My cookbook review blog Kitchlit has been sorely neglected these past six months. While I love writing reviews, they do take an inordinate amount of time and energy to complete to any good standard. I’m hoping to get back on top of things in the Fall, but in the meantime I’m feeling a little guilty about the time I spend over here and at Kitchenisms, while poor Kitchlit is left behind.

Especially since I’m hardly short of reading (and reviewing) material. Anjum’s New Indian was a Christmas present, one that I really should be sharing more of with you. I picked it up the other day to assist with my recent Italian-food embargo, thinking that authentic Indian dishes were just the distraction I needed. The recipe I opted to try, a whole lentil curry, was just the ticket.

I changed very few things from the original recipe, the most fundamental of which was the type of lentils. I wasn’t able to find the specified masoor variety, so I substituted with French puy. Actually, that’s a lie- I didn’t look even look for the right kind, but I had a package of puy burning a whole in my pantry and somehow knew they’d be perfect for this dish. Since the whole appeal of this curry is that the lentils hold their shape during cooking, rather than dissolving into formless mush, I figured what better lentil than the chef’s sturdy favourite?

This curry is delicious over rice for dinner, with some raita or yogurt on the side. But in my opinion, the best way to eat any lentil curry is to heap the leftovers on a heated naan bread (packaged is fine, but homemade better), as a sort of “Indian beans on toast”. Sprinkle with some extra coriander and I guarantee that it will be one of the best leftover experiences of your life.

Now, if I can just sort out my leftover blog, I’ll be all set.

• Whole Lentil Curry
• adapted from Anjum’s New Indian by Anjum Anand
• serves 4-6
• 250g puy lentils, rinsed
  12g fresh peeled ginger
  4 garlic cloves, peeled
  3 Tbs. olive oil
  2 tsp. cumin seeds
  1/2 an onion, finely chopped
  1 tsp. ground coriander
  1/2 tsp. garam masala
  1/2 tsp. chili powder
  1/2 tsp. turmeric
  1/2 tsp. salt
  3/4 cup passata
  1/2 cup chopped fresh coriander (leaves and stalks)
• 1. Place the lentils and about 1.1 litres of cold water in a large saucepan and bring to the boil. Lower the heat and simmer, covered, until the lentils are soft, about 40 minutes. Stir occasionally to ensure the lentils don’t stick.

  2. Meanwhile, make a paste of the ginger and garlic using a food processor or spice grinder (add a splash of water to help them blend). Set aside.

  3. When the lentils are about 10 minutes away from being ready, heat the oil in a small saucepan and add the cumin seeds. Cook until fragrant then add the onion, frying gently until it’s golden brown. Add the ginger/garlic paste and cook for another minute or so, before mixing in the spices and salt.

  4. Pour in the passata and simmer until the mixture has thickened, about 3-5 minutes. At this point, the oil should be coming out of the masala and it will taste smooth.

  5. Add the masala into the pot with the simmering lentils and cook for another 10 minutes. Add a little more water from the kettle if you think the curry is too thick. Stir in the coriander, adjust the salt if necessary, and serve.

Are you a fiddler? Because I definitely am. No, I’m not coming clean about my ADD or professing some kind of musical gift, rather I’m talking about recipe fiddling. That insatiable urge to tamper, alter or tweak a new recipe into submission, before you’ve even got a chance to know each other. I hear that there are people out there who don’t do this. Have read that some cooks like to make a dish as written, particularly on a first attempt. Are you one of these people? If so, please speak up, because I’m longing to know how on earth you do it.

The other day I mentioned that I was dying to try Orangette‘s Cream-Braised Brussels Sprouts, and it’s true. This recipe has been on my mental to-make list for months, if not years. However it seems like Brussels sprouts and cream are opposing forces in my house; fate seems to ensure that I never have both in the fridge at the same time. But lo and behold, I recently found myself possessed of both sprouts and cream, as well as a desire to eat. So what did I do?

Why, I fiddled of course. I decided that instead of listening to fate, instead of heeding Molly’s advice or the advice of the 60+ positive comments on her post, I was going to make this dish different. Better, even. Instead of cream, I’d use coconut milk! Instead of butter, olive oil and toasted cumin seeds. While we’re at it, why not throw some cannellini beans in there, as well? (Regular readers know this is a favourite meal-maker of mine.)

