Читать книгу Miss Masala - Mallika Basu - Страница 17

COOK A DAY IN ADVANCE IF POSSIBLE.

A bit of clever social diarising and the night before a dinner party is a quiet one in. I cook all the food early and put it in the fridge to reheat the following evening. I don’t worry about serving guests stale food because Indian cuisine always tastes better the next day. Ingredients slowly soak up all those heady spices and develop far more intense flavours. In India, leftovers served at an ‘after’ party are always better than food freshly cooked for the party itself. My guests are inadvertently bestowed a great honour and cherish me even more for it. (I’m guessing.)

When I’m being super well organised (a rare feat), I cook a few days in advance and freeze the dishes. All they need is overnight defrosting and, again, a quick reheat before the meal. With the cooking dealt with in advance, on the actual day I can spend the time tidying up, getting changed and placing flowers in vases.

DRESS APPROPRIATELY.

I’m not Eric the dry-cleaner’s favourite customer for nothing. I often come home battle-worn from work or desperately hungry after a few drinks with friends and start cooking in my suit. While snacking on microwaved papads and mango pickle.

It’s taken a hefty cleaning bill to partly shake off this messy habit. Now my top trick is to quickly change into a pair of old pyjamas and don a shower cap to protect my hair. The shower cap looks stupid. But it does save me the bother of washing and recreating the do when there was nothing wrong with it in the first place. And I can rip the cap off in seconds if someone shows up unexpectedly.

IF YOU’RE IN A RUSH, COOK LOW-SMELL RECIPES.

Usually, I’m dashing around on public transport. Racing to get dinner on the table before that all-important episode of a vacuous TV talent show. Or trying to line my stomach before a long night ahead. With a strictly limited window of opportunity to transform from spice girl to sizzling siren.

For occasions like this, low-smell recipes are the best ones to go for. As a rule, frying onions with lots of powdered spices will fill you and your kitchen with strong aromas. The dishes to go for are a one-pot healthy pulao or a dal brimming with vegetables. If I do choose to make a curry, I pick those that use only a few spices or have a herby base.

AND FINALLY, PREPARE THE HOME.

I’m no Mrs Beeton, but keeping an apartment smelling fresh and wonderful is pure common sense. I keep the kitchen door shut tight and the windows open wide to prevent aromas from creeping into the other rooms. Then the scented candles come out. For a bit of added authenticity, I have a stash of super-strong incense sticks at the ready. Play some Bollywood tunes and it’s the perfect setting for a proper Indian meal.

Before I move on, though, I have to say this. If you don’t like the aroma of Indian food, you’re reading the wrong book. If it’s your man who doesn’t like it, this is the perfect moment to finally rid yourself of him.

Gizmos and Gadgets SAVING THOSE PRECIOUS MINUTES

Inspired by the equipment used by professional cooks, I bought sturdy aluminium pots and pans for cooking Indian food. Big mistake. Those professional types have extra-strong arm muscles and masses of patience (not to mention an army of underlings to scrape off the leftovers). They also don’t get distracted by The X Factor and glitter-vest ironing. I discovered soon enough that the best shortcut of all is to use the highest-quality non-stick cookware I could afford.

It started a mini revolution in my kitchen. Within a week I had bought my first ever hand blender. This miraculous gadget saves nails like a Korean manicurist. I could now purée fresh ginger and garlic, whiz up some kebab marinade and even make a mango lassi. Thankfully for me, the blender came with completely idiot-proof instructions and a splatter-proof beaker.

Over the years, I have amassed a grand collection of kitchen gadgets, some exceptionally useful and others utterly pointless. The chopper does a remarkable job of dicing small quantities of vegetables like onion, cucumber, root ginger and garlic. The rice cooker I will take to my grave. The mini electric coffee grinder finely powders in seconds homemade spice blends for dhansak, sambhar and tandoori chicken.

The food processor, on the other hand, is scary to look at. Exhausting to drag from its special shelf and monstrous on the worktop. Except for grinding small quantities of dry ingredients, the mortar calls for too much pestling. The less said about the juicer and the herb chopper the better.

The most life-changing of all gadgets has, without a smidgen of doubt, been the pressure cooker. No Indian kitchen is complete without a selection of them in different sizes. I wasn’t always convinced, though. My first doubts about it were sown in my friend’s New York kitchen. Turns out she put some vegetables in the contraption and wandered off to shower and blow-dry her hair. The next thing she heard was a muffled explosion. If the battered pan wasn’t enough to send a shudder through her Molton Browned body, there was green vegetable mush plastered all over the ceiling.

An internal voice instructed me to stay as far away from explosive kitchen devices as possible. But once I’d learnt not to get too distracted and wander off, I couldn’t help warming to the idea of a pressure cooker. What’s not to like? It cuts cooking time by using steam pressure on the food, saves electricity and, by default, the world. Who says a goddess can’t be a part-time eco-warrior?

The first time I used one, I sat patiently at the kitchen table waiting for the reassuring whistle. Too scared to go anywhere; too petrified of what might go wrong. Nothing ever did. Now I’ve acquired two. One large one and a smaller version perfect for a meal for two.