660 Curries: The Gateway to Indian Cooking

1812 Pages·2008·8.72 MB·English

by  Raghavan Iyer

660

curries

by Raghavan Iyer

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Food Photography by Ben Fink

WORKMAN PUBLISHING • NEW YORK

dedication

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

My mother’s death, before she could see the

finished book, deeply saddens me. I take solace
in her memory, kept alive through some of her

saucy offerings which you’ll find in these pages.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

What fulfills me is my almost-nine-year-old

son, Robert, who is unconditionally the best

thing that has happened to me in my 46 years of

living. He tasted all of the recipes in this book

(extraordinarily commendable when I tell you

all the testing happened during the fourth, fifth,

and sixth years of his life).

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

So I dedicate this book to a generation that

slipped away, and one that continues to spice up

my life every step of the way. And to my

partner of twenty-five years, Terry Erickson,

who has supported me through all my ups and

downs.

acknowledgments

Many have compared bringing a book from inception to publication to the

birthing process, and I for one cannot agree more. True, I may not know much
about “birthin’ babies,” but I sure do know a thing or two about the conceiving,
nurturing, evolution, and the ultimate publication of a cookbook—but nobody
warned me this one would be a horse. And yes, after all the huffing and puffing,
when it was finished, I fell in love with this gargantuan “baby,” full of well-
balanced and saucy glow.

My partner, Terry Erickson, sowed the idea for a curry book, “a big one,” he

said, “nothing like any before.” Easy for him to say! So off I went and called my
friend and literary agent extraordinaire, tenacious Jane Dystel, who said,
“Raghavan, I think you are ready for a big book.” I blurted out “How about
1,001 Curries?” without even thinking, and she said, “I love it.” The next few
months, and with Jane’s help, I slaved over a proposal (this is where I bid adieu
to my ego). Once satisfied, off she went, saying, “Workman Publishing is the
ideal match for you.” She garnered the interest of a wise editor at Workman,
Suzanne Rafer, who—along with Peter Workman’s support—immediately said,
“Yes” (or at least I’d like to think so). Jane called and said, “You better get to
work, kid, ‘cause they want, well, maybe not 1,001 curries, but between 600 and
800.” Shaking with excitement, complete with morning nausea, I felt the curry
seed planted in me, germinating and hungering for saucy recipes from the Indian
subcontinent.

I called my family in India and my mother was thrilled, along with my two

sisters, Dr. Lalitha Iyer and Mathangi Gopalkrishnan, and all four brothers, my
siblings’ respective spouses, and their children. Ideas flowed, connections were
made, and the recipes started to filter in from many friends and acquaintances. It
does take a village to gather over 650 curry recipes, and the crew that nourished

my baby was impressive: Gangabai Iyer, Alamelu Iyer, Dr. Lalitha Iyer,
Mathangi Gopalkrishnan, Geeta Iyer, Lalitha Nateshan-Iyer, Meena Iyer,
Anuradha Iyer, Perinne Medora, Sakina Munaim, Zohair Motiwalla, Kumud
Desai, Mithu Mukherjee, Leela Rao, Sharon Naik, Monica and Devjyoti Kataky,
Pratima Revenkar, Geeta Dash-Larson, Usha Raikar, Chef Kartikai, Piyumi and
Priyantha Samaratunga, Bina Toniyat, Radhika Sharma, Preeti Mathur, Balki
Radhakrishnan, Swetal Sindhvad, Bharati Sindhvad, Sanjita Carriappa, Chef
Mahipal Singh Rathore, Abdul and Geetanjali Contractor, Mrs. Chandwani,
Varsha Chandwani, Mrs. Joshi, Shirley Matthew, Mrs. Vakharia, Vidya
Subramani, Sangha Mitra Roy, Dr. Jeffrey Mandel, R. J. Singh, Jiten Gori,
Ambuja Balaji Rao, Rajni Kedia, Dr. Kiran and Dr. Kumar Belani, Dr. Jyotsana
Rayadurgh, Dr. Ashlesha Tamboli-Madhok, Dr. Manu Madhok, Nimmy Paul,
Norton Cunningham, Jairam Das, Bhavesh Kumar Thapa, Shankar and Rekha
Singh, Ranee Ramaswamy, Razia Syed, Farida Kathawalla, and Padma
Chintapalli.

The lonesome work of creating, testing, and writing consumed my years, as

my son Robert tried every dish I made, with the occasional “not curry again,
Papa.” Terry gave his opinion on each (sometimes cautioning me that it was
PDE—pretty darn ethnic) as I took copious notes. I enlisted the volunteer
services of friends, Kathryn Tempas, Dr. Joel Wagener, Mary Evans, Sharon
Sanders, the boys’ night group—R. J. (Molu) Singh, Jiten Gori, Dr. Jeffrey
Mandel, Ben Martin, and Raymond Vaughn, to test many of these creations,
tweaking each dish as warranted.

