“One woe doth tread upon another’s heels, so fast they follow” (Gertrude in Hamlet)

Aunty Vida died in May aged 101. She was my Mum’s oldest aunty, the older sister of my Grandmother Esther who died almost 20 years ago, and of Aunty Luna who died a few months ago. Their brother Uncle Pixie died about 30 years ago and Uncle Benny, one of the youngest, died during the pandemic. My only surviving great-aunt, Aunty Philo, is now a family treasure, the youngest surviving Martin of her generation at 90 years of age. I keep meaning to go and visit her in South London but never get round to it. I will definitely make a plan once the holidays are over…

Aunty Vida’s sartorial eleganza: Paddy’s Day (this year!), Valentine’s and Christmas.

Aunty Vida was an absolute icon. Unfortunately for me, she lived in Canada so I rarely got to see her (maybe two or three times in total in my life). However, she kept in touch and was a strong and characterful woman. Mum said she was an excellent cook and had fond memories of visiting her in Calcutta and eating rose cookies and other Anglo-Indian delicacies. Mum and Dad also went to visit her in Canada and I think they all met up at an Anglo-Indian reunion about 10 years ago. Aunty Vida’s son, my cousin Louis, wrote in his eulogy about what a terrific woman she was: she was in the Women’s Auxiliary Corps in the Allied Forces and received the Burma Star Medal and Medal of World War 2, she met Mother Theresa, and when she moved to Canada, worked for Vetcraft, an organisation sponsored by the Department of Soldiers Civil Re-establishment, where she made Remembrance Day poppies.

I always knew her as a glamorous, independent Anglo-Aunty who was quirky and fun. I realise though that I didn’t know what her preferred style of biriani was and what tips she had for the perfect pepper-water recipe… I didn’t speak to her on the phone like my other aunties and I don’t really know my Canadian cousins as well as my English ones (and one Texan). Our ‘Cuzns’ whatsapp group brings us all together though and is a fantastic source of history, nostalgia, and ridiculous memes. We got together in April for my cousin Nigel’s 60th birthday bash in Bournemouth. It was the only time I can remember since Mum and Dad died that so many cousins were together tearing up the dancefloor and eating late night karti-kebabs. In fact, Nigel and Helen’s wedding could well have been the last time… I’m so grateful to be able to call my cousins my friends (although as the youngest, I also feel that they are my collective parents – especially Corinne and Neil).

Missing was my Uncle Adrian, Mum’s brother, who couldn’t make it. Kris came and we all had a ball. Hopefully next year we’ll have more re-cous-unions. Kris, Neil and I are the closest geographically and in age so we make plans to meet up from time to time. Nigel is the best for rallying the troops though and there’s always a curry night on the horizon. I bloody love our family!

It’s that time of year though (the end of the summer term) when I miss Mum’s salt-fish patties, karti-kebabs, and her barbecued tandoori chicken the most. I’ve been too lazy in the evenings to make anything exciting or summery. I’ve taken to ordering curries without meat – not veggie curries – curries made with meat but just the juicy, meaty, curry sauce delivered. My absolute favourite is our local Sri-Lankan restaurant’s Beef Colombo curry which is spicy, rich, and tangy – practically an Anglo-Indian Vindaloo but with beef. They laughed when I first asked them to leave the meat out but they totally understood what I meant. There was plenty of meaty bits still in the sauce, perfect for mopping up with a thick naan bread or their super-thin parathas.

Today though I thought I’d let the slow-cooker work up some beefy magic so I dug out Mum’s ‘Oriental Beef’ recipe. I heated up the slow-cooker with a can of beef consomme before flash-frying and chucking in the rest of the ingredients in this order:

I first seared braising beef (dredged in flour, caraway seeds, salt and pepper) in olive oil, then fried some onions and garlic in the beefy juices. I deglazed the pan with madeira (didn’t have any sherry) and then stir-fried some green peppers, mushrooms, and a bit of ginger I had knocking around (not in the original recipe). I deglazed the pan again with water and then added soy sauce and sugar, chucked that in with another can of consomme into the slow-cooker for good measure (chicken this time – not sure if it’ll make much of a difference). The most important thing for this recipe is to add corn flour at the end of the cooking time to thicken the sauce (the best bit in my opinion). I’ll have to wait an hour or two for this. I should have left the peppers and mushrooms until the end so they stay toothier but I like how they add to the sauce flavour. I might add some flash-fried red peppers at the end to add some crunch. [Edit: totally forgot to add the all-important Anglo special: vinegar! Couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong with it, then remembered, added a couple of tablespoons, another teaspoon of sugar et voila!]

Mum’s preferred rice for this was Easy Cook Long Grain American Rice because it’s more resilient and robust against such a juicy stew. I also remember she used this in Italy with her famous rainy day beef Madras. Because I have such a massive bag of rice, Basmati’ll have to do. Pip’s obsessed with jasmine rice but I can’t get along with it or sticky rice unless it’s with something really contrasting like spicy teriyaki beef with crunchy carrots.

So while Pip is out ballet dancing and Mark is planning lessons for the week ahead, I’m looking forward to some comfort far-eastern food while thinking about my near-eastern and mid-western family.

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