If you're a vegetarian, and you don't eat curry, you're missing out. I'm using curry in the loosest term, because that's the easiest to cook. You can go more authentic if you follow a recipe. But every time I do, I get my amchoor mixed up with my asafoetida and it takes ages. So here's the simple version...
Chop and onion and fry it. Even if you don't like onions. This is a bit of a ritual, and it signals to your entire household that tasty food is coming - sort of like an appetiser that you inhale. Garlic should go in at some point here too.
Add mustard seeds and other small things that pop in oil at some point around now, perhaps before the onion. I always forget to do this before the onion, it's become a bit of a ritual, in fact. If you've ever followed a recipe and done your homework on what methi seeds actually are, then it's easy to have a jar of generic indian frying seeds around. I have a jar labelled panch puran, or something, which is a mix of all the seeds so I don't have to choose which I use. They're worth finding from an Indian cash and carry, or in fact most newsagents these days if you live in London. That sounded bad. Like I think there's something wrong with foreigners. There's nothing wrong with foreigners, but it is true that most corner shop news agent type places round here have a decent spice section and I think that's a good thing. I once went to a newsagent in Huddesfield for a sandwich on the go, expecting the sort of sandwich that keeps for a week in the fridge, and was delighted to find fresh samosas instead. I gave the man a big smile and he gave me one right back. It was beautiful. Onwards. The seeds are good, but they're not that important. If it stops you making curry, skip this step. If you see them, then any will do.
If you're interested I found this link about panch puran on the
fat free vegetarian blog. I admire the sentiment while at the same time pouring scorn upon the very idea. The recipe looks healthy and tasty though, for those who must have both. There's a lovely photograph of the seeds you might use: a useful reference in the supermarket. They'll definitely have some of them.
So you've got a frying pan of onions browning nicely. With or without seeds. Now it's time for the spices. Some people don't like spicy food. But that's fine, it doesn't need to stop you eating curry. The basis for many sorts of curry is an equal mix - I tend you add about a teaspoon of each - of ground cumin seeds, ground coriander seeds and garam masala. I say this like my Indian grandmother told me, I really don't know how much you're supposed to put in, I just cook it and eat it, it's fine. The point is, these spices don't include chilli powder. You can put that in separately, or use another curry powder blend that does have chilli in it in smaller amounts, and thus we have control of how spicy our food is, without having to limit our tasty, tasty spices. If you don't like spiciness at all, don't put any chilli in. It'll still be tasty.
Now on to the veg. Anything. Seriously. Even mangos. It'll probably work. So today I put in a tin of chick peas and a chopped courgette. You can make specific curries - like cauliflower and chickpea, which works really well - which are dry and rely on the moisture of the ingredients. Some others will use chopped tomatoes to give more sauciness. This is what I felt like doing today - and it's a good basis for any curry which features meat too.
So we've got the signature ingredients of our curry, it's got all the essentials in like the onions, garlic, spices. Now on to the finishing touches. There's a lot of scope here. When you eat curry in a restaurant, take a look at what you're eating. Most curries you find, and certainly all meat curries, will have a fair amount of fat in. The traditional ingredient here - on top of the animal fat with meat curries - is ghee. As far as I can tell this is some sort of buttery vegetable fat, but if you're confused, just use butter. How much butter? Ahhhh. This is the best bit. When you cook a piece of meat in a curry, you would be surprised, blinded even, by how much fat comes out of it. Back to our putative restaurant scenario, and you'll notice that there is a generous layer of fat or oil sitting on top of your food. Don't worry, this is what makes it taste good. It's not great, but you don't eat out all the time, so it's ok, we're not going to put that much in, even if it turns out to be the secret to REALLY GOOD indian cooking. I'm pretty sure the basis to all chinese cooking is a generous helping of sesame oil, sugar and salt - preferably of the monosodium glutamate variety in the form of a pre-bottled generic chinese goo. I know this because I have chinese relatives; nothing without a touch of oyster sauce. By the same token, I can imagine my ghee theory is plausible. I have no idea of course. Getting back to the point, as this is a vegetarian curry, I think you're allowed to add as much butter as would take you to the sort of levels that would come out of a piece of meat. This is a lot. So in fact, even if you're putting what seems like too much in, you're still pretty virtuous compared to the meat eating people. It's not ok, but it's sort of ok.
Lastly salt. I could recommend the MSG at this point, in the name of fusion cooking, but even I can't bring myself to do that. Although I did buy a bag of it in a Chinese supermarket once. A cook in Ethiopia enlightened me to the practise of frying up a load of vegetables with a stock cube, and ever since, I've added stock powder to my curries rather than plain old boring salt. I recommend this, although as I forgot to do with the fat, I caution against getting used to these practises on a regular basis. One day I'm going to pay. I'm sure of it. This is the main thought that keeps me riding my bicycle through winter. As if not becoming overweight will somehow prevent me dying from a heart attack. Best not to think about it.
So that's it. Eat it with rice. Eat it with a poppadom, or even those amazing frozen parathas you find. But don't make a habit of it.
