Slow Cooker Chicken Curry

My love affair with the slow cooker continues, although this is the first time I've had it out since Christmas. But I fancy a curry feast this evening - the Husband's been away all week and Pink has had a night away with school so this evening will feel celebratory, with all of us back in the fold. All of us except Fred the dog who is spending the weekend in kennels while we travel back to England early tomorrow morning for a wedding. But he wouldn't enjoy this Butter Chicken Curry, and anyway, he had a jolly good walk on the beach this morning so I feel my conscience is relatively clear. Honest.

But before I start feeling guilty again about the dog, let's get back to the feelings of warmth and satisfaction I derive from having all of us (well., nearly all of us... I'm so sorry Fred...) under one roof at the end of the week, sitting at the table and sharing a meal together. By getting the main event in the slow cooker earlier today, it means I can mess about with dahl and possibly even some flatbreads later on and turn a simple curry into a feast.

Some of you will notice that I managed to sneak some pomegranate molasses in here. I'm feeling dreadfully guilty (not only about the dog) that despite enthusiastic encouragement from some quarters, I still have most of a bottle of the stuff mouldering in the cupboard. I wondered if it would do anything to the flavour of this curry beyond adding the sweetness that the sugar I used it in place of was supposed to do, and indeed there is a very subtle and rather pleasant tang to the concoction. Nothing earthshattering, but, you know, nice.

You need to get this into the slow cooker on low at least 5-6 hours before you want to eat, but it'll happily do its thang all day if you're out of the house. This is based on a recipe from the 'Ultimate Slow Cooker' book which I totally love. As well as my general tinkering, the original recipe includes a large red chilli which you de-seed and chop up with the onions ginger and garlic. 

Slow Cooker Butter Chicken

2 onions, peeled and each cut into 4
3 cloves of garlic, peeled
4cm piece of root ginger, peeled and halved
1 tbsp sunflower oil
8 skinless, boneless chicken thighs, cut into 3-4 pieces
25g unsalted butter
1 tsp each of cumin seeds and fennel seeds, crushed
4 cardamom pods, bashed up
1 tsp each of ground turneric and smoked paprika
1/4 tsp ground cinammon
300ml chicken stock
2 tbsp tomato puree
1 tbsp pomegranate molasses (or you could use soft brown sugar)
sea salt

5 tbsp double cream or plain yoghurt depending how decadent you are feeling 
2 tbsp flaked almonds, toasted
a good handful of roughly chopped coriander leaves

Pre-heat the slow cooker as per instructions.

Start by finely chopping (I use a food processor) the onions, garlic and ginger.

Heat the sunflower oil in a large frying pan and brown off the chicken pieces in batches on quite a high heat. When each batch is browned, remove from the pan and set aside on a plate lined with kitchen towel.

Reduce the heat, add the butter to the pan and when it's melted, add the onion mixture to the pan.

Cook gently till it starts to colour, then tip in the crush seeds, cardamom pods and the ground spices and cook for a further minute, stirring.

Pour in the chicken stock and add the tomato puree, pomegranate molasses and a good pinch of sea salt, and bring to the boil.

Tip the chicken into the slow cooker and pour the sauce in on top of it, pressing the chicken down so it's covered.

Replace the lid on the crock pot and cook on a low setting for 5-7 hours. When ready to serve, stir in the cream and serve with the toasted almonds and coriander sprinkled over the top.

Dahl

When I was an Army wife, those heady days of early marriage (after the 6 month operational tour, during which, I stayed put in London while the Husband hung out on the Croatian coast), we lived on the edge of Salisbury Plain, the very epicentre of Army land. It was another world, a world where it was normal to panic, having been woken in the middle of the night by attack helicopters flying overhead, only to realise that it was OK and you weren't living in Beirut after all, to be held up on the road by endless lines of tracked vehicles (you don't want to argue with a Warrior, believe me) or to stumble across an ambush party during a Sunday afternoon walk...

