Murg Dahi Kofta

I was perhaps 5 or 6 when Iqbal Mama first came to our house on a winter morning with his huge trunk crammed full with exquisite pashminas, shawls embellished with intricate gold thread-work, ponchos and pherans in lovely shades of lavender and pink and lemon yellow with elaborate, embroidered flowers I knew not the names of. I remember my mother and aunts sitting in the living room browsing through his treasure trove and my mother's strict instruction that I shouldn't touch a thing. Iqbal Mama had laughed and told my Mum that it was okay. Before leaving he had gifted me a black poncho with white and pink flowers on it. Initially I called him shawl-wallah uncle, later Mum said it was rude and I should call him just uncle. Iqbal Mama said I should call him Mama.

For years after and until recently Iqbal Mama came to Calcutta from Kashmir every autumn with hundreds of other Shawl wallahs and for me meeting him was a winter ritual I eagerly awaited. Soon, he had turned into a friend of the family, we were invited to his wedding and he would attend our family functions. We couldn't attend his wedding though because of the condition in Kashmir back then but we had in our hearts the very best wishes for him.

While in Calcutta he stayed with some of his fellows from back home in a house with blue walls in a narrow lane off Ripon street, 10 or 15 of them. Once Iqbal Mama had invited us over for dinner, we went. Mum couldn't for she was unwell but I accompanied my dad, uncle and aunt to his place. And that evening we were served a meal I still remember.

We were seated in a room and some of the guys were introduced to us while the others I only heard voices of. I have hardly ever seen such hospitality, they all seemed to be ready to go out on a limb to make us comfortable. And after the initial cheek-pulling and name-asking I was given two tins of chocolate cream biscuits which I could finish all by myself, they said. There were more for the elders they assured and that I could have as much as I wanted, but my aunt was already giving me THE LOOK. The elders chatted for hours, as far as I can remember the discussion revolved around Kashmir and what the people were facing there. One of these men had lost a family member to militants. I somehow still remember a few strands from the conversation. I was only ten, or nine perhaps, and so I can never be sure but I clearly remember him mentioning a severed hand.

Everyone was so engrossed in the discussion and for good reason that they didn't quite pay heed to the fact that discussions about bullets through the head and severed hands could freak out a ten year old just a little. Thank God my mind was elsewhere, elsewhere implying the kitchen,  that I am not scarred for life. The aroma wafting in from the kitchen was too much to handle.

A white sheet was spread on the ground and the plates were laid and the then food started coming. And it's one of the tastiest meals I have ever had. There were enormous pieces of paneer in a thick tomato gravy, there was meat cooked with saag, there was another dish of tender, melt-in-your pieces of meat in a creamy white gravy and there were enormous koftas in a soupy white gravy. I didn't know the names of any of these dishes back then, I think I do know most of them now. But what I still crave and often are the Aab Gosht and the Gushtaba. Many a time Iqbal Mama had promised to teach me how to make them but somehow we didn't get around to doing it. He has not been coming for a couple of years now...

Anyway, I am finally planning a trip to Kashmir in May and I am super kicked. The last week or so has gone into planning and making bookings and for innumerable times during this time I have thought about that sumptuous dinner many winters ago. Yesterday I had brought some minced chicken home and trumped up this dish which is definitely not Gushtaba, (come on it's chicken!)but definitely inspired by it. So, I am calling it Murg Dahi Kofta. Hope you'll enjoy it!

 Ingredients 

For the chicken kofta 
Finely minced chicken
Finely chopped onions - 1/2 cup packed
Garlic paste - 1 tbsp
Ginger paste - 1 tbsp
Chopped raisins - 2-3 tbsp
Chopped mint leaves - 3 tbsp
Chopped coriander leaves  - 6 tbsp
Salt to taste
Finely chopped green chilies - 5-6
OR Red chili powder - 1 tbsp 
Breadcrumbs - 5-6 tbsp

For the gravy

Ghee - 100g

WHOLE SPICES
Bay leaves - 2-3
Green cardamom - 6-8
Cinnamon stick - 2 inch
Cloves 5-6
Black peppercorns - 6-8
Nutmeg powder  - a pinch
Javitri - 2-3
Black Cardamom - 1 (big)

Garlic paste - 1 tsp
Ginger paste - 1 tbsp
Cumin powder - 1 tsp
Coriander powder - 1 tbsp
Warm water 7-8 cups
Yoghurt - 200g
Fresh coarsely ground pepper - 1 tbsp
Fresh cream - 50 ml
Salt to taste
Sugar 

Method

For the kofta mix all the ingredients together and roll them into balls the size of ping pong balls!Keep aside.