And yes, it was delicious. And yes, more filling (with a side of brown rice) than the original would have been. But now I still haven’t made the Cream-Braised Brussels Sprouts, and I’ve got another recipe with which to distract me from them. See where fiddling gets you?

• Coconut-braised Sprouts with Cannellini Beans
• adapted from Cream-Braised Brussels Sprouts from Orangette
• serves 2 as a main
• 3/4 tsp. cumin seeds
  1 Tbs. olive oil
  200g washed, trimmed and halved Brussels sprouts
  1 1/2 cups coconut milk
  1 x 400g can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
  1 Tbs. lemon juice
  dash soy sauce
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
  2 Tbs. finely chopped cashews (optional)
  2 Tbs. desiccated unsweetened coconut
• 1. Heat a heavy-bottomed pan over high heat and add the cumin seeds. Shake and toast the seeds for about 30 seconds until very fragrant. Add olive oil and allow to coat the bottom of the pan.
  
  2. Add the sprouts to the pan and cook for 4-5 minutes, tossing a couple times to ensure some nice browning. Pour in the coconut milk, turn the heat to low and cover. Cook for 15 minutes before adding the cannellini beans, then continue to cook for another 10 to 15 minutes.
  
  3. Remove the pan from the heat and stir; the coconut milk will have reduced to a thick, golden sauce by now. Stir in the lemon juice and soy sauce, and season to taste. Serve, with the cashew/coconut topping, if using.
  
  4. To make the topping, heat a small pan over very high heat and add the chopped cashews. As soon as they start to brown, add the coconut and toast everything together, keeping the pan moving, for another 30 seconds or so.

See those leftovers? That was last night’s dinner, and today’s lunch. Some meals are just like that; as soon as you put down your fork after the first go-round, you’re already looking forward to the leftovers. I admit to making certain things for dinner just because I love the leftovers so much- bizarre, no?

I didn’t know this recipe was going to be one of those, but after one dinner and one lunch, I’m already hooked. I came across this Spicy Chickpea Stew while browsing The Kitchn‘s archives one bored afternoon. A guest post from Michael of the blog Herbivoracious, it caught my eye primarily because it uses two ingredients that I love eating, but am constantly struggling to get excited about cooking: cauliflower and chickpeas.

This “stew” (more like a curry, really) is made by simmering roast cauliflower florets in a mixture of onion, spices and chickpeas. The flavour is slightly different from my usual curries, in that it includes a healthy dose of cinnamon (yum!) and fennel seeds (not usually a favourite of mine, but they work here).

Last night, I served this over brown rice with a dollop of Greek yogurt on the side. As delicious as it was, Andrew still felt that there was something missing. I think I hit on the right formula for my lunch today, though: served over pasta and sprinkled with cold feta cheese. But don’t think I’ll be letting him in on this discovery- more leftovers for me, this way.

• Spicy Cauliflower and Chickpea Stew
• adapted from this recipe by Herbivoracious
• serves 4 with rice, pasta or couscous
• 1 head cauliflower, cut into bite-sized florets
  4 Tbs. olive oil
  2 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
  sea salt
  1 large onion, finely chopped
  2 cloves garlic, minced
  2 Tbs. tomato paste
  1 tsp. ground turmeric
  1 tsp. ground cinnamon
  1 tsp. fennel seeds
  1 tsp. cayenne pepper
  2 cups cooked (or canned and rinsed) chickpeas
  juice of one lemon
  black pepper
  1/4 cup chopped coriander, to serve
  1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese, to serve
• 1. Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F. Toss the cauliflower florets with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large baking pan. Sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon of the cumin and a pinch or two of sea salt and roast for 20-30 minutes, until very tender and starting to brown all over. (Stir once or twice to ensure even roasting.)
  
  2. Meanwhile, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large non-stick saucepan and add the onion. Cook for 8-10 minutes over medium heat until soft and golden. Add the garlic and tomato paste and continue cooking for another minute or two, then add the remaining cumin, the turmeric, cinnamon, fennel seeds and cayenne. Cook for about 30 seconds until the spices are very fragrant.
  
