Yassi sits on her stool in the kitchen kneading the glossy détrempe for la pâte feuilletée; puff pastry. There is no beurre sec, but Lurpak will do. Her silver and black hair is in short waves and immaculate as always; her pastel kurta is starched. Yassi’s slender, milky fingers are bare as they push the dough back and forth, like a potter with her clay. Her mother’s vintage ring bearing three overlapping leaves in rose, yellow and white gold removed and placed in the porcelain Wedgewood jewelry jar given to her by her daughter-in-law. She looks at the granite counter, “It would be lovely to have a cup of champagne resting there for small sips while the dough rests,” she thinks. But she is no longer in her Paris kitchen, she is in Karachi.

Champagne is now reserved only for special occasions.

To her daughter-in-law who visits once a year, everyday is a special day in Yassi’s home. For lunch, sheets of la pâte feuilletée are sliced into rectangles; delicately sautéed chicken and julienned carrots are folded in; the pastry sealed, brushed with egg white and baked till ballooned and brought to table. Served with a tomato chutney. For tea, Yassi’s fruit cake, a small, thick slice, filled with currants and orange peel soaked in brandy. One slice. Two, ah, maybe another one for her daughter-in-law. For supper a gratin de courgettes with grated parmiggiano, with a dense, spicy lentil and goat curry for the chili-heads in the family. Some caramel custard for pudding; lacquered on top; tender and creamy from inside.

Or maybe a quiche- her son’s favourite. During their courtship, Yassi’s daughter-in-law would get jealous when her son would talk about his mother’s “most fabulous quiche“. “Hmph. And what about my crêpes?” she would ask him under her breath. But a part of the family now, enamoured by Yassi and her effortless elegance and perfection, her daughter-in-law knew she could only wish to be like her. Knead the détrempe like her. Yassi the only person who can say the phrase, “oh how lovely” five times in a conversation and not sound the least bit affected.

Yassi serves her daughter-in-law a date cake, between meals. “Oh, you’re on holiday, you must enjoy it,” she tells her, while dropping thick, heavy spoonfuls of double cream on a slice of the cake in her daughter-in-law’s plate. A recipe passed down to Yassi by her own mother. A recipe older than her marriage; even older than her son. A dense, dark, earthy cake moistened with the gooeyness of dates, almost like a steamed pudding.

As I said, everyday is a special day in Yassi’s home. You can have that cake, and eat it, too.

You will need a 10-in (25 cm) Springform pan and some parchment paper. (If you use a pan with a smaller diameter, the cake may remain raw from the middle and cooked from the sides, so please do use a 10 in pan.)

Ingredients:
*250 g plump dates with seed. (if using deseeded dates, you’ll have to adjust/decrease the amount)
*250 ml boiling water
*1 tsp baking soda (sodium bicarbonate)
*100 g butter, unsalted, brought to room temperature
*180 g sugar
*2 eggs
*150 g flour
*2 tsp baking powder

Preparation:
*Preheat your oven to 175C / 350F.
*Place parchment paper on top of the springform pan base and trace a circle. Line pan with parchment circle and butter and flour the sides.

Step 1: Prepare the date mixture:
*Deseed your dates by gently tearing them open from top to bottom.
*Chop dates fine.
*Bring 250 ml of water to a boil (I boil it in my kettle and then measure out 250 ml to be exact).
*Pour into saucepan, when water starts to boil, add baking soda, (it will froth).
*Add chopped dates and stir the mixture for 2-3 minutes.
*The date mixture should be on the thick side, not watery.
*Take off the stove and allow to cool for at least 15 minutes.

Step 2: Prepare the batter:
*Whip butter with sugar till light and fluffy.
*Add eggs slowly; they may curdle at first but keep whipping, the mixture will come together and become smooth.
*Slowly fold in flour and baking powder and keep whipping/mixing.
*Add in date mixture, with a spoon/spatula and gently stir.
*Batter will seem slightly thin, but since we’re using a pan with a wide base, don’t worry, the cake will cook through. Remember, this is a moist, pudding-like cake.
*Pour into Springform.
*Bake for 35 minutes, test to see if the toothpick comes out clean after 30 mins; I like this cake moist and goeey, please don’t overbake it.