As it grew alarmingly huge, I had to share my fears, successes, weight gain,

advice, and gossip with my friends and colleagues of the food world: David
Joachim,
Sharon
Sanders,
Mary
Evans,
Paulette
Mitchell,
Crescent

Dragonwagon, Lynne Rossetto Kasper, Lee Dean, Judy Bart Kancigor, Beth
Dooley, Lucia Watson, Cathy Cochran-Lewis, Sara Monick, Barbara Jo Davis,
Lois Tlusty, Kim Walter, Jeanne Kozar, Karen Coune, Andi Bidwell, Maya
Kaimal, Nathan Fong, Lance Sanders, Nick Malgieri, Shirley Corriher, Madhur

Jaffrey, Florence Lin and many others, not to mention the cooking schools’ staff
and tens of thousands of students that I had the fortune of teaching over the
years.

Once the recipes were tested and written, then came the introduction, and I

couldn’t find a more resourceful, competent, and giving person to help me than
my friend and colleague Phyllis Louise Harris, the founder of the Asian Culinary
Arts Institutes, Ltd., and an incomparable researcher who traced the role of
spices back to 20 million B.C.

The manuscript (a whopper at 2,000 pages) went to Workman, my new

mishpuchah (that’s family in Yiddish, in case you didn’t know), and the
massaging began, similar to Kobe beef, in the supple, strong, capable, and
overworked mind of Suzanne Rafer, the leader of my personal Dream Team. She
brought in Kathie Ness, an unbelievably detailed copy editor, who questioned
every possible element that could go wrong when it does get delivered for the
world to peruse. Assistant editor Helen Rosner was diligent as well. Production
editor Carol White made sure things moved along for a timely delivery, while
indexer Cathy Dorsey made sure anyone looking for a specific recipe would find
it. Barbara Peragine got the whole thing typeset and ready for the printer.
Copywriter David Schiller breathed excitement into the back cover. None of this
would have been possible without art director Lisa Hollander, who designed an
entirely gorgeous and elegant book (My own font? Well, you shouldn’t have).
She had the incredible talents and assistance of Carolyn Casey, photo department
director Anne Kerman, photographer Ben Fink, prop stylist Roy Finamore, and
food stylist Jamie Kimm. Manoj Vasuevan was kind enough to shoot the author
photo and some of the location shots, as were Marcia Rogers, Pamela Workman,
and Peggy and David Lucas. Of course, I needed someone to announce the birth,
and who better than savvy and hardworking Ron Longe and Jen Pare
Neugeboren, along with the myriad of sales and marketing staff, to beat the
drums and make some noise?

My dear friend and colleague, the compassionate and kind Jim Dodge of Bon

Appetit Management Company held my hand and, along with Marc Zammit and
Christine Seitz, promised partnership through his company. In return I pledged
to train all their 200 corporate chefs in the not-so-mysterious ways of the curry
world. The folks at CanolaInfo were very sweet as well, promising to soothe my
baby with oiled hands when the time came—Leah Mann, Dorothy Long, Robert
Hunter, and Ellen Pruden.

And yes, it finally arrived—vivacious, boisterous, saucy, and sensational—a

chip off the old block, you say? Please, you are making me blush. Savor it just as
I do, you’ll love it! And do visit me on my website: www.raghavaniyer.com.

contents

the curry quest

spice blends and pastes

Spice blends and pastes are the backbone of India’s curries. Easy and quick to
make—and easy to store—these combinations will open the world of curry to
you.

appetizer curries

The curry version of small plates will spice up everyday snacks, cocktail party
nibbles, or a weekend tailgating party. Onion-Studded Lentil and Split Pea
Fritters, Grilled Chicken with Cashew-Tomato Sauce, and Wok-Cooked Beef
Cubes with a Chile-Yogurt Sauce are just a few to enjoy.

poultry, game & egg curries

In India, chicken is turned into a multitude of delectable curries—juicy,
succulent, and vibrant with ginger, garlic, chiles, coconut, and an array of spices
and fresh herbs. But it doesn’t stop there: Curries are also made with Cornish
game hen, duck, and even eggs.

beef, lamb & pork curries

Despite its reputation as a vegetarian paradise, many Indians eat meat and here is
a delicious catalog of curries to prove it: Fall-Apart Beef Cubes with Spinach
and Coconut, Spicy Ground Beef with Peas and Chiles, Saffron-Scented Lamb
with an Almond Sauce, Pork with Potatoes, Peppers, and Apples, and many,
many more.