  3. Add the chickpeas, lemon juice and about one cup of water. Cover and simmer over low heat until the cauliflower are done; when they are, add to the pan and bring everything to a low boil. Using a potato masher or the back of a wooden spoon, try to crush some of the chickpeas and cauliflower to thicken the sauce- you may need to add more water to achieve a “stew-like” consistency.
  
  4. Season to taste with salt and black pepper, then serve over rice, couscous or pasta. Sprinkle the coriander and feta over the top.

Last night, Andrew and I went out for drinks and food with a friend who’d recently moved back to London. Because I like cooking and am pretty good at it (and yes, am somewhat of a cheapskate), we don’t go out for food too often. Restaurant meals can easily lead to conversation like “Oh, I could make this so much better at home” or “This would be great if you just replaced x with y, or served it alongside some fresh z“. You get the idea- hardly a relaxing way to spend an evening. Still, we were both looking forward to this night on the town, and ventured out with optimism.

After an al fresco pint at a central London dive pub, we ended up at Hix, a Soho restaurant that specialises in British food. We opted to eat at the swanky downstairs bar, and while I loved the extensive cocktail list, the food menu was positively heaving with meat. Beef, lamb, partridge, deer- seriously, it was like this restaurant was playing host to the BBC Young Butcher of the Year competition (no, I’m not kidding- it’s a real show).

I wasn’t all that hungry, so I didn’t mind ordering a starter for my veggie kicks. The Autumn Squash salad was delicious, beautifully presented, and left me with room for dessert (always a bonus), but wasn’t really what I was in the mood for. It was only at the end of the night, after we’d polished off our steamed treacle pudding and drained the last drop from our macchiatos, that we noticed three tiny words printed on the back page of the menu: Vegetarian Menu Available.

I’ll just let that sink in for a minute.

Can you believe that? I’d certainly never seen it before- in London or anywhere else. Rather than upsetting me, the news that there had been an entire vegetarian menu available to me just made me laugh. When I awoke this morning, though, I knew I’d make getting some compromise-free, veggielicious food inside me top priority.

I’d been thinking about this dish of Spiced Sweet Potatoes and Chickpeas ever since Sara posted it last month on her blog Sprouted Kitchen. Sweet potatoes always seem so exotic to me (as far as American things can be exotic to a Canadian), because I never had them growing up. Equally exotic is the idea of roasting chickpeas, since I usually have them in curries or salads.

I simplified the flavours somewhat, opting to focus on the combination of ginger, lime and Eastern spices. Served on a bed of spinach and drizzled with a sweet and tangy coriander dressing, the result was the perfect antidote to yesterday’s sleight.

• Roasted and Spiced Chickpeas and Sweet Potatoes
• inspired by Spiced Sweet Potatoes and Chickpeas from Sprouted Kitchen
• serves 2-3
• Chickpeas and Potatoes
  1 cup soaked and simmered chickpeas (roughly equal to 1 x 400g can), rinsed and drained
  2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2″ cubes
  1 tsp. ground coriander
  3/4 tsp. cumin seeds
  1 tsp. sea salt
  1 garlic clove, minced
  1 Tbs. minced fresh ginger
  zest of 1 lime
  juice of 1/2 a lime
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  
  Dressing
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  juice of 1/2 a lime
  1 Tbs. honey
  1/2 tsp. minced fresh ginger
  1/4 cup finely chopped spring onions
  2 Tbs. finely chopped coriander
  pinch of sea salt
  black pepper, to taste
  
  To serve
  several handfuls fresh spinach, rinsed and dried
• 1. Preheat oven to 200°C/400°F. In a medium-sized bowl, combine the chickpeas and chopped potatoes with the coriander, cumin, sea salt, garlic, ginger and lime zest. Drizzle over the lime juice and olive oil and mix well to coat everything.
  
  2. Spread the mixture into a rimmed baking sheet or shallow baking pan (if it’s on the small side, use two). Bake for 40 minutes, stirring halfway to ensure even browning.
  
  3. While the chickpeas and potatoes are roasting, prepare the dressing. Whisk together all ingredients in small bowl and set aside.
  
