, then pour off the oil through a muslin-lined sieve and discard the milky solids. For health reasons, many Indians now mainly cook with vegetable oil, but they will add a little unsalted butter or ghee to flavour and enrich a dish. Gram flour – Also known as besan, this is made from finely ground chickpeas or channa dal. It is used in Indian cooking for a variety of purposes, such as soups and curries, and it is an integral part of the batter for bhajis and pakoras. Grated coconut – Freshly grated coconut is often called for in Indian cooking. To extract the flesh from a coconut, crack it with the back of a strong cleaver or using a hammer. Drain off the coconut water (or save to drink later). You should have two halves of the coconut. Prise out the white flesh with a strong spoon then finely shred or grate using a food processor. Grated coconut can be frozen successfully for at least a month. Jaggery – An unrefined natural sugar made from the concentrated sap of the date palm. It lends a distinctive sweet taste to both sweet and savoury dishes. Usually sold in solid blocks, jaggery is often grated before it is incorporated into dishes. The darker the colour of the jaggery, the stronger the flavour. You can substitute it with palm sugar or light brown soft sugar. Kalonji – Also known as nigella seeds, these are black onion seeds with a teardrop shape. Kalonji is frequently used in pickles, chutneys and fish dishes as well as sprinkled on to Indian flat breads. Karahi – A large, all-purpose rounded pan that is an essential piece of equipment in an Indian kitchen. It is particularly useful for deep-frying as it allows you to use less oil than you would when using a regular saucepan. If you do not already own a karahi, a wok makes a very good substitute. Mustard oil – The oil extracted from mustard seeds, this has a pungent and slightly bitter taste when raw. Once heated, it develops a distinctive sweet flavour. An acquired taste, it is most commonly used in Bengali cooking for pickling and cooking fish and vegetables. If you can’t find it, substitute it with vegetable or groundnut oil. Panch phoran – A Bengali spice blend made up of equal quantities of whole fennel seeds, fenugreek seeds, black mustard seeds, cumin seeds and nigella or black onion seeds. Paneer – This fresh, unsalted curd cheese is widely used in both sweet and savoury Indian dishes. Paneer is very easy to make, requiring only whole milk and either lemon juice or vinegar. The milk is heated almost to boiling point, then removed from the heat and a little lemon juice or vinegar is stirred in. The milk will curdle or separate, and at this point the liquid is strained and hung for a few hours to remove the watery whey, leaving behind the fresh curd. Paneer is best made on the day it is to be eaten. Rosewater – Made from distilled rose petals, rosewater is produced as a by-product of the process used to make rose oil. The widespread use of rosewater in Indian cooking comes from Persian influence; it is commonly sprinkled over biryani or pilau rice to lend a perfumed aroma to the dish. Tamarind – Used as a souring agent in Indian cooking, particularly in the south, tamarind pulp is usually sold in blocks. To get tamarind pur?e, soak the tamarind pulp in water (roughly double the volume of water to weight of pulp) for at least 30 minutes. You should break the tamarind block up with your hands to achieve maximum flavour before straining the pur?e through a sieve and discarding the husks. More convenient but less flavour-some ready-made tamarind paste is now widely sold in jars in major supermarkets. Tuvar dal – Dark ochre-coloured split and skinned pigeon pea lentils with a mild nutty and earthy flavour. These versatile lentils are very popular in Indian cooking and are a good source of protein and fibre. Urad dal – Black gram usually sold split and skinned to reveal the yellow lentils inside. Urad dal is ground with rice to make the classic southern Indian dosa. It is also often fried in small quantities to give a nutty crunch to vegetable or rice dishes. Starters & snacks (#ulink_b1f592bb-d280-5d88-b546-0e83be3b76aa) Malai chicken kebabs Galouti kebabs Paneer tikka kebabs Spiced tomato and coconut soup Spicy prawn pakoras Prawn koftas Maharashtrian white bean patties Lamb, cumin and mint samosas Mixed vegetable samosas Aubergine bhajis Bombay potato cakes Cottage cheese and sweetcorn fritters Spicy vegetable and paneer wraps Aloo dahi puri Malai chicken kebabs SERVES 4–6 500g boneless and skinless chicken breasts sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 