Devil Fry

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It’s just under an hour until a year exactly has passed since Mum died. It doesn’t feel like yesterday – it’s been a quick year in some ways but the events of the last 12 months have filled in a lot of the empty spaces.

Dad has pretty much redecorated the whole house, learnt to use Facebook and rid himself of prostate cancer; Jeff and Monika have watched our bundle of joy Lara learn to walk, negotiate far and near-flung staircases and swimming pools and start to call Pip “Peach”; Kris has rehabilitated himself after a year of Police service; Pip still hasn’t learnt to swim or ride a bike and Mark and I enjoyed having housemates until the autumn, which kept the wolf from the door.

Xmas came and went with pleasant company and plenty of lazy hometime. Thoughts of Nana were cheerfully recalled and her absence this year reminded us how the same time last year was much harder work.

I can’t forget what a shock it was to see her last Xmas day. She always made an effort for the family and ate a little but we all knew it would be a miracle if she survived another year.

I remember those few weeks of the new year much more fondly; she was blissfully narcotised on Oxycodone in her hospital chair and, even though mobility was difficult, she could still reminisce and chat and laugh.

In fact the recipe for Devil Fry was written down around the time she’d tell me her wishes for her funeral. It wasn’t a devastating time – it was a time of gathering stories, memories and recipes. And how we laughed.

So today Jeff, Monika and Lara came for lunch and I fed them the Boxing Day favourite (although not mine) Turkey Devil as we called it. Not sure if I did it justice but the house was certainly filled with that unmistakeable scent of fried onions and ginger, which hit you every time you arrived at Woodstock Avenue or Poplar Hill or Astley Avenue for that matter…

It’s simple really but the balance of ginger, sweetness and sour vinegar takes a little practice so Mum’s teaspoon and tablespoon measurements are approximate for a turkey crown sized amount of meat. As she would say, “you need to judge it.”

I’m writing this on the sofa surrounded by the detritus of Lara and Pip’s toybox carnage. I’m not planning on doing much else for a bit except lounge and ponder the events of this time last year (20 minutes to go).

Mark has lit a candle. I’m grateful to him for keeping Pip at school last January in the week running up to this day. I’m grateful that I had that time by Mum’s bedside and the privileged position of being there when she eventually died.

Soon she’d be trying to wriggle off the bed and say her last words “it’s so hard to explain” before being comfortably tucked back into bed. Soon she’d give that last distant look across the bed. Soon her breathing would shallow but her pulse would stay strong for an impressive time until finally ebbing away. Soon she would be at peace.

It’s 14:42 and in 10 minutes time, a year ago, we lost the most fun-loving, thrill-seeking, super-cooking Mum, Nana, Wife, Sister, Niece, Cousin and friend we could ask for. Rest in peace Phyllis Griffiths.

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Biriani and Hell’s Flame

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Probably my favourite Mum recipe, this dish is actually very easy to make if you have a jar of Patak’s Biriani Paste. However, the simplicity can be deceptive if you are a rice-cooking amateur. I’m no professional and I often mess this up – too much rice means the stodge factor is increased. Burnt bottom (some of us like it that way) is fine as long as the burning flavour doesn’t pervade the whole pan. If you are cooking for more than four adults, you’re gonna need a bigger boat.

Mum used two types of daitchkey (sp?) – a huge metal one for lots of people or a heatproof lidded casserole for when she made it in the oven with yogurt and spices and things (she didn’t leave me that recipe…). She always said that the best biranis were Pakistani ones. I’ve had a fair few birianis in my time and I know what she means: layers of multicoloured tangyness with beautifully tender beef served with lashings of fried onions and maybe some cashews? I’m sure some birianis have nuts in them.

Anyway, Mum’s standard biriani (or ‘biz’ as my Welsh Dad calls it – I’ve only got one dad, what am I saying?) is beef or chicken, fried with the biriani paste and other spices, basmati rice and peas added later. Because us kids are half-Celts, Mum sometimes added potatoes (I know, carb overload). The most important element of the dish, however, is the drenching of Hell’s Flame that takes place once you have loaded your bowl (and bowl I always use, never plate).

Hell’s flame really is the devil’s work – raw onion, chilli powder, sugar (a bit of devillish jiggerypokery) and malt vinegar. It’s the tangyness that turns it Anglo-Indian. Not putting hell’s flame on your biriani is like not having salt and vinegar on your fish n chips. Or ketchup if you really like ketchup. The raw onions give enough crunch to balance the ricey texture and the tang of the vinegar followed by sweet and sour heat completes every mouthful.

Every one of Mum’s curries is accompanied by a plate (often the 70’s rose detail one) of sliced cucumber, tomatoes and spring onions sprinkled with salt and drizzled with more malt vinegar.

This is the dish I would request most often when visiting Mum and Dad. You could depend on it even if I hadn’t been asked what I fancy before I arrived. Invariably, Pip and I drove from London late in the evening, often on a Wednesday night in the early days when Pip didn’t go to full-time school (four day weekends – whup!) and there would be a daitchkey with enough leftover for several portions, even if it was late at night! Better yet, I would have my fill but make sure I left some for breakfast biriani… Perfection.

Most restaurants outside Southall serve biriani with an accompanying vegetable curry. I don’t see the point. I judge birianis on whether they can survive without any accompaniments (other than vinegar!). I think of biriani like an Italian risotto. Perfect just the way they are.

There’s a south Indian takeaway chain called Sambal Express which serves a really spicy version of mutton birani that tastes very similar to Mum’s. They have a store in Southall. They also do a delicious range of street food and snacks. My favourites are fish and egg rolls and fish rotis.

 

Mum’s Chicken or Beef Biriani Recipe

Biriani methodBiriani ingred

Hell’s Flame Recipe

Combine the following ingredients in a serving bowl:

1 brown onion – diced

Half teaspoon (or more!) of chilli powder

1-2 teaspoons granulated sugar

Enough glugs of malt vinegar to almost cover the diced onions in your bowl