One of the valuable lessons I thought I learned during that period was how I would be once I had children and was around people who did not.

I did not initially make many friends in Army land because, in an almost comic role reversal, I was commuting up to London, leaving the house before 7 and back after 8, while the Husband had a leisurely bike ride, or a 10 minute walk to the office. Eventually, someone noticed I was there, and I was invited to join 'the bookclub'.

I had made it!!

"Have you just moved in?"

"No, actually we've been here 8 months"

"I haven't seen you at school"

"No, I work. In London."

"......." [silence]

"Oh you WORK?"

I had many conversations like this throughout our time on 'the patch'. I regaled them with stories of sitting in the same seat on the same train with the same people every morning, and the turmoil a new person sitting in the wrong seat would cause, sushi, bought from an upmarket purveyor of lunch (the glamour of it) , and earning the same (or - GASP- more) than your husband. They regaled me with tales of childbirth, the adhesive properties of weetabix, and the politics of the school gate.

I had no idea what they were talking about, and in that blissful childfree state, found myself thinking "I have no idea what you are talking about, It can't possibly look like that/smell like that/ be as bad as all that."

I would feel excluded from a club that at that time I had no particular wish to belong to - the parent club. It wasn't that I didn't want children, just not then. And after feeling excluded from the club, I would promptly forget it, what ever horror I'd been party to, only for it to reappear, distorted and anxiety-inducing - when my time for babies came.

Of course, we all do it, we who have children. I have 2 emergency caesarians and a child who had cancer at the time of the second one, under my belt, so I'm afraid I'm not going to give up the opportunity to take part in the occasional competitive birth story exchange with other parents. But after spending time on the patch with all these women, I did vow to try not to tell people who don't have children what it's like (mainly the giving birth bit, because frankly, while not the worst, my stories are quite bad), or offer 'advice'. It's basically the same as your parents telling you that you don't know how lucky you are when you're being an ungrateful teenager. You just cannot comprehend how much a child is going to change your life, so as someone who knows, you might just as well not bother..

I'd forgotten this in the early weeks of our first born. Friends who were expecting a baby a couple of months later visited us, and even then, with a few weeks to go, they were talking about their relaxed approach to doing up their house and how they would carry on once the baby was born. They were trying to source some very specific light fittings, as I recall. And I remember the Husband or I saying, heartfelt, "Get it finished before the baby arrives, you WON'T HAVE TIME" and they looked at us like we were deranged. How much time could a baby take? (Blue didn't help by sleeping through the whole encounter as if that was his natural state.)

Since then, I've tried to be more mindful when talking to people who don't have kids; tried not to give them advice, or do that whole knowing "You just wait" thing, but sometimes, it just comes out.

Like now. (I know you were waiting to see how tenuous this link could be). Dahl is one of my favourite things to eat, but I don't think I've ever properly blogged it, and the reason is that it's pretty hard to take a good photo of it. It just looks like baby poo. And before we go any further, any of my non-parent readers, baby poo really is that yellow. There's no getting away from it. Yellow and quite sticky.

The dahl is yellow, but also quite delicious. It's delicious hot and then cold, leftover. It tastes like it should be far more complicated than it is - it is very straightforward and has hardly any ingredients. It's nutritious and the kids, may be surprisingly? I don't know, love it too.





So here it is. Dahl. It's based on Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's version in Veg Everyday, but I nearly always cook enough for 6 so that there will be leftovers to eat for lunch for the next couple of days with a blob of mango chutney. Delicious, despite looking like baby poo.

375g red lentils
11/2 tsp turmeric
1 tsp fine salt
1 tbsp sunflower oil
2 tsp cumin seeds
1 onion, peeled & finely sliced
bunch of coriander, finely chopped

Put the red lentils in a large pan with 1.2 litres of cold water. Bring this to the boil and skim off any scum that forms. 