6-8 bamboo skewers 1 red pepper 1 yellow or orange pepper 2 tbsp ghee or melted unsalted butter MARINADE 150ml double cream or soured cream 2 cardamom pods, split and seeds finely crushed 3cm ginger, peeled and finely grated 3 large garlic cloves, peeled and finely crushed 2 tbsp gram flour 1 tsp garam masala 1 tsp dried mango powder 1 tsp ground cumin / tsp ground turmeric 2 mild green chillies, deseeded and finely chopped These Punjabi chicken kebabs come from the northwest of India and are traditionally cooked in a hot tandoor. The kebabs are fairly mild, which makes them suitable for serving to a young family. To turn them into a main meal, serve with fluffy basmati rice or soft flat breads such as puri or naan, a sweet and sour chutney and some side vegetable dishes. Cut the chicken into 2.5-3cm cubes. In a large bowl, mix together all the ingredients for the marinade and season well with salt and pepper. Add the chicken pieces to the marinade and mix well to ensure that every piece is well coated. Cover the bowl with cling film and chill for a few hours, preferably overnight. Soak 6–8 bamboo skewers in cold water for at least 20 minutes. When ready to cook, heat the grill to the highest setting. Halve the peppers and remove and discard the seeds. Cut the peppers into small cubes the same size as the chicken pieces. Thread the chicken pieces and peppers alternately on to the soaked bamboo skewers and place on a lightly oiled baking tray. Grill for about 8–10 minutes, basting, turning and basting again with the ghee or butter a couple of times during cooking. The chicken should be just firm when lightly pressed. Serve the chicken kebabs on shredded lettuce leaves with a few lemon wedges and a raita on the side. Galouti kebabs SERVES 4-5 500g minced lamb leg 1 tsp grated ginger 2 tbsp chopped coriander leaves and stems / tsp ground cloves / tsp ground cinnamon / tsp ground mace 1 cardamom pod, seeds ground 1 tsp hot chilli powder, or to taste 2 tbsp ground almonds pinch of saffron strands 2 tbsp fresh pineapple juice (or finely grated raw papaya) 1 tsp rosewater sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 tbsp ghee or melted unsalted butter 1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped 3-4 tbsp gram (or plain) flour 2 tbsp vegetable oil Galouti means ‘melt in the mouth’, and these delicious lamb patties come from Uttar Pradesh, a region renowned for its kebabs. Good-quality minced lamb is marinated with ground spice and fresh pineapple juice or grated raw papaya, which contain enzymes that tenderise the meat. I like to serve the kebabs on warm naan breads with Spicy green chutney (see page 215), sliced onions, and tomatoes and cucumbers lightly dressed with lemon juice. Put the lamb in a large mixing bowl with the ginger, coriander, ground spices, chilli powder and ground almonds. Soak the saffron in the pineapple juice for a few minutes, then add to the lamb mixture with the rosewater and some salt and pepper. (If using grated raw papaya, soak the saffron in a little milk or water instead.) Mix well with your hands, if you find it easier. Cover the bowl with cling film and chill. Heat the ghee or butter in a saucepan. Add the onion and season, then cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until the onion is soft and translucent but not browned. Take the pan off the heat and leave to cool completely. Once cooled, add the cooked onion to the lamb and mix well. To check for adequate seasoning, fry off a teaspoonful of the mixture to taste. Cover the bowl again and chill for another 4–5 hours or overnight. Shape the lamb mixture into 15–16 small patties with damp hands, then lightly coat each patty in gram flour. Heat the oil in a wide, non-stick frying pan and fry the patties in several batches for about 2-2 / minutes on each side until golden brown, keeping each batch warm in a low oven. Enjoy the kebabs while they are still hot. Paneer tikka kebabs MAKES 6 6 bamboo skewers 225g paneer, cut into 2.5cm cubes 1 large onion, peeled and cut into 2.5cm cubes 1 red pepper, cored, deseeded and cut into 2.5cm cubes 2 tbsp ghee or melted unsalted butter MARINADE 2.5cm ginger, peeled and finely grated / tsp hot chilli powder, or to taste 1 tsp carom seeds 1 tsp dried mango powder 1 tsp ground cumin 1 tsp garam masala / tsp fine sea salt 1 tbsp gram flour 100ml thick natural yoghurt This quick snack requires little effort and the paneer provides a great source of protein for vegetarians. Most Indian households would make their own paneer, as the process is really simple, but many UK supermarkets