Allow cake to rest half an hour before taking out of Springform pan, or serve by the spoonfuls immediately, like a soft pudding, with double, triple or clotted cream on top.

I am most honoured to have been interviewed by Qype, London, a Hamburg-based web 2.0 company centred around social networking and local reviews. In it, I talk about ladyfingers, Raoul’s in London and how I came to start this blog. Thank you for your readership, as always, Shayma

You can read it by clicking on this link.

Wonders of Pakistan Part III: A midnight run to the fruit-wallah, with my Uncle, Lahore, December 2009.

The great Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, King of the World (1592-1666), died in confinement, in Agra Fort, imprisoned by his son, Aurangzeb. As he lay dying, he looked down from the balcony of the Musamman Burj tower at the pearlescent dome of the Taj Mahal he created for his beloved wife.

Shah Jahan’s reign marked an age of opulence; as a great patron of the arts and architecture, he commissioned the creation of intricate architectural wonders in present day Pakistan, such as the Wazir Khan Mosque, Lahore, built in seven years with its architecture influenced by the popular Thatta mosaic work of the 16th century…

…and the Shalimar Gardens, Abode of Bliss, eight years in the making, also in Lahore. Built in 1642, the garden boasted 410 fountains, emptying out into wide marble pools. Centred among the fountains, was an area created for musicians- a mahtabi; the moonlit gazebo. Into the night the tabla, sitar, sarod and sarangi would play.

Like the architectural splendours of this era, Shah Jahan’s Imperial Kitchens were known for their excesses, similar to those of his predecessors. Hundreds of dishes were prepared every day; decadent meat pilafs fragranced with jade-green pistachios, golden sultanas, saffron, cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom were served to portray the glory of the Mughal Empire. Innovation and discovery of new dishes was encouraged, with chefs brought in from Persia, Central Asia, and the Ottoman Empire to create dishes encompassing all the different regions.

Who says fusion cuisine is a 20th century phenomenon?

Pastries and cakes were prepared in the “European style“ by cooks previously enslaved by the Portuguese in Goa.

A little over a century after the arrival of Vasco da Gama on the shores of Calicut in May of 1498, the chili pepper- introduced to Goa by the Portugese- found its way into the Imperial Kitchens.*

I cannot imagine my world without the chili-pepper, thank you, Vasco da Gama.

A homemade curry without the fiery quality of the chili pepper is to me, insipid at best. That brick red chili pepper powder, as if by some form of alchemy, binds itself to the tomatoes, onions, garlic and ginger, creating a luscious, unctuous curry.  Whether you are from West Bengal, eating the curry and rice smothered with your fingertips, or from the Punjab, dipping into it with your light-as-air-chapati, or an Afghan-Pakistani like myself, dousing a steaming mound of Basmati rice with the curry, or from ‘Brum’ (Birmingham, UK) having it with pillowy naan and ‘a pint’ with your mates… you’re tucking into that unapologetically spicy curry because curry speaks one universal language for chili-heads.

This is the way I was taught to prepare it by Ami, my mother, who learnt it from Nani Ami, her mother. No fancy ingredients or masalas (spices) here, just some good techniques which were taught to me and a few good ingredients. The cardamom pods at the end add a subtle, lovely fragrance. Ami and I have made life easier for ourselves by using a blender, but you’re welcome to use a pestle and mortar a la grandmum.

I like to serve it with a kachumbar, a chopped salad of cucumber, tomatoes, onions, (feel free to omit the onions) and squirts of lime / lemon with some salt. The kachumbar adds another textural dimension with the acidity of the lime juice cutting nicely into the fat content of the curry.

I have tried to make this with less oil, but I feel you have to go the whole hog with a curry- use the 3 tbsps of oil and if not, have an omelette or salad for dinner instead. And make the curry the next day when you’ve done that 5k run.