Add in the turmeric and salt, whisk the mixture, then turn down the heat and simmer for about 15 minutes till the lentils are broken down and cooked. Whisk the  mixture up every now and again to help reak the lentils down. Do take care not to cook them over too high a heat because as the lentils break down, they become almost volcanic - almost like a baby's bottom, one might say...

You may need to add a little more water to keep the dahl from getting too thick, but you should end up with something of a porridgey kind of consistency.

I quite often make it to this stage earlier in the day, then heat up later for the final flourish (when you may need to add a little more water).

Heat the oil in a small frying pan, add the cumin seeds and cook for 5 minutes, before adding in the finely sliced onion and frying over a relatively high heat for 10 minutes of so, then stir into the lentils.

Add in the chopped coriander, stir through and serve.

Great as part of a larger curry feast, or frankly, cold with a big blob of mango chutney

Beef & Beetroot curry - and the balance of power between garden & kitchen

Pickled Chillies. Some like it VERY hot.

The Husband, as you know, is the grower of vegetables in our house. I am involved in executive decisions at seed buying time, and he gets on with the growing and the harvesting. The Husband does a lot of pickling - this year gherkins and chillies - and chutney making, but the day to day use of vegetables is down to me.

Sometimes, I get it wrong. This is not an untypical conversation:

Him: "Please don't use the shallots like you normally do."

Me: "???"

Him: "Well, just like another oniony thing. Can you use them like shallots?"

Me: "???"

Him: "So, don't just slice them up because you haven't got any onions. Use them in recipes that use SHALLOTS".

Me: "Oh".

You see, I am sure I do appreciate a good shallot when it's needed - whole in a casserole, or in a pot roasted chicken dish that I do sometimes, but I am guilty as charged: I'll be scouring the kitchen to pull together whatever it is I need, and if the recipe calls for onions, but there are only shallots, well, shallots will have to do. 

And then, to add insult to injury, when he actually wants shallots for something, there are none left. 

I am a bad person.

However, after the shallot conversation, I have been slightly more wary of how I utilise the produce from the allotment and the  garden.

Beetroot, for example, has been something that doesn't get much beyond being boiled or roasted and then eaten as part of a "pull it all out of the fridge on to the table and pick out the best bits" weekend lunch. Occasionally, it gets grated raw, or turned into a hummus type thang, but not much more than that. This is how we eat beetroot. 

We have decided to give back the allotment and create more growing room in the garden, and so we're currently making sure we get the last bits of this year's veg before handing it over. This has included some extra beetroot that we weren't counting on. 

With some trepidation, I suggested a curry - I had some braising steak, and I knew that I'd seen a recipe for Beef & Beetroot Curry somewhere before, which has been playing on my mind. I don't normally consult the Husband about the menu, but given the reaction to the shallot (mis)usage, I felt it was only right and proper. After all, I haven't been aware of any beetroot in Rick Stein's recent (fabulous) series on Indian cooking, and a quick persual of the indexes to my Madhur Jaffrey books reveals only a beetroot chutney.

As it turns out, beetroot works quite well in a curry, adding an earthy depth. Unfortunately, it doesn't give you a vivid pink or deep purple plateful (disappointing when you see the curry paste that you make with it), but, if you live with a beetroot hater, you don't really know it's there. I can attest to this, because Pink, who is an avowed hater of beetroot (what was I saying about not having fussy children...) ate this - AND it had a green chilli in - one that escaped the pickling pot... 

