When is a chop not a chop?

So, when is a chop not a chop? When it's a cutlet of course! I am referring to a (rather delicious) anomaly in Indian cooking, that I assume stems from the time of Empire. The Indian chop is not a cut of meat and can often be vegetarian. It is in fact a combo of mashed potatoes mixed with either fish or vegetables and various spices, shaped into patties or chunky sausage shapes, coated in breadcrumbs and fried. Oddly enough the alternative name for a chop in India (or at least West Bengal) is a cutlet. I have yet to definitively establish if there is any difference between the two, and in my experience they both seem to be used inter-changeably, though the term chop is always used in my family. The meat version uses mince (keema), but whatever it's made of the Indian chop bares little relation to its British counterpart. I am intrigued about the origins of the use of this term though- were 'British chops' usually cooked coated in breadcrumbs during Empire times? Were the 'Indian chops' once shaped more like a cut of meat? Maybe the term chop meant something else altogether a few hundred years ago? Is this what India got in exchange for introducing Britain to kedgeree? I plan to continue my linguistic food investigations!

Anyway whatever it's origins, macher (fish) chop with dahl and some rice is one of my favourite Bengali meals. I will blog about this at a later date (when I have some more time to make them properly), but in the meantime here's something I came up with the other day. I had some raw prawns in the fridge that really needed to be cooked, and I felt like doing something a bit different than a stir-fry or pasta dish. So instead I prepared a slightly simplied version of a chingri (prawn) chop a.k.a. prawn fishcakes. This included most of the ingredients used in a classic macher chop, but instead of coating them in breadcrumbs I lightly dusted them in plain flour before shallowing frying. To make enough for around four chops (sufficient for one person as a main course or two as a side dish) I used the following:

Around 140g raw prawns, de-veined (do feel free to increase the amount of prawns as I was just using what I had left in the fridge)
1 medium potato, chopped, boiled and then mashed
Couple of large spring onions, or half a regular, medium, white onion
2 medium cloves of garlic
1/2 inch piece of ginger, peeled
1 green chilli (more if you prefer more heat or include ground chilli)
1 tsp ground corriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp-ish salt
plain flour for dusting
oil for frying

I prepared this using a Kenwood mini-chopper, which is one of my most used kitchen gadgets, but pounding and mixing everything by hand is possible (and of course more authentic!). I first made a paste from the onion, chilli, ginger and garlic, before adding in the prawns. The prawns should maintain a bit of texture rather than being blended to a mush. Take this mixture and add it to the (cooled) mashed potato, add the dry spices, and combine. The prawn mix should be wet enough to hold everything together which is why this recipe doesn't include a binding agent like egg (but you can add some beaten egg if it's too dry). Form the chops into patties, put them onto a plate lightly dusted in plain flour, (to stop them sticking) and refrigerate for about 30mins (the longer the better really, but you can get away with 10-15mins in some circumstances i.e. when hungry). When you're ready to cook them, heat enough oil to shallow fry, dust the chops in plain flour, pat off any excess and put them into the hot oil. They'll probably need about 6-8mins on each side, and should be a rich golden brown when they're done. I ate mine with a large salad, but these chops would also be perfect with rice and dahl.

Coming soon- Bengali macher chop and beetroot chop!

Chole batura

Chole batura is a Punjabi classic, that I absolutely love. The chole (aka chana masala) part refers to the chickpeas and the batura is a type of bread that manages to combine the crisp flakiness of a paratha with the soft chewiness of a naan. Making this entirely from scratch would undoubtedly be quite time-consuming but I've recently discovered that my local Asian grocery store Al-Amin now sells ready-made batura. They come vacuum packed and are made in Southall (which puts my authenticity fears to rest). All you need to do is heat them through in a dry pan, turning frequently, until they become golden and crispy on the outside. Batura are usually shallow or deep fried so can be greasy, but these examples were exceptionally non-oily.
For the chole I used a tin of chickpeas and the Mangal spice mix I've described previously. Impatience meant that I only quickly fried off some onion before adding the chickpeas, spices, and some water, rather than the ginger, tomato, etc, that I'd normally add. You can probably see from the picture that this resulted in a slightly paler chana masala than I'd normally expect, but it still tasted delicious.
There's a gap on the plate above that would normally be filled with a tomato and onion relish, or yoghurt raita, or even some green salad. But have to admit on this occasion I omitted those extras and risked burning my fingertips to scoop up little mounds of chole with the straight from the frying pan-hot batura.

