I have never really been one to be overly excited about a carrot, not even when it is dunked in the world’s best hummus and I was one of those that drew them to a side at school when they appeared as boiled or soggy sides during forgettable lunch times. I don’t feature them at Christmas and when a health visitor suggested that I wean my boy on boiled sticks of carrot, even I turned my nose. Whilst the foodie world fusses over damsons and aubergines, gelato and burrata here I am, talking to you about, well…carrots.
But, a couple of days ago Riverford sent me a generous bounty of perfectly fragranced and muddy carrots which, when the boy and I finished scrubbing, revealed to be some ultra-orange charms that tasted so sweet that it confused my mind a little. It was the kind of sweetness that you get when you roast a vegetable, you know, delicate but abundant. So then what to do with this princely amount?
So I did what anyone who needs a question answering does these days, I put it out on social media (yes, let’s all roll our eyes a little at this, but look I haven’t turned to telling my two-year-old son how proud I am of him over Facebook yet, so there is still hope). Anyway, social media responses suggested pickle (I have been thinking of it since so this will follow in due course, with lemon or limes), carrot halwa, carrot cake, and carrot juice…all sounding fab huh?
Given that these carrots hold so much sweetness and colour I am starting ‘mission carrot’ with a sweet dish and that is my beloved Shrikhand.
Shrikhand is an Indian sweet dish made of strained yoghurt, which when it becomes thick and creamy is sweetened with sugar and then spiced with saffron, rose water, cardamom, pistachio and is so indulgent and lick-worthy. But you know me. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t fusion-it-up. Behold the carrot Shrikhand that is juicy, creamy, royal-feeling and perfectly naughty on a crisp and airy meringue.
Last weekend felt like a weekend from the yester-summers, with a few subtle differences.
We attended a wedding near where we live and I do love a wedding. As my husband and I fussed with car parking botches before our arrival at the wedding, thanks to faulty ticket machines and lengthy queues of cars filled with sari’s and gifts and then of course a toddler who unquestionably did not agree on how handsome he looked in the suit jacket and smart shirt, I sighed and smiled that this is all part of the happy mayhem with the background tune of, “I can’t like these clothes mumma, I don’t look brilliant.”
As we entered the wedding venue soft romantic music played to a quietly seated and orderly congregation of guests, not like the chattering sprawl my aunts and mum mingled between during my childhood. The priest spoke in soothing, professional and gentle tones, rather than the more directive and stressed tone I remembered from back in the day. The couple looked lovingly at each other, not tensed or fatigued. My cousins and I, who used to chase each other and chatter on in weddings as kids now we entertained our own in the corridors so as not to disturb the silence of the audience. We attempted to orchestrate pictures of the kids but alas, they just wanted to run, as we had once done. Luckily for the collective team of under 5’s the wedding was over in a couple of hours whereas in our day, they were full day affairs that rarely ran to time.
After the wedding my cousins, a few of our parents and of course all the kiddies came back to ours and we had a spray of happy chaos. A crawling baby, toddlers tugging over toys, grandfathers on strawberry picking special-assignments with little super-heroes and squeals on slides and swings. We had pasta and Khichdi and even roasted potatoes all over the house mingling with crisps and grapes. Nappies, spoons and splishing drinks generating curious scents and sounds and a few of us admitted that feeding tired and excitable kiddies was something we were dreading today.
Nobody wanted the Khichdi, or the vegetables, or the pasta or the potatoes but there is one vegetable that everyone agreed on (and this, amidst happy pandemonium is relief). That is corn.
I am not sure whether it’s the independence element of grabbing corn and just going at the juicy kernels or the cave person freedom. Is it the juicy sweetness or just the easy pleasure? I don’t know but what I do know is that Riverford sent me the freshest and most untainted corn this week in my vegbox and not a single kernel of corn was bruised or damaged. Utterly in season, fresh and golden juicy gorgeousness was in my box and I wanted to do it justice.
Fresh and good quality corn like the stuff I received is sweet and loudly so. To balance the sweetness I whipped up some homemade hoisin sauce which includes salty soy sauce and nutty peanut butter, a bit of chilli and garlic…so you see all the flavours balance so well and it’s such a joy to eat corn sticky and bold in flavour. Go on, be happy.
