“Hindi-Chini bhai-bhai” is a saying that translates from Hindi as "Indians and Chinese are brothers". I know this because it was the response my Indian companion gave me, when I asked on route to dinner, her thoughts on the Indo-Chinese menu that awaited us at Asma Khan’s supper club.
I suppose it makes a lot of sense. China and India are two of the world’s oldest civilisations and have co-existed in peace for millennia. The first Chinese emigrant to settle in Calcutta was a Mr Yang Tai Chow in 1778 followed by many more, bringing with them their cuisine and culture. Not to mention Chinese is probably the most popular street food in Calcutta and what we would be sampling at dinner (both nuggets of insight shared by Asma to give the evening context - I am alas not a walking encyclopaedia of Indo-China relations).
Proceedings began with one of the best dishes of the night, chicken thupa. A thin broth occupied by shreds of soft 6hr slow-cooked meat full of flavour from the bone, homemade noodles, vegetables, garlic and ginger. A bowlful of well-being originating from Tibet and immediately recognisable as at home within those climes. With nurturing qualities to make any Jewish mother discreetly dab at a moist eye, it lulled me into a comfortable sense of ‘Asma is going to look after me this evening’.
And that she certainly did along with 26(ish) fellow diners, all seated in a quite beautiful open plan living room and dining space in her West London home. Chinese style beef momo dumplings I witnessed being parcelled up in the kitchen were steamed and served with a green chutney. The delicate casings housed chunky shreds of beef cooked with garlic, ginger and onions and the chutney was blow your scalp off, eye-sweating hot.
Vibrant green and with tongue-tearing fire, I kept returning to it like a crazed masochist thanks to the incredible flavour from the coriander. It was zippy, refreshing and on the verge of self-combusting simultaneously - really very good.
Crisp deep fried dumplings stuffed with very well flavoured chicken cooked down with onions and spices were served piping hot with spirals of steam rising from the breached skin, and so very wonderfully savoury; they did nothing in the way of pacifying my blistering tongue but who cares when you’re devouring parcels of joy.
Platters piled high with two ways of chicken made the rounds. Boneless chunks marinated in lemon overnight with delicate flavour and intermittent nuggets of quite glorious crispy bits with more intensity, and chilli chicken on the bone cooked down with green peppers and the signature Catonese influence that is a cornflour sauce coating.
Tender beef slithers stir-fried with chillies were very satisfying between the teeth and smoked chilli garlic prawns were fat and firm. The beef hakka chow mein with homemade noodles had delectable pieces of meat, but the plate needed a little more oomph to compete with the rest of the menu.
Then there was manchurian gobi; cauliflower florets combined with a very rich and quite sweet tomato sauce that would have been just as at home stirred into a pan of steaming pappardelle and served with a few basil leaves. Despite my companion feeling as though the florets should have been crisper from their deep fried treatment and the sauce needing more garlic (she is well acquainted with the dish), this was my second favourite plate of the evening - I loved it.
Proceedings concluded with fruit chaat and a jelly intense with the flavour of coconut; the latter sporting an opaque layer from its milk and a transparent one from the juice. The texture was much firmer (and therefore more pleasing) than the wobble western offerings present.
Whilst I would have liked to see more vegetables on the non-vegetarian menu (I really liked that gobi), and despite proceedings finishing a little late for a school night (a few people had to make their excuses before dessert as the clock approached 11pm), the menu was a great success with each morsel executed with knowledge, skill and most of all, a lot of love.
It's worth noting that at the time of moving to the UK in 1991 with her husband, Asma was bereft of the knowledge to even boil an egg; the distance she has come since then in terms of skill and success is inspiring. In 1993 Asma visited India for several months, determined to master the recipes and techniques from her ancestral kitchens that had been in her family for four generations. Since then, she has not looked back; via her business Darjeeling Express you will find her hosting supperclubs, pop-ups, private catering, cookery classes and more.
Upcoming Darjeeling Express events can be found on Edible Experiences but if you'd like to get in touch with Asma directly, you can reach her on Twitter @AsmaKhanCooks or drop her an email at darjeelingexpress@hotmail.co.uk.
I'll certainly be returning for Asma's highly-acclaimed Indian supper clubs - it's all some of the people I know ever talk about.
My rating: 3.5/5
Cost: £35 (please note this may vary)
BYO
Afiyet olsun.
I’m a big advocate of seasonal ingredients. If the cyclical forces
of nature inhibit produce growth, then it probably shouldn’t be growing at that
time of year. And by proxy, you will experience far less pleasure consuming it
than if you did at its peak. Have you ever tried to buy a fresh tomato in January?
