Keys
The first time I met Paul, I wanted to drop-kick him into the Seine. The suede elbow patches on his tweed jacket, his moleskin pants, and the tiny round glasses slipping down his nose all belied the cracked and unhinged apartment door where he greeted me: Paul had just been paid a visit by the huissier, or repo-man. “Rocky Raccoon” blasted from his stereo out into the hallway, and our English-speaking presence garnered curious looks from returning building residents whose working day was finished. Paul was lit up like the fourteenth of July, and after introducing me to the other revelers in his flat, he insisted on a sing-a-long to “Why don’t we do it in the road?” I wanted to edge down into the stairwell and back into the Marais streets, but for reasons unknown I chose to step onto the crumbling hexagonal tomette tiles in the nearly-empty studio, where I swilled from a plastic bottle of wine bought at ED discount, and put up with Paul’s gap-toothed grin and the way he flipped his graying mop over to the side of his face when he interrupted me for the third time.Paul was born in Canada, but he grew up in Paris and in London, where he attended King’s College and became a prominent journalist, editing Decanter and Taste magazines, and then working for the Evening Standard. When I met him, he still dressed the part but was living in and out of Shakespeare and Company bookstore and sometimes he even slept on the cold stones under the Pont Neuf. Even after thirty-odd years of Parisian life, Paul still has a pronounced British accent when he speaks French – it’s something of a trademark – and yet his perfect deadpan works in English or in French. Time stopped the day Paul met John Lennon. Woody Allen and Austin Powers rank close to the top of his list of idols, as does the Kinkster, a.k.a. Kinky Friedman – another character in Paul’s world of unlikely heroes, punny jokes, and chain-smoking.
Even though I managed to warm up to Paul’s dry and sometimes corny wit as well as his particular brand of old-world charm long before punting him, the Seine turned out to play an important role in our friendship. When we were both partially homeless, one of our favorite activities was to hold Seine-side merguez barbecues under the Pont des Arts. Since then, Paul and I have become good friends, and our cooking techniques have evolved off of the quais and into actual kitchens.
Nowadays, Paul still pronounces the English quay as [key], and one of his specialties is a good old-fashioned curry. (People who have lived in England learn to appreciate a good curry, don’t they?) This is what I call a quick curry – one that uses the pre-packaged mix of all the spices necessary. When I want an all-out authentic Indian meal, I reach for at least fifteen different spice jars and Julie Sahni’s Classic Indian Cooking. Here is Paul’s faster but no less delicious way with chicken, and as he says, “Get those goddamn onions in there, and Bob’s your uncle.”
Kickin’ chicken curry
Paul recommends peanut butter in this recipe, but I like to use cashew butter, a slightly more refined flavor: your call. If you do use peanut butter, make sure to buy the natural version, with no added sugar. Most supermarkets nowadays carry Patak’s Indian relish – if garlic or lime isn’t available, try the mixed pickle. For vegetarians, replace the chicken breast halves with 1 lb. tofu, cut into cubes.
ingredients:
4 tbsp. Indian ghee or mild vegetable oil
3 medium onions, chopped (about 2 cups)
2 tbsp. grated ginger root
1 large clove of garlic, minced
1 tbsp. good-quality curry powder, such as Madras brand
2 small free-range chicken breast halves, skinned and boned (1 lb.), cut into cubes
1 apple, peeled, cored, and diced as small as possible
1 tbsp. Indian relish (garlic or lime)
2 tbsp. cashew butter
1 cup plain yogurt
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. lime juice
1 ripe banana, diced
¼ cup fresh minced cilantro, or more (much more!) to taste
sliced blanched almonds, lightly toasted (optional)
how to make it:
Start with a deep, non-stick medium sauté pan – preferably one with a lid. Heat the ghee or oil over medium-high. Once the fat is very hot, add the onion, stirring frequently to prevent burning. After about 4-5 minutes, onions will start turning slightly brown at the edges. Add the ginger and garlic, and continue browning for about 5 more minutes. At this stage, the onions should look and smell caramelized as they lose the rest of their moisture. Add curry powder and fry the spices in the onion mixture for about 3-4 minutes to fully release fragrance and flavor. Add the cubed chicken and continue cooking for about 2 minutes, stirring a few times as the cubes lose their pink color and turn white. Lower the heat slightly at this point, and then add the diced apple. Continue cooking and stirring until the apple softens, about 3 minutes. Add the relish and cashew butter, and stir to dissolve ingredients and to prevent the cashew butter from sticking to the pan. Add the yogurt and salt, cook for 2 more minutes, then add the lime juice and ¼ cup of hot water. Stir well and cook for 1 minute more. Reduce heat to low, cover the pan, and let the dish simmer for 10 minutes. Add the diced banana, and simmer (covered) for 5 more minutes. Right before serving, add the cilantro, stir, and sprinkle the top of the dish with the almonds if you’re using them. Serve with basmati rice and steamed vegetables. Paul likes to serve the curry with a sliced cucumber – or you can grate a cuke into plain yogurt for a cooling, impromptu raita to accompany the dish. For those who can’t get enough heat onto their plate and their palate, serve an Indian relish or mango chutney on the table.
3-4 servings accompanied by vegetables and rice
about onions: Sautéing onions for a real curry takes time. If the onions are cooking too fast and you hear sirens in the distance, resist the temptation to turn down the heat. Instead, follow Julie Sahni’s advice and add a tablespoon of water, and keep stirring!
RSS 2.0