*The exact date the chili made its way to the Northern plains of India is controversial. Some believe it was two centuries after Vasco da Gama landed in Calicut; and some say the chili pepper made its way up from Goa to the North during Shah Jahan’s reign.

Photo credit Wazir Khan Mosque: TMDTUBE
Photo Credit Shalimar Gardens: Flickr
Photo Credit Chilies: Wikipedia

Serves 4 with a side of Basmati rice or chapati , (a Pakistani whole-wheat flatbread).

Ingredients:
3 tbsp canola oil (or any other neutral oil like grapeseed or sunflower)
2 lbs chicken, (I use chicken breast with bone and ask my butcher to cut it into 3in pieces or you can use a whole chicken, jointed )
1 medium-sized onion, roughly chopped (this will be blitzed in the blender later, so don’t worry about cutting it perfectly)
2 garlic cloves, sliced thin (can substitute with 1 tsp garlic paste)
1 thumb-size knob of ginger, sliced thin (can substitute with 1 tsp ginger paste, if ginger not available, can omit)
28 oz / 400 ml can chopped tomatoes or tomato sauce (passata) or 4-6 large fresh tomatoes, chopped
1 1/2 tsp salt (adjust to taste)
pinch haldi (turmeric powder)
1 1/2 tsp red chili powder (I would start with 1/2 tsp) In fact, you can use red chili pepper flakes, dried Calabrian chilies, whole dried red dried chilies, fresh green chilies like thai bird, serrano or jalapeno- play around with any chili you have at hand.
1/2+1 1/2 cups water
2 cardamom pods

Preparation:
*Turn the heat to medium and place a heavy-bottomed pan, (I use a 6 qt stockpot) on the stove. To really bring out the nutty golden colour of the onions, it is preferable to not use a non-stick pan.
*Add oil and allow pan to heat up for 2 minutes.
*Add onions and saute till they start to turn golden.
*At this point, add the fresh garlic and ginger and continue to sauté.
*The onions will start to darken more, don’t worry, this is what will give the curry its dark, intense colouring. The garlic and ginger will also begin to caramelise at this point.
*This will take a total of 15 minutes.
*Add tomatoes, salt, chili pepper and turmeric and turn the heat to medium-high, start to “fry” (bhuno) this mixture. It will take approximately 15-20 minutes.
*By the end of it, you should see the sauce has reduced and looks jammy.
*Let the mixture cool a bit and transfer with a slotted spoon, to a blender.
*Blitz to a smooth paste, add some water to the blender if you want to get all the sauce off the walls of the blender.
*Transfer mixture back to the pan.
*Add chicken pieces and 1/2 cup of water and turn the heat to medium-high.
*”Fry” (bhuno) the chicken till you start to see the oil separating from the sauce. This is an indication that it is almost done. This will take approximately 15-20 minutes and rigorous stirring.
*Add the remainder of the water- 1 1/2 cups and cardamom pods, turn the heat to low, cover with a lid and let it simmer for 20 minutes. The oil should have floated freely to the top of the curry by the end of it.
*Serve with a garnish of fresh chopped coriander/cilantro, (both leaves and sweet stems), kachumbar and chapati or Basmati rice
Note: If using garlic and ginger paste, add the paste once the onions have fully darkened, otherwise the paste will burn.

I have been tagged for un même by a dear friend in Real Life, the gorgeous Mrs T.

Mrs Trefusis, an Important Person in the Glossy Magazine World, writes a lyrical blog called Mrs Trefusis Takes A Taxi, (”because she eschews sensible shoes”). She can write eloquently and beautifully about any subject, which is the reason why I am addicted to her blog, be it on A Working Woman’s Dilemma to On Beauty and Looking Younger to writing about life at home with her Trefusis Clan. She is self-effacing, beautiful and witty. Here is the link to her blog.

In “My blogs to watch in 2010“, Mrs Trefusis has tagged me to write 10 things about myself. In true Pakistani tradition, I shall go with Eleven- we always make it an odd number- which is auspicious and symbolises continuity.

