[Continued] Chapter 1: Food As I Knew It (1982-2008)
By now, you may have grasped that I basically cook because of my mum.
But I also cook for her. In her memory. And to make her proud.
Every family has their happy and sad moments. And I believe every family also has a pick-me-up dish.
In the last post I mentioned, my parents departure from Bangalore (back to Delhi) wasn’t exactly a happy one. This story will shed some light on that.
Let me take you back to May 2004. The time that I feel was the silent end to some of the calm in our simple lives. Can’t quite forget the time. I had my university final exams, and I used to speak to my parents, or mother, at least once a day. If not speak then chat. That day I was in my university library, doing something mathematical, trying to get hold of my parents. A day went by, and then two. I started to worry, and told my friend that I sensed something was wrong. She told me to not overthink. I was famous for overthinking. My brother was at the same university, and he kept nudging me off as well.
Last day of exams. All done, we were going to graduate soon! I had a fancy investment banking job lined up - wasn’t interested much in the job honestly, but was definitely looking forward to the pay. My brother sat me down on the steps to our amphitheatre and asked me to cancel my flights to India (I was heading home in a week for the holidays). “But why, what are you hiding!”. My brother is a bad liar, I can see through him even when he doesn’t know it. He had known it all along, but my dad didn’t want the news to interrupt my exams. How very Indian of them! Made me so mad. Did then, and does now.
Car crash. I knew there was a reason my mother wasn’t responding! They were on their way for a holiday, and a drunken wedding party van forced them off a culvert. Saving the rest of the details, what followed was a traumatic and life shattering experience for them. Although I think they never did admit it. From being air lifted into a hospital, to several months in rehab/recovery, it changed their life (and ours) in a flash of second. Only then, I didn’t know the extent of the damage it will cause in years to come. If only I could be mature at 22 and drop everything to give them what they needed the most at that time. Family.
Don’t get me wrong. I did go home. Nobody could stop me from doing that. I did nurse them for a few months, saw them in and out of hospital. Once my mother even returned to the ICU and I kept thinking, “This cannot be it, can it?”. Thankfully it wasn’t. But it was shocking and confusing to me as well. I didn’t know how exactly to support them, and I wasn’t ready to switch roles and be the parent yet. My dad kept a brave face of course, but I had never seen my mum so weak and mentally broken before.
So I did what I knew best. I cooked for them.
Our family had a pick-me-up-dish which my dad lovingly called the “zindagi banaane waala chicken” - “life making chicken”. It was a dish my mum created by mistake. I can’t quite recall the first time we had it, but it was a school holiday weekend, and weekends meant non-veg. She must have been trying to make chicken curry, a staple, and realised she wasn’t stocked on some ingredients. Lo and behold came a dish on the table we had never set eyes on before. It was spicy, tangy, with thick gravy that hugged every chicken morsel - oh a delicious mistake! We all loved it and licked up every last morsel with rice. Since that day, it was a ritual to have “Zindagi banaane waala chicken” on happy and not-so-happy occasions alike. We had it in school holidays, or when we had something to celebrate. We had it on days we did something fun together as a family. And mum sometimes made it when she knew dad was upset, as it brought a smile to our faces, and made us forget any lingering worries. I just had to cook this for them in Bangalore. I was sure it would create a tiny streak of normality in those stressful days of healing and shock.
My mother didn’t quite have a recipe for it, but somehow manage to get it right every time. She claimed it was too easy to pen down. How I wish she had! I couldn’t quite get the full recipe from her after the accident, and I wasn’t much of a cook back then, so I just made them a version of it that I thought was right. They said it was perfect - but of course, I beg to differ.
Life moved on. I returned to start my job in Singapore, and a year later my dad decided to quit his job, leave Bangalore and return to Delhi. A plan in the making for a while, but the accident and injuries accelerated it all. Once back in Delhi, this chicken looked over many decisions, and served them several stressful nights.
Saddest part - I never did ever find out the recipe. It’s still a mystery. And now there is no one to ask.
This recipe is a take on that very chicken. It doesn’t do it justice, but I hope somewhere she is watching, chuckling and correcting my version of her mistake…
Ingredients
250 gm minced or finely chopped chicken breast
2 large plum tomatoes, diced
2 tsp ginger garlic paste (or 4 cloves of garlic, crushed + 2 tsp grated ginger)
2 green chilies (more if you want to turn up the heat!), finely chopped
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/2 green pepper, cut into small cubes
1/2 red pepper, cut into small cubes
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1/4 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp cumin powder
2 tbsp coriander powder
1/2 tsp garam masala
6 tablespoons olive oil (more the better!)
Salt to taste
Lettuce leaves to serve, washed and soaked in cold water (to retain their crisp)
Optional toppings: Sour cream, freshly chopped coriander, lemon juice
Method
Heat oil in a non stick pan. Add the cumin seeds, bay leaf, chilies, ginger and garlic and cook for a few minutes till the seeds begin to splutter.
Add the onion, along with a little salt (to help them sweat), and cook till the onions start to brown. Add the red & green peppers, tomatoes and all the dry spices. Mix well, let it simmer covered on medium-low flame for around 10-12 minutes, till the tomatoes are soft (crush them with the back of your spatula), fully cooked and oil begins to separate from the sides. Once the raw taste of tomatoes has disappeared, add the chicken, cover and cook on medium heat for another 10-15 minutes, or till the chicken is cooked through. Remove cover, turn up heat and saute till all excess liquid is absorbed. You want the spices and gravy to coat every piece of chicken. Adjust salt, and garnish with some fresh coriander.
When ready to serve, pat dry the lettuce leaves and add 2 generous spoonfuls of chicken keema on each leaf. Top with fresh coriander, sour cream and a dash of lemon.
For a traditional version, serve over rice. Sticky rice is my favourite!