now sell it ready-made in convenient blocks. Tandoori food, under which these kebabs are classified, are best cooked in the traditional, hot, domed tandoor oven to create a smoky flavour, but for domestic cooking a griddle pan, barbecue or a searing hot grill can be used to create similar results. Soak 6 bamboo skewers in cold water for at least 20 minutes. Tip the paneer cubes into a large bowl along with the onion and pepper cubes. In a small bowl, mix together all the ingredients for the marinade until evenly combined. Pour the marinade over the paneer and vegetables and mix well. If you have time, leave them to marinate in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. Thread the paneer on to the soaked skewers, alternating with the onion and pepper chunks. Heat a lightly oiled griddle pan until hot (or preheat the grill to the highest setting). Griddle or grill the skewers for 3–5 minutes on each side, basting with ghee or melted butter several times, until they are deliciously smoky and charred at the edges. Serve straight away with some warm naan or chapatti breads and some Spicy green or Sweet tamarind chutney (see pages 215 and 217). Spiced tomato and coconut soup SERVES 4 500g tomatoes 2 tbsp vegetable oil 1 large onion, peeled and chopped 2.5cm ginger, peeled and chopped 2 large garlic cloves, peeled and chopped sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped / tsp dried fenugreek, crushed with a pinch of salt 1 bay leaf 1 tsp ground turmeric 1 tsp ground cumin 100g tomato pur?e 400ml tin coconut milk pinch of sugar (optional) 1 tbsp coconut or vegetable oil 1 tsp cumin seeds pinch of asafoetida (optional) handful of coriander leaves and 2 tbsp toasted flaked coconut, to garnish (optional) This is my take on rasam, a spicy South Indian tomato soup, which is generally served with rice as a second course, following an appetising dish of sambar (see page 213). It is thought that our much loved mulligatawny soup is a derivative of rasam, although we have, through the years, toned down the heat level to suit tamer British palates. For this soup, it is better to use cheap cooking tomatoes that are flavourful but slightly sour, as this provides an astringency to balance the slightly sweet and creamy coconut milk. Bring a pan of water to the boil. Lightly score a cross at the top and base of each tomato then lower them into the boiling water for 15–20 seconds. Remove with a slotted spoon and refresh in a bowl of iced water. Once cooled, peel off the skins of the tomato and roughly chop the flesh. Set aside. Heat the oil in a medium saucepan and add the onion, ginger and garlic. Add a pinch of salt and some pepper and sweat for 4–5 minutes until the onion begins to soften. Add the chillies, fenugreek, bay leaf, turmeric and cumin and cook for another 3–4 minutes. Tip in the chopped tomatoes and tomato pur?e and stir well. Pour in the coconut milk and use the tin to measure out an equal amount of water. Add this to the pan and bring to a simmer. Cook gently for about 15–20 minutes until the tomatoes are very soft and have broken down. Pur?e the soup using a stick blender (or an ordinary one) and if you want a really smooth result, push the pur?e through a fine sieve into a clean pan. Season well to taste with salt and black pepper, adding a pinch of sugar if it tastes too acidic from the tomatoes. If you prefer a thinner soup, dilute it with some boiling water and adjust the seasoning. When you are ready to serve, reheat the soup. In a small saucepan, heat the coconut or vegetable oil and add the cumin seeds and asafoetida, if using. As they begin to pop, take the pan off the heat and pour the spiced oil into the tomato soup. Stir well. Ladle into warm bowls and garnish with coriander leaves and toasted flaked coconut, if you wish. Serve immediately. Spicy prawn pakoras SERVES 4 350g raw prawns, shell on 2 green chillies, deseeded and very finely chopped 3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely crushed vegetable oil, for deep-frying BATTER 150g gram (or plain) flour / tsp sea salt / tsp ground turmeric / tsp cumin seeds / tsp ground coriander / tsp garam masala 100–125ml warm water I like to think of pakoras as the Indian equivalent of the Japanese tempura. They typically consist of fish, meat or vegetables that are coated in a batter made from spiced gram (chickpea) flour and then deep-fried until golden brown. These prawn pakoras are especially delicious with a Spicy green or Tomato and cucumber chutney (see pages 215 and 224). Shell and devein the prawns, leaving the tails intact. Place