Granny's curry

 There will be those who scoff at the “recipe” below, on the grounds that it is inauthentic. Nothing like what I would eat in an Indian restaurant here, it is true, but I am bound to say that I have eaten something very similar in India itself. My grandfather was born in Bangalore (as it was then called) where “Bolst’s” was founded: that company was responsible for its mild curry powder and its mild mango pickle. The curry powder is still easy to find; the pickle less so.

This is, of course, a meal memorable for having been part of my childhood. My mother, no mean cook herself, used to enjoy “Granny’s watery curries”. According to Granny, it was my mother who first taught her about the use of onions in cooking. Granny was not an adventurous cook, but I cannot recall ever not enjoying a meal prepared by her. And she introduced me to many culinary techniques. Although teased about her repeated insistence on adding “just a little sprinkle” of sugar to meals, it was she who persuaded me that a squeeze of lemon juice on countless savoury dishes would improve them.

Here, then, is her recipe, possibly never written down, for beef curry.

Three tablespoons Bolst’s curry powder

1 large onion.

1 clove garlic.

500g stewing beef or beef mince.

3 fresh tomatoes.

3 large carrots.

: large potatoes.

1 tin chopped tomatoes.

Salt and pepper.

Olive oil to fry.

Fry the meat. Set aside.

Fry the curry powder, dry, watching it so it doesn’t burn.

Add the garlic and onion, fairly finely-chopped. Stir in the curry powder and add a little oil. Stir. Allow to swear.

Add the carrots, chopped into rounds, the potatoes, cubed, and the fresh tomatoes, quartered. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Add about half a pint of water and the tin of chopped tomatoes. Allow to simmer.

Serve with rice, poppadums and natural yoghurt.

Alici in Tortellini

My mother used to have a large platter with a recipe for “Alici in Tortellini” on it and I used to think it was the Italian for “Alice in Wonderland.”

But I digress.

In “Alice in Wonderland”, one of the many receptacles labelled “Drink me” contains something which, we are told, had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast”.

I have been reflecting on whether said drink would have been a thing of great delight or of revoltingness unspeakable. Whichever, it strikes me that the description is reminiscent of some of the more extravagant accounts of fine wines. Perhaps in this case a Royal Tokaji. Now THAT deserves the words “Drink me” on every bottle.

James’s egg mayonnaise

My uncle James used to make this every Boxing Day and bring it from Orpington, where he lived (and lives) with his family to East Dulwich, where we lived. He would bring it in a patterned brown rectangular pottery dish with a lid. The eggs with their mayonnaise coating, stained with paprika on top. Unctuous and delicious.The recipe came from Delia Smith. Unlike me, James would make the mayonnaise in a blender. One year my grandmother told us darkly on arrival that there had been problems with the mayonnaise that morning. It had curdled - possibly more than once. But when James arrived, he came with the usual brown dish and the eggs mayonnaise were as good as ever. The last time I recall his making it was when I was unwell in hospital and he brought a dish of it for me to sample. It did the trick.

I have not found Delia’s recipe, as such, but she describes what is required. “But oh, the real thing! Eggs boiled not quite hard but still a little creamy, and a proper home-made mayonnaise flavoured with garlic and looking like thick glossy ointment - there’s a rare luxury indeed. Serve the halved eggs, 1 or 1 1/2 per person, on a bed of sliced pickled dill cucumber and garnish with thin strips of anchovy and small black olives.” I am not convinced by the bed, with its additions, and James did not bother with them. Here, though, is the mayonnaise recipe.

INGREDIENTS

2 large egg yolks

1 clove garlic, crushed

1 heaped teaspoon dry mustard powder

1 level teaspoon salt

Freshly milled black pepper

10 fl oz groundnut oil  (275 ml)

White wine vinegar

METHOD

Mix the egg yolks, garlic, mustard powder, salt and pepper. Add the oil, to begin with, drop by drop, either in a mixer or do it by hand (my preference). Add the vinegar towards the end, and you can, as the mixture thickens, add the oil in a steady stream. Keep it looking yellow, my mother would always say.

Crustacea

I have never quite understood the difference between a shrimp and a prawn. "I'm not a shrimp” a character called Jimmy Brown said indignantly in one of Enid Blyton’s Circus books. "Well maybe you're a prawn then.", replied the circus man, quick as a flash, demonstrating, in Blyton’s world, the ready wit of circus folk. Blyton knew the difference, but I still don’t. And what are Dublin Bay prawns? And scampi? And what is the singular of scampi? Apparently, it’s scampo. I used to eat scampi out of a basket in pubs in the late 1970s. Here, though, are two plates of deliciousness from about thirty years after that. An oasis in East London. Red wine, not white.

Midnight Feast

My mother was at boarding school and had a most unpleasant-sounding headteacher who everyone called "Hetty". The girls in her dorm organised a midnight feast one night and Hetty got wind of it. At midnight, when the girls were about to creep down for their feast, in walked Hetty. She turned on the lights and commanded the girls to get dressed and walk downstairs. In the dining room, she had laid the table and put out all the food that had been gathered for the midnight feast. The girls had to eat it all in dead silence, with beady-eyed Hetty sitting at the end of the table, having sucked all the joy out of the escapade. At one point my mother picked up a slice of what she thought was cheese and ate it only to discover it was a piece of margarine. She did not even dare to giggle. At the end of the "feast", they had to clear the plates and then go upstairs and put on their night things before the light was switched off. Not another word was said about it.

Cold curried apple soup

Just the name of this appears in my mother's recipe book, as though she had eaten it and wanted, at some stage, to write down the recipe. But she never did.

Austerity Soup

 This is Austerity Soup. The recipe: as with any good hearty soup, start with the Holy Quadernity of onion, celery, carrot and leek. Add chopped broccoli stem, the green tops of leeks and spring onions, the outer leaves which surround cauliflower, the tops of carrots, turnips and beetroots. Add any vegetables which are getting a bit past their best, and sweat until soft and sweet. Add a handful of frozen peas (protein content 👍) with stock or bouillon and water. Simmer for 10 minutes then blend smooth and add seasoning to taste. 

This version has fried chorizo and oil on top, because Julien believes any soup is improved by a bit of porkiness. In the case of green soup, I would have to agree, though it does perhaps reduce the thriftiness of this soup!