So, my Eleven:

1 I don’t like Michelin star restaurants (oh, the scandal, the sacrilege, Shayma!) and have no desire to go to any, ever again. I am a street food nut and adore simple and simply prepared foods, like spaghetti al pomodoro ciliegino, pizza al taglio, assam laksa and erm, a slab of foie gras with crusty bread. (I do bend the simple rules once in a while). Oh, and samosas near Liberty Market in Lahore (my photo of the greasy, crispy triangles, above).

2 The one material possession I would not like to live without is a bespoke emerald and pearl ring given to me by Amma, my mother-in-law. Handcrafted in Karachi, it was given to her by her mother-in-law when she got married and passed down to me as a family heirloom. I wear this ring on my index finger everyday of my life.

3 My favourite perfume is made by Diptyque. It was gifted to me many years ago by MrsT and I have used it ever since, loyally. Obviously, I asked my husband to take this photo. Bien Sur.

4 My favourite restaurant in the world is Tutti Frutti, in Testaccio, Rome, Italy. My best friend and I used to go there every month. We always ordered the same seasonal dishes. The curly puntarelle prepared by the owner Michele’s Bangladeshi Chef, were our favourite, he knew how to get the salt, garlic, anchovy combination just perfect. We went there numerous times with many other people, and in the end, decided the food just didn’t taste as good with anyone else. We were quite anti-social like that.

5 My most memorable vacation was when I was 11- we traveled across Spain and Portugal with my parents, spending time in every Paradores and Posadas on the Iberian Peninsula. Baba, my father fell asleep at the wheel and we all almost died, but those are just details. We ate a lot of steak with a wobbly fried egg on top and garlic prawns in small terracotta dishes.

6 Even after having spent summers and endless vacations in Paris, I still want to discover each and every single caves à manger, bistro, bar, museum, l’épicerie fine, tearoom. I am always looking for Le Poiré de Normandie. Not easy to find in Paris, but one of our favourite restaurants, Café des Musées, serves it. I love it so much, I want it for breakfast. It’s made with pears, that counts as daily fruit intake, doesn’t it?

7 The longest I have lived in any city (barring Washington, DC) in one stretch is Rome, Italy. I love it and miss it every single day. I took this photo from Il Giardino degli Aranci, a few metres from my home. I can still hear the crunch of pebbles under my shoes, walking towards the end of the park, under the bitter orange trees.

8 Some of my favourite movies are Non Ti Muovere; Bridget Jones’ Diary; Sliding Doors; Love, Actually; Four Weddings & A Funeral; L’Ultimo Bacio; Bella Martha; Jamon Jamon, the genius Almodovar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown ; Decalogue, (especially “I Am the Lord Thy God“) and Red, both by Krzystof Kieslowski; Amelie, and Truffaut’s Les Quatre Cents Coups.

My sisters will claim I also love Chasing Liberty. Hrmph, I say. I ain’t bovvered.

9 My favourite writer is hands down, Coetzee, Coetzee, Coetzee.

10 I love several cookbooks, but it is through Marcella Hazan that I learned how to improve my Italian cooking skills, before I had even moved to Rome. Thankfully, even pre-Marcella I never added cheese to my seafood dishes. Ma che schifo!

11 I can’t do a Top 11 about myself without mentioning my Baba. He doesn’t cook but he adores anything that comes out of my kitchen, (but when it’s bad he says so). We read the FT together on weekends. Or sms each other about which article to read when we’re not together. He keeps a folder, (very old school), full of newspaper cuttings for me. He is known to enjoy a Partagás, quote Keats and Mirza Ghalib, and speak Armenian and Punjabi like a local. He has more ties than I have shoes.

It’s a grey evening in Washington, DC. The rain, falling heavily, creates a pewter gloss on the road as I am driving home from work. It makes me want to be back in Lahore, during the unexpected Spring showers, when we sit on the veranda in my ancestral home with my paternal grandmother, known affectionately by everyone as Mader; mother in Dari. We eat samosas; small, hot, pastry triangles stuffed with cumin-spiced potatoes. I slowly peel away the crisp, oily pastry, letting the spiced filling fall onto my plate. I like to dunk the pastry in the spicy mint chutney and pass the plate on to Ami, my mum, who gives me that ‘Allah-doesn’t-like-little-girls-who-waste-food-when-children-in-the-Sudan-are-starving-look’ and eats the remainders.

