Coriander Chicken

Hello, boys and girls,

Welcome to cooking with Varun! Many moons ago, when I was but a fledgeling, I signed up to play for my company's football team. As is usually the case, over the years that my teammates and I played together, we all formed a pretty tight bond, both on and off the field, and despite having moved on to different companies (and countries) since then, a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie still holds us together.

On a cold, wet day in 2008, we found ourselves, after several weeks of hard fought football matches, in the final of the biggest inter-IT tourney of the year. As was customary, we arrived an hour before our game and sat in the makeshift room under the small pavilion on the edge of the ground (I say makeshift room, I mean the area under the pavilion that they couldn't be bothered to build, where the locals would often sneak in to drink and play cards), talking strategies as I fired off one bad joke after another trying to lighten the mood. As we were talking, we spotted a playing card lying face down on the floor and one of our number, Dribble-for-glory, suggested we try to guess what card it was. The boys told him to shut it because they couldn't be bothered, but I threw my guess out anyway, 7 of clubs (since that was the number on my jersey, plus I was hoping we'd club our opponents). Dribble-for-glory reached down, flipped the card over, and lo and behold, 7 of clubs it was! If that wasn't a sign that we were destined to win that night, I don't know what was! As the time for our game drew closer, the rain got heavier and soon the football pitch looked more like a muddy swimming pool than a playing surface. Once we'd warmed up, Dribble-for-glory, who has always had a flair for the dramatic, sat us down in a circle, instructed us to close our eyes and recited what felt like a combination of a prayer and Aragorn's words as he led his army into Mordor. Perhaps it was the combination of his magical (and possibly plagiarized) words, my 'lucky' guess, and the team's sheer hard work, or maybe it was fate, but we didn't set one foot wrong that night. We tore through the opposition with such efficiency that our captain, Uses-chessboards-to-strategize, didn't once express displeasure at the proceedings on the pitch, which was a first! As the final whistle blew, with the score at 2-0, the substitutes stormed the pitch, and 16 chilled to the bone, soaking wet, muddy bodies, drew into a huddle and let out a war cry so loud and so sincere that for a moment, even the thunder was drowned out. Countless hugs were exchanged, backs were slapped, and as the announcer called out our name and handed us the trophy, in that moment, if we were at Hogwarts and needed to create a Patronus, not unlike Harry Potter, no dementor would have stood a chance.

Years have passed, but we've kept in touch, my teammates and I, and at every chance we get, we meet up, hang out, and toast to what was singularly the best game of football we played together. As far as this dish is concerned, a teammate, one of my very best friends, and a goal scorer on the night (and most other nights), Mr. Back-of-the-net, and I have hung out with some regularity and it is his lovely wife who was kind enough to both introduce me to, and give me her recipe for coriander chicken. I've played around with it a bit and I can tell you without any hesitation, that it is a wonderful dish.

For my Coriander Chicken, you will need the following:

Chicken	500 gms
Coriander leaves	3 big handfuls
Green chillies	3
Garlic	5-6 cloves
Ginger	1" piece
Cashews	15
Tomato	1 medium
Tomato puree	shot
Red chilli powder	2-3 tsp
Coriander powder	2-3 tsp
Cumin powder	1 tsp
Garam masala	1 tsp
Ginger garlic paste	2 tsp (grind it fresh if you can)
Yoghurt	3 tbsp
Cloves	3
Cardamom pods	3
Cinnamon	slightly bigger than small piece
Bayleaves	2
Peppercorns	tiny handful
Salt	to taste
Cooking oil

Prep:

Marinade:

1. Grab a bowl.
2. Pop the chicken in.
3. Dollop on the yoghurt.
4. Sprinkle in the red chilli powder, coriander powder, cumin powder, and 2 tsp salt.
5. Spoon in the ginger garlic paste.
6. Mix well until the chicken is all nicely coated.
7. Pop a lid or clear wrap on.
8. Stick it in the fridge for a couple of hours.

Coriander paste:

1. Grab a grinder.
2. Stuff in the coriander leaves.
3. Stick in the chillies.
4. Pop in the garlic.
5. Pop in the ginger.
6. Quarter and toss in the tomato.
7. Stick in the cashews.
8. Toss in a few of the peppercorns.
9. Pinch in some salt.
10. Splash in some water.
11. Blitz.

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung a pan on.
3. Splash in some oil.
4. Float in the bayleaves.
5. Bounce in the cloves, cardamom pods, cinnamon, and the rest of the peppercorns.
6. Wait for a bit until you can smell the spices.
7. Pop in the marinated chicken.
8. Crank the heat up a bit to get a nice sear on the chicken.
9. Drop the heat, splash in some water and pop a lid on.
10. Cook for about 20 minutes until the chicken is nearly done.
11. Take the lid off.
12. Spoon in the coriander paste.
13. Shoot in the puree.
14. Add salt to taste. (Your paste and marinade already have salt so go easy.)
15. Mix well and cook for about 5 minutes.
16. Drop the heat and bring to a simmer.
17. Sprinkle on the garam masala.
18. Cook for a couple of minutes.
19. Taste test.
20. Turn the gas off.
21. Serve with hot rotis.
22. Stuff face.
23. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.  