 In a bowl whisk the yoghurt with half a cup water so that it is smooth, creamy and slightly runny.

Now heat ghee in a large pan, once it reaches smoking point reduce heat and add all the whole spices and let them release their mind-blowing aroma.

Add the garlic paste, ginger paste and the cumin and coriander which you must dilute in a little water before adding. Fry the spices for a minute or two, make sure you don't burn them.

Now add the warm water and bring it to a boil. Lower heat and add the yoghurt stir continuously and vigorously so that the curd doesn't curdle. Let is all simmer for a few minutes.

Now strain out the whole spices, turn up heat and once the broth comes to a boil add the koftas one by one, carefully.

Let is cook for about 20 minutes or until the koftas are done. Keep an eye.

Finally, lower heat, add the black pepper and cream and take it off heat. Serve with rotis or steamed rice. It is delicious.

Sesame-Crusted Golmirch Chicken: Luck by chance!

December before last I took off on a 10 day trip to Delhi. This was suppose to be a reunion of sorts with two of my best friends from university — Chetna Desai and Jhumki Dutta (now Jhumki Dutta Kashyap). They have been my family during my stay in England, the source of warmth that helped me deal with the cold and grey English weather and the repercussions of staying thousands of miles away from home. Oh the times we have shared — walking in the woods, exploring the Downs, coffee at Starbucks, window-shopping at Churchill square, beer on the Brighton beach, tea at 3 in the morning, arguments, tears, hugs, memories, losses, happiness...I love these women to bits. And the idea was to spend some great time with the two of them. I had another secret plan though — I wanted to explore Delhi's food scene, which I had heard had undergone a sea change in less than a decade. I mean I was more than familiar with the the kebabs and paranthas and chaats and chola bhaturas but I wanted to check out the newest places in New Delhi.

Now who knows one better than their friends. The first thing Chetna (she is a development professional) said on seeing me walk out of the airport was "You have to check out this Bihari restaurant I ate at last week, it is brilliant!" I knew right away that this was going to be a good trip.

With Chetna

With Jhumki

We went to the Pot Belly Rooftop Cafe on the third day of my stay — Chetna, Jhumki and I. Now Chetna is a vegetarian and I had assumed we were going to a vegetarian joint. But I was happy at the thought of wolfing down a preposterous amount of Teheri and feasting on litti chokha. The almost perpendicular climp up to the fourth floor rooftop was rather taxing on my legs and morale but I managed and boy was  I glad I did. I did little jig on seeing meat and fish on the menu and settled for a Golmirch chicken among other stuff. Now what I was expecting was a dark, peppery gravy or something dry on the lines of a stir fry what I didn't expect was succulent, melt-in-your-mouth pieces of chicken in a buttery creamy sauce flavoured with fresh ground black pepper. I was in love with the dish.

The spread at Pot Belly. (Left, front) Golmirch chicken served with Parantha, chokha, sabudana vada and salad. I wish I had a better picture. But at that time, I had been like "Picture? What picture? Dig in!"

Ever since my return I have contemplated recreating the dish but never got around to doing it. In fact a few weeks ago I was craving Pot Belly's Golmirch chicken and thought that I had probably forgotten the taste by now. I decided a trip to Delhi was necessary and how.

However, last evening I trumped up a chicken preparation merely with a few things lying in the fridge that needed to be used and the dish took my breath away....I was transported back to that wintry night in Delhi when I polished off an entire bowl of the creamy golmirch chicken....this was almost identical, except it had my own little twist, a golden sesame crust. This, this is SERENDIPITY.

 
Ingredients 

Chicken (Boneless)- 1 kg
Hung Curd - 100 gms
Fresh cream - 100 ml
Garlic paste - 1 tbsp
Almond - 25-30
Cashew nuts - 15-20
Coarsely ground black pepper (fresh) - 2 tbsp
White oil - 4-5 tbsp
Salt to taste
Pinch of sugar 

Method:


In a mixer make a course paste of the almonds and cashewnuts together.

Marinate the chicken with all the ingredients (including the nut paste), except the sesame seeds and keep for an hour.

Preheat oven at 160 degree centigrade. Pour the marinated chicken into a baking tray and spread it out to form a single layer.

Now spinkle the sesame seeds generously on the chicken.

This is how it should look when it goes into the oven

Bake at 160 degree for 60-70 minutes. For the last five minutes change oven settings to heat from the top to get a golden crust, faster.

Serve with Parantha or Naan Bread.