fish & seafood curries

With some 4,700 miles of coastline, India has a long tradition of seafood curries.
Shrimp, crabs, mussels, scallops, and saltwater fishes combine with coconut,
tamarind, chile, ginger, onion, yogurt, fenugreek, and lime to become succulent
dishes for all fish and shellfish lovers.

paneer curries

A staple of northern India, paneer—India’s only kind of cheese—can be fried
and spiced, covered with delicious sauces, crumbled and cooked with an
assortment of vegetables, marinated with herbs, or made into dumplings.

legume curries

Low in fat, high in fiber, legumes are also one of the most flavorful foods when
given the Indian treatment. Red Lentils with a Caramel-Sweet Onion Sauce,
Five-Lentil Stew with Cumin and Cayenne, Sweet-Hot Yellow Split Peas with
Golden Raisins, Cumin-Scented Pigeon Peas with Mango: You’ve never tasted
lentils and peas like this before.

vegetable curries

Vegetable dishes frequently take center stage in Indian meals. And along with
familiar vegetables—carrots, cabbage, broccoli, spinach, peas, potatoes, okra,
eggplant, and cauliflower—Indian curries showcase a host of less common
vegetables, such as amaranth leaves, mustard greens, bottle gourd squash,
bamboo shoots, bitter melon, lotus root, and jackfruit, plus some that we
consider fruits, such as mangoes, green papaya, pineapple, even watermelon.

contemporary curries

Expand your culinary horizons using traditional Indian spices and herbs in
western-style recipes. Curries that are hybrids of two cultures—Tandoori
Mignon with a Mushroom Cream Sauce, Salmon with Holy Basil in a Tamarind-

Honey Sauce, Scalloped Potatoes with Coconut Milk and Chiles, and Macaroni
and Paneer—will be popular with friends and family alike.

biryani curries

A ticket to effortless, flavorful entertaining, biryanis are casseroles of marinated
and braised meats or vegetables layered with buttered, flavored rice that is baked
until the rice is tender.

curry cohorts

Never stand-alone dishes, curries are always served with an array of
accompaniments. Along with the familiar rice and potatoes, curries can be
served with coconut-dusted noodles, lentil pancakes, and a plethora of Indian
breads, such as poori, naan, and paratha. Some raitas, like Chopped Radish with
Chile-Spiked Yogurt, add zing. Others, like Soused Cucumbers in Yogurt and
Fresh Mint, cool things down. Sweetened Mango Puree with Milk or Mango
Cardamom Cheesecake provide a sweet finish.

metric conversion charts

glossary of ingredients

Includes a shopping cheat sheet.

the elements of a curry

mail-order sources for spices and legumes

bibliography

index

about the author

the curry quest

As a naïve twenty-one-year-old, I found myself enrolled in a college program

in hotel, restaurant, and institutional management in my newly adopted country,
the United States. I had arrived with a degree in chemistry, but was pretty
clueless about cooking. At my neighborhood supermarket, which catered to a
town of 10,000 locals and 2,000 students, I piled familiar potatoes, onions, and
tomatoes into my cart and meandered over to the spice aisle. Ground cumin and
turmeric were the only spices I instantly recognized from my mother’s Tamilian
kitchen. A rectangular container, lurking alongside the cumin, caught my
attention: Durkee Curry Powder. I had no idea what that meant.

I reached for the tin and read the description. This particular blend of spices

promised to create authentic Indian flavors by currying your favorite meats,
poultry, and vegetables. Granted, I did not know much about cooking, but I did
know what curries were. To us Indians, a curry is a sauce-based dish—which
frankly had nothing much to do with this generic blend of spices. Nevertheless,
curiosity got the better of me and I walked out of the grocery store with lofty
hopes of being transported back to my mother’s kitchen. As the onions sizzled in
the skillet, I added the potatoes and tomatoes along with the manna from the
Durkee container. Alas, the aromas and tastes kept me imprisoned in the tundra
of Minnesota. I wept for the curry powder’s yellow betrayal and yearned for the
true curries devoured in the kitchens of my friends and family.

To find a true curry, especially one from my southern Indian roots, I didn’t

have to look beyond my mother’s and grandmother’s kitchen. But to research
India’s multiregional offerings, I had to expand my horizons a bit—an expansion
that took years to achieve and that was punctuated with a degree in hotel and
restaurant management and a stint as a chef at an Indian restaurant in the United
States. My growing curiosity about regional Indian cuisine led to a career as a
cooking teacher and as a food writer, which provided a strong reason to delve
into that multiregion research. I traveled extensively in India, knocking on doors

of friends, extended family, acquaintances, and even total strangers. I
interviewed numerous folks (was even bitten by a stray dog) and invited myself,
without an iota of shame, to their homes for meals. I pored through books,
studied hundreds of sources, and put on eight pounds (which may not seem a lot
to you, but on my wispy-thin body, it’s serious)—all in the name of research. It’s
a tasty job, so I was glad to be your sacrificial lamb. I sliced, stir-fried, stewed,
steamed, and spiced hundreds of meals for over a year to arrive at this juncture
in my curried expedition.