My Aunt pours a cup of dark amber-hued tea for Mader from the tea trolley. With a splash of milk it turns a bronze opaque. She passes the teacup to Mader, who waves her hand, ignoring the offer, saying, instead, “My Damasks, my poor Damasks.” She doesn’t want to thank The Lords Above for the rain, for she can only lament as the fragile, dusty pink petals of her Damask roses start to droop and fall to the ground, being washed away into the red soil with the rain.

Mader prefers “roses on her table, than diamonds on her neck,” like Emma Goldman. As the rain hits the brick driveway more intensely and starts splashing water onto us in the veranda, our mothers grab our hands and pull us indoors. My cousins and I want to play in the rain, but we’ve been told that we’ll catch the cold of our life, because “that’s what the Spring showers do to little, disobedient girls.” Mader stays there, watching the rain as it washes her favourite mango tree, which she has tended with her gardener under the white-hot Lahore sun.

As I arrive home in DC, Ami and I decide against eating out, as originally planned. I want those samosas we used to have in Lahore as the Spring showers glossed the city. This time, I’ll eat the potatoes, too.

One of my favourite comfort foods is anything which has potatoes in it; a simple Pakistani dish of potatoes, with the added nutty fragrance of zeera (cumin seeds), called Aloo ki Bhujia or Zeera Aloo, comes to mind. To me, comfort food should not require too much fiddling or prepping.

Not that peeling and slicing potatoes is labour-intensive.

But, I just want to be comforted (and lazy).

I slink upstairs to change out of my office attire. I hear clanging pots as Ami reaches deep into her drawer, to take out the Cuisinart for slicing the potatoes.

Later, we sit on her bed, with trays on our laps, our fingers tearing the steaming, chewy chapati into small pieces, to scoop up spicy, unctuous slices of Aloo ki Bhujia. Something from the Lifetime channel for women is on the telly, and we sit there content to be indoors, under the goose down duvet while the rain continues to splatter outside the bay window.

Now married, with those rainy Washington, DC days in the past, some days I come home from work and wish for my mother to be here to prepare that comforting food I am too lazy to make myself.

All it requires is some slicing of potatoes.

But, the way mothers can do it, well, you know…

These are gorgeous in an omelette the next day.

They are also lovely served alongside a simple meat dish, for example a steak or roast chicken.

Monsoon photo credit: The Telegraph
Damask roses photo credit: Rosse Bacche

Serves 2-3

Needed: A frying pan or a pot with a large diameter. A lid is required. I use an All-Clad Copper Core 10 in diameter sauté pan, see here.
Optional: For slicing the potatoes, a Cuisinart with a standard slicing disk or a mandoline.

Ingredients:
2 lb. potatoes, (I use the red potato variety).
3 tbsp corn oil
3 tsp zeera, (cumin seeds)
1 tsp salt (or suit to your taste)
1-2 tsp red chili pepper flakes (adjust according to taste, please start with 1 tsp)
2-3 pinches of haldi, (turmeric)
handful fresh coriander (cilantro) chopped fine, including the sweet stems

Preparation:
*Peel the skin off of the potatoes and slice the potatoes, lengthwise, into half.
*Slice the potatoes, thinly, into half-moon shapes, (this will be quicker if you use the Cuisinart with its slicing disk, or a mandoline).
*In a pan add the oil and turn the heat to medium.
*Add the zeera and when it starts to sputter, turn the heat to low and immediately add the potatoes, salt, red chili pepper flakes, a few pinches of haldi.
*With a wooden spatula, gently move the potatoes around in the pan for 5 minutes, so they are all evenly coated with zeera, oil, salt, chili and turmeric.
*Cover with a lid and let the potatoes cook in their own steam for 20-25 minutes.
*Bear in mind that the cooking time for the potatoes will vary, depending on the variety you are using.
*Check for doneness at the 15 minute mark and give the potatoes a gentle stir, (they will be quite fragile). This will give you an indication as to how much longer the potatoes should be cooked. Mine cook in a total of 20 minutes.
*When the potatoes are done, sprinkle liberally with the chopped coriander stems and leaves straight into the pan and give it a gentle whirl with the spatula.
*Serve with chapati; a Pakistani whole-wheat flat bread.

