Many years ago, when Austin Allegro's were still occasionally seen on British roads, I used to have a regular Monday night ritual to help me cope with my first day back on the working week. My friend John and I would take turns to buy 2 beef or lamb Phal's and lots of Naan bread from the local Indian takeaway, and these were duly consumed with much gusto. It was during this period that I learned that no matter how much yoghurt doogh, beer or milk that was drunk the only escape from the pain was preparation. The theory my friend and I postulated was that the drier your mouth was, the less opportunity arose for the spices to dissolve and be absorbed by the mucous membranes. Certainly, this prophylactic measure became the standard operating procedure for Phal night.
Sadly, my Phal days are over. After a long flight back from New Zealand to the UK, I started suffering the most incredible stomach pain and when I got home, the only relief I could find was overdosing on Pepto-Bismol. A trip to the doctor later, and after a television camera was inserted into my stomach, it was discovered that I suffered from an excess of Helicobacter pylori, which eats away at the protective lining of mucus in the stomach, leading to ulcers. After a course of antibiotics, I was back to my normal self again, but I realised that over indulging would cause me a lot of pain, so although I love really hot curry, I now err on the side of caution. The same implies to a number of cuisines, for if I pig out too much the indigestion and resulting discomfort brings back very bad memories. In the 70's, my mother suffered from stomach ulcers, and the house was littered with boxes of Bisodol and bottles of Milk of Magnesia. As she used to say, “I might love that dish, but it doesn't love me”. So fiery curries – although I love them dearly – I am very wary of.
So the GB household tends to lean towards medium rather than hot curries. Mrs GB doesn't like too much heat, so I was concerned that 1 TBSP of chilli powder (albeit Kashmiri) along with mix powder and pepper would be too much. My mix powder is quite spicy, and combined with a fully loaded base that is definitely “edgy” I was concerned that a Vindaloo would be a step too far, certainly my daughter would not be involved as anything past a Korma is too much. So it was down to the two semi-octogenarians to perform the taste test.
For the prep, I decided to use some beef stewing steak, as I have this belief that the richer darker meats are better suited to the hotter curries. The slow cooker was pushed into action, and a base stock of turmeric, mix powder, garlic, tomato, methi, coriander some spare veg and a touch of salt prepared. The beef was added, and once it was tender, stored overnight in the fridge. The potatoes cut into large chunks were added next, and once just slightly more than par boiled, joined the beef in fridge.
Writing recipes out is always a risky business, not only are you sharing something special to you that others may not appreciate, but sometimes little details get lost in the translation. In the Internet age, you might take your tablet into the kitchen (something I never do), remember the recipe (something I rarely can), or go the old fashioned route. Print it out. It was then, once reading the bit of A4 in the kitchen that I realised there was an omission – when do you add the spuds? As I had omitted the chilli pickle, it seemed appropriate to throw the potatoes at that point instead.
Cook off wise, there was no surprises, other than the transposition of when the spices are fried off. This, I believe, has a major impact on how this dish turns out. The “regular” order is oil, garlic, spices, tomato but this recipe goes for oil, garlic, tomato, spices. This is something I generally avoid, although I can appreciate the logic behind cooking the rawness out of the tomato purée. The downside for me is that the oil doesn't have the chance to react with spices properly. Only time would tell. The only danger zone is not allowing the vinegar to cook off properly, in which case the curry will be far too acidic.
Mrs GB was in a huff, so I didn't get a score out of ten (and didn't ask). I got a sulky “That was a good curry”, hopefully I will get a more mathematical response tomorrow lunchtime when the little that was leftover Mrs GB has for lunch. As for me, I am now going to go into rant mode. How, in the name of chilli powder, can you throw 1 TBSP of chilli powder, some whole kashmiri chillies, a strong mix powder, fresh finger chilli and pepper and get such a beautifully balanced curry? I have put 2 TSP of kashmiri chilli in curries in the past, and Mrs GB has complained. There has to be a really subtle technique thing lurking here. It is not the quantity (or indeed the freshness, all my spices are spoiled rotten in the care stakes). It is how these essential oils are released, and the harshness / violence of the heat. As always, technique is everything.
As to this curry, as cooked it was sublime. For me, the heat level was just so, and the combination of a slight warmth to the forehead and a beautiful warmth in my stomach was just right. If I was less of a wuss, I would have used some Deggi Murch rather than Kashmiri chilli powder. Like a decent aged Scotch whiskey, this curry warms the cockles of your heart. You know by drinking spirits you are on dangerous ground, and a vindaloo has always got a warning label attached. This rendition though, is not some rough-house brew. It doesn’t catch your throat, there are no regrets despite the number of fork filled curry mouthfulls you consume. Vindaloo is often called the king of curries, and this example deserves a special throne.
- Pre-cooked bits and pieces
- vin_001.JPG (173.91 KiB) Viewed 22028 times
- The final dish
- vin_002.JPG (245.36 KiB) Viewed 22028 times
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
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