them in a bowl and toss with the chopped chillies and garlic. Next, make the batter by mixing the flour, salt and spices together in a large bowl. Make a well in the centre and add just enough of the warm water to form a thick, smooth paste with a slow-dropping consistency. Leave to stand for a few minutes. Preheat the oven to the lowest setting and heat 6cm of oil in a karahi or deep saucepan to 170–180°C. One at a time, hold the prawns by their tails, dip them in the spicy batter mix to coat, then drop them into the hot oil. Fry for 3–4 minutes, turning once, until crisp and golden brown all over. Drain on a baking tray lined with kitchen paper and keep warm in the oven while you cook the rest. Serve immediately while they are still hot. Prawn koftas SERVES 4 450g prawns, peeled and deveined sea salt and freshly ground black pepper handful of coriander leaves and stalks 2 medium onions, peeled and very finely chopped 2 green chillies, deseeded and finely chopped 75g dried breadcrumbs vegetable oil, for shallow-frying SAUCE 1 tbsp vegetable oil 20g unsalted butter 1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped 3cm ginger, peeled and finely grated 2 tsp garam masala 1 heaped tsp ground turmeric 400ml tin coconut milk 150ml water These delectable prawn koftas are served with a lightly spiced sauce, which is delicious soaked up with warm flat breads. They can be eaten as a side dish, but I like them as a substantial snack. Put the prawns in a food processor along with a pinch each of salt and pepper. Finely chop the coriander stalks, saving the leaves to garnish the dish. Add the chopped stems to the food processor along with a third of the onions. Pulse the ingredients for a few seconds until the prawns are finely chopped but not pur?ed. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the remaining onions and chopped chillies. Fry a small ball of the mixture and taste to check the seasoning. Using wet hands, roll the mixture into walnut-sized balls and coat them in the breadcrumbs. Heat 4cm of oil in a wide pan until hot. In batches, fry the prawn koftas until golden brown all over, turning once halfway. Lift them out with a slotted spoon and drain on a plate lined with kitchen paper. To make the sauce, heat the vegetable oil and butter in a saucepan. Add the onion, ginger and a pinch of salt and saut? for 3–4 minutes. Add the garam masala and turmeric and stir frequently for another 3–4 minutes to cook out the rawness of the spice. Pour in the coconut milk and water and bring to a simmer. Cook until the sauce has reduced by a third and thickened. Add the prawn koftas to the pan and gently stir once to coat them in the sauce. Simmer for a few minutes until they are heated through. Transfer to a warm bowl and serve garnished with coriander leaves. Maharashtrian white bean patties MAKES 8–10 150g dried white beans (such as haricot or butter beans), soaked in water overnight 4 tbsp vegetable oil, plus extra for frying 1 tsp black mustard seeds 1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 tsp ground turmeric / tsp garam masala / tsp cayenne pepper (or chilli powder), to taste 1 tsp ground coriander pinch of asafoetida (optional) 1 large potato, about 300g, peeled and diced handful of coriander leaves, chopped 1–2 tbsp plain flour, plus extra to dust These little bean cakes, called pavta patties, are generally made with dried lima beans in India, but as these are hard to find here, use any other white bean. To save time, you can use tinned beans, but they are no match for the flavour and texture of dried ones. Drain the beans and place in a saucepan with 1 litre of water. Bring to the boil and skim off the surface froth. Reduce the heat and simmer for 1–1 / hours until the beans are soft but not mushy. Drain well, reserving a little cooking water, and tip into a food processor. Blend to a fine pur?e, adding a little reserved water as necessary. Set aside. Heat half the oil in a pan and add the mustard seeds. When they begin to pop, add the onion and seasoning. Sweat over a medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 4–6 minutes until the onion is soft. Add the turmeric, garam masala, cayenne pepper or chilli powder, ground coriander and asafoetida, if using. Fry for a few minutes until the spices are fragrant. Add the remaining oil and the potato and stir. Add a splash of water and cover the pan. Steam for 8–10 minutes over a low-to-medium heat, stirring once or twice, until the potatoes are soft. Tip in the pur?ed beans and chopped coriander. Lightly mash together using a potato masher. Taste and