I know the title reads like Harry Potter on acid, but this is a thought that I felt is worth writing down. I’m going to yap about my Saturday lunch for your reading pleasure, and I’m going to serve you my thoughts on the side. At the very least, you’ll leave with a few cooking tips.
This December weekend was perfect for staying indoors and enjoying being cozy and comfortable, and for me there’s no better way to spend an afternoon at home than cooking and eating. Earlier this week, I had purchased a Madras 65 masala from Cookd that I wanted to try. I incorporated that in my menu and ordered the groceries the night before - chickpea curry, rice and chicken 65. Nutritionally a decent meal, enough protein and fiber.
12 PM. Reddit-and-Instagram, bathroom, and a coffee later - I start prepping my ingredients. I take out the chicken breast and the soaked chickpeas out of the fridge. The chickpeas go into my electric pressure cooker, and I put the frozen Licious chicken packet in cold water to thaw. I intend to finish the cooking as soon as possible, and this meant I was pumped up, taking no breaks, just moving from one item to the next. Now I’m preparing the Madras 65 batter by adding a little water to the powder.
After the chicken thawed enough to slip out of the packet, I chopped it up into cube sized pieces (I’m pretty sure just the way the squishy raw meat texture is enough to one day turn me vegan.) and mixed the pieces into the Madras 65 batter. I take out the kadai and heat some oil in it for deep frying. It looked a bit shallow to me, so I added a little bit more, and then a little bit more.
After the oil heated enough, I put the chicken pieces in it, one by one. The sizzling sound as it sank into the oil was mild but adequate. I stared intensely into the kadai waiting for the pieces to turn slightly darker, an indicator that I should flip them to the other side.
But when I inserted my frying handle-thingy into the kadai and tried to poke the chicken, it was stubbornly stuck to the bottom. The slivers of fried batter that chipped off felt fried enough, so it wasn’t like it was still raw. It took some convincing but the pieces did separate and I did flip them to the other side, but it did cause a lot of the coating to split and I didn’t like the messy fond stuck to the kadai. But that was alright for now - I was hungry and there was still a lot of chicken to fry. I had underestimated how much yield I’d get out of that.
Was the batter too runny? No, didn’t seem like it. It coated the pieces evenly and didn’t drip out. No matter, another batch goes in. The sizzles, again, are noticeable sure, but mild. This time I let it fry for a little bit more time. Some pieces are still stuck, but it’s somewhat better this time.
The second-half of the chicken was mixed into batter that I made myself. I had read the ingredient list of the Cookd masala and wanted to see how a homemade version would taste like. I wanted to make it spicier - the way I enjoy eating it at a restaurant back home, whose version had slivers of garlic and chopped green chilis in the coating.
The batches of the chicken my version go next for frying, and I get the same result. Not a lot of chipping, but there is still some resistance as I try to nudge the pieces off the bottom. The end product was surprisingly good - the color was exactly the same, and it was just as flavorful, although the Cookd masala does have more spices in it. The chicken itself had cooked well but the coating could have gotten crispier and evenly cooked through.
The chickpeas have cooked, so it’s time to make a curry with them. I keep my fried chicken to the side as I prep the ingredients for my curry. Like most Indian curries, this starts with onion and tomatoes. I’ve done this so many times that I have to put no effort in it. The steps just come and I know where to go - despite the likelihood that my giddiness of rushing might screw things up. The chopped onions are ready, and my hand-pulled chopper gets the tomatoes done into a nice fine mince. The onions go in. To speed up the frying, I add some salt and a very tiny pinch of baking soda. They’re done, so next go the ginger-garlic paste, sliced chilis, tomatoes and then the spices. I let it cook until the oil separates, then I add some curd. I like sour curries and curd adds just the right amount of richness and sourness for me. The chickpeas go next and I add enough water to help the cooking. Ten minutes later, it’s done. Passes the taste check.
In parallel, I cook some rice in the electric pressure cooker while making the curry. The meal is ready. It’s looking good. It’s been two hours already, and I am pretty hungry. I serve generous portions of the hot chickpeas, rice and the chicken on the plate, and I pour a glass of lassi before I go into my room to devour.
I enjoyed the meal, but it left me thinking strongly that it could have been much better. Knowing that something is just under its potential doesn’t feel right to me, and it makes me want to seek improvements.
Coming to the Chicken 65 - the highlight - is where so much was there to improve. The chicken was flavorful, but a light drizzle of lemon would have taken it to the next level. The acidity just hits different. Some sliced onions would have been nice too, but I don’t like the breath raw onion brings.
The coating, while flavorful, tasted slightly salty at room temperature. Nothing inedible, it was still delicious, but you’d start to notice it if you tossed them continuously into your mouth. I have a habit of taste-testing while I cook, and this time was no different. However, I had tasted the chicken while it was super hot, straight off frying. That definitely would have affected how it tasted then.
I personally, and quite unpopularly, prefer my chicken slightly overdone until it feels fibrous and slightly chewier. Most pieces were cooked the right amount, but only some were overdone - which for me personally was not best for my tastes.
And the most important area of improvement of all - why did the pieces stick to the bottom?
I did some reading, and turns out it could be because of two reasons -
- There was not enough oil in the kadai. I was quite hesitant to pour out more oil than needed, so this had not struck my mind at all.
- The oil was not hot enough. This made a lot of sense in hindsight. I did pick up that the sizzles were mild, and even on subsequent batches, where the oil should have been hot enough, the sizzles remained the same. The pieces were cold, so the oil temperature would’ve gotten reduced too.
This made so much sense now. It also clicked then - the pieces shouldn’t have been too cold, it might have also led to uneven cooking. It is also dangerous by the way, as the water inside could cause the oil to splutter and that could fuck things up big time.
This train of thought wasn’t disappointing. I wasn’t disapproving of myself for having made these mistakes. This was one of my first attempts at deep frying, and most of all it restored this conviction that I should just: Relax.
You cannot rush all things. Well, you gotta wait until you have enough experience and skill that you can let go and your hands will do the magic - then maybe it’ll feel effortless.
But until then, let things take time. I knew that I was trying to speedrun it to finish cooking as early as possible. I kinda liked that haste, to be honest, so I did not mind it much. That haste was right, jumping from one part of the kitchen to the next is okay.
But if I have to make the perfect dish, I have to give it the time it needs. I had already learnt this by repeatedly making the onion-tomato masala that is the base for most Indian curries. If you hasten the process you’ll have the onions or tomatoes tasting raw. Give it enough time to cook and you’ll have the smooth texture and the umami and sweetness that comes from caramelized onions. A great lesson to cement. Let things get to the right temperatures, both before and after frying. Let each step take its time.
It made me feel happy that I cooked and learnt so much from it. But also, here’s the thing:
So what if the dish wasn’t at its best?
This thought made me reconsider what my emotions were about this particular instance. Was I being too self-critical about it, or was I just trying to learn as much as possible from my experiment?
A bit of both, in reality. I wasn’t self-critical about the cooking, I knew it is my first time and I had healthy expectations - but I still felt the need to compare it with restaurant-style tastes. There’s always this desire to make the most of free time, so maybe that nudges it towards an expectation that may be a bit unrealistic to achieve, especially when the mindset is to cook quickly. Not everything needs to turn out perfect, and most certainly not every single time. I believe a good mindset to have here is to understand and identify what the constraints and the expectations are. Am I optimizing for taste? Am I optimizing for time? Or just for fun? All options are valid, but you gotta pick one.
Now I know the sound of my thoughts a bit better now, and I can now tune into healthy frequencies to more clearly enjoy the experience and its results. My radio is rusty, but it sure works from time to time.