From what I can remember, I was 10 when I first experienced this dish of my nan’s (and yes, I talk about my nan, Cynthia, a lot!). I always spent every school holiday in the early years of my life at hers. With my overprotective mum at work, it became my home away from home.
It was almost like a ritual: I’d get to Nan’s around 9am, have a snack, binge-watch Tracy Beaker back to back for a couple hours, then we’d make our way to Ridley Road market in Hackney, London. From the top to the bottom of the market, the number of times Nan and my four-foot self would do the whole length was just insane. Little did I know though, that I was being taught loads along the way.
I learned about the pumpkins, fish, fresh fruit and veg, a variety of meats – and who knew there were different types of sweet potatoes? The orange one we all know and love, and then there’s the starchier fibrous one. Mind blown.
We went from stall to stall picking up ingredients for her dish. Somehow my nan never failed to bump into people she knew and there would be 15-minute conversations with every person, on average. Yes, please feel my pain.
Eventually, we’d trek back to the house, with me constantly trying to convince my nan to get a cab even though we were only a 10-minute walk away from her house – the bags could be so heavy.
Nan would then knock up a good lunch, while I would normally want to sit in the living room, though she’d sometimes get her way by having me sit in the kitchen. Sitting there, I watched my nan at work.
I would see her take a massive bag of meat out the fridge, then empty the contents into a beige basin that I swear she still uses now.
The unwritten law within my family was “Season up your food”, one my nan certainly took to heart. There were lots of different types of seasonings on the kitchen counter: dried mixed herbs, curry powder (sometimes, though not always, medium, as she knows I’m not a massive fan of heat), all-purpose seasonings, garlic powder, mixed spice, paprika, salt and pepper – you name it, she used it.
Visually it was amazing to look at. The array of colours almost made it look like a flag of a nation. She’d start massaging the meat with herbs and spices until everything was well mixed in. By the smell alone, you just knew it was going to be a good-tasting dish.
I then expected her to take it to the pot but, nope, it went back into the fridge until Sunday, and it was only a Wednesday! I knew it would taste better because it allowed the meat to marinate, but it was just so unfair.
Fast forward to Sunday, I’m back at my nan’s with my mum and you can see dumplings, plantain frying, rice cooking. But there is this other large pot. The closer I get the smells become more familiar, and there it is: Nan’s famous curry goat.
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