adjust the seasoning. If the mixture is too wet, add a little flour to get a fairly stiff dough. Leave to cool. Shape the mixture into small fishcake-like patties and dust with a little flour. Heat a thin layer of oil in a wide frying pan until hot. In batches, fry the patties for 4–5 minutes until golden brown all over. Drain on kitchen paper and serve warm with a sweet-and-sour chutney. Lamb, cumin and mint samosas MAKES 12–14 PASTRY 225g plain or gram flour 1 / tsp fine sea salt 1 tsp black onion seeds, toasted 1 tbsp vegetable oil (or melted unsalted butter), plus extra to brush 5-6 tbsp warm water FILLING 1-2 tbsp vegetable oil 1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped 2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped 2.5cm ginger, peeled and finely grated 1 tsp mild curry powder / tsp hot chilli powder 1 tsp ground tumeric 1 tsp ground cumin 500g minced lamb sea salt and ground pepper to taste 100g peas, thawed if frozen 1 tsp dried mango powder (or 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice) 1 mild green chilli, deseeded and finely diced handful of mint leaves, chopped These samosas are equally delicious deep-fried, which encourages their pastry casing to puff up and blister slightly. However, I have baked these in the oven as an alternative (and healthier) way of cooking them. To make the pastry, combine the flour, salt and black onion seeds in a large bowl. Make a well in the centre and add the oil and 5 tablespoons of warm water. Mix with a butter knife to form a dough, adding more water if the mixture seems too dry. Tip onto a lightly floured work surface and knead for 5–10 minutes to a smooth dough. Cover with cling film and leave to rest in a cool place for 30 minutes. To prepare the filling, heat the oil in a karahi or a wide pan over a medium-to-high heat. Add the onion, garlic, ginger, curry and chilli powders and ground spices. Fry for a few minutes until the onion begins to soften and the spices are fragrant. Add the lamb mince and a generous pinch each of salt and pepper. Stir-fry for 4–5 minutes until the mince is golden brown. Add the peas and dried mango powder or lemon juice and cook for a further minute before stirring in the chopped chilli and mint. Taste and adjust the seasoning, then transfer to a wide bowl and leave to cool. Preheat the oven to 220°C/Fan 200°C/Gas 7. Divide the pastry into 6–7 equal pieces. Make each piece into a ball then roll out to a circle of about 15cm. Cut each circle into 2 equal halves. Working with one at a time, brush the cut edge of the semi-circle with a little water and form a cone shape, sealing the edge. Fill each cone with the filling up to 1cm from the top. Brush the pastry edges with water and press together to seal the cone. Place on a baking tray lined with baking parchment and repeat to make the remaining samosas. (You could also form them into teardrop shapes to make a change from the typical triangular ones.) Brush all over each samosa with a little oil or melted butter and arrange on a lightly oiled baking tray. Bake the samosas for 14–16 minutes until golden brown and the pastry is crisp. Remove from the oven, cool for a few minutes and serve while still hot. Mixed vegetable samosas MAKES 12–14 PASTRY 225g plain or gram flour, plus extra to dust 1 / tsp fine sea salt 1 tbsp vegetable oil, plus extra for deep-frying 5-6 tbsp warm water FILLING 2 tbsp vegetable oil 2 medium onions, peeled and finely chopped 1 large waxy potato, about 250–300g, peeled 1 medium carrot, peeled 1 large garlic clove, peeled and finely chopped 250g mixed mushrooms, cleaned and sliced 75g peas, thawed if frozen 2 tsp ground coriander 1 tsp ground cumin / tsp mild chilli powder / tsp garam masala pinch of caster sugar sea salt and freshly ground black pepper handful of coriander, finely chopped Samosas come in a variety of shapes and sizes and have different names (such as shingara in Bengali), depending on the region or state from which they come. Some that I tried in India resembled rough, misshapened cones rather than the triangular pasties to which we are accustomed in Britain. Vegetarian samosas tend to be the most popular for light snacking, filled with any selection of vegetables and spices. If you are short of time, make these samosas using store-bought filo pastry, which will produce a lighter crust. For a golden and crisp finish, bake these with generous brushings of melted butter. To make the pastry, combine the flour and salt in a large bowl. Make a well in the centre and add the oil and 6 tablespoons of warm water. Mix with a butter