I’m a huge fan of the curry. But that has not always been the case. I blame my early years for this.
My mother is half Irish and Welsh (born in Ealing). My father is half Indian and French Mauritian (Born in Pakistan). My mum cannot cook, well strictly that’s not entirely true, she makes a mean banana bread and cherry cake, but truth be told she just doesn’t enjoy it. On a Sunday night she will reach for the pataks curry paste and throw a pot of chicken or mince curry together that will feed my father until Friday when he treats himself to a fish and chips on the way home from the station.
When my brother and I were kids mum would make us the usual ‘kids dinner’ - sausages and beans, shepherds pie, spag bol. Occasionally she got adventurous and ‘lemon chicken’ would grace the mid week menu meal plan, but mostly this resulted in many hours of sulking at the table (we were not allowed to leave until we had finished) and screams to our father as he arrived back from London (more often that not he would ‘nip out’ for a fag and come back with popadoms for us and a take away curry for himself).
Once we got past the age of 10 we were promoted to the curry bowl. In itself we did not detest curry, it was more the fact we tired of it. So every month when the whole extended family descended on my nan on a Sunday afternoon – her tiny dining room table was rammed with pots of steaming chicken byrani, curries in all sorts of shapes and all sorts of colourful accompaniments – my brother and I would rejoice at the roast chicken and boiled potatoes she cooked up separately for the children.
I am ashamed to admit it was not until I was 21 years old that it all clicked into place and I realised what a fool I had been. Like all young adults, fending for ones self at university quickly turns you into a very unfussy eater. So naturally anything free is a bonus. I remember clearly the first Sunday at my nans as a poor student, too hungry to care, I piled my plate high and shoveled in the food.
My hallelujah moment.
Since then I have never looked back. I have joined the bun fight for leftovers along with my father, six uncles and six aunties and MANY cousins. Armed with my take away box on arrival, I (usually) come away with enough for tea the next day. The boyfriend still can’t grasp why I cannot share my precious bounty – isn’t it obvious? I am making up for 21 years of choosing chicken and boiled potatoes.
The Wild Card Monday Night Curry Club starts on the 27 July, first on the hit list – Tayyabs http://www.tayyabs.co.uk/
