Chicken Chettinad

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun! Back in 2010 when I was in Poona, one of my good friends from my early training days in Bangalore, Manly-Aerobics-Doer (whom you might remember as the patron saint of laddoos from the keema pav recipe), was getting married. He called me up to give me the good news, and to invite me to his wedding later that year, which was in his hometown of Chennai. Although thrilled that my mate was getting hitched, I was slightly less thrilled about the prospect of travelling to Chennai, where apart from not knowing anybody, I was certain the heat and humidity would reduce me to a puddle on the sidewalk. After a few days of hemming and hawing, and riding the fence on whether or not to make the trip, my decision was made for me by Manly-Aerobics-Doer himself. He booked and sent me flight tickets. Not only that, he set it up so that I was staying with him for the entire trip so I wouldn't be lonely.

When the time came, I flew out to Chennai, landing a little past 23:00. I took a cab to the address I had been provided, and managed to arrive at my destination with relative ease. After the customary bro hugs and catching up, we called it a night, and crashed. Next morning, after I'd showered and shaved, I was introduced to his large, but very welcoming family and fed a very large breakfast. Once we had eaten, we were joined by another old friend from training, Lanky-Cynic, and we set off to run a few errands. Errands done, we drove back home, tucked into lunch, waited to digest it, and set off again; this time to show me the sights and sounds of Chennai. We did a city drive, and a short stroll at Marina beach, before it was time to go back. The next day began much like it's predecessor, with a big breakfast. This was followed by traditional wedding functions, more big meals, and culminated at a wonderful cocktail/sangeet with all of his friends (and me, obviously) going completely mental on the dance floor. The next day, my final day in Chennai, was the big one. The wedding. We woke up, had another big breakfast, and 3 of us, along with Manly-Aerobics-Doer's friend (now also my friend), Once-Chubby-Now-Marathon-Runner, set off to take Manly-Aerobics-Doer to what I call, his 'Beauty Appointment'. Once he was all facial-ed, and dead skin free, we went back home to start prepping for the evening's festivities. The wedding was wonderful; dancing on the streets in the baraat, eyeing up the bride's friends at the reception, still more food, all the way until it was time to head back to Poona.

It's been years since that trip, and I've been to tons of weddings since, but I've never felt like the VIP I felt like when I was there. I was the groom's friend from another city, and boy was I treated well! No less than a member of the family! Now, if you don't have friends in Chennai who invite you to their grand weddings, or are simply too afraid to make a trip to the most humid city I've ever been to, you can experience part of the magic in this dish, which is from the state that Chennai is the capital city of, Tamil Nadu.

For my Chicken Chettinad, you will need the following:

Chicken	500 gms (boneless, if you can wangle it)
Onions	2 medium
Tomatoes	1 large
Grated/Desiccated Coconut	1 cup
Ginger	thumb sized piece
Garlic	4-5 cloves
Jeera (cumin) seeds	5 tsp
Elaichi (cardamom pods)	2
Cloves	4
Cinnamon	1" piece
Saunf (fennel seeds)	2 tsp
Haldi (turmeric) powder	1 tsp
Peppercorns	tiny handful
Curry leaves	handful
Dried red chillies	8-10
Salt	to taste
Oil

Prep:

1. Cube the chicken.
2. Blitz 1 onion, ginger, garlic, 3 tsp jeera, saunf, peppercorns, red chillies, and the coconut together. (Add a splash of water if you're using desiccated coconut) to make a marinade.
3. Pop the chicken in a bowl.
4. Plop the blitzed paste on top of the chicken.
5. Lovingly mix it until the chicken is all coated with the marinade.
6. Cover/Saran wrap the bowl and stick it in the fridge for 30 mins.
7. Blitz/Grate the remaining onion.
8. Blitz the tomato.

