Spice of Life

Today

I decided to make a curry today. Now, this doesn't just mean a dollop of curry powder and some pre-packed nan bread. It involves cumin seeds popped in hot oil and ginger and garlic paste sizzled with onions. Among other things, it involves fresh coriander.

So I nipped into my local Tesco where I could buy: coriander growing in a pot, a small pack of cut leaves or a huge bunch enough for an Indian takeaway for a week. I opted for the small pack; the growing coriander looked rather weedy and the huge bunch likely to go withered and slimy before I'd used it all.

In My Day

My first proper foray into Indian cooking (apart from early efforts with Curry powder and lentils) was for a proper dinner party at 10 Montfort Close. I think the year was about 1983. The trigger for the event was actually a set of two cocktail glasses plus shaker given to us by our friends the previous Christmas. Eventually we invited six guests which necessitated buying six more cocktails glasses!

I decided that I wanted to cook an Indian meal. My best mate lent me her Madhur Jaffrey authentic Indian cook book. The recipes looked wonderful. The problem was the ingredients. What was "gram"? Could I manage without ghee? Could I substitute ground ginger for fresh? And, where, exactly, was I going to obtain fresh coriander?

To answer these and several other questions I turned to Kennedy's delicatessen in South Street, Eastbourne. This dowdy-looking shop was a treasure-trove of exotic foods. The floor consisted of bare boards and the assistants all seemed to be elderly men in maroon overalls. Kennedy's was the kind of place where they didn't just sell dried apricots. Opening huge paper-lined wooden boxes, they offered you Turkish, Greek, Moroccan or Hunza, with or without an oil or sulphur coating. At a time when most people still bought their olive oil from the chemist, they could offer you several varieties from each major European producer in every permutation from first cold pressing downwards.

Of course we can supply gram, madam; it's just a flour made from chick peas and perfect for making samosas. Ghee came in rather vast quantities and the knowledgeable assistants told me that sunflower or another unscented oil would do fine. They sold me cumin seeds and cardamon pods as well as the essential fresh ginger.

Eventually, emboldened by my success, I asked for fresh coriander. The gentleman went out the back and emerged with an enormous bunch of leaves, dripping from where it had been stored in a vase of water.

My Indian meal was going to be just perfect, which it was, despite the effect of many cocktails drunk before the meal started.

I can't remember when Kennedy's closed down; if they re-opened now, they would make a killing. And somehow, despite the choice, it just isn't as much fun buying these items at Tesco.

Tonight's curry was a success, though.