Unfortunately I don't remember what brand the batura were, and they might just have been called Punjabi Baturas. However if they've made it down to Cambridge then I'm sure they'll be in other Asian supermarkets too.

Cost: Approximately £1.60 for four
I rate them 8.5/10

Ambala Samosas

Ahhhh, samosas- food of the gods. Deep-fried pastry stuffed with a spicy vegetable mix. An ideal quick snack. How can you go wrong? And yet so often they have gone wrong, very wrong.
I remember my mum making samosas every now and again when I was younger. They definitely were an occasional treat, as they were pretty time consuming to prepare. She'd make the filling with potatoes and peas, cooked with a few spices such as whole cumin seeds, chilli and some fresh coriander. Once this had cooled she'd make the dough for the pastry casing, roll it out into small sections, and then form these into sort of upside down pyramids which would be filled with the vegetable mix. Once sealed these would then be fried in batches in hot oil. Eaten hot these samosas (or shingaras in Bengali) would have a light, crispy outer skin, filled with a soft, spicy vegetable mix inside.
Unfortunately, most ready-made, supermarket-bought samosas seem to have mutated into a totally different creation. These flat, distant relatives of a proper Indian samosa are usually wrapped in a weird, stretchy, filo-ish type pastry (which still manages to be completely non-crispy on heating), and filled with a sort of bland, vegetable mush. Ugghh.
Luckily, there is an amazing alternative to samosas made by an Indian mother, and those are the samosas made by Ambala. I might even go so far as to say that I prefer the Ambala samosa (controversial I know!). Ambala has a number of outlets across London and other locations with big Asian populations, and sells a range of sweets and savouries (which I might review at a later date), but one of their best products is their samosas. The pastry is flakey, and quite dense but without being heavy. Inside is a mix of crushed potato with sweetcorn, peas, carrots and spices. I don't know exactly which spices they use but I can see (and taste) whole cumin, mustard seeds and ground chilli. Each samosa is generous in size, never excessively oily and the only issue I ever have with them is restraining myself from scoffing half a dozen in one go.


Cost: Hmmm- can't quite remember this, but something like £0.70 each.
I rate them 9.5/10.

Alphonso mangoes

Ok, so mangoes don't exactly fall into the ready-made food category but they are certainly pretty instant in eating terms. There's only really one type of mango that I eat, and that is the Indian alphonso mango. Once you've tried this fragrant, golden mango, with it's soft, sweet, creamy flesh there is no going back to the horrible, hard, green things that lurk on supermarket shelves.

Alphonso mangoes are in season now, and should be available in any Indian grocery shop (although probably more commonplace in bigger stores in areas with large Asian populations).

Cost: Can vary; box of 12 in Greater London approximately £8.00

I rate them 9/10.

Mangal Chana Masala Spice Mix

Chana Masala....yummmmm. This is basically a chick pea stew, made (depending on Indian region and Indian mother concerned) with a variety of spices and a base that involves a combination of ginger, onion, garlic and tomato. This is something I occasionally make from scratch but somehow my spice combinations never quite pack the punch of the ready made commercial mixes- admittedly an unusual situation for me (as I come from an Indian family, I tend to avoid these often generic blends). However, the Mangal chana masala mix is actually made in India and therefore Indian housewife approved. And despite cooking quite a lot of Indian food, spices such as amchoor (mango powder) and anardana (pomegranate powder) are still relatively hard to get hold of, and as they're not used in that many other dishes a ready made mix containing them is very convenient.
The Mangal mix also contains another dozen or so spices including star anise, cumin, cloves and fennel, together with a big kick of ground chili. The instructions only say to add the mix to base of fried onions, but I also add my own fresh ginger and garlic too to increase the depth of flavour. I also add tomato puree but this is definitely optional. You can use the mix with tinned chickpeas, which obviously won't need as long to cook as their dried counterparts (around 20mins of simmering), but still absorb a lot of flavour. The finished chana masala has a lot of umami-savouriness with a hint of sweetness, and is very dark and rich without being heavy. These flavours are well balanced with the heat of the chili, which although strong is not over-powering. I'd recommend eating this with a cooling salad or yoghurt raita, and some rice, naan, parathas, or luuchi/poori to soak up all the spiciness.

Cost: around £1.35 depending on outlet (cheaper in India!)
I rate it 8.5/10