Beef & Beetroot Curry

serves 4

200g cooked beetroot (if you buy it, don't get the stuff in vinegar) 
'top thumb joint' piece ginger, chopped 
1 large garlic clove 
1 whole green chilli, seeds and all 
small bunch flat leaf parsley 
3 cardamom pods 
1 tbsp tomato ketchup 
1 tbsp treacle 
1 tbsp ground cumin 
1/2 tbsp ground coriander 
1 tsp fennel seeds
 pinch ground cloves 
fresh ground black pepper
1 tbsp sunflower oil 
500g braising steak cut into big chunks 
1 onion (not shallots), chopped 
1 beef stock cube made up to 250ml stock with boiling water
flaked almonds to sprinkle (toast them if you have time - I forgot)

If like me, you're making this in a slow cooker (and why wouldn't you, marvellous thing that it is), turn the cooker on to low to pre-heat.

Make a paste by blitzing the beetroot, ginger, garlic, chilli, parsley, cardamom, ketchup, treacle cumin, coriander, fennel seeds, cloves and a good grind of black pepper in a food processor.

Heat the oil in a frying pan and brown the beef in batches, returning them to the slow cooker crock pot once browned.

Once all the beef is in the slow cooker, add the chopped ONION to the pan and fry for a few minutes, then add the paste to the pan and fry for about 5 minutes more, till you've got all the beefy bits scraped up from the pan and it all smells fragrant. Tip in the stock and bring to the boil then tip over the beef, put the lid on the slow cooker and leave for 8 hours or 
overnight.

Serve with rice and poppadums (and, in our case, cauliflower and broad bean curry) with the flaked almonds sprinkled over the top. You could add in some chunks of cooked beetroot at the end as suggested in the original recipe, but we'd eaten all that we left for lunch...

Recipe Junkie in tinned potato shocker!!!

If someone had told me beforehand all the things that I'd do as I moved from my 20s into my 30s and on into my 40s (where I now find myself - but only just) you know, well some of them, I'd have had no problem anticipating. Some I'd have raised an eyebrow and got on with it, and some, well, the mind boggles.

A husband, two kids, a dog and some chickens? No problem. Being part of a team of adults taking 32 scouts (plus assorted small children) to Derbyshire for a week of abseiling, climbing, watersports, eggy bread, corned beef hash - hmm. Probably would have merited an eye brow raise. 

Using tinned potatoes? TINNED POTATOES??? Reader, the mind would have boggled hard. However, combine scout camp, and the challenge of producing a curry feast, and tinned potatoes it was. You'll be pleased to know, though, that we did make the sauce from scratch, and we had fresh coriander...

I always like to be of service, so in case you too ever find yourself in a field, tasked with producing a curry feast for 44, may I suggest the following menu which accomodates vegetarians, nut allergy suffers, a non-pork eater and, it turns out, most of the fussy eaters we took with us...

How is anyone expected to cook on these conditions???

Chicken Curry, Cauliflower and Pea Curry, Bombay Potatoes and Dahl

Serves 44 pretty much bang on. Amounts in brackets are for 4 if you're not mass catering - just don't even think about using tinned potatoes...

Ingredients

vegetable oil
18 (3) onions
16 (2) cloves of garlic (or as many as you can be bothered to peel & crush)
2 jars (2 grated tbsp) lazy ginger
1.5kg (250g) red lentils
3.6kg (drained weight) tinned potatoes (500g potatoes, peeled and cubed - you're not going to get away with tinned if you're only feeding 4)
4.2 kg (400g) chopped tomatoes
3 (1 small) cauliflowers
2 refill sachets (2 tsp) turmeric
1 refill sachet (1 tsp) each of paprika, cumin, garam masala and mild chilli powder
fine sea salt
42 (8) chicken thigh fillets

1 kg (200g) frozen peas
7 (1) tsp cumin seeds
fresh coriander 

To serve: Rice if you have enough pans left - about 1.5 kg, 50 poppadums, 3 jars of mango chutney,1 jar of lime pickle (for leaders only), Tabasco (it is scout camp, and the chilli powder is only mild)

You will also have to manage this on a 3 burner petrol camping stove and a large gas fired paella pan, unless your Husband and scout leader manages to get the 2 burner petrol stove you also have available working again. I'll leave you to weigh up the benefits of the extra stove as a against the silent cursing that will accompany the attempts to fix the stove...