This is a post that is different to the posts you may be accustomed to seeing from me. Yes there is a recipe, but there is something different.
I was asked a few months ago to share a recipe for the Curry for Change competition, held in conjunction with Natco for the Find your Feet charity. I, like many of you out there get a lot of emails each day but this one caught my attention and held it. I used to be one of those people that was so preoccupied with life that charitable stuff was scheduled in for particular times of the year yet always on the agenda. Since having my boy, my emotional equilibrium has, well, shifted. If you have followed my blog (I thank you once again if you have been) then you will know that during the past few years I have found myself quite lost, confused and in search of that, ‘lifeline’. I have gone without so many aspects of previous life that I felt had defined me, but I can not pretend to know what it is like for people who go without the basics of life; food.
The rawness of the truth for me is that I needed to feel that ‘I CAN’. That I can make a difference for myself, that I can be productive by myself, that I can voice myself once again. It has taken me a few years to find my feet again, and I am trying to imagine how someone who does not have the support, systems, means, facilities, access and options that I have, would find their feet.
So, my recipe was one of the winning recipes for this challenge, as selected by Vivek Singh and I am delighted to share it with you all today. The recipe is for black eye bean pakora in coconut kadhi. This is a sumptuous and soothing dish, filling and versatile and you can make the components ahead of a dinner party and then throw them together at the last minute. The pakora are deep and nutty and full of texture. The little gram flour fritters are lightly spiced and sit in a tangy, spicy and hot yogurt based soup/curry that is tempered with whole spices such as cloves, cinnamon, curry leaves, cumin seeds and ginger. I have used coconut powder to give it a light and fragrant touch. This is perfect for the season and easy to do.
When our own lives are filled with good food, it’s hard to imagine that one in eight people around the world will go to bed hungry tonight.
The Find your Feet charity works to support families in Asia and Africa to not got hungry. Not by feeding them, but my helping them find their feet. They support and encourage families to innovate, using their own resources more productively, trying new seeds, making compost and diversifying their crops.
This means they can produce a variety of nutritious foods to eat throughout the year so that they never go hungry and to earn an income by selling the excess.
They provide them with training and support to start village saving and loan schemes so they can borrow a little capital to start a small business.
This allows them to sell their surplus vegetables or eggs or start a small local shop which enables them to become more self-reliant and provide a better future for their family.
They empower women so that they have the confidence to speak out and take a stand on issues that affect them, such as accessing better healthcare for their children or clean water for their village. This in turn enables them to demand what is rightfully theirs.
Life is so short.
So, what can you do?
Well you could hold a curry event at your home or at a friends and ask each person to make a charitable contribution. You cook up a few dishes (you could use this recipe as one) and enjoy yourselves. For every penny your curry event raises, Nacto will match it. The person that raises the most will win a class with Atul Kochhar at his esteemed restaurant, Benares in Mayfair.
Here is my recipe and the video that I did, showing how to cook this recipe, for Curry for change.
For the pakora
60g black eyed beans, pre-soaked overnight
50g finely chopped fenugreek leaves
1 tsp. minced ginger
Salt to taste
½ tsp. chilli powder (or to taste)
1 tsp. amchur powder or the juice of ½ lemon
100g gram flour
One medium onion, diced
1 tsp. cumin seeds
Oil for deep frying
For the coconut kadhi
400g plain, natural yoghurt
100g coconut milk powder
2 tbsp. gram flour
Salt to taste
2-3 green chillies slit open
1 small stick of cinnamon
5-6 curry leaves
1 tsp. minced ginger
2 tbsp. cooking oil
You will need to pre-cook the black eyed beans for about 25=30 minutes until they are tender, then drain any liquid
Heat the oil for deep frying whilst you make the batter for the pakora
To make the pakora firstly lightly mash the black eyed beans. Don’t puree them but with your fingers give them a tender squeeze. The reason for this is to avoid them rolling out of the batter and popping in the oil on their own.