  4. When the chickpeas and potatoes come out of the oven, let them cool for ten minutes or so before proceeding- you want this to be warm, not hot. Serve over the spinach with the dressing drizzled on top, either individually or from a large platter.

You know how, when you live with someone, you end up having very specific formulas for takeout? Perhaps it’s just human nature to fall into patterns; when I lived with my best friend in Toronto, we had our takeout sushi routine down to a two-minute art. (One edamame, one California roll, one Spider roll, and one Bento Box A, please- oh, and we’ll send a boyfriend to come pick it up.)

Well, Andrew and I have a very specific formula that we follow when ordering Indian food- we get one vegetable balti (for me), one chicken korma (for him), and one prawn madras or similar (to share). Add an order of rice and a naan to share, and we’re good to go. And I must confess: though I avoid the pieces of chicken, I almost always dip my naan into the korma to soak up some of that mild, creamy sauce. It’s not my favourite curry by any stretch, but an Indian takeout wouldn’t be the same without it.

So I wasn’t surprised when my sister gave me Nigel Slater’s Tender, Volume I for my birthday in September, and the first photo that jumped out at me was of a root vegetable korma. I’d never even considered making my own korma before, preferring to stick to spicier and simpler curries for my home cooking. But it seemed like fate that I should make this, particularly as the farmer’s market is crawling with delicious root vegetables right now.

I opted to use a combination of carrots, potatoes, swede and jerusalem artichokes, but parsnip, turnip and even beets would also be good here. I quickly realised that the amount of veg stipulated by Nigel would feed a small army, let alone the four adults it claimed to. If there’s anything that I dislike about the man’s books, it’s the portion sizes- they’re always huge. Goodness knows how he stays so trim. I ended up nearly halving the vegetables, and just cutting down on the other ingredients (I like my curry saucy, so as to have an excuse for naan, rice, etc.).

The result was exactly what I was looking for- a homemade korma that tastes homemade. While many commercial kormas are almost cloyingly sweet, this one has a nice tang to it, courtesy of the natural yogurt in the sauce. And despite all the spices and chili, it isn’t too hot at all- perfect for those who like their curries on the mild side. Who knows- making this dish might become part of a new pattern around here.

Note: If you think the texture in this last photo looks slightly off, it’s the rice. I don’t have a microwave, so when I’m reheating 2-part meals like this (curry+rice), I tend to just mix it all together. Slightly less tasty, yet miles easier, than reheating the two separately.

• Nigel Slater’s Root Vegetable Korma
• adapted from Tender, Volume I by Nigel Slater
• serves 4, easily
• 2 small onions
  2 cloves garlic, finely sliced
  thumb-sized piece of ginger, peeled and grated roughly
  1 small green chili, finely chopped
  2 tsp. cumin seeds (or pre-ground)
  2 tsp. coriander seeds (or pre-ground)
  2 tsp. ground turmeric
  1/2 tsp. chili powder
  1 tsp. sea salt
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  approx. 870g mixed root vegetables (I used 2 medium carrots, 4 small Charlotte potatoes, 4 jerusalem artichokes, and 1/2 a swede), peeled and cut into bite-sized chunks
  1/2 cup cashews
  1/2 cup plain yogurt
  1/2 cup single cream
  1/3 cup chopped fresh coriander
• 1. Peel the onions and cut them into large pieces. Using a food processor or whatever else you might have (I used an immersion blender, to ill effect), pulse the onions until they form a rough paste. Mix in the garlic, ginger and chopped chili, and set aside.
  
  2. In a spice grinder (or using a mortar and pestle), grind the cumin and coriander seeds to a fine powder. Mix in the turmeric, chili powder and salt, and set aside. (If you’re using preground spices, simply skip this step.)
  
  3. Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan with a lid. When it’s hot, add the onion/garlic/ginger paste and cook for 5-10 minutes over low heat, stirring frequently. It should soften and become fragrant, but shouldn’t brown.
  
  4. Add the spice mixture to the onions and mix to combine. Cook for a further two minutes, until everything becomes fragrant.
  
  5. Add the chopped vegetables and cover everything with approximately 750ml boiling water- enough to nearly cover the vegetables. Partially cover the pan and cook for 25-35 minutes, until the vegetables are tender and yield to the point of a knife.
  