Method

Chop 16 of the onions as finely as you can, bearing in mind you have no liquidizer handy. Crush the garlic - ditto

Heat the paella pan up and add enough oil to generously coat the pan, then tip in the onions and garlic and the lazy ginger, and start to cook as gently as the heat settings will allow.

Put the red lentils into as large a pan as you can find, and add 2 litres of water. Bring to the boil. This may take ages. Try not to panic.

Open the tins of potatoes and tomatoes. Try not to cut yourself on the visciously sharp edge the rubbish tin opener will have left. If you don't cut yourself, make sure you don't strain your thumbs on said rubbish tin opener. Get someone to halve or may be quarter the potatoes, then put them into a pan big enough to take them.

Stir the onions every now and again, and trim the cauliflowers and break into florets. Cover the florets with water in a smaller pan, bring to the boil and cook till tender. This could also take ages. 

Don't panic.

At this point, the onions may have softened enough to stir in 1 sachet of the turmeric, plus the sachets of paprika, cumin, garam masala and mild chilli powder, plus 6-7 tsps of salt. Stir and cook for a minute - OK a couple of minutes while you relocate the opened tins of tomatoes, and frantically try and repressurise the petrol stove that should be cooking your lentils and the cauliflower.

Add the tomatoes to the onions, then fill the empty tins with water and add to the pan aswell, then simmer gently for as long as you can get away with, stirring occasionally.

Check the lentils - if they are now boiling, skim off any scum that has accumulated, add the other sachet of turmeric and about 5 tsp salt, and continue to cook for 20 minutes or so, giving it a vigorous stir every now and again. This breaks down the lentils and allows you to vent any mounting irritation you might feel if any scouts appear asking when dinner is going to be.Once it's looking thick, put a lid on and remove from the heat.

Panic that the cauliflower still isn't cooking, then realise it is nearly on the way to being mush. Drain and return to the pan. Pour in the frozen peas and set aside.

Get someone to slice up the chicken into halves or quarters depending on what you think is a reasonable size. Do a quick (ha!) wash up because you have now run out of knives, chopping boards and pans (did I tell you not to panic ???)

Stir enough of the sauce through the potatoes to coat them and set aside with a lid on.

Stir about 1/3 of what's left into the cauliflower & peas before you add the chicken to the pan - remember you are catering for vegetarians... Put the lid on and set aside.

Bring what's left of the sauce up to a simmer and add the chicken. Yes, I know it would be nice to brown it off first, but you will have run out of pans, if not burners.

Remember the finish for the dahl - find a pan - any pan - and heat some oil in it. Beg the senior scout wife to finely slice the remaining 2 onions. Add the cumin seed to the hot oil first, and then chuck in the onions once they are sliced, and cook till they look tasty - just don't worry about it - the scouts are starting to queue... Stir the onion and cumin seed through the dahl.

Now, as the chicken is cooking, rotate your pans of Bombay potatoes, cauliflower and pea curry and dahl over the remaining burners so they are good and hot. The frozen peas should have cooked when the hot sauce was added, but do make sure.

CHOP THE CORIANDER!!!

Double check that the chicken is cooked, then you're ready to go. Chuck the coriander about as you see fit.

Acquire a ladle and serve.

No scouts were harmed in the production of this curry

Curry for 48? No worries...

Do you like shopping?

You do?

Then I must tell you about the epic shop I went on yesterday. 3 of us - good friends - went.

A much planned trip, in anticipation of one of our annual highlights.

We were gone for 5 hours, while the children languished with various friends, and as the afternoon drifted into evening, with our respective husbands.

We spent over £1,000. I know. £1,000.

It took us 2 cars - well, actually a 7 seater people carrier type car and the camper van to get our spoils home.

Because, yes, this was no girly clothes shop (we wish), and the event is no swanky done up to the nines new outfit occasion. Oh no. This is Scout Camp.