They’ll be insipid to the point of translucent unless they’ve been freighted in
from the tropics or somewhere equally absurd. If you want tomatoes in January,
do what the Italians do and use quality canned tomatoes or passata where the
flavours of the summer bounty have been bottled and preserved.
When you do manage to get your hands on produce fresh and slap
bang in the middle of its seasonal best, there is often little if anything you
need to do to it or add to it to fully appreciate what it has to offer. A great example is this
soup that Matt makes where the star ingredient is watercress, currently in its
prime. It takes almost no time to knock up and contains the most minimal of
ingredients – not even any stock. Yet the flavour from it is so fresh and
vibrant and lively with the natural peppery hit from the leaves that it’s down
as one of my favourite soups.
Good for both the body and the soul, I present to you spring in a
bowl.
Watercress Soup
Serves 2
1/4 onion, diced
200g watercress
50g spinach
180ml boiling water
180g ice
Salt and pepper
Small knob of unsalted butter
Soften the onion in the butter until translucent. Add the
watercress and spinach and toss them in the pan for one minute. Add the boiling
water, bring up to the boil and boil for 2 minutes - push the leaves under the
surface of the water during this time. Remove the pan from the heat and add the ice.
Tip The use of ice prevents the leaves from overcooking
(thus retaining their nutrients) and preserves the vibrant colour of the leaves.
Stir until the ice has melted. Season with salt and pepper to taste –
don’t use too much pepper as watercress is naturally peppery. Use a stick
blender or transfer the contents to a food processor and blitz until smooth.
Reheat to piping hot when ready to serve and decant into warm bowls.
Serve with
a topping of your choice – a quenelle (neat looking spoonful - ask Masterchef) of crème fraîche, quark, Greek yoghurt, or a grating of parmesan. Don’t
forget a couple of slices of good quality sourdough. A perfect Spring lunch in
no time.
Alfiyet olsun.
It’s creeping up behind me. Its horrible, leering presence waiting to pounce. Biding its time before it makes its move, waiting for a show of weakness before an attack. No, it’s not a platinum blonde 80’s BBC presenter, but the beginnings of a cold.
And I’m not having it. It’s a busy time of year, with a hectic social calendar. I also have lots of things I need to do. Lists to draw up. Gifts to buy. Menus to plan. Curtains to make. Meetings to attend. I do not have the time to pander to the needs of a cold.
And so at the first hint of the fuzzy head, the lack of concentration, that tiny patch of burning in the back of the throat just waiting to multiply and spread, I retaliate. My weapons of choice – three key ingredients that when combined, create a life giving nectar. Every glug of broth warming the very marrow in your bones. This is the thing to consume at the first signs of a cold. Along with some zinc and Vitamin C supplements. And I’ll put good money on it working. Let me know.
Garlic Soup (from La Mancha)
This is a slightly different take on the Garlic Soup with Eggs recipe taken from the excellent Rick Stein’s Spain.
And here’s how he introduces this dish:
“If I were to describe this soup as hot stock with fried garlic, grilled bread and a poached egg, it would sound rather dull, but the fact that it is made all over Spain and is at the very heart of the cooking of Castilla-La Mancha tells you there’s something magical about this combination.”
Agreed.
Makes several portions, but can be drunk by one person over the course of the day / evening.
Ingredients
As much garlic as your family, friends and co-workers will let you get away with. Try at least a whole head, each clove very thinly sliced.
A kettle full of boiled water
3 chicken stock cubes (I particularly like Knorr)
Olive oil
Pimenton picante (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
Good quality thickly sliced white bread
Gently fry the garlic in a very decent glug of olive oil in a saucepan until lightly golden, but no darker.
Crumble the stock cubes into the pan and stir until they’ve melted.
Add a freshly boiled kettle of water and bring to a simmer.
Add the pimenton to taste – start with 1tsp and keep going if you fancy it. I have quite a bit in mine.
Turn off the heat and crack an egg into the pan. You can do this into a ladle full of the liquid – this way the egg doesn’t touch the pan base and the yolk stays runny.
Grill a slice of bread. Tear and place at the bottom of a bowl.
Once the egg is cooked, ladle it and some liquid over the bread, until your bowl is full.
Devour and bask in its healing qualities. Consume the remaining broth during the rest of the evening, slurping appreciatively straight from the bowl or from a mug.
The key ingredient is the pimenton and you can find it in good supermarkets, often in the specialist section rather than in the general spice rack aisle. Delicatessens are also likely to stock it. You can see the two brands I use in the images, bought from Waitrose and Selfridges.
As Rick says, this doesn’t sound like much. And I’ll be the first to admit the photograph of it is nothing special. But you simply will not understand the greatness of this simple soup until you try it. Possibly the easiest thing you’ll ever make, and one of the tastiest.