Wonders of Pakistan Part II: ‘Truck Art’, Karachi, December 2009.

It was a hot day in Lahore. The kind of day when the Loo wind blows in from the Cholistan Desert, as the sun casts its tungsten-white glow on the people of the city. The canal’s water a dirty brown, small children leaping in one by one, to cool themselves off in the 40C heat. The willow trees lining the bank, drooped and in prostration, praying for the monsoons to come.

Arriving from the airport, our car heaved and trudged down the Canal Bank Road, laden with a boot full of our suitcases. Filled with several jelly sandals in shades of grape, cotton candy pink and cloud-white; a shoe for every outfit. Sundresses for my sister and I, with ribbons which you tie in a pert bow at the tip of each shoulder; cool linen skirts and soft t-shirts. Gifts for everyone, including cashmere cardigans from Selfridge’s for my maternal grandmother, Nani Ami. And in our hand luggage, bars of Dairy Milk, Fruit & Nut and rolls of Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles.

As the car entered the gates of my maternal grandparents’ home, I peered out at the brick driveway, stained grape-purple from the bruised and fallen jamun fruit from the slender trees above.

Every summer, Nani Ami would have the gardener pick a basket of jamun for me. She would place it in the fridge the day before our arrival so I could have the sweet, acidic, tangy jamuns as the heatwave devoured the city outside our cool, shaded home. The jamun would dye my tongue shades of indigo. I would douse the olive-shaped fruit with chaat masala; a hot and tart spice mixture of dried mango powder, black salt, chili pepper and other spices. For my Ami, there would be a jug of opaque, cold lassi, made by Nani Ami with her homemade yoghurt. As Ami drank it, I would hear the ice cubes as they clinked against the walls of her glass. Sometimes she would add a dash of 7Up, to sweeten it, enjoying the bubbles on her tongue.

Nani Ami and I would have a siesta in her room, the air-conditioner turned on, the bamboo chicks outside every room’s window rolled down to block the sunrays out. Cold air pouncing all over the dark room as the ceiling fan whirled round and round.

For supper, Nani Ami would prepare my favourite chicken broth made from the organic chicken she bought in Lahore’s historic Tollinton Market.

Perfumed with cinnamon, cloves, cardamom and other spices, she would use the remainder of the chicken broth to make a spiced pilaf; yakhni pulao. Each grain of rice perfectly separated, flavours intensified with homemade broth. Slippery ribbons of caramelised onions in every mouthful.

This was one of many dinners that a spoiled eldest grandchild would be treated to. I remember having the plush, unctuous, meaty, yakhni pulao with nothing but Nani Ami’s creamy, homemade yoghurt.

Yakhni pulao in the pan when the lid is removed; the onions and spices at the surface:

During Eid-ul-Adha, Muslims prepare red meat-based dishes. I prepared this for my family back in November with a side of borani bademjan; smokey aubergine caviar whipped with yoghurt. I learnt Nani Ami’s yakhni pulao from my Khala, my mother’s sister.

This post is for Nani Ami, who is no longer with us. But whenever I see a roll of Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles or Dairy Milk, I know whom that would have been for…

Photocredit jamun and Tollington Market: Wikipedia

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:
2 cups Basmati rice, soaked for 1 hour, minimum, (maximum 24 hours);
2 lb goat meat, veal or mutton. Ask butcher for meat with bone-in;
4 black cardamom pods;
6 green cardamom pods;
1 tsp cloves
1 tsp black cumin (kala zeera). This is not nigella sativa, but bunium persicum. White cumin may be substituted;
1 tsp whole coriander seeds;
1 large stick cinnamon;
1 bay leaf, fresh or dried;
2 tsp black pepper berries;
2 tsp salt (rule of thumb: 1tsp salt / 1 cup uncooked rice);
1 medium-sized onion, peeled, root left in tact, marked with an ‘X’ on top’ + 1 medium-sized onion sliced thin;
1 thumb fresh ginger;
6-8 cloves garlic;
6 cups water;
3-4 tbsp canola oil