We leave tomorrow. For the Derbyshire Dales. Via Leicester Forest East services (for us) to hand the dog over to my mother).

Shopping for scout camp is one of those things that I don't think I will ever get over. Normally, the thought of food shopping in any kind of supermarket fills me with fear and dread, but there is something so spectacular and so utterly hilarious about shopping on this scale, that somehow, the fear and dread leaves me and I start to enjoy it.

To be fair, I didn't draw up the list. The senior scout wife does that, although I am in charge of catering the curry feast on the last night. Oh yes. My list for that particular meal starts off with 16 onions, 16 cloves of garlic and 2 jars of lazy ginger...

While our menfolk, all Scout leaders, prepare climbing and abseiling expeditions, worry about how many minibus places there need to be, whether we need one or 2 trailers or whether a horsebox will do instead, and organise surprise drop hikes for our charges, we scout wives squirrel ourselves away with a bottle of gin and come up with the food and the craft. Every now and again, the men drop  in helpful comments like  - "Oh yes, so and so doesn't eat pork" or "Don't forget there are 2 scouts with nut allergies". Fortunately, on this occasion, we had at least 12 hrs notice before the shop. 

Yes folks, those 3 trolleys - they are all ours...

In the end, it took 3 cash and carry trolleys, stacked to the gunnels, followed by 2 trolleys in Morrisons for the 'sweep up' (including the all important chocolate custard and Angel Delight). We try and get as far as possible all the non-perishable goods for the week, and fresh to get us through the first couple of days so we can get our breath before playing sat nav roulette to find the nearest peddlar of groceries to where we are camping. This involves things like 325 packets of crisps, ditto cereal bars, 56 x 400g tins of chopped tomatoes and 1 catering pack of approx 3 kg. 100 tortillas (for the turkey fajitas we're having on Sunday of course) and 4 kg of turkey, of course. 18 tins of pear halves and 92 pieces of fresh fruit. Your mind would boggle at the amount of cereal we anticipate 48 scouts, leaders and hangers on will eat.

The same applies in the actual cooking. Eggy bread for 48? Nothing to it. But you do need rather a lot of eggs...

So there we have it. For the next week, it's good bye Recipe Junkie and hello Scout Wife. But I'll be back, knackered, covered in mosquito bites, and wearing my mass catering badges on my sleeve (or at least a couple of decent burns). Oh, and if you're that way inclined, please pray that it doesn't rain too much...

Indian Coleslaw - inspired by Rowan Atkinson...

One of my favourite sketches of all time is Rowan Atkinson's monologue where he plays an impeccably polite Indian waiter faced with a crowd of drunken Englishmen. The "deceptively flat" floor. A "medium spiced" dish. "No no don't worry sir, better out than in". "Just some poppadums, and salad and yoghurt and sh*t"...

Anyway, we had curry for tea.New potato & pea curry, daal, rice, all knocked up in a very quick curry sauce that I have never got round to putting up here. I will, never fear.

Today, it's the turn of the "sh*t". Inspired mainly by the kohlrabi that appeared in the veg box, I doubt this is at all authentic, but when I think of curry, I always think of that sketch - and that "sh*t" - that is, the accompaniements. 








When we have curry, we are never without some chutney - no need to make, I have all I need thanks to Geeta.

On the salad front, well, I give you

Indian Coleslaw

Serves 4

3 carrots, grated
1 kohlrabi, grated
4 spring onions, finely shredded
1 heaped tsp cumin seeds
juice of half a lemon 
handful finely chopped coriander

Mix together the carrots, kohlrabi & spring onion in a dish, and stir through most of the lemon juice.

Toast the cumin seeds in a frying pan til they release their aromas, then stir through the grated veg. Taste, add in the rest of the lemon juice if you like and stir through the coriander.

Serve with your curry.

