Two Bits – Comfort food

“The art of cooking was born the day when Adam’s chop fell into the fire over which he and Eve were huddled to warm their numbed bodies. Again after a quarrel Eve found the chop over which her salty tears had splashed much improved in taste. These experiences they passed on to their children and so was launched culinary art.”
All the drama of Bollywood is packed into those three short sentences – misery, hunger, anger, tears, discovery, pleasure, satisfaction and grandeur (note not only was cooking discovered, but culinary art!)
This is the opening sentence of one of my favourite books which, now stained and discoloured, has been in our kitchen library for over 40 years. Rose has her cookbooks, which I have never tried to understand, and I have Indian Delights, which I return to again and again.
Working in London in the 70s and somewhat homesick, I chanced upon a second edition of this humble but enriching book in a secondhand book barrow in Brick Lane market, deep in the East End. The dedication caught my eye: “This book is dedicated to all husbands who maintain that the best cooking effort of their wives can never compare with what ‘mother used to make’.” When I saw that it had been published in Durban by a Muslim women’s group I had to have it.
Not that I wanted to sample any curries like my ‘mother used to make’. She only knew how to make a Midlands curry, which would be an abomination in the eyes of the Durban Women’s Cultural Group. A Midlands curry, which is what you’re served at any hostelry west and north of Cato Ridge, is a sort of mutton or beef stew that has had a couple of teaspoons of Rajah curry powder carefully measured (Not too hot, dear) and eaten with chopped onion and tomato, ancient grated coconut produced out once a year for the occasion, and Mrs Balls chutney. A culinary experience it is not.
We spent many pleasurable hours in our East End terrace house paging through and deciding on a dish to tackle. No little part of the pleasure came from the time spent deciphering the terminology, and at times, strange order of recipes. Names like aaloo (potatoes), adrak (ginger) and vengra (brinjal) have to be deciphered, as well as the spices – dhunia (coriander), elachi (cardomum), jeera (cumin) and tuj (cinnamon) – let alone finding a good source of supply. Luckily we found a Pakistani gentleman, Mr Jamali, who had a small vegetable and Indian spices store nearby.
Why I preferred this book to the others in our collection was that each recipe was like approaching a rather complex puzzle. Once we’d worked out the names of the ingredients and collected them, following the storyline could be challenging. An essential part of so many dishes is that the onions have to be fried just until they are ‘a lovely golden colour’. That one always tickles me.
Nothing we produce in our kitchen comes remotely near the mouth-watering curries produced by Cindy in Umhlali, the Reddy’s in Tinley Manor or Danny’s Curry House in Tongaat, but this little book provided many hours of pleasure for two South Africans far from home. The book is still available, now in its 13th edition, and I’m told has been reorganised a lot.
There are so many dishes we love, so here’s one that is both easy to make and delicious to eat. Enjoy!

JINGA CURRY (shrimps or prawns)

1 lb prawns
¼ cup ghee /oil
½ cup tomato
2 green chillies
1 large onion
¾ teaspoon arad (turmeric)
2 teaspoons grated coconut (fresh if possible)
1 teaspoon garlic
¾ teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon chillies (red)
1 teaspoon dhania / jeero (coriander / cumin)

METHOD
Shell prawns. Washing after cleaning well and drain in colander. Braise in little oil (separate from above quantity) ‘til they change to light pink colour. In another pot, fry sliced onions to pale gold colour (just as they begin to deepen in colour) and add tomato with all the other ingredients. Braise for a few minutes and add prawns, add a little water to cook them well. When curry is nice and thickly pureed, add ¼ teaspoon gharum masala and garnish with a sprig of curry leaves. Serves 4.
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Maths was not my strong subject at school. If I got 50 cents for every failed math exam, I’d have R6.30 now.