I am sooooo out of things to write about. Six days left (counting today) and I may end up posting recipes each day. Maybe not. And I found that I don’t like prompts. I feel like I’m writing a school assignment and I struggle not to sound like I’m writing a formal report as it is.
I grew up afraid of Indian food. My mom, bless her heart, made this horrible gray-green glop that she called curry. I just remember how awful it was and I can’t really describe it. I suspect curry mixes in the 70s were not very good. There are many, of course, who insist on mixing all your own spices. Perhaps I will do that someday when I have more experience with Indian food. I’m not afraid anymore it’s just that there’s only one restaurant in a hundred mile radius. It’s nice to have an idea what something is supposed to taste like before you try to make it. Not entirely necessary but nice. This matches pretty well the chicken korma I had at the Gem of India.
It’s funny, Mom and I used to share cooking duties. Then Dad took her place and on his nights we mostly had “skillet” dinners that came frozen in a bag. I’d make chicken korma once in a while and Dad would sit down and say, “This is that stuff I don’t like.” Then he would proceed to eat several servings and whatever was left over. It’s good. It’s not a very pretty picture, but it’s good.
And you can get the recipe at Chickens and Eggs, of course.