Of course it's absolutely not "sh*t" and if you haven't seen the sketch, you really much because it's such a great portrayal of absolutely the worst type of English drunken behaviour. Grab a bottle of your favourite lager and enjoy.

Curry in a hurry? No, on the beach, actually - A review of the Barricane Beach Cafe

So the second May Bank Holiday is upon us. The Husband is still in the desert and I have escaped North for a couple of days, before returning South and taking the kids camping on my own. I won't speculate about my sanity - I lost most of that on the M1 on Friday afternoon/evening -  or the likely success or failure of the planned expedition at this stage. If I'm not totally traumatised by the whole thing, I may share the highlights at some point, but for now, I am reminiscing about the first May Bank Holiday.

It feels like an age away, and yet is was only a few weeks ago, that we went with some great friends, to North Devon, and had a totally brilliant weekend away.

Liz's photo of our camp by night...

If you're interested in the campsite we stayed at, you can read the guest review I wrote for the lovely Yellowfields Camping blog. If you're interested in campfire campsites, and more back to basics camping, you really should visit this blog, but here, as you know, it's mostly about the food.

One of the reasons why it was such a great weekend was that it allowed us the opportunity to eat curry on the beach as the sun went down. In England. In May. 

Allow me to present the Barricane Beach Cafe.

When the Husband and I 'discovered' this place, thanks to a throw away comment in the 'Wild Swimming - Coast' book by Daniel Start (which I would thoroughly recommend if you have even half an inclination to swim in the sea around the UK. What? You don't? Why ever not??) we couldn't believe it. Just round the corner from the surf paradise of Woolacombe, more a cove than a beach, is the lovely Barricane, or Shell Beach, and at the top of the beach, not much more than a shack, outdoor tables only, is this cafe. Al fresco dining at its best.  

On our first visit 3 or 4 years' ago, the kids were too young to appreciate the experience (if my memory serves me well, Pink was particularly objectionable), but we recognised it as 'a special place', and I've been itching to go back ever since.

I have never been able to find a dedicated website for the Barricane Beach Cafe - it crops up, though, on other blogs. Trip Advisor has a whole load of rave reviews on it, and these are ones you can actually believe. During the day, it serves sandwiches, cakes, cold cans of drink - the usual. From 6 p.m. though, curry is served.

Currently £8 for a generous plateful, we had the choice of 'devilled chicken' or 'devilled beef' curry. More Malaysian/ Thai style than Indian, but no less delicious for that. And that's it. 2 choices. With rice and salad. Perfect (although jacket potatoes are available making it an ideal place to go if you need to satisfy less sophisticated palates at the same time).

Thrown in with that is the opportunity to eat your plate whilst gazing out to sea as the sun goes down, and feel awash with goodwill. Which, as the advert goes, is priceless.

Your view - should you choose to accept it...

Saved from disaster! Lamb curry with coconut rice

The Husband made it home from the States yesterday morning after what appears to have been a horrendous flight back from Florida, and was then treated to some additional ‘downtime’ due to the inability of Gatwick ground crew to remove the plane’s baggage and transfer it to the baggage reclaim hall with anything resembling efficiency. The children, of course, threw themselves upon him as he walked through the door, and he acquitted himself well in the role of returning father and husband, but I could see that he was a bit desperate. He’s usually pretty good at pushing on through the general jet lag/travel fatigue thing, but I wasn’t so sure yesterday, and it wasn’t long before he whispered that he thought he was going to have to go back to bed.

Womanfully, I took the kids off to town to do the boring chores that I save up over a few weeks – some birthday presents, a new pair of trainers for Pink (having grown 2 sizes over the summer, the weather is now such that she really does need to have something other than crocs to wear), Blue’s specs needed tightening up...

