My Mum’s 1970’s ‘British’ Sweet Curry
It would have only been a few years ago that I never in a million years would start talking about ‘smelling my Mum’s sweet curry’ in the fear of totally nonsensical, playground so-called ‘banter’ and potential derogatory pub style ‘Mum jokes’ from just about everyone I was surrounded by.……..but here we are about to open this subject wide and dive deep into the effects my Mum’s sweet curry has on me….trying not to giggle! Im 40 now, that sort of humour was so my 30s!
Something happens to me when the air is full of the aromatic, sweet scents of this so called curry. It tingles every single nostalgic, comforting and warm fuzzy feeling nerve ending in my entire body. It makes me breath deeper, I make sure I take in every single possible ounce of smell that’s in the air. Whatever mood I’m in, the specific smell of this curry will draw a smile from ear to ear. It calms me, it settles me and it puts my body into some sort of state or readiness. The salivation flood gates open and my body knows it’s about to experience something utterly delicious and my body knows it’s about the get the warmest food hug it knows.
I swear, I could smell this curry out from miles away. Think Looney Tunes/Hanna Barbara esque cartoon character smelling a hot pie on a window sill, falling into a weightless state and floating miles and miles to arrive at said window sill. Fortunately for me, I am always welcome to eat this curry if I sniff it out, I won’t see the wrong side of the cartoon Mum’s broom handle!
This so called curry isn’t a want. It’s a need. It’s something my body knows it wants and any whiff of it and that want becomes that need! It’s some sort of almost outer body experience.
This curry is what you’d call a Guy family favourite. Something that has appeared for all 40 years of my life at all key milestones and family celebrations. Especially Christmas. It’s something that has Tupperware squatters rights in my Mum’s freezer (this blog is going to be packed with Mum innuendos and potential mum jokes by the way…..let’s try to keep it above board and not too juvenile….).
What the curry represents is comfort, safety, happiness. It is without question one of my happy places and the dramatic thing is, I don’t even have to taste it to get sent to the happiest of places! Just that smell.
This to me is what a food connection is. We all have them and they will all be different and that is something that fascinates me. We sometimes might, but often we don’t ever consciously cultivate these connections. They are just there; built over time from our regular eating habits. They’re personal to us and they are so important!
It’s important to point out that this effect happens only when my mum makes this curry! I have tried to recreate it, numerous times. I can’t get it right. There’s a lovely reason why I struggled for so long. There’s a secret ingredient. Even after finding this out, I still can’t get it right. I think that’s because the real secret ingredient to this curry is my Mum, my childhood home and it’s what it represents. So maybe I’ll never get it right. But that doesn’t matter, I plan to start stockpiling soon. Chest freezer after chest freezer full of it. Enough to last me the impending apocalypse. If/when the apocalypse arrives, I feel like that would be the right time to have a big bowl of this curry and forget about my troubles for a while…..
I adore the story of this curry. I adore all of my Mum’s cooking, she is a great cook. I am unbelievably fortunate to have grown up with that; it’s a bit of a classic Chef cliche but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Fresh meals 5 or 6 out of 7 days a week and don’t get me started on the packed lunch options! Not a huge diverse range of flavours but why complicate things when you’ve got some absolute classic killer dishes in your locker? My Mum’s lasagne has a similar effect to this curry (cue Beavis & Butthead giggling….), as do her Jam Tarts (now come on, we are talking about my Mum, let’s cut it out)…….
It was quite the revelation when I was younger to learn that my Mum wasn’t always just great at cooking from the moment she was born. There is always that little bit of infallibility when you look at your parents. Easy to forget that they struggle and have struggled with life’s problems as much as we do! She actually decided to learn to cook when she was on the cusp of starting a family and that is where this curry recipe came from. Some evening cookery lessons at a local school in the 1970’s.
You have to remember that the 70’s weren’t exactly synonymous with the exotic flavours of the world. As a nation we spent about 200 years taking over the world stealing as many spices and exotic ingredients as we could, only to come back to our little Island and carry on just boiling vegetables in water until they were mushy and calling it ‘stew’……
So this curry arrived in our familie’s food arsenal. I can only imagine the excitement of something so different. Maybe it became a family favourite from the get-go. Maybe it started on the menu at every family event from then. I think my Mum said she cooked it for my Nan & Grandad straight away. I would have loved to have seen the reactions, the trepidation, the nervousness in tasting it. They probably both wondered where the sausages and chips cooked in lard were (we used to skive off school to get that for lunch at our Grandparents house). We should never take for granted how lucky we are to have such a diverse range of flavours and experiences right on our doorsteps. It’s only a relatively recent development that we have so many options when it comes to food. It’s something we should cherish and celebrate!
To my knowledge, this isn’t a specific, traditional or regional curry from anywhere in Asia. I am sure it has roots somewhere but it’s a bit of an unknown to me. Another stark reminder that food doesn’t have to be traditional and authentic - a trap we are all too eager to fall into. As long as you aren’t disrespecting a culture, there aren’t any rules!