Tip: On the bone chicken works better in this dish, as compared to boneless but if you're using thighs, it'll turn out just as good!

And remember, overeating is a myth, a full tummy is a happy tummy!

Mamidikaya Pappu (Andhra Stye Dal With Raw Mango)

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun! Wayyy back in 2009, when there was a dearth of projects in Poona, a couple of friends (a bloke, Reads-technical-documentation-when-he's-bored and a girl, Ms. Topper) and I were transferred to Hyderabad for a bit to work on a project, with the promise that we would be brought right back, the moment something turned up here. So we (grudgingly) packed our bags, bid our family & friends goodbye, and took off for Hyderabad for the very first time in our lives.

We landed at the airport, and after what felt like a 16 hour taxi ride through traffic, we reached our guest house, which was to be our home for a week until we found ourselves places of our own. The next day, we started scouring the internet and newspapers, looking for adverts on places to rent, even randomly walking up to and quizzing security guards of respectable looking buildings, but came up empty. With our one week running out, we sought the help of a real estate and letting agent, who after taking money off us just to show us around, gave us what felt like a tour of the seediest places in the city. As panic set in, we ditched the agent and went back to feverishly poring over the newspapers, and to our good fortune, found an advert for a paying guest accommodation fairly close to the office, owned by a little old lady who also had an indoor pool and a little herbal clinic on the premises. Unfortunately, it was a 'boys only' place so only Reads-technical-documentation-when-he's-bored and I could move in, but fortunately, a family in the building across the lane had an apartment there they were looking to rent out, that Ms. Topper didn't hate, and we were all sorted.

In a couple of days, we had fallen into a routine of sorts, we'd go to work in the morning, come back in the evening, after which Reads-technical-documentation-when-he's-bored and I would go for a swim, then have dinner, and crash. Now, Reads-technical-documentation-when-he's-bored didn't know how to swim at the time so I offered to teach him, saying that I'd have him swimming in 10 days if he picked up the tab on our visit to a restaurant we wanted to try out. He consented. I taught him in 8 days and the salli boti I made him pay for still makes my mouth water. As used to the place as we were getting, I still missed home, in particular, playing football with my team. There was an inter-corporate tourney on that I didn't want to miss, so every other weekend, on a Friday evening, I'd take a 10 hour bus ride to Poona, play our matches on Saturday and Sunday, and take the bus back on Sunday night to be in the office on Monday morning. 

As tiring as it was, it wasn't really a bad stint (it was quite short really, since I got called back in about a month!), and in between the exhaustion of travelling and work, I ate some fantastic food; beautiful biryanis, spicy curries, gorgeous kebabs, and of course, dal, all devoured with gusto!

This recipe is for a simple, delightfully tangy Andhra style dal that is cooked with raw mango.

For my Mamidikaya Pappu, you will need the following:

Toor dal                            1 cup

Raw mango                       1 medium

Mustard seeds                    1 tbsp

Green chillies                      2-3

Garlic                                2 cloves

Dried red chillies                 3-4

Haldi                                1-2 tsp 

Curry leaves                       small handful

Salt                                  to taste    

Ghee                              

 

Prep:

1. Pop the dal in a pressure cooker and wash it 2 or 3 times with cold water.
2. Cut the raw mango (skin and all) into cubes. Hang on to the seed.
3. Chop the green chillies.
4. Slice the garlic.

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung the pressure cooker on.
3. Add water to the cooker so that the dal is submerged under about 2 fingers of water.
4. Plop in the raw mango cubes, the seed, and a sprinkle in some salt.
5. Slap the lid on and crank the burner up to high.
6. Listen closely for 4 manly whistles.
7. Turn the burner off.
8. As you wait for the residual steam to leave the pressure cooker, turn on another burner.
9. Bung a pan on.
10. Splash in some ghee. (Scratch that. A lot of ghee!)
11. Count to 20.
12. Toss in the mustard seeds.
13. Roll in the green chillies.
14. Throw in the curry leaves.
15. Add in the garlic.
16. Break and pop in the red chillies.
17. Sprinkle on the haldi powder.
18. Cook for a few minutes.
19. Turn off the burner.
20. Unlock the pressure cooker lid. 
21. Turn the burner on.
22. Fish out the mango seed.
23. Scrape the dal off it.
24. Bin it. (the seed, not the dal!)
25. Add water to the dal if it's gone too thick, or dry off the excess if it's too watery.
26. Mix in the contents of your pan.
27. Add salt to taste and simmer for a few. (Tossing in 2-3 vertically sliced chillies would not be the worst idea.)
28. Turn off burner.
29. Serve with rice or rotis.
30. Stuff face.
31. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

Tip: If your raw mango is really big, don't put the seed in. You don't want it becoming so tangy that that's all you can taste.

And remember, overeating is a myth. A full tummy is a happy tummy!