I was a bit concerned that my plans for dinner were somewhat ambitious. I adore curry and am trying to take the slowly, slowly approach to introduce it to the kids. Nothing overly spiced or too hot; mainly chicken  – you get the idea. In our little Hampshire village there are not one but two excellent curry houses. We don’t eat out very often, or get takeaway, but when we do, these establishments provide a great treat. We visited one the evening we got back from our trip to France earlier in the summer. Blue decided to branch away from the mild chicken dish that we’ve ordered for the kids in the past, and went for a Lamb Tikka Masala which he pronounced to be utterly delicious.

Keen to build on this, I have been talking the kids up to having a ‘curry feast’ one weekend, and had decided that the Husband’s return would be a fitting occasion. Nigella has a chicken curry in Feast which I have made before when we’ve had people round – a lovely creamy, mild dish, and I noticed a Lorraine Pascale lamb curry in the back of the October Good Food, so I thought that would be a good move on from the Tikka Masala for Blue. Add to that the Dahl from Veg Everyday which has become a regular feature here, a pile of poppudams and some of Gita’s finest chutneys (mango, lime and chilli) and Bob, as they say...

Well, it’s never that easy. I hadn't done anything earlier in the day. My mum called just as I was sorting myself out, with issues about knitting wool and Christmas, and advising of the imminent arrival of Nigellissima, and I got a little flustered. The chicken appeared to still be a little bit frozen, some spices burnt, and then, half way through the instructions for the lamb dish (and already half way through cooking it), the recipe in the magazine seemed to just stop: “Brown the meat all over for 2-3 minutes, stirring often so nothing catches on the bottom.”  And then silence. Nothing more about the lamb until it got to the bit where you served it with the rice. It just didn't feel right. Aaaaargh. 

Still, not to worry. I was confident that the lamb I’d bought was pretty good quality and would stand up to a little off piste action, so with the aid of some tomatoes and a little more water, the dish was saved. Pretty delicious too – because the addition of the tomatoes and water and extra cooking created a spicy aromatic sauce that, in my humble opinion, saved the dish from being a little on the dry side. And everybody loved it.

A little bit spicy lamb curry with coconut rice

For the lamb: vegetable oil, 5 cardomom pods, 1 tsp garam masala, 1 tsp turmeric, 2 tsp grd cumin, 1 tsp mild chilli powder (you can use medium or hot to taste) 1 bunch of spring onions, trimmed and finely sliced, 500g lamb leg pieces (or another cut that will stand reasonably quick cooking without gong tough) cut into bite size pieces, 3 large tomatoes, quartered

For the rice: 350g basmati rice, 400ml coconut milk, 100g sundried tomatoes, handful of coriander, finely chopped, 25g flaked almonds, knob of butter

Drizzle a little of the vegetable oil (no more than a dessert spoonful) into a pan over a medium heat. Bash the cardamom pods in a pestle & mortar (or with a rolling pin etc) to open the pods, add to the pan along with the ground spices and cook for 3-4 minutes, giving it the occasional stir. Turn the heat up, add a little more oil, then tip in the spring onions and lamb, and cook for a further 2-3 minutes to brown the lamb. Add the chopped tomatoes and some water – start with 100ml, stir and leave to simmer for 5 mins or so, on a gentle heat and see what it looks like – you may want to add a little more water, but remember that as the tomatoes cook down they will add liquid. Continue to simmer gently while you cook the rice.

Put the rice in a pan which has a good fitting lid, along with the coconut milk and 100ml of water. Put the lid on, bring to the boil, then reduce the heat as low as it will go and simmer for 10-12 minutes. Try and resist the urge to stir it. If you are worried about it burning, try and leave it at least 8 minutes  before checking, then check again at 10 mins etc. Toast the almonds in a dry frying pan and chop up the sundried tomatoes. When the rice is cooked, stir in the sundried tomatoes and chopped coriander, taste and season if necessary, then drop in a knob of butter and put the lid back on for a couple of minutes.

Serve the lamb with the rice, with the flaked almonds sprinkled on top.