It also has just about zero chilli in it. Merely aromatic spicing, tackled with that one stop shop for Indian flavours ‘mild curry powder’. The beauty of this whole dish is in its simplicity. Remember there wasn’t a deli at the end of the road back then selling every spice you might ever need. Why would we want have chilli in it anyway? I am pretty sure I remember my Dad sending a Korma back in a restaurant once because it was too spicy. Kudos to my folks though, they have really pushed the boat out and since my sister moved to Thailand they now frequent the local Thai restaurant regularly and they are almost up to a place where they no longer have to order the Chilli & Basil Chicken….’without chilli please’
Back to the curry. As I said, it’s not spicy in the chilli sense but is packed with that magical curry powder. It’s also packed with fruit. Think 70s, think what’s exotic, think sultanas, coconut..…..and Bramley apples. This is where the comfort really is. Its the sweetness and the spicing. So unique, and something I would never eat or even choose outside of this scenario but it is just so accessible, so easy to eat and so easy to love!
When I moved out, this recipe was something I wanted to take with me. I tried to make it, couldn’t get it right. Roll on another 5-6 years and I’m a professional Chef, now I surely have the skills to recreate this. Couldn’t get it right. I checked the recipe, asked Mum that this was definitely the recipe, tried again. The frustration was boiling over. This was all before I really started thinking about food so my whole connection to this dish didn’t even cross my mind. The thought that only my Mum could make it to have the same effect wasn’t even on the horizon.
After lengthy discussions with my Mum, ever the humble cook, she was as confused as me as to why I couldn’t get it right. She dropped a few more nuggets of information……….she never used to actually weigh her ingredients, it was more a spoon of this and a spoon of that kind of cooking……..so I am now missing my Mum’s instincts and experience……..Not sure I can manage to replicate that but then another piece of information came out of nowhere…….
…..’well, I don’t use Mango Chutney’……..sorry, what? but that’s in the recipe, Mum?……
…..’well, we didn’t really know what Mango Chutney was or where to get it from so I just used what I had in the cupboard and put a big spoon of Branston Pickle in instead……’……..sorry, what?……..
So there it was. The secret that no-one knew was a secret. A secret no-one was trying to keep but the key to this whole pavlova! (I would like to point out that I always use the term Pavlova instead of Palarver……soz, I’m just a food nerd).
Branston Pickle? Again, so unbelievably fortunate to live in a world and time where we have the privilege of mango chutney, but it makes sense. Chutney goes with cheese, it’s a jar in your cupboard, so is Branston Pickle!
For me, this story makes the dish stand out even more. I’ve even more love for it, this is the joy of a generational recipe. It’s got its own life, it’s on its own journey and it’s evolving through time. Exactly what should happen to our recipes. It makes everything feel so much more real and meaningful. This is the fuel that makes my love the food world burn so bright!
Suddenly, my attempts at this curry got so much closer! I was on the right track! It still wasn’t right but I’m now comfortable with the fact that it never will be. I have realised that the real missing ingredients are my Mum’s instincts and experience. A part of cooking that I love, this is a dish that shys away from cooking by numbers. There is skill in it’s replication and that makes it unque. It’s a touch and feel recipe. Real, instinctive cooking. Almost impossible to teach it, to cook like this, you have to give people the tools to let them explore and learn it for themselves on their own food journeys.
I now understand why this curry means so much to me and why it can only really be perfected by my Mum. It’s the connection I have with it. One which I hope never changes, one I never want to change. It feeds my soul.
This curry is a prime example of the kind of food connections we need to treasure. It doesn’t matter what the food is or how we connected with it but it’s these connections that we need to protect, harness and even pass on to the next generations (if we can). We need to be exploring food and looking for new connections to build and grow. They might not ever rear their faces directly to us, but if we love something, cook it again, make it again, explore the possibility of it becoming a connection! It might be a dish we eat on holiday or one we eat at a great celebration. Go home, try to recreate it, make it your own. Let the memory of it blur with your experience and what you have around you! Make food memories of your own!
This dish is also a stark reminder to exist outside of a recipe. To be present with the process and what you are doing and not to be too robotic with our cooking. Not to fear decisions around using what we have as opposed to what someone else dictates. To try things, explore options with an open mind and to create our own recipes and versions of dishes. There are no rules!
My Mums 1970’s British Curry fills me up in all the good ways. I couldn’t think of a better place to start my ‘Love Letters’ than with this. It’s so important to me and I want to share it with everyone. The recipe is below, of course it’s in ounces! Take the recipe, cook it, share it, change it, use Mango Chutney, use Branston Pickle, use whatever’s in your cupboard! Make it your own! I hope you enjoy it!
THE RECIPE:
4oz Onion, Diced
8oz Chicken Breast, diced
4oz Cooking Apples, Peeled, Cored & Chopped
1oz Plain Flour
2oz Margarine
2oz Desiccated Coconut
2oz Sultanas
1oz Tomato Puree
1 Clove Garlic, Chopped
1oz Mild Curry Powder
1oz Branston Pickle or Mango Chutney
1 Pint Chicken Stock
Salt & Pepper
Heat the margarine in a pan on medium-high, add the diced chicken breast, brown on all sides, then remove from the pan and set aside. Reduce the heat to medium, add the onions and sweat off for 5 minutes until soft. Add the garlic can cook for 2-3 minutes.
Add the plain flour, tomato paste and curry powder, stir well and cook out for 3-4 minutes
Add the chicken stock, bring to a simmer, stirring constantly.
Add the apples, sultanas, desiccated coconut, Branston Pickle/Mango Chutney and return the chicken to the pan.
Simmer the sauce for 10-15 minutes until the chicken is cooked through.
Season with salt and pepper. Serve with rice.
You can always use this recipe to use up already cooked, leftover chicken. Just add it at the end and make sure it’s piping hot before serving!