That can of curry powder sent me back twenty million years, to a time when

coconuts bobbed their way across the southern seas to implant themselves along
what are now India’s coastal shores. In order for you to comprehend what a
curry is (and more importantly, what it isn’t), we must track the evolution and
journey of its key ingredients: the spices. So sit back and be my travel
companion.

What is a Curry?

Before I try to define that word, let me create an image for you from my

college days in India, when I was pursuing a degree in chemistry. As I busied
myself in the laboratory, I happened to knock a mercury thermometer onto the
tile floor. Tiny pieces of glass and droplets of liquid mercury dispersed, and I
tried to pick up the pieces. The glass was easy, but not the mercury. The shining,
silvery liquid was elusive (not to mention dangerous) and defied containment
and form (we had no mercury spill kits back then). It moved freely with even the
slightest nudge and affected everything it touched. Which brings me back to the
task at hand: Defining curry is like trying to grasp liquid mercury and gather it
into a neat pile.

The word “curry” itself is unknown in the Indian vocabulary. It doesn’t

appear in any of India’s twenty-three officially recognized languages and sixteen
hundred dialects. Words like kari and kadhi refer to sauce-based or gravy-laden
dishes that existed in India well before the Aryans got there—and with a
civilization that spans six thousand years, you can well imagine their longevity.
James Trager, in his book The Enriched, Fortified, Concentrated, Country-
Fresh, Lip-Smacking, Finger-Licking, International, Unexpurgated Foodbook
(and I thought I was the hyphen king), mentions the seasoning habits of the
Mohenjo-Daro people who lived in the Indus Valley c. 4000 B.C. They used
mortars and pestles to pound the sun-dried “seeds of mustard, fennel, and most
especially cumin and the rinds of tamarind pods” to create the “earliest curry
powder” (the use of the term “curry powder” here applies modern terminology to
an ancient, but very real, spice blend). Kari, a Tamil (southern Indian) word that
was widely in use by 1500 B.C., according to the renowned Indian food historian
K. T. Achaya, meant animal meat stewed with “wet dressings” and spiced with
black pepper. From where I sit, I see the transformation of kari to curry as the
possible result of mispronounced happenstance.

Perhaps, as some believe, it was King Richard II’s palace cooks who

invented the word “curry” in Britain around A.D. 1390, as they built layers of
flavors and textures with sophisticated spicing techniques that involved cloves,
cinnamon, ginger, coriander, cumin, and cardamom, among others. Some of
these recipes are well documented in the book The Forme of Cury (published in
the late fourteenth century). Since there is no evidence that they knew either the
word kari or kadhi in the 1300s, how then did the English know to bastardize
those terms to “cury”? Well, the British were involved in the spice trade before
they set up shop in India in the early 1600s. I can only speculate that they picked
up one of the Indian words and adapted it to “cury.” After all, it was the British
who tried to capture the flavors of a kari years later with a generic blend of
ground spices called “curry powder.”

In spite of this theory—and a raft of others—concerning the origination of

the word “curry,” there is an agreement that the concept of this sauce-based,
spice-laden dish has been India’s legacy for thousands of years. Spices, you see,
are the backbone of these dishes, and with India’s six-thousand-year tradition of
using them in cooking, I consider the Indian subcontinent to be their master.
Indians toasted, roasted, pounded, and mixed their spices to provide complex
flavors to the sauces that bathed, swathed, steeped, stewed, and simmered meats,
vegetables, and legumes well before the Europeans did.

So, what is a curry? In England and the rest of the world, “curry” describes

anything Indian that is mottled with hot spices, with or without a sauce, and
“curry powder” is the blend that delivers it. In keeping with my culture, I define
a curry as any dish that consists of meat, fish, poultry, legumes, vegetables, or
fruits, simmered in or covered with a sauce, gravy, or other liquid that is redolent
of spices and/or herbs. In my India, curry is never added—it just is! In order to
share this with you, I have focused on recipes that are accessible to the home
cook. To help navigate, you’ll find comprehensive ingredient glossaries, cooking
tips, clearly explained cooking terms, and appealing yet simple spicing
techniques. Welcome to a saucy repertoire and a world beyond curry powders.