the oven and drain the liquid off into a jug. Keep the fish warm simply by replacing the foil on the dish.
Melt the butter in a wide, heavy saucepan that has a tight-fitting lid, and add the oil to stop the butter burning. Soften the onion in the pan and add the spices, then keep cooking till the onion is slightly translucent and suffused with the soft perfume of the spices. Add the rice and stir with a wooden spoon so that it’s all well coated. There’s not enough onion to give a heavy coating: just make sure the rice is fragrantly slicked.
Pour in the reserved liquid from the jug – about 500ml – and stir before covering with the lid and cooking gently for about 15 minutes. If your stove is vociferous you may need a heat-diffuser.
At the end of the cooking time, when the rice is tender and has lost all chalkiness, turn off the heat, remove the lid, cover the pan with a tea towel and then replace the lid. This will help absorb any extra moisture from the rice. It is also the best way to let the rice stand without getting claggy or cold, which is useful when you’ve got a few friends and a few dishes to keep your eye on.
Just before you want to eat, drain off any extra liquid that’s collected in the dish with the salmon, then flake the fish with a fork. Add to it the rice, eggs, coriander, lime juice and a drop or two of fish sauce. Stir gently to mix – I use a couple of wooden paddles or spatulas – and taste to see if you want any more lime juice or fish sauce. Sprinkle over the zest from the two juiced halves of the lime and serve. I love it served just as it is in the roasting dish, but if you want to, and I often do (consistency is a requirement of a recipe but not a cook), decant into a large plate before you add the lime zest, then surround with lime segments and add the zest and a small handful of freshly chopped coriander.
This is one of those rare dishes that manages to be comforting and light at the same time. And – should you have leftovers, which I wouldn’t bank on – it’s heavenly eaten, as all leftovers demand to be, standing up, straight from the fridge.
MASALA OMELETTE
Maybe I should come clean here. Although this is a Keralan dish, I have never, in fact, been to Kerala. But the book’s designer had just come back from there when we did the pictures for this book and cooked it for us one day. To eat is to be convinced and the omelette found its way into the TV programme. One of the advantages is that it’s an unusual thing to eat for breakfast but easy to make, and, what’s more, suitable to be cooked for yourself alone. If I’m being honest, I should say that when I cook this for myself, on a weekday at least, I usually dispense with most of the ingredients: I chop two chillies, turn them around in a hot pan with a little bit of oil for a while, then beat them into a couple of eggs, adding some roughly chopped coriander and Maldon salt at the same time. I then pour everything back into the frying pan and cook for a few minutes before sitting the pan under the grill for a top-setting minute or so.
And feel free to add as well as subtract ingredients: grated ginger is good, as is chopped fresh mint or, indeed, dried. You can eat this, flat on the plate, with a knife and fork, or roll it up inside a chapatti that you’ve just warmed through in the microwave. And don’t tell them in Kerala, but I like this with a splodge of brown sauce, too.
Serves 1.
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1 spring onion, sliced finely
1–2 chillies to taste, red or green
1 clove garlic, Microplaned or finely chopped
¼ teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 eggs, beaten
freshly chopped coriander for sprinkling over
chapattis to eat with, if you feel like it
Preheat the grill.
Heat the oil in a non-stick frying pan 20–27cm in diameter, and fry the spring onion, chilli, garlic and turmeric until soft. Add the other spices and fry for another minute, stirring
Melt the butter in a wide, heavy saucepan that has a tight-fitting lid, and add the oil to stop the butter burning. Soften the onion in the pan and add the spices, then keep cooking till the onion is slightly translucent and suffused with the soft perfume of the spices. Add the rice and stir with a wooden spoon so that it’s all well coated. There’s not enough onion to give a heavy coating: just make sure the rice is fragrantly slicked.
Pour in the reserved liquid from the jug – about 500ml – and stir before covering with the lid and cooking gently for about 15 minutes. If your stove is vociferous you may need a heat-diffuser.
At the end of the cooking time, when the rice is tender and has lost all chalkiness, turn off the heat, remove the lid, cover the pan with a tea towel and then replace the lid. This will help absorb any extra moisture from the rice. It is also the best way to let the rice stand without getting claggy or cold, which is useful when you’ve got a few friends and a few dishes to keep your eye on.
Just before you want to eat, drain off any extra liquid that’s collected in the dish with the salmon, then flake the fish with a fork. Add to it the rice, eggs, coriander, lime juice and a drop or two of fish sauce. Stir gently to mix – I use a couple of wooden paddles or spatulas – and taste to see if you want any more lime juice or fish sauce. Sprinkle over the zest from the two juiced halves of the lime and serve. I love it served just as it is in the roasting dish, but if you want to, and I often do (consistency is a requirement of a recipe but not a cook), decant into a large plate before you add the lime zest, then surround with lime segments and add the zest and a small handful of freshly chopped coriander.
This is one of those rare dishes that manages to be comforting and light at the same time. And – should you have leftovers, which I wouldn’t bank on – it’s heavenly eaten, as all leftovers demand to be, standing up, straight from the fridge.
MASALA OMELETTE
Maybe I should come clean here. Although this is a Keralan dish, I have never, in fact, been to Kerala. But the book’s designer had just come back from there when we did the pictures for this book and cooked it for us one day. To eat is to be convinced and the omelette found its way into the TV programme. One of the advantages is that it’s an unusual thing to eat for breakfast but easy to make, and, what’s more, suitable to be cooked for yourself alone. If I’m being honest, I should say that when I cook this for myself, on a weekday at least, I usually dispense with most of the ingredients: I chop two chillies, turn them around in a hot pan with a little bit of oil for a while, then beat them into a couple of eggs, adding some roughly chopped coriander and Maldon salt at the same time. I then pour everything back into the frying pan and cook for a few minutes before sitting the pan under the grill for a top-setting minute or so.
And feel free to add as well as subtract ingredients: grated ginger is good, as is chopped fresh mint or, indeed, dried. You can eat this, flat on the plate, with a knife and fork, or roll it up inside a chapatti that you’ve just warmed through in the microwave. And don’t tell them in Kerala, but I like this with a splodge of brown sauce, too.
Serves 1.
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1 spring onion, sliced finely
1–2 chillies to taste, red or green
1 clove garlic, Microplaned or finely chopped
¼ teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 eggs, beaten
freshly chopped coriander for sprinkling over
chapattis to eat with, if you feel like it
Preheat the grill.
Heat the oil in a non-stick frying pan 20–27cm in diameter, and fry the spring onion, chilli, garlic and turmeric until soft. Add the other spices and fry for another minute, stirring
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