Book review: Made in India

By: Mrs Robot

I mentioned in a post last year that for me part of the reason I've tried to learn to cook Asian food is to connect with the unknown parts of my ancestry. For Christmas Mr Robot bought me a copy of Meera Sodha's book Made in India, because as her family came to Britain via Uganda, he thought I'd enjoy her stories of family movements and the Indian diaspora.

And he was right; I loved reading the stories of Sodha's relatives, and also seeing how the cuisine of Africa and later the raw ingredients available in England had an impact on their family recipes. Also, it puts an end to all Mr Robot's objections when I put something creative in a curry and he complains that it's not traditional. (Well, it should. I think he's always going to object to swede curry.)

Meera Sodha's daily dal, plus a lamb curry recipe by Anjum Anand

Since getting the book I've made plenty of recipes out of it. There's been Mum's Chicken Curry and Kachumbar, Daily Dal, and Pistachio and Yoghurt Chicken Curry plus Cinnamon and Clove Pilau with Cashew Nuts. At the start of the book Sodha has a joky bit 'Eat like an Indian, think like an Indian', which includes the advice "Feed the dog chapattis. Dogs love chapattis." I can confirm that Robocat does not like chapattis, but wouldn't stop scrounging tonight's tea, Wild Pheasant Curry, which I served with Sodha's cumin-roasted cauliflower and some pilau rice.

Fresh ginger and pistachios

The recipes that I've tried from the book result in dishes that are more aromatic than spicy. I don't know if that's because the recipes I've tried use a lot more nuts than the ones I've done from other Indian cookbooks. The pistachio curry was especially lovely, rich in ground cardamom. We put the leftovers of that into toasted sandwiches! I'm not sure if I cooked the onion long enough for that one - that's a skill I'm still trying to develop.

Pistachio and yoghurt chicken curry with pilau rice

I have also very much enjoyed the vegetable side dishes. I'm not sure exactly what makes them so much more appealing than the ones in other Indian cookbooks that we own, but we'll definitely be making the cauliflower again, and the kachumbar will be good to have over the summer. It'll go nicely with Mexican or Spanish dishes as well as Indian ones.

Wild pheasant curry, cumin-roasted cauliflower, pilau rice

All in all, there's only one thing I'd change about this book, and that's the cover, which I'd make a wipe-clean one! I suspect my copy is going to end up plastered in tomato all too quickly...

All photos copyright Mr Robot, and the presentation is mine - I have been told it needs work! Trust me, though, this all tasted absolutely delicious.

Fruitful Mellowness

By: Mr Robot

There's a fair amount of misery involved in the English Autumn: it's cold, it's soggy, it's grey, it's dark... whatever all-too-brief summer we actually had disappears practically overnight and before you know it you're looking at six months of chilly rain before the slightly warmer rain comes round again.

But there are upsides: warm fires, dark beer, cosy pubs on a chilly day, bonfire night, that bite in the air that makes you glad to have a fur-lined nose, misty mornings and leaves turning and, of course, the food.

This is the season to make soups and stews, puddings and pies, and many things rich and dark and gloopy. It's my favourite time for cooking, plus it's game season.

So the other weekend I decided to indulge myself with a long Sunday in the kitchen, a brace of pheasant the butcher had talked me into, and Tom Kerridge's Proper Pub Food to keep me company.

Pheasant, hiding in a hedge of bacon

Actually I started off by knocking up a very fudged Onion Soup that would get me banned from la belle France if I dared call it French - but you know whereof I speak. Yes, it involved an Oxo cube and, yes, the wine was cheap Spanish, but hey, at least it had wine and the cheese was a rather nice Gruyere even if it was on top of toasted Generic White Sliced. We enjoyed it anyway. It was that kind of weather.

My deepest apologies to France

But that was merely a precursor to the pheasant, which I prepared in the Kerridge style with many well-browned carrots along with garlic, orange, stock and I can't remember what else. Everyone's favourite setting of gas bugger-all for, ooh ages, enabled me to knock up the prescribed game chips and bread sauce (Generic White Sliced sauce, to be precise), and turn my mind to pud.

Never mind the presentation, here's the dog's, er, pistols

Now, I've done the pheasant before so know it to be worth treasuring, but I'd never tried these steamed ginger puddings. It was a fair bet though, because Kerridge's book has never let me down and his little date & toffee puds would entice me under a moving bus.

In any case it's enough, I submit, just to note the key ingredients of ginger, syrup, vanilla, puddingness and custard. There's a bit of jazzing around with lemon and ginger wine but really, if that doesn't get you I don't know what will.

Honestly, what more do you want?

Happily the recipe makes six puddings, which works perfectly for the two of us.

Creaking already from the immensely rich & savoury pheasant, and a startlingly good bread sauce (I know - I've avoided it for years on the assumption that, well it's bread... made into a sauce. Idiot), we actually ate only one each.

Serves two, eventually

Remarkable isn't it? We experimented with freezing the others and it's worked pretty well - just reheated by very gently steaming. If anything, freezing brings out the ginger more. But I digress.

We were sated and then some, and insanely happy. This is food that makes you really appreciate the grotty, wet, miserable weather just the other side of the window. To celebrate we finished with a glass of mulled cider, and then a whole load more. Doesn't get much better, to be honest.

All images (c) PP Gettins

We don't give away other folk's recipes. Buy the book instead - you'll never regret it. You can probably get it cheap on Amazon, or better yet pay full whack for a copy signed by the great man himself.