  6. While the curry is simmering, toast the cashews in a small pan until browned and fragrant. Set aside.
  
  7. Take the curry off the heat and gently stir in the yogurt and the cream. The heat of the curry should warm it through, but taste to make sure it’s still hot enough for you. If not, heat it back up over a low heat, but do NOT let the mixture boil at this point; if it does, it will curdle.
  
  8. Serve over rice or with naan, with the cashews and coriander scattered on top.

There’s something about traveling that makes your own habits, culinary or otherwise, glaringly obvious. It’s only when you’re taken out of your day-to-day routine that odd quirks, individual preferences and (at times) OCD tendencies come to light.

Take my recent trip home, for instance. It was wonderful not to worry about cooking for a spell, to simply relax and enjoy the delicious meals presented by my Mum, aunts, Grandma and various waiters, and not think about the cleanup or health factor (holiday food doesn’t have calories, right?). But food prepared by others, no matter how delicious, is never done exactly the way you’d do it, is it?

So when we got home last week, I began (somewhat grudgingly) to cook my own way again. As I was sprinkling some chili flakes into some-or-other dish with which to soothe and nourish our jet-lagged souls, Andrew came into the kitchen and paused. “Your family doesn’t like spicy foods as much as we do, do they?” he asked.

I stopped in mid-stir, thinking. It’s not as if I grew up eating bland, flavourless food or anything; in fact, both my parents profess to like spicy foods. But Andrew was right: there was a decided lack of spice on this most recent holiday. In fact, the only dish I recall eating that had my preferred level of heat was one that I made myself. (Yes, my mum insisted that I cook a non-traditional Thanksgiving meal for my aunt, uncle and cousins one night: cannelloni, braised cabbage and pumpkin pie.) But if my parents’ version of spicy isn’t exactly the same as mine, it’s probably due to breadth rather than depth. I’m sure they see spice as something limited to certain kinds of foods, while in my opinion, there’s precious little that can’t be made more delicious with a pinch of dried pepper flakes or a sprinkling of chopped fresh chili.

Ironically (after all that), this dish is not actually all that spicy. It is, however, wonderfully fragrant, sweet, and absolutely perfect for this time of year. The recipe, from Nigel Slater’s new book, originally called for pumpkin, which I didn’t have any of at the time. It was tasty with my favourite squash though, so much so that I’m sure I’ll be making it again this way.

The naan is adapted from a Deborah Madison recipe I’ve used for several years, though I opt to grill these rather than bake them, as she suggests. Crispy outside and doughy inside, with a a smear of melted butter and a sprinkle of sea salt, they’re the perfect accompaniment to not just this, but any curry. And they’ll take the edge off anything too-spicy, in case your tastes run opposite to mine ;)

• Squash and Chickpea Curry with Lemongrass and Coriander
• adapted from Nigel Slater’s Tender, Volume I
• serves 4
• 2 Tbs. olive oil (or use a neutral vegetable one if you prefer)
  1 large onion, chopped
  3 stalks lemongrass, outer leaves removed
  3 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
  thumb-sized piece of ginger, peeled
  2 tsp ground coriander
  1 tsp ground turmeric
  4 cardamom pods, crushed
  2 hot red chilis, finely chopped (or 1/2 tsp. crushed chili flakes)
  1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into bite-sized chunks
  200g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and simmered until tender (or use 2 x 400g cans)
  1 x 400g can of coconut milk
  approx. 1 cup of stock (or water)
  1/4 cup chopped fresh coriander
• 1. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-low heat. When the oil is hot, add the onions and cook until soft and translucent.
  
  2. Meanwhile, make a rough paste of the garlic, lemongrass and ginger, either using a food processor or a mortar and pestle. Add this to the onions, along with the coriander, turmeric, cardamom and chili. Stir well and continue to cook over a low heat (you may need to add some water to keep the mixture from sticking).
  
  3. Add the squash and chickpeas, and pour in the coconut milk. Add just enough stock or water to almost cover the squash (about 1 cup), then partially cover the pan and simmer until the squash is tender to your liking. This should take 20-25 minutes; if you feel there is too much liquid, remove the lid toward the end of the cooking time and allow some of the moisture to evaporate.
  
