The Battle of the Beans Curry


I’m not really sure how the cooking is divided in your home, but in ours, the kitchen is my domain. Not just because I enjoy most moments in there, but I secretly think that I cook better than most hobby chefs.

I come from a long line of brilliant cooks. My grandmother is the queen of Indian cuisine. Her Biriyani’s, pickles, Roti’s and any curry or sweet dish she puts her hand to is second to none – I give you my word. My mum reigns supreme in her own way, having mastered the art of South Indian flavours. Her Sour Fish Curry, Spicy Crab bathed in rich, yet delicate coconut milk that insists one licks their elbows and of course her Apam (South Indian Coconut Pancakes) are just some of the regular indulgences of my childhood.

Over the Diwali period our house was always full of Elachi (Cardamon), slivered almonds, Saffron infused syrups, Doodh Paak (pronounced Dood Park, which is a sweeten milk drink with toasted Pistachio, Almonds, an Indian nut, Charoli , sago and Elachi) and of course home made Samoosa’s,  all thanks to these regal ladies.

I owe my love of food, cooking and sharing to these women because I grew up well fed, surrounded by awe-inspiring flavours and with the knowledge that the world would feel better with a warm feeling in my tummy and my family by my side. 

My cooking style is somewhat different to the women in my life. I’ve had different exposure and life experiences, so while I cook curry, I also love the flavours of the world beyond our doorstep. 

Without rattling my own pot here, I do think that my cooking is a bit of all-right, hey. Which is why this fact really does get under my skin. My husband’s beans curry, irrespective of what type of beans, are ALWAYS, unpretentiously and nonchalantly, better than my own. It grates my carrot. 

Initially, I would hover in the kitchen to “help clean up” or to replenish my glass of vino. I’ve stood over his shoulder, many times, bearing my decidedly disinterested gaze. These days, I’ve found little joy in these coy tactics and have been known to sit on  his shoulder or perch on the extractor fan with pen, paper and the eyes of a hawk. Alas, I am no closer to producing a beans curry that is even half as good! 

So tonight I ate humbly and relished every mouthful of utterly poetic Butter Beans Curry. 


I don’t think it’s worth sharing the recipe because I can say, resolutely, that it really won’t taste quite right. Instead, make plans to come over for dinner, our door is always open ๐Ÿ˜‰


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