Preparation:

Step1: Prepare the yakhni (stock)
*In a large pot, (I use a 6 qt stockpot), add goat meat, black and green cardamom pods, cloves, black cumin, coriander seeds, cinnamon stick, bay leaf, black pepper berries, salt, whole onion marked with an ‘X’, ginger, garlic and water.

*You may wrap the spices in a muslin cloth (like you would a bouquet garni) and secure before placing in the stockpot, however, I don’t bother with this, and neither did my grandmum, as the spices clinging to the meat did not bother her.

*Place stockpot on low-medium heat and let it simmer till the meat is tender. Keep checking the meat every 20 minutes; you want the meat to be tender, but not falling off the bone, otherwise it will not endure the cooking time in Step 2 below, and will become like pâté.

*To tenderise, the meat will take approximately 1-1 1/2 hour. The meat I use takes 1 hour and 20 minutes to tenderise.

*The garlic cloves will soften up as they cook; incoporate them into the stock with the back of a spatula.

*When the meat is tender, in a fine sieve, drain the stock. Discard onion and ginger. Remove the spices from the meat by hand, the black cardamom and other large pieces. The rest of the spices will stick to the meat, do not worry about that and please don’t wash it off, or you’ll lose the flavour of the meat.

*Set the meat aside.

*You should have approximately 4-5 cups of stock.

Step 2: Prepare the pulao, (pilaf)
*In a heavy-bottomed pan, add oil, and sliced onions. On medium heat, fry the onions till caramelised, this will take about 10-15 minutes. The onions will darken considerably, don’t worry, this gives the pilaf it’s unique golden colour.

*Turn the heat to low.

*Add three and a half cups of stock, the soaked rice and the reserved meat.

*Cover pot with a teacloth (or kitchen paper towel) and place lid on top. Allow rice to cook for 20 minutes.

*As much as you may be tempted, please don’t open the lid during the steaming process, you’ll lose all the steam and end up with an undercooked, almost raw grain.

*Turn the heat off and allow the rice to settle and rest for 15-20 minutes.

*Decant with a wide-rimmed spatula or a teacup saucer- as we do in our home.

*Serve with plain yoghurt or a raita.

Wonders of Pakistan Part I: Mum-in-law’s caramel custard, (crème caramel), Karachi, January 2010.

Happy New Year, all. Having just returned from hols, this year started off very well, despite the fact that there was a certain case of the re-entry blues, (a term coined by my friend Motherhood the Final Frontier’s mum). But it wasn’t anything that a good book, a few early nights in, in PJs with some green tea with cardamom could not fix. Having started this food blog in October, 2009, I have been feeling quite guilty as of late for not having blogged any recipes this year, especially since I was honoured by the lovely Liberty London Girl as Top Ten Blogs to Follow in 2010 and my dear friend, the clever, elegant Mrs Trefusis Takes A Taxi for “My Blogs to Watch in 2010“. I do admire bloggers who are able to write posts despite having busy schedules. I am only just catching up now.

I have been requested to do a Highlights of 2009 post by my friend Motherhood the Final Frontier for a mème.

2009 was my first year of marriage…

Having started off the year in Paris together…

…we walked around in the cold, stopping every few hours to eat or drink. For a dense chocolat chaud at Christian Constant’s chocolate boutique or a champagne with earthy notes of Creme de Chataigne liqueur at the literary bar, La Belle Hortense in the Marais. Where else in the world can you thumb through a book called Societe-monde : le temps des ruptures whilst having a flute of bubbly?

I left my home, friends and job (and not to forget creamy cappucci and sugar glazed, pillowy cornetti) in Rome…

I moved to a new city, new country, where I created a new home for my husband and myself.

