The recipe: p244, "Yoghurt with Pineapple"
I've said from the start that I'll take whatever the Random Kitchen project throws at me, from wedding cakes to boring side dishes - but even I was a little underwhelmed when the finger of fate pointed at the "Relishes & Accompaniments" section of Madhur's tome this week. Not that there's anything wrong with Curry Easy itself - I actually use it quite a lot, with the mushroom/chickpea curry and the moong dal among the reliable lunchtime favourites of this particular homeworker - but as well as being a bit of a "meh" choice compared with what else the book has to offer, in light of recent complaints I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the unimaginative name of this particular raita-style dish, not to mention the recurrence of my old f(r)iend yoghurt.
Still, the basic premise appeals to me: "sweet and spicy" was my tentative route into the world of Indian food in the first place, thanks to my parents' friendship with the late, great Abdul Latif, Lord of Harpole and countless nights spent in the much-missed Rupali restaurant in Newcastle's... lively Bigg Market. I may prefer more of a kick up the capsicums these days, but it was those creamy curries with plenty of banana and pineapple that indoctrinated me in the first place, so the idea of a sweet and cooling concoction that Madhur describes as "somewhere between a relish and a curry" is an attractive one.
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The prep: The name of the recipe may suggest simplicity, but the ingredient list is a fairly long one. It's mainly standard stuff as far as this household goes - if you use Curry Easy a lot, you're going to have brown mustard seeds in the cupboard and whole green chillies in the freezer - though I do have to shell out for some creamed coconut (a whole fruit seemed a bit indulgent), and I decide to compromise on dried curry leaves rather than buying a bunch of fresh ones from the Sri Lankan corner shop only to use the ten required by this recipe and most likely discard the rest.
As for the key components, it's full-fat Greek-style yoghurt this time (no cooking required, so presumably no curdling either, but I'm taking no chances!). And while I feel like I probably should buy a whole pineapple from one of the stalls at Lewisham Market, I'm lazy and middle-class so I just grab a tub of fresh pineapple chunks from the supermarket and chop them up a bit smaller instead. Job done!
The making: The cubed pineapple, some caster sugar and water are combined in a pan and simmered down until the liquid evaporates and the pineapple is soft. Grated coconut is stirred through, then the mixture is set aside to cool. Meanwhile, the yoghurt is beaten until nice and creamy, then the contents of the pan are stirred through it, along with a chopped green chilli and - wait for it - between 1¼ and 1½ teaspoons of salt. If there's one thing I've learned from this book, it's that Madhur loves her salt.
Brown mustard seeds, cumin seeds, dried red chillies, curry leaves and sliced shallots are then fried up for a few minutes and poured over the top of the yoghurt and pineapple mixture. One healthy stir later, and the raita is complete. It looks like... well, it looks like lumpy yoghurt with bits in it. Potentially very tasty bits, though!
The eating: I'm sceptical about Madhur's claim that this could work as a curry in its own right, so instead I serve it alongside the last of a chicken, pepper, beetroot (no srsly) and chickpea curry that I've been working my way through for a few days. Plus a pile of brown basmati rice, obviously. The bright pink colours of my improvised dish (not pictured here due to slop-like serving presentation) certainly make for a pleasing contrast to the yoghurty whiteness of the relish.
As an accompaniment, "Yoghurt with Pineapple" does the job, though my scepticism turns out to be reasonable - even stirred through rice, this would be too rich and sickly (and, frankly, boring) to really make sense as a main dish. At the same time, the yoghurt flavour doesn't overpower everything like it did with those damn aubergines a couple of weeks back, so that's something.
I was expecting a bit more from the other ingredients - the green chilli and the seeds don't really cut through the creamy sweetness as much as I might have anticipated, any hints of coconut are conspicuous by their absence, and even the generous quantities of salt struggle to make their presence felt. Still, though, it's an interesting taste combination and it certainly offsets the kick of the main dish like it's supposed to. The sweet/salt/spice marriage puts me in mind of what it might be like if you were to drink a blend of salty and mango lassi - a bit peculiar at first, but when you think about it, it doesn't not make sense...
So a reasonable success, then. While I won't necessary be rushing back to make this particular dish again, the simplicity and the interesting end results mean I'm far more likely to consult the "Relishes & Accompaniments" section of Madhur's book - and the equivalent, similarly easily overlooked sections of other books - than I would have been before. And that's a suitably random outcome.
One-word verdict: Bittersweet.
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