Autumn Palette

Sun Glow In A Bowl

The picket line of media vendors was throbbing, thrusting free Metros, City A.M’s and copies of The Stylist into your path. The only antidote to which, was the permanently chilled out Rasta Big Issue seller “take it easy…don’t get tired” was a daily mantra, largely falling on deaf ears. Builders colonised this quarter of London, constructing a glass and steel temple to the God of Discontent, whilst polished city workers sucked on their high octane coffee in preparation for the day.

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CURRY
MEMOIRS

Yes…the commuter battleground was a complete melee this morning and despite the soothing tunes plugged into my ears I couldn’t shake off the scrum mentality, dodge, duck, charge. Serious looking people all of whom would wear different expressions on the weekend… in fact everything looked different after a week’s toil.

Wilfully wandering my mind skipped to the previous weekend and drank in the Autumn splendour of running through the forest and treading across the most magnificent carpet of burnt orange, smudgy ochres and vibrant crimson as leaves helicoptered to the ground. Sharp, fresh, clean air spiked by the scent of pine, space, tranquillity and motion blended into a broth of comforting colour, evocative, warm and safe as if this was how life was meant to be. Ah bliss. Shortlived, as my running shoes discovered a canine deposit cunningly concealed by a thatch of leaves. From a distance my reaction must have appeared as a poor attempt at moon walking, nevertheless it was an effective manoeuvre. My legs pumped their way through the forest, admittedly, now a little lost, and in need of vital sustenance my stomach departed in an out of body experience and was at home searching for something tasty. Ten minutes later we were re-united and disappointed to find nothing of note.

Raiding the larder cupboard I came across a tin of mango pulp smiling at me. May be this can of orange sweetness could be combined with the warmth of cumin sees and a right hook of green chilli and spice hit of whole garam massala. Forty minutes passed and I sat down to a bowl of Mango Soup Tarka….a happy glow of late afternoon sunlight stirred through with pan fried spices, an Indian fruit soup….Autumnal Bliss.


Spiced Mango Soup serves lots...at least 8 servings

  • 4 cups of tinned mango pulp
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • small fingernail of ground turmeric
  • 2 tbs of cornflour
  • 1 tsp ground coriander
  • 1/2 cup of plain yoghurt
  • 2 sliced green chillies
  • 1/2 tsp brown mustard seeds
  • 1 tsp cumin seeds
  • Good pinch of ground asafoetida
  • 2 red chillies
  • 1/5 tsp fengreek seeds
  • salt, pepper and sugar to taste
  • 12 fresh curry leaves
  • 2 tbs corn oil

Combine the flour, cumin, turmeric and coriander in a bowl and then stir in 150 oz of water, until the mixture is smooth. Blend in the yoghurt and 100 oz water together, then add the seasoning of salt, pepper, sugar and green chillies with all the other ingredients in the bowl.

In a large pan, heat the oil over a medium heat and once hot, drop in the asafoetida, followed by the mustard seeds, cumin seeds, fenugreek, red chillies and curry leaves. Once the whole spices have performed a jig and a hop in the pan and have started to release their aromas, remove from the heat and stir into the mango and yoghurt mix. Over a medium heat, simmer for 5 minutes, stirring repeatedly. Take it off the heat and let it rest for 30 minutes.





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Sun Glow In A Bowl

The picket line of media vendors was throbbing, thrusting free Metros, City A.M’s and copies of The Stylist into your path. The only antidote to which, was the permanently chilled out Rasta Big Issue seller “take it easy…don’t get tired” was a daily mantra, largely falling on deaf ears. Builders colonised this quarter of London, constructing a glass and steel temple to the God of Discontent, whilst polished city workers sucked on their high octane coffee in preparation for the day.

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