How I miss decent Indian curry. From mild, creamy kormas to the byeck and blimey charlie's I love them all. Located close to Manchester and Bradford I was spoiled when it came to curry eateries which I patronised on a frequent basis. In Hamburg we found one, admittedly superior Indian restaurant but out here in the sticks? You have more chance of finding a decent dentist. What they call a curry, you and I would call a stew.
That leaves a woman with little option but to do the job herself. Finje, not known for her spirit of adventure when it comes to culinary experimentation, would provide the challenge. Fish fingers to vindaloo in one step might cause the biggest mumfail to date and possibly a trip to the hospital to boot.
Having found a recipe that promised positive results with the nippers I decided to give it a shot.
I am not a good cook. I lack the patience and am not a perfectionist. I can never be bothered to check if I actually have all the ingredients, prefering the "wing it" method. Last time Finje and I attempted chocolate biscuits, I discovered way too late we were out of oats. The crushed cornflake substitution was not a success.
Throwing together Finje's first curry I encountered, not for the first itme, Teutonic sabotage. A request for fresh coriander in the local supermarket was met with a baffled frown and a point in the direction of the carrots! Mild curry paste is apparently also too exotic for the German rural community but I did find curry powder. Should you fancy lamb (as my recipe required), that has to be ordered in advance. Not really a supermarket then.
The final result was, astonishingly, not at all bad. I mean, chicken and lamb, almost the same thing and who needs coriander? It was a touch spicier than a korma but miles away from the "get the loo roll in the fridge" curry we all swear never to order again but inevitably do.
Finje, in a splendid display of British geneology finished her portion and asked for more. In my euphoria, I forgot that her first helping had been docted with sour cream to soften the blow. Round two was the grown-up version. As the first bite went down I watched with fascination as her face turned a tad rosy. More chewing and then a strained and breathy,