  4. Remove curry from the heat and stir in the chopped coriander. Serve with naan (recipe below) and a dollop of Greek yogurt.

• Naan
• adapted from Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone
• makes 4 small naans
• 1 tsp. instant yeast
  1/3 cup plain yogurt (I use Greek-style)
  2 Tbs. butter
  3/4 tsp. sea salt
  1/2 cup hot water
  1 1/2 cups plain flour (I sometimes use 1 cup plain and 1/2 cup whole wheat)
  1 tsp. butter (for the tops, optional)
  sea salt (for sprinkling, optional)
• 1. Put the yeast, yogurt, butter and salt together in a medium bowl. Pour over the hot water and whisk until the butter has melted and everything is mixed together.
  
  2. Gradually add in the flour, stirring with a wooden spoon or a dough whisk. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 3-4 minutes, until smooth. The dough should be soft but not too sticky; you may need to add a bit more flour. Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover and let rise for 1 hour.
  
  3. Preheat the grill/broiler. Divide the dough into 4 pieces and pull, stretch or roll each one into a flat, oblong shape. Arrange the naans on a nonstick baking sheet and place under the grill until the tops begin to brown, about 4 minutes. Flip and cook the other sides until they brown, too.
  
  4. If you like, brush 1/4 tsp. of butter on the top of each naan as soon as they are removed from the oven. Sprinkle over some sea salt (I also like chopped fresh coriander on these) and serve with any type of curry.

I realize that this curry, relying as it does on pantry staples, seems a little odd for the time of year. It’s hearty and filling and doesn’t require any fresh produce at all, nor half the attention I lavish on other dishes during these warmer months. What can I say, though? Sometimes I find myself craving something warm and spicy, and sometimes I just plain can’t be bothered with all the washing, chopping and cooking that (most) fresh veggies ask of me. At times like that, whatever the season, I turn to this recipe.

I’ve been making this dish, or versions thereof, for about as long as Andrew and I have been living in this flat. We love Indian food, and though there are many great curry houses in the area (six in a three-block radius; it is London, after all), all the curries, sidedishes, naans and rice can eventually take their toll, on wallet and waistline. Sometimes, we prefer to stay in and have something a bit simpler. This recipe is quick, delicious and healthy; served with brown rice and a dollop of Greek yogurt, it’s almost better than the restaurant fare. 

Fantastically easy, it’s also made up entirely of things you’re likely to find in your kitchen cupboards at this moment. I don’t think of it as any particular kind of curry- that is, I’m not sure if it qualifies as a Chana Masala or any other variety. Rather, it’s just a combination of ingredients and flavours that I like, and usually have lying around: canned chickpeas, chopped tomatoes and a generous dose of dried spices. 

It certainly doesn’t disappoint for its lack of authenticity, though, and I defy any curry lover not to like this dish. It might be hearty and filling, but it’s not heavy; the fresh ginger and coriander keep things bright and vibrant. So don’t feel like you have to wait for the winter to make it. I certainly don’t. 

• Spicy Chickpea Curry
• serves 4
• 3 Tbs. olive oil
  1 medium onion, chopped
  2 cloves garlic, minced
  1″ piece of ginger, minced 
  1 tsp. ground cumin
  1 tsp. ground coriander
  1/2 tsp. turmeric
  1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
  1/2 tsp. chili flakes
  1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
  2 x 400g cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
  1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes 
  1 tsp. sea salt
  chopped fresh coriander, to serve
  plain greek yogurt, to serve 
• 1. Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat (I use a dutch oven). When the oil is hot, add the onion and cook for five minutes, until soft and translucent. 
  
  2. Add the garlic and ginger, and cook for another minutes. Add the cumin, coriander, turmeric, cayenne, chili flakes and cinnamon, and cook for another minute. 
  
  3. Add the chickpeas, tomatoes and salt to the pan and stir. If the mixture seems too dry, add a bit of water, maybe half a cup. Cover, turn the heat down to low and cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally and adding water if necessary. Let the curry sit for ten minutes before serving with rice, yogurt and fresh coriander.