Combine the lightly mashed black eyed beans. Then add the onions, fenugreek leaves and all the dry ingredients and mix them all well before adding all the wet ingredients and mix it all again.
Drop a small amount of batter into the oil to check if the batter sizzles and rises. If it does, then drop in small amounts (roughly 3-4cm sized pieces) into the oil and deep fry until they are crispy and golden brown. Remove them with a slotted spoon, releasing any excess oil, onto kitchen paper.
Turn your attention to making the Kadhi. Mix the coconut milk powder, yoghurt and gram flour to a smooth paste and leave it to side whilst you make the tempering.
In a deep pan, heat the oil and then add the cumin seeds, chillies, curry leaves, cloves and cinnamon. Let them sizzle and then add the minced ginger before you sauté for under a minute, but don’t let the Kadhi brown.
Pour in the yoghurt mixture and the water and bring it all to a simmer before adding salt.
Cook the Kadhi for 7-8 minutes, and then add the pakora and cook for a further 2-3 minutes before serving with hot and steaming rice.
Have I finally gone crazy? Maybe. My point is this; I think I generally eat pretty healthy foods not outrageously healthy foods, but I do eat lots of vegetables, plentiful grains like barley, faro and Quinoa, there are a few fruits, seeds, and nuts, dried apricots and some of the funky stuff like chia seeds, cacao, matcha and that sort of jazz. I consciously cut down the fruit sugar and increased the milk intake and when I am really good, I remember to take those iron pills. I don’t eat a lot of fried stuff or excessive amounts of sugar but my problem is this. I just eat way too much.
It is just as well that the lovely folk at Riverford have been sending me the season’s jewels. The sweet peppers in the vegbox from this week smell so sweet that I detected their untainted beauty before I even saw them as I rummaged through the picks of the week. I know I always get the most massive fresh leaves of spinach that aren’t gritty or punched with off-putting holes as many crops I get from the supermarket are. I have been eating the spinach raw and my husband even uses it in smoothies but I thought I would do more justice to the silky loveliness in this curry.
So what I have been trying to do is satisfy my taste buds (the culprit of my excessive eating) with bold flavours. So bold and capturing that relatively little goes a long way. I have used homemade cashew cream in this curry rather than using double cream or coconut milk or coconut cream but for whatever reason my husband was convinced that I did use coconut. I have used tofu in the stuffing rather than paneer. It is all sounding good eh? It is bold without being heavy or overly spiced. In fact, there is very little of that, ‘I have just had a curry and I can really feel it’ aftermath. You know the one I mean don’t you?
Its sweet, its spicy, its creamy its oof. It did it for me.
As I walked (rather than take the car) to pick up ingredients today with the boy in the buggy I sniffled lightly as I thought of all the work I have pending. Exam season is near, but it’s still summer isn’t it because there is still a week before it all kicks off. A whole week. I looked down at my jumper; well at least it has a floral print on it eh? And you know the menu for my upcoming cookery class has kale included, maybe I should just give in.
I mean there is even back-to-school stuff in the shops and the swimming pool is already quieter for all the children are screaming in playgrounds now. There is more traffic building up on the roads and the trampoline in the garden is filling up with rain water. I am still making the season’s last visits to the zoo and well, making ice cream.
So when the chap from Riverford tucked a box of seasonal jewels near my garden with a wrapper l on it and I saw it as I arrived home, my boy and turned our glances away from the wilting flowers and drying rose bushes to grab it and see because we have learned after a few deliveries that the quality of the fruit and vegetables we get is absolutely outstanding. Here is the thing, with no word of exaggeration. The corn we got this week is probably some of the best corn we have eaten in years. Years! I also got a perfectly sweet-tart and sunny looking plums with which I have struck a deal with the season-Gods. They bestow these beauties and I pretend it is still summer by adding a touch of exotic and aniseed-sexy star anise and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t create a little Asian-Italian fusion with the amoretti biscuits. Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but I will. This ice-cream is out of this world. It is sensational. You have to do it. The creaminess is exquisite and definitely not bashful. The spice is bold and the plums, they are tantalisingly sensual.
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