knife to form a dough, adding more water if the mixture seems too dry. Tip on to a lightly floured work surface and knead for 5–10 minutes to a smooth dough. Cover with cling film and leave to rest in a cool place for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, prepare the filling. Heat the oil over a medium heat in a karahi or a wide pan. Saut? the onions for 3–4 minutes, stirring frequently until they soften. Cut the potato and carrot into 1cm dice, tip into the pan and fry for another 4 minutes. Add the remaining ingredients, except the fresh coriander, and season well. Stir-fry for a few minutes until the vegetables are tender and the spices no longer taste raw. Mix in the chopped coriander, transfer to a wide bowl and leave to cool completely. Divide the pastry into 6–7 equal pieces. Make each piece into a ball then roll out to a circle of about 15cm. Cut each circle into two equal halves. Working with one at a time, brush the cut edge of the semi-circle with a little water and form a cone shape, sealing the edge. Fill each cone with the filling up to 1cm from the top. Brush the pastry edges with water and press together to seal the cone. Place on a baking tray lined with baking parchment and repeat to make the remaining samosas. Preheat the oven to its lowest setting and heat 6cm of oil in a deep saucepan (or a deep-fryer) to 170°C. Deep-fry the samosas in batches for 4–6 minutes, turning them over halfway, until they are golden brown and crisp. Drain on a baking tray lined with kitchen paper and keep warm in the oven while you fry the rest. Serve warm. Aubergine bhajis MAKES 12–14 1 tsp fine sea salt 1 tsp ground turmeric 1 tsp cayenne pepper / tsp freshly ground black pepper 1 medium aubergine, about 350g, cut in half lengthways then into 1cm cubes 1 tbsp vegetable oil, plus extra for deep-frying 1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped BATTER 150g gram (or plain) flour / tsp fine sea salt 1 tsp ground turmeric 1 tsp toasted cumin seeds 75–100ml warm water We are most familiar with onion bhajis here in the UK, and these aubergine fritters are a delicious alternative. The word bhajia, literally meaning ‘fried’, has been anglicised to the bhaji or bhajee that we recognise today. The fritters are made with a batter very similar to that used to make pakoras, but here it does not coat the main ingredient, instead the vegetable is finely chopped and mixed through the batter. You can try making the fritters with other vegetables such as courgettes, cauliflower or even okra. First, make the batter by combining the flour, salt, turmeric and cumin seeds in a large bowl. Gradually stir in enough water to get a thick batter with a slow-dropping consistency. Leave to stand for a few minutes while you prepare the vegetables. In a small bowl, combine the salt, turmeric, cayenne and black pepper. Sprinkle this over the aubergine and toss to coat. Heat a tablespoon of oil in a large pan and saut? the onion with a pinch of seasoning for 6–8 minutes until golden brown. Add the aubergine and cook for 3–4 minutes or until it has softened. Remove the pan from the heat and cool slightly. Tip the aubergine and onion mixture into the batter and mix well. Preheat the oven to the lowest setting and heat 6cm of oil in a deep saucepan (or deep-fryer) to 180°C. Gently drop spoonfuls of the bhaji mixture into the hot oil and fry in batches for 4–6 minutes until evenly golden brown and crisp. Drain on a baking tray lined with kitchen paper and keep warm while you fry the rest. Serve hot and crisp with Sweet tamarind and Spicy green chutneys (see pages 217 and 215). Bombay potato cakes MAKES 10 75g urad dal 3 medium potatoes, about 750g, peeled and cut into large chunks 1 tsp garam masala juice of / lemon sea salt and freshly ground black pepper FILLING 2–3 tbsp vegetable oil, plus extra for frying 3cm ginger, peeled and finely grated 2 green chillies, deseeded and finely chopped 1 tsp mild chilli powder 1 tsp cumin seeds, roasted and ground / tsp ground turmeric / tsp ground coriander 2 tsp dried mango powder 2 tbsp sultanas or raisins 50g peas, thawed if frozen plain flour, for dusting Aloo tikki or potato cakes are one of the most popular snacks in India and they are commonly sold as street snacks, cooked to order on hot portable griddles. My version includes fresh peas and urad dal (split and skinned black gram), which adds texture to the cakes. Rinse the urad dal in several changes of cold water then soak in a bowl of water for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, boil the potatoes in a pan of well-salted water for 10–15 minutes until tender when pierced with a knife. Drain well and mash while hot with a potato ricer. Stir in the garam masala, lemon juice and seasoning to taste. Leave to cool. Meanwhile, make the filling. Heat 2–3 tablespoons of oil in a pan. Except for the peas and flour, add all the remaining ingredients to the pan with the drained urad dal and stir-fry for 3–4 minutes until fragrant. If necessary, add a little splash of water to prevent the ingredients sticking to the base of the pan and burning. Finally, tip in the peas and season well. Stir for another couple of minutes until the peas are just cooked through. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and leave to cool completely. Shape large spoonfuls of the mashed potato into ten balls. Working with one at a time, flatten the ball to a circle, about 3.5cm wide, and place a teaspoonful of filling in the centre. Fold the edges together to seal in the filling, then shape into a fishcake-like patty. Dust lightly with flour then place on a plate dusted with flour. Heat a thin layer of oil in a wide non-stick frying pan. Fry the patties for 2–3 minutes each side until golden brown. (You may need to do this in several batches.) Drain on kitchen paper and serve with a Tomato and cucumber chutney or Green mango chutney (see pages 224 and 206). Cottage cheese and sweetcorn fritters MAKES 12–14 200g fresh sweetcorn kernels (or drained tinned ‘sweetcorn) 2 tbsp vegetable oil, plus extra for deep-frying 2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped 1.5cm ginger, peeled and grated 1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped sea salt 200ml whole milk 100g curd or cottage cheese 1 green chilli, deseeded and finely chopped 1 tsp ground cumin 1 tsp dried mango powder 2 tbsp chopped coriander 150g gram (or plain) flour I am a big fan of these fritters; they are ideal starters as they have a good balance of mildly hot, sweet and savoury flavours to whet the appetite. You can use any fresh cheese in the batter. I have made these fritters with homemade paneer and even left some of the sweetcorn kernels whole for extra texture. Put the corn kernels into a food processor and blend to a rough pur?e. Scrape into a bowl and set aside. Heat the oil in a pan until hot. Add the garlic, ginger and onion and fry for 4–6 minutes, until the onion is soft and translucent. Add the pur?ed corn and a pinch of salt and cook for 2–3 minutes. Pour the milk into the pan and bring to a simmer. Gently stir over a medium heat and cook for 3–5 minutes until the mixture is thick and creamy. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and stir in the cheese, chilli, cumin, dried mango powder and coriander. Taste, and adjust the seasoning as necessary. Stir in enough flour to get an evenly combined, thick batter. Preheat the oven to the lowest setting and heat 6cm of oil in a deep saucepan (or a deep-fryer) to 170–180°C. Carefully drop spoonfuls of the batter into the hot oil – do not overcrowd the pan as this will cause the temperature of the oil to drop. Deep-fry for 4–6 minutes, turning frequently, until golden brown all over. Drain on a baking tray lined with kitchen paper and keep warm in the oven while you fry the rest. Serve immediately while the fritters are still warm and crisp. Spicy vegetable and paneer wraps SERVES 4 200g spinach leaves 2-3 tbsp vegetable oil 3cm ginger, peeled and finely grated 3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped 1 green chilli, deseeded and finely chopped 1 small red onion, peeled and sliced 1 red pepper, cut into thin strips 2 carrots, peeled and cut into thin strips 1 tsp sea salt 1 tsp garam masala 1 tsp hot chilli powder / tsp ground cumin 225g block of paneer, cut into thin strips 2 tbsp chopped coriander juice of / lemon 4 chapattis (see page 183) or flour tortillas Coriander and chilli raita (see page 202) Vegetable wraps are typical street foods in India, particularly in busy cities like Calcutta where the notion of grabbing a cheap, nutritious, convenient snack is always appealing. If you prefer a non-vegetarian version or a more substantial filling, add cooked mince or spicy chicken pieces. This would also make a lovely lunch with a fresh and zingy salad. Bring a pan of salted water to the boil. Add the spinach and blanch for 30 seconds to 1 minute until wilted. Drain well and set aside. Heat the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the ginger, garlic, chilli and onion and cook for 2–3 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the red pepper and carrots and stir