I cooked a lot, I read a lot and being in a foreign land, I initially also wept a lot.

Spring came, and it was the first time my husband and I celebrated his birthday together. I prepared a dinner at home for the two of us. Not being one who usually bakes, I decided to make a Valrhona chocolate ganache tart adapted from a recipe in Gourmet magazine. We started with the tart, because everyone knows you have to start with pudding if it’s your birthday…

Followed by scarlet-and-pink-from-inside lamb chops fragranced with mint, lemon rind and lemon juice, and lacquered roasted fingerling potatoes to cut the acidity of the lemon. We paired this dish with my husband’s favourite bottle of velvet, mineral, garnet-berried Pinot Noir, a Nicolas Potel Clos St. Denis 2006…

Obviously, we had pudding. Again. With Calvados.

My second attempt at baking took place when my husband’s lovely Uncle and Aunt came to visit; I made a flourless chocolate and rum cake adapted from a few different sources, mainly David Lebovitz, and the Boston Globe (note, this photo taken with my poor, old point-and-shoot).

We took a trip to Montreal, to see my husband’s alma mater, McGill…

But really, we went to hang out at the mini-cupcake shop, for flavours of brown sugar banana cream, dark chocolate truffle, and my favourite: bits of chopped blood-red raspberry with a cloud of white chocolate butteriness floating atop the moist, crumbly cupcake beneath…

and the chocolate bars which Montreal is so famous for.

After brunch, we headed for Juliette et Chocolat for intense, muddy chocolate drinks…

and brownies which are so dark and dense, they stick to the roof of your mouth.

I started toying with the idea of food blogging, thanks to an encouraging friend, Ian, for whom I wrote a short post on his blog. After writing my first Spice Spoon post, I thought, those shoes helped launch a thousand words, so to speak…

…and led me to take up an evening creative writing class.

Many thanks to Ian, you can read my post here and see his blog here.

After 6 months of a frustrating job-hunt, in a new country, I started working again, it made sense, even if “we are all dead in the long-run“.

Having just started a new job, this was probably not the best time to start my food blog, but that is exactly what I did, in October. I was inspired by bloggers like Lipstick Masala, Motherhood the Final Frontier, Mrs Trefusis Takes a Taxi, Hollow Legs, Eat Like a Girl, Liberty London Girl, Backwards in High Heels, Up and Down the City Road, Chachi’s Kitchen and The Fiction Desk (my friend who kindly designed this blog for me) all of whom I would like to thank profusely. Some of them are not even aware of their kind influence on me. I have discovered I simply adore writing and I hope to continue to (improve and) do so over the years.

In the Autumn, my husband and I went to Boston, back to Au Bon Pain in Harvard Square, where we had first had a real conversation, after having briefly met at a wedding in Pakistan, serendipitiously. We went back to where it all began, had bitter coffees and shared a raspberry and cheese croissant as we sat and watched our breath crystallise in the cold New England outdoors. I just had to stop a young tourist to take our photo.

As the year progressed, I collected photos of the food we ate at home, (I have since upgraded to a better point-and-shoot camera), here are some of my favourites:

Pakistani version of Huevos Rancheros…

Frittata con patate…

Frittata con asparagi (as you can see, we eat a lot of eggs, for brekkers, lunch, dinner)…

My own version of Cottage Pie, with the addition of peas and carrots…

Oyster mushrooms, capsicum and sugar snap peas in garlic and oyster sauce…

Orange rind and saffron-infused tilapia on a bed of crisp potatoes with asparagus…

King prawns with capsicum ribbons…

Jeweled couscous with paprika…

and when I have had to eat alone at home when my husband is working late…

an omelette filled with keema (savoury-mince) from the day before. With Ahmed’s Sweet Chili sauce, of course.

Chicken in harissa and ginger-garlic with capsicum…

Chicken curry with aromatic Basmati rice…

As the year came to a close, I was fortunate enough to have rounded off the year nicely, with a trip to my beloved Pakistan and London. That photo-story shall be for another post…

Click here for La Belle Hortense photo credit.