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung a kadhai/pan on.
3. Splash in some oil.
4. Count to 20.
5. Pop in the rest of the cumin.
6. Toss in the elaichi.
7. Stick in the cloves.
8. Chick in the cinnamon.
9. Float in the curry leaves.
10. Cook it until you can smell the whole spices.
11. Spoon in the onions.
12. Wince as you're spattered by the oil.
13. Cook until the onions are a lovely brown.
14. Sprinkle in the haldi.
15. Mix.
16. Pour in the blitzed tomato.
17. Cook until the oil separates from the tomato.
18. Retrieve your chicken from the fridge.
19. Empty the bowl into the pan.
20. Mix.
21. Add salt to taste.
22. Cook for a few minutes until the chicken stops looking pink and the paste becomes darker.
23. Splash in some water.
24. Pop a lid on.
25. Watch the telly for 15-20 minutes.
26. Take the lid off.
27. Check that the chicken is cooked. (If not, give it a few minutes.)
28. Adjust the consistency as desired.
29. Turn the gas off.
30. Serve with hot rotis or rice.
31. Stuff face.
32. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

Tip: Go to Chennai if you get the chance, they have awesome sambar.

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

Shakshuka

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun! Way back in the '90s, when I was much smaller, and far more socially awkward, my best friend, Parsi Drama Queen, who is one of the very best cooks I know, and I would spend the summer vacations at his house playing classic 8-bit video games (we finished Contra a few times!), or trump cards, or just hang out in his kitchen experimenting with the contents of his fridge. We'd whizz up milkshakes ranging from magical to to absolutely vile (we once did one so bad we nearly threw up), or he'd cook up the most brilliant akoori I had ever eaten. 

This one time, I was headed to his house for breakfast, and he was out of eggs so he asked me to pick some up from the store round the corner, which I did. I got to his place and we went into the kitchen to start cooking. We got a big bowl and started cracking eggs. 3 eggs in, we came across one with a little chip on the side. Not paying it a second thought, we cracked it into the bowl, and gagged as an absolutely horrendous odour engulfed us.  As the blue-black yolk of the rotten egg mixed in with the flawless others, Parsi Drama Queen ran into to the loo to (actually) throw up, and I realized that all the science text books in the world got it wrong; hydrogen sulphide does not smell like rotten eggs, it pales in comparison. A few moments later, a white faced, shaking Parsi Drama Queen came into the kitchen holding his breath and picked the bowl up. Holding the bowl in his still quivering hand at arms length, he took the bowl outside to his backyard, walked to wall dividing his backyard from his next door neighbour's, and proceeded to pour out the contents of the bowl on the other side. As the eggs slowly cooked on the burning hot floor in the stifling summer's heat of his fortunately vacant neighbour's yard, we opened all the windows in the kitchen to air his house out before his mum came home and killed us.

This recipe, thankfully, is rotten egg free, and is reminiscent of the most excellent Parsi, 'Tambota par edu'.

For my Shakshuka, you will need the following:

Eggs	2
Onion	1/2
Tomato	1/2
Peppers (red or green)	1/2
Garlic	1 clove
Chillies	1-2
Red chilli powder	1 tsp
Coriander powder	1 tsp
Cumin powder	1/2 tsp
Coriander leaves	tiny handful
Mint leaves	tiny handful
Salt	to taste
Oil

Prep:

1. Chop the onions.
2. Chop the tomatoes.
3. Chop the peppers.
4. Chop the chillies.
5. Mince the garlic.
6. Roughly chop the coriander, and mint leaves. 

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung a little pan on.
3. Splash in some oil.
4. Count to 20.
5. Roll in the chillies.
6. Pop in the garlic.
7. Cook for about 30 seconds.
8. Toss in the onions.
9. Cook until the onions go translucent.
10. Sprinkle on the red chilli powder, coriander powder, and cumin powder.
11. Mix well.
12. Pop in the tomatoes and peppers. (And a squirt of puree if you have some.)
13. Mix well and pop a lid on. (This is so the moisture doesn't all escape. You don't want it all dry.)
14. Cook until the oil separates from the tomatoes.
15. Add salt to taste.
16. Using your spatula, make 2 indentations or 'wells' in the mixture.
17. Crack an egg open in each of the wells.
18. Pop the lid back on until the egg cooks.
19. Take the lid off.
20. Turn the gas off.
21. Sprinkle some salt on the eggs.
22. Sprinkle the coriander, and mint leaves all over.
23. Serve with crusty bread.
24. Stuff face.
25. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

Tip: If you leave the lid on too long after you put the eggs in, the yolk will harden. For a runny yolk, make sure to get the lid off earlier. Also, to find out if your eggs are still good to eat, dunk them in a bowl of cold water; if they float, toss them.

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