Don’t ever let your cupboards run out of this exquisite spice.
Alfiyet olsun.
Some of the greatest meals start with the most humble of ingredients. ‘Chop and fry an onion’ – the beginnings of a rich coq au vin, a wholesome cassoulet, or any number of countless recipes that set off on the same promising foot.
A pan full of these humble ingredients along with some herbs creates a key staple used across the board as a base of substance – vegetable stock. An excellent example of an often overlooked but fundamental component of many dishes.
A vegetable stock in its traditional form is a mass of liquid that has taken on the flavour of the vegetables and herbs that have been gently simmered in it. Other ingredients are then cooked in the stock to provide them with a base of flavour that can then be built upon.
But I do have an issue with this:
‘Strain the liquid’.
After the vegetables have been simmered, the liquid is strained and reserved – this is the stock. There is no longer a need for the vegetables – they’ve given you their clean and fresh flavours and you are now expected to turn them out to the cold. And why not – a carrot, a stick of celery, an onion – they’re two a penny. Who cares?
I do.
I take the straining of the liquid personally. You’ve got the flavours you’re after. There is no real necessity to discard all that fibre. And so, I often don’t.
This is a great one-pot wonder recipe that lets the flavours get on with their job.
Bean and Vegetable Soup au Pistou
Makes about 3 portions
300g dried beans of your choice (my favourite are butter beans)
For the veg stock
2 sticks of celery thickly sliced
2 carrots thickly sliced
1 white onion chopped into chunks
3 cloves of garlic
3 bay leaves
3 sprigs of rosemary
10 whole peppercorns
Olive oil
For the pistou / pesto
A pistou is a cold sauce made of garlic, basil and olive oil and is the French version of pesto - the main difference is it doesn’t contain pine nuts like pesto. It’s more traditionally stirred into soups but you could absolutely use pesto as a replacement. If you do however, I urge you to make your own – it’s so incredibly easy, much cheaper than buying a jar of it ready made, and the freshness will fight its way through and have a dance on your tongue.
Pistou
Basil leaves
Garlic
Olive oil
Parmesan
Salt and pepper
Pesto
As above, but with toasted pine nuts.
Soak the beans in plenty of cold water over night. Rinse well and drain.
Place into a large heavy based pan, add plenty of cold water and bring to a simmer. Remove the scum that will appear on the surface as it comes up the boil.
Once the water is boiling, add all the vegetables, herbs, a good glug of olive oil and a decent amount of salt. Bring back up to the boil and then reduce the heat so you are left with a comforting and very slow simmer – blip blip.
Keep it like this for 1.5-2 hrs giving the beans a stir now and again to prevent them sticking to the bottom of the pan. It’s ready when the beans are tender and have no resistance to a bite.
To make your pesto / pistou, mash all the ingredients in a pestle and mortar or wazz it with something electrical – I often use my stick blender. Then add a little oil at a time until you have the required consistency. It’s that easy.
You’ll notice I haven’t specified how much of each of the sauce components to add as it’s completely down to your taste. My advice would be to start with 1 clove of garlic, a heaped tablespoon of toasted pine nuts, a small handful of basil leaves, a little pile of parmesan gratings, a good glug of oil and a big pinch of black pepper. Then adjust according to your taste.
Once your soup is ready, pour into a bowl and dollop a tablespoon of your delicious home made sauce and stir through. Serve with a crusty roll.
This is a simple, wholesome and nutritious soup with the delicate and fresh flavours of the vegetables taking centre stage. The buttery and creamy consistency of the beans provide a wonderful texture, and the pungency of the garlic sauce with salty cheese will give every mouthful a little song to sing about.
Making these for work lunches as I did, may have been a little misguided. Raw garlic and afternoon meetings don’t marry as well as one might think. Just as well I have considerate colleagues.
Crisp deep fried dumplings stuffed with very well flavoured chicken cooked down with onions and spices were served piping hot with spirals of steam rising from the breached skin, and so very wonderfully savoury; they did nothing in the way of pacifying my blistering tongue but who cares when you’re devouring parcels of joy.
Tender beef slithers stir-fried with chillies were very satisfying between the teeth and smoked chilli garlic prawns were fat and firm. The beef hakka chow mein with homemade noodles had delectable pieces of meat, but the plate needed a little more oomph to compete with the rest of the menu.
Whilst I would have liked to see more vegetables on the non-vegetarian menu (I really liked that gobi), and despite proceedings finishing a little late for a school night (a few people had to make their excuses before dessert as the clock approached 11pm), the menu was a great success with each morsel executed with knowledge, skill and most of all, a lot of love.
