COMFORTING CURRY & COOKING TOGETHER
A week ago, I got one of those phone calls that parents dread. My son rang early evening, just I was sitting down to dinner to the usual accompaniment of The Archers, to tell me he'd had a terrible headache for three days, had awful aches and pains, an upset stomach and a raised temperature.
"Have you got a rash?" was my first question to which he replied "No, but I can't get rid of this headache. I'm going to A&E".
The last communication with him was a few hours later to tell me he'd had a chest X-ray and a blood test. I couldn't reach him by phone the next morning and so drove up to Kingston where he lives, hoping to find him recovering in bed at home. But there was no sign of him, nor his motorcyle, at his flat and his cat came dashing in when we arrived, clearly very hungry.
Eventually, I located my son in the labyrinth of Kingston Hospital. He'd been admitted to the Acute Assessment Unit and when I arrived he told me he was being screened for meningitis, for which he would require a lumbar puncture. Admittedly, he looked ok at this point - he'd been given IV fluids, painkillers and antibiotics and was desperate for a phone charger so that he could contact his girlfriend. Dad was despatched back to the flat to get this and refreshments.
To cut a long and rather stressful story short, my son's tests came back clear and he was discharged from hospital the next day, with the vague advice that he "might have a headache" from the lumbar puncture and that he could take paracetomol and drink coffee or Coca Cola to relieve it. We packed up his stuff and while I trudged back to his flat, he rode his beloved motorcycle home.
He seemed ok, though complained of backache, and the following day I went home to Dorset, having filled up his fridge with easy-to-cook things like soup and pasta. But by the weekend the full after-effects of the lumbar puncture caught up with him and he was prostrated in bed for a day, unable to stand without feeling incredibly dizzy and nauseous (the effect of the change of pressure in the fluid around the spine and brain). So I went back up to London to look after him.I think the combined effect of having mum to cook and clean, make cups of very strong coffee and watch re-runs of Curb Your Enthusiasm with him helped a lot, and by the middle of the week he was much better. We decided to cook a curry supper for an old friend of ours.
I have cooked with my son since he was a little boy. He used to stand on a stool at the hob and stir things for me, later graduating to making scrambled egg and spaghetti carbonara himself. As he grew more interested in food and started studying professional cooking seriously, I stood back, giving him free range in my kitchen and ensuring that he had the right equipment, good knives and proper chef's whites. I shopped for ingredients for him and he turned them into delicious intriguing meals, using techniques he'd learnt at college, at work and by watching the chefs he admires on YouTube. Now he's a chef at a top London hotel and he cooks amazing, deeply-flavoured dishes, beautifully presented. When we shop together, we discuss ingredients and what we might do with them, and now when we stand side-by-side at the hob, I am learning from him.
Curry has always been a family favourite, and there's something very soothing about preparing a curry and its accompaniments. People grumble that curries are time-consuming - all that marinading or grinding of spices - but in fact curries are dead easy and much of the process can be prepared in advance. Chopping and slicing onions, garlic and ginger, warming spices to draw out their earthy flavours, stirring and tasting, cooking together after my son's recent health scare seemed more significant, a healing, comforting process.
Onion bhajis are one of our joint specialities, along with a piquant mint and coriander relish or raita, as an appetiser. On this occasion, we also made a fragrant lamb biryani and my son made a remarkable red lentil Dhal. I say "remarkable" because the dish had unexpected layers of flavour, the sort of thing that would excite the Masterchef judges - a humble, honest dish elevated to something very special. And it was doubly special, because there was my son up and about again, happily cooking in the kitchen in his flat which he designed and paid for himself, and raring to get back to work.
"Curry is life!" a friend of mine commented, when I told him what we were having for dinner. And it's true - there's something very life-affirming about preparing and cooking this food, and sharing it with family and good friends.
