My kitchen is … dramatic, and tactile. Dark, inky green walls, lots of metallics – antique brass, muted golds, beaten silver, copper – and lots of unique, handmade pieces. There’s a large composite bedroom mirror on one wall and a glasses cabinet I made from a cupboard by cutting out the centre of the door and replacing it with gold mesh. I have a long length of copper pipe that I made into a mug rail with large copper hooks, handmade ceramics, large outdoor candlesticks, a wall-mounted wine holder, lots of plants, a large reclaimed wood table, with metal outdoor chairs. It’s my play space.
My favourite kitchen tool is … a tawa – the slightly concave, cast-iron griddle that we use for making roti. You can’t substitute it with a frying pan – nothing works the same. My mom’s is the best, I’m always trying to steal it from her. That, and a proper karahi pan.
My storecupboard staple is … garam masala. When I bought this flat, I had nothing but my books and an air bed. My dad came to help me settle in, bringing a jar of freshly made garam masala – it was the first thing my mother thought I needed. I had an empty flat, but I had a six-month supply of the spice blend. No Punjabi household would function without it.
When I’m starving I … make a pilaw. Rice, sauteed briskly with whatever ingredients you like, any flavourings, any herbs, any spices, veg, meat and a drizzle of oil. Add a splash of water then cover and steam for 10 minutes. Great comfort food.
My culinary inspiration is … my family – the people who fed me when I was little. They are the reason I cook. I learned to cook as part of typical British Asian upbringing. No measurements, no recipes, you just build your skills over time, through practice. When I lived in halls at uni, I met Asian women who didn’t know how to cook – they didn’t want to be in the kitchen; they wanted to dissociate from the old-fashioned perception of what a woman did. But they did want the food. So they asked me. I went on to work in advertising, and again, people would ask me for food, and recipes. That’s how I came up with the idea for my first book.
My best-kept kitchen secret is … practice. And tasting. That’s how you really learn. Trial and error. It’s muscle memory. It goes into you – a similar process to martial arts. A real cook is someone who will be able to cook something with any ingredients. Endlessly adaptable.
When I’m invited to dinner I always take … a pot of my own freshly ground garam masala, or some flavoured oil.
Everything tastes better with … citrus. Garam masala, as a powder, is quite bitter. But a drop of lime, or yoghurt – with its sour acidity – totally transforms it. Spices need citrus or salt to come to life.
When I go shopping I … love taking a large bag, some cash, and seeing what I can get. I’m really intuitive. I like going with no specific idea and instead talking to producers and vendors, and getting ideas and tips.
For dinner tonight … I’m preparing a classic tandoori chicken, with lamb kebabs, watermelon and herb salads, kachumbar (tomato and cucumber salad) salad, spicy potatoes, and marinated feta. A real feast!
Vicky Bhogal is a cook and food writer, and author of four books. A fully revised and redesigned edition of her debut, Cooking Like Mummyji, has just been published by Grub Street. vickybhogal.com
