Years ago,
when I was working on a political campaign in Philadelphia, we often ordered
takeout from a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant a couple of blocks away. I
fell in love with the lamb korma, but I’ve never found it since, and lamb is
hard to come by around here, for reasons that mystify me, so I can't make my own.
The great
culinary resource Wikipedia (you do know I’m kidding, right?) says that “Korma
(from Turkish kavurma), also spelled kormaa, qorma, khorma, or kurma, is a dish
originating in Central Asia consisting of meat or vegetables braised in a
spiced sauce made with yogurt, cream, nut or seed paste.” A bit oversimplified,
but you get the basics: meat simmered in sauce that includes yogurt and a bunch
of spices. The nice thing is, you can vary the spices and the heat any way you
want.
So when I saw
this recipe earlier this year in the New
York Times, I pounced on it. And then I started changing it, of course. The
original version was kind of sweet, incorporating cloves and cinnamon. I respect
the tradition, but I’m not a big fan of the flavor combination. I decided to
hang on to the cardamom, though, because that has a very distinctive flavor.
So here goes
my excursion into Bangladeshi cooking (in case you don’t remember, Bangladesh
was once known as East Pakistan, and it’s next door to India).
Chicken Korma
2 lbs
skinless, bone-in chicken pieces (dark meat works best. As it happens, I had a
whole chicken, and the two hind-quarters weighed almost exactly two pounds. And
the sauce was just about the right amount for those two pieces.)
1 tsp salt
1 medium
onion, peeled
1 1-1/2” knob
of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
3 cloves
garlic, chopped
1/2 cup whole
milk yogurt
4-6 green
cardamom pods, cracked open
2 bay leaves
1/2 tsp black
peppercorns
2-3 small hot
green chiles (optional)
2 Tblsp
butter
2 Tblsp
vegetable oil
Season the
chicken pieces with salt and place in a medium-size Dutch oven. Thinly slice a
quarter of the onion and set it aside. Roughly chop the rest of the onion, then
puree it in a blender with the ginger, garlic, and 3 Tblsp water until smooth.
If it thickens too much, add a little more water.
 |
| Yes, I have a blender. It was a wedding present. It is Harvest Gold. It still works. |
Combine the
onion puree with the yogurt, cardamom, bay leaves and peppercorns. Spread it
over the chicken in the Dutch oven. Bring the mixture to a simmer over
medium-high heat, stirring. Cover the pot until the chicken releases its
juices, in 5-7 minutes.
Uncover the
pot and adjust the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook, stirring and
flipping the chicken occasionally until it is tender and the sauce is as thick
as gravy, about 35 minutes. (It took this long to cook the chicken
through. It’s kind of a juggling act to keep the sauce from boiling too hard
while making sure the chicken is cooked.) If you need to, you can thin the
sauce with water. If you’re using the hot chiles, now is the time to add them. Taste
to see if you want more salt.
Heat the
butter and oil in a small pan over medium-high heat. After it foams, add the
sliced onions and cook, stirring, until they are well browned, about 3-4
minutes. Add a pinch of salt, then add the onion mixture to the chicken.
Serve with
steamed basmati rice. This kind of rice has long been a staple in
Indian/Pakistani cooking (it’s no harder to cook than any other kind of rice,
except maybe Minute Rice, which is still around). You can use regular long
grain or Jasmine rice, but it won’t have the same flavor.
 |
| The sauce |
One note: the
original (authentic?) recipe called for whole peppercorns and
cardamom pods, which are a bit hard to chew. If you prefer, you can add ground
black pepper, and remove the seeds from the cardamom pods (or even use ground
cardamom).
Privy to the Dead! Came out last week! What do you mean, you don't have a copy yet? (Come to think of it, I may have mentioned that Philadelphia Indian restaurant in the book, or one that came before it.)
Find it at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
On a related note, I did mention a sandwich place down the street from the "Society" in Philadelphia, but I had long since forgotten the name of the real place: More Than Just Ice Cream (I walked by it last month--it's still there!)