Recipes
Lamb Biryani
Rick Stein's Cochin Railway First Class Mutton Curry - I make this a lot. It's easy to prepare in advance and lamb shanks really lend themselves to slow cooking
Dal
(there are many different recipes for Dal - I like Rick Stein's Tarka Dal)
"Have you got a rash?" was my first question to which he replied "No, but I can't get rid of this headache. I'm going to A&E".
The last communication with him was a few hours later to tell me he'd had a chest X-ray and a blood test. I couldn't reach him by phone the next morning and so drove up to Kingston where he lives, hoping to find him recovering in bed at home. But there was no sign of him, nor his motorcyle, at his flat and his cat came dashing in when we arrived, clearly very hungry.
Eventually, I located my son in the labyrinth of Kingston Hospital. He'd been admitted to the Acute Assessment Unit and when I arrived he told me he was being screened for meningitis, for which he would require a lumbar puncture. Admittedly, he looked ok at this point - he'd been given IV fluids, painkillers and antibiotics and was desperate for a phone charger so that he could contact his girlfriend. Dad was despatched back to the flat to get this and refreshments.
To cut a long and rather stressful story short, my son's tests came back clear and he was discharged from hospital the next day, with the vague advice that he "might have a headache" from the lumbar puncture and that he could take paracetomol and drink coffee or Coca Cola to relieve it. We packed up his stuff and while I trudged back to his flat, he rode his beloved motorcycle home.
He seemed ok, though complained of backache, and the following day I went home to Dorset, having filled up his fridge with easy-to-cook things like soup and pasta. But by the weekend the full after-effects of the lumbar puncture caught up with him and he was prostrated in bed for a day, unable to stand without feeling incredibly dizzy and nauseous (the effect of the change of pressure in the fluid around the spine and brain). So I went back up to London to look after him.I think the combined effect of having mum to cook and clean, make cups of very strong coffee and watch re-runs of Curb Your Enthusiasm with him helped a lot, and by the middle of the week he was much better. We decided to cook a curry supper for an old friend of ours.
I have cooked with my son since he was a little boy. He used to stand on a stool at the hob and stir things for me, later graduating to making scrambled egg and spaghetti carbonara himself. As he grew more interested in food and started studying professional cooking seriously, I stood back, giving him free range in my kitchen and ensuring that he had the right equipment, good knives and proper chef's whites. I shopped for ingredients for him and he turned them into delicious intriguing meals, using techniques he'd learnt at college, at work and by watching the chefs he admires on YouTube. Now he's a chef at a top London hotel and he cooks amazing, deeply-flavoured dishes, beautifully presented. When we shop together, we discuss ingredients and what we might do with them, and now when we stand side-by-side at the hob, I am learning from him.
Curry has always been a family favourite, and there's something very soothing about preparing a curry and its accompaniments. People grumble that curries are time-consuming - all that marinading or grinding of spices - but in fact curries are dead easy and much of the process can be prepared in advance. Chopping and slicing onions, garlic and ginger, warming spices to draw out their earthy flavours, stirring and tasting, cooking together after my son's recent health scare seemed more significant, a healing, comforting process.
Onion bhajis are one of our joint specialities, along with a piquant mint and coriander relish or raita, as an appetiser. On this occasion, we also made a fragrant lamb biryani and my son made a remarkable red lentil Dhal. I say "remarkable" because the dish had unexpected layers of flavour, the sort of thing that would excite the Masterchef judges - a humble, honest dish elevated to something very special. And it was doubly special, because there was my son up and about again, happily cooking in the kitchen in his flat which he designed and paid for himself, and raring to get back to work.
"Curry is life!" a friend of mine commented, when I told him what we were having for dinner. And it's true - there's something very life-affirming about preparing and cooking this food, and sharing it with family and good friends.
Recipes
Lamb Biryani
Rick Stein's Cochin Railway First Class Mutton Curry - I make this a lot. It's easy to prepare in advance and lamb shanks really lend themselves to slow cooking
Dal
(there are many different recipes for Dal - I like Rick Stein's Tarka Dal)
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| Lamb Biryani (images from Great British Chefs) |
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