well. After a few minutes, add the salt, garam masala, chilli powder and cumin. Continue to fry until the vegetables have slightly softened yet still retain some bite. Lastly, stir through the strips of paneer, chopped coriander and lemon juice and cook for a few minutes. Remove the pan from the hob. Warm the chapattis in a wide, dry frying pan to soften them a little. (This makes them easier to wrap with.) Spread a tablespoon of Coriander and chilli raita on each warmed chapatti and cover with a layer of blanched spinach. Spoon the vegetable and paneer filling on top and roll up the chapatti to enclose the filling, as you would a parcel. Wrap each spicy vegetable wrap in baking parchment and foil (or old newspaper) and serve warm. If you find the wraps have gone cold, warm them through in a hot oven for a few minutes before serving. Aloo dahi puri SERVES 4 12 ready-made pani puri shells (also known as golgappa) 150ml natural yoghurt 6-8 tbsp Sweet tamarind chutney (see page 217) handful of coriander, leaves chopped, and handful of sev mamra (or plain sev), to garnish POTATO FILLING 1 large waxy potato, about 250–300g / tsp red chilli powder / tsp ground cumin / tsp garam masala / tsp dried mango powder 1 small onion, peeled and finely diced 200ml natural yoghurt, mixed with 2–3 tbsp water fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper These little crispy filled puris are what I consider to be the ultimate chaat – a Hindi word that describes the various savoury delicacies that tempt passers-by to the roadside food carts found in every Indian city. You will need to make a trip to your nearest Indian grocer to secure a box of ready-made mini pani puri shells and a bag of sev mamra (crispy snacks consisting of a mixture of puffed rice, fried yellow gram noodles and spiced peanuts). Thereafter, it will only take minutes to assemble these delicious bite-sized treats. First, prepare the potato filling. Peel and cut the potato into large chunks then boil in a pan of salted water for 10–15 minutes until tender. Drain well, then chop the potato into a small dice. Place in a bowl and mix with the chilli powder, cumin, garam masala, dried mango powder, onion, yoghurt and seasoning to taste. When you are about ready to eat, carefully break the top of each puri to make a small hole that is big enough to add the potato filling through. (The puris are very delicate so you do need to be gentle with them.) Fill each puri with some potato mixture and a drizzle each of yoghurt and tamarind chutney. Garnish with the chopped coriander and sev mamra or sev. Serve immediately. Fish (#ulink_b12f1664-10ec-5b09-8775-84ac1836c125) Bengali prawn curry Hyderabadi squid tamatar Spiced fish wrapped in banana leaves Fish tenga Baked whole sea bass with green masala paste Majuli fishcakes with tomato relish Monkfish moilee Tuna vattichathu Goan fish ambotik Dry crab curry Grilled snapper with dry spices Crispy battered fish with spiced okra and aubergine Mackerel masala Pan-fried John Dory with hot-spiced red curry sauce Bengali prawn curry SERVES 4 400g large raw prawns, shell on / tsp ground turmeric sea salt 2 onions, peeled and roughly chopped 2cm ginger, peeled and roughly chopped 3 garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped 2 green chillies, deseeded and chopped 2 tbsp vegetable oil 2 tsp mustard seeds / tsp hot chilli powder 2 whole cloves 4 green cardamom pods 1 cinnamon stick 2 bay leaves 1 whole dried chilli 400ml tin coconut milk This prawn curry is considered a classic dish, and marinating seafood or meat with a combination of salt and turmeric is characteristic of Bengali cooking. I love how the complementary sweetness of the prawns and coconut is contrasted with the heat and pungency of the chillies and mustard seeds. Needless to say, very fresh prawns are essential for this recipe. Shell and devein the prawns, leaving the tails on, if you wish. Place them in a bowl with the turmeric and a pinch of salt. Mix well, then leave to marinate for 5–10 minutes. Meanwhile, put the onions, ginger, garlic and chillies into a food processor with 2 tablespoons of water. Blend to a fine wet paste. Heat the oil in a large pan. Add the mustard seeds, chilli powder, cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, bay leaves and whole chilli. Fry for 1–2 minutes until the spices become fragrant and the mustard seeds begin to sputter. Add the wet paste to the pan and fry over a low heat